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The VICE Guide to Right Now: America Just Challenged Japan to a Giant Robot Fight

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Read: With Your Help, Giant Fighting Robots Could Become a Reality

It's the perfect time of the year to go America all over everybody's ass, and a team at the US-based MegaBots—a company that specializes in building giant fighting robots, obviously—is leading the charge. They just challenged Japan's own fighting robot company (these things exist), Suidobashi Heavy Industries, to a real-life giant robot fight.

"We have a giant robot, you have a giant robot—you know what needs to happen," MegaBots announced in their challenge video.

Their 12,000 pound, 15-foot-tall MegaBot Mark II—America's first fully-functional giant piloted robot—can fire three-pound paint cannonballs at over 100 miles an hour. Suidobashi's 1,100 pound robot, the Kuratas, is equipped with twin Gatling guns, a targeting system that looks like something out of a video game, and four-wheeled legs that let it zip around at about six miles per hour.

Suidobashi hasn't responded to MegaBots challenge yet, but if they're down to do battle, the two massive robots will face off sometime around June 2016. Start placing your bets.


The Pros and Cons of Inserting a Smart Microchip Into Your Own Body

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The hand of someone with an NXT chip implanted in their hand, next to the chip's sensor. (Photo by Amal Graafstra via)

This article first appeared on VICE UK

Last week, a teenagr from Somerset inserted a smart microchip into his own hand. Fifteen-year-old Byron Wake ordered the NXT chip and insertion kit from the States, injected it under his skin and, once the procedure was done, paired the chip to his phone, allowing him to authorise actions – like turning on Bluetooth speakers – by simply touching his hand to the handset.

That might sound sort of cool, but the thing is, you're not exactly saving yourself a huge amount of time by doing that, are you? It takes something like three clicks to get a smart phone wirelessly paired to speakers, all without sterilising, anaesthetising and poking a hole in your arm. And what about the other risks? Champions of the chips say they could be used for all kinds of good in the future, but surely implanting a foreign electric device into your actual body comes with its own distinct set of risks?

To get a better grasp of the pros and cons, we asked two experts with opposing opinions to weigh in.

Richard Wordsworth is a freelance writer. He is also finishing an MA in Bioethics and Society at King's College London, where he is researching human enhancement and bioterrorism. Here, he argues why humans implanting microchips into themselves might be a bad idea.

I want to love the idea of having a body full of gadgetry – I really do. Why should I have to put up with the inconvenience of physically flicking my own light switches or unlocking my own front door in 2015? Why wouldn't I want to live in the hyper-convenient age of the implanted wireless microchip?

Well, mainly because I already live in the quite convenient age of the non-implanted wireless microchip. That question is one I need implant advocates and early adopters like Professor Mark Gasson to answer before I let them near me with a needle: what exactly would a consumer RFID tag buried under my skin do that my phone couldn't, besides earn me geek cred?

My smartphone is already effectively a wireless hip implant, and apps for unlocking my house, making contactless payments and other RFID applications already exist. The only thing a smartphone-a-like implant adds (for now) is risk.

The privacy concern is the most obvious: I already give huge amounts of personal data over to my network provider, but at least with my phone I can unplug if I want to – I can switch off my handset and sling it in a drawer. Which I couldn't do as easily if the tech was buried somewhere in my arm.

The second, more future-gazing, concern with any kind of human enhancement technology is obsolescence. Think of it like this: remember your last-but-one mobile phone upgrade, and how enviable/life-changing it was? The same phone that's now sitting abandoned in a box full of old chargers, dead batteries and cheap bundled earbuds? Well, now imagine if upgrading from that handset to your current one involved surgery. I already covet my friends' spangly new smartphones – I don't need that sort of upgrade pressure with something that requires anaesthetic and a scalpel to dispose of.

READ ON MOTHERBOARD: The Failed Attempt to Rebrand the Word 'Hacker'

Finally, there's the security question. About a year ago, I spoke with Avi Rubin, a digital security expert, John Hopkins University computer science professor and author of this TED talk. We were discussing the Hollywood and TV portrayal of hackers – the pasty, disaffected villains and anti-heroes who only have to tap out a few lines of code and suddenly Jack Bauer is being chased by a Predator drone or Bruce Willis is being blown up in a gasworks.

Ridiculous, obviously – but only up to a point. In Rubin's line of work, there are far too many examples of wireless devices that are nominally hack-proof that turn out to be, well, not hack-proof. Why does this matter for a chip that opens the door to your office? It probably doesn't. Where it absolutely does matter is in the context of, for example, digital health devices – implants that might be used to monitor patients' medical conditions or provide regular doses of medication from a built-in drug reservoir.

Rubin gives the chilling example in his talk of a team of researchers who found that they could reliably disable modern pacemakers from a laptop. That sort of potential vulnerability might be worth the risk in the treatment of a life-threatening medical condition, but should give us real pause before we start injecting ourselves with unnecessary consumer devices that might be open to outside tampering.

So long as these implanted "upgrades" only link my hand to an Oyster Card reader, they're probably nothing to worry about. But in considering any form of human "enhancement" – today and in the future – we should be cognisant not just of what we are gaining, but also of what we might be giving up.

Professor Kevin Warwick (Photo by Lwp Kommunikáció via)

Professor Kevin Warwick is Deputy Vice Chancellor at Coventry University. He was also the first human to have an NXT implant placed under his skin. Here, he argues why humans implanting microchips into their skin might be a positive thing.

Recently, a 15-year-old boy, Byron Wake, injected himself with an NXT implant, reportedly making him the youngest person ever to do so.

He might be the youngest, but he's not the first – in August of 1998, I became the first human to have an implant of this nature. Then, I was inquisitive – I wanted to know how well it would work and what might be possible; it was a research project. My implant then was 2.5cm and my local GP carried out the procedure. Now, the NXT is the size of a grain of rice, and it's very much a case of do-it-yourself.

Once inserted, my device switched on lights for me, opened doors and said "Hello" when I entered my building – each time, only because it recognised the code from my implant.

But a device of this type can do more than open doors and switch on lights. In the past, several members of the Mexican government have had implants that were employed as security devices, meaning only those with certain codes could gain access to particular facilities. More recently, office workers in a company in Stockholm were chipped so that they could operate photocopiers and coffee machines without the hassle of pressing buttons. Now that the technology is resilient, completely safe and very low cost, people are starting to investigate potential applications.


Watch our documentary about Melissa, a woman who's hoping to spend the rest of her life on Mars:


In the future, the most obvious pro of an implant is that it could be used as an extra means of identification – particularly in passports. If it meant that long passport queues could be by-passed, I believe many people would have such an implant as soon as possible.

Then there's the potential of this technology to help dementia patients. An implant could enable sufferers to operate a virtual fence, thereby giving them much more freedom to wander on their own. Conversely, the implants could be used to restrict movement, to act as a tag for prisoners either as a means to stop them leaving an establishment or rather to indicate when they try to enter somewhere off-limits. Meanwhile, another possibility is for military, police, fire or ambulance personnel to identify them as a security measure.

So how does it work? This type of device (also referred to as an "RFID", a Radio Frequency Identification Device) is encapsulated in a silicon housing, which makes it inert as far as the human body is concerned. It has no moving parts and does not contain a battery. All it is made up of is a small coil of wire and a series of memory chips, which are inactive until the coil is energised by a larger coil of wire carrying an electric current, operating just like a transformer. When the larger coil is linked to a computer it means that the computer can be programmed to do certain things only when a particular code – the code in the implant – is received.

At present, it's not so much a case of the technology needing to improve, but social acceptance. A good and "necessary" application of the device depends on society understanding it. Until then, it will most likely remain more of an investigative research tool for the likes of Byron and myself, rather than a mainstream requirement.

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Omar Khadr Ordered to Pay $134 Million in Lawsuit Over Death, Injury of US Soldiers

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Omar Khadr Ordered to Pay $134 Million in Lawsuit Over Death, Injury of US Soldiers

VICE Vs Video Games: Dating in ‘Grand Theft Auto Online’ Is Like Real Life, Only with More Robot Hand-Jobs

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All screen shots courtesy of the author; copyright Rockstar Games/Take-Two Interactive

This article first appeared on VICE UK

"What do you want to do?" I asked.
"Well, what can we do?" she replied.

What, indeed? Grand Theft Auto Online is a huge thing, and you're given the freedom to do just about anything you want. Want to go on a murderous rampage? Sure, you can do that. But what if you don't want to raise hell? I wanted to know whether the city of Los Santos is somewhere you can take a date, so I did so, inviting my girlfriend into GTA Online to see if a courting couple can have a good time without the usual GTA-experience death and explosions. As it happened, there was quite a lot of death and the occasional explosion, but we did manage some quiet time to ourselves.

Our date started, as many do, at the cinema. I waited on the corner for her to arrive, but when it got dark I started to worry. Just when I thought I was being stood up, I spotted her walking towards me. She looked lovely in her nice new blue suit, sporting a fashionable amount of stubble. Perhaps now would be a good time to mention that my girlfriend doesn't own GTA V, so she was playing on a male friend's account.

Annoyingly, she had taken so long deciding what to wear that the cinema had closed. We agreed to return when it opened in the morning, but in the meantime, we had to find something else to do. A late night trip to the amusement pier, perhaps? Wondering how I was taking selfies, my girlfriend tried to take her phone out. "What was the button you said? B?" "No it's..." I began, before getting punched in the face. "Oh, I thought you said it was B," she said, kicking me this time.

Suitably woozy from the Ferris wheel and roller coaster (and getting punched in the face, obviously), we decided to dance the night away at a club. Sadly, there aren't any freely accessible regular clubs in Los Santos, so a strip joint would have to do. The ladies of the establishment, apparently unaware I was there with a date, kept offering me private dances, which I made sure to politely refuse.

It might not have been a normal club, but at least they had alcohol.

The sun was starting to come up when we left, but despite feeling sober we obviously still had some alcohol in our systems. Another player sped past and scraped my car, prompting my booze-buoyed partner to get out and start firing off rounds at the reckless driver.

It didn't end well for her.

A quick respawn later and I took my partner in passion and, now, crime to the airport for an early morning helicopter ride over the city. After seeing some of the sights we realised that it was nearly time for the cinema to open. Not being people to waste time finding legal places to land, we decided to create a makeshift helipad out of the cinema roof. It actually worked pretty well.

We ended up seeing The Loneliest Robot in Great Britain, which proved to be surprisingly graphic for a matinee presentation. When the sun's still high in the sky is an odd time to show a movie depicting a robot pleasuring two men (one human, one not) at once, metal fingers gripped tight and pumping away like the milk's about to turn sour. The game decided not to seat us together, despite us being in an otherwise empty cinema, which was something of a dampener on any potential romance. Get your act together, Rockstar: cinemas should be prime make-out locations, especially when there's horny wanking machines on show.

It seemed to be going well, so on went our date. After an unfortunate incident involving a pedestrian, the side of my car and that of a complete stranger's vehicle, I decided we needed a new set of wheels, without smears of blood across the paintwork, for a trip into the San Andreas countryside. While we were waiting for the mechanic to deliver my other car, my date finally found the "blow kiss" option in the menu, and was doing it towards me. Score. But, being the gentleman I am, I decided it was too early in the day (and the date) to try out the "docking" action on her.


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A few hours of exploring later and sunset was on the horizon. A trip to the top of a mountain would be a romantic way to see out the remaining daylight minutes, I figured. My girlfriend thought likewise, but quickly disagreed when I took our car off road and powered it up a hill. Partially afraid of heights and not happy with my driving, she dived from the car while it was still in motion, shouting: "I'd rather die than be in a car with you." She stubbornly walked back down the hillside, while I drove alongside her slowly, honking my horn. Which makes a custom "womp womp" sound, so she wasn't too pleased with that, either.

I abandoned my pursuit of mountaintop snuggles and persuaded her to get back in the car with me, driving carefully back down to ground level. While my skills behind the wheel didn't agree with her, clearly our earlier spin in a chopper had, and she said we could find another airborne vehicle. So, off we went to the nearest airfield and hopped in a plane. Our date had lasted about 24 hours at this point, so we agreed it might be time to call it a night. After taking off, I took a scenic route back to the city, and then came an idea for one final bit of excitement.


On Motherboard: So This Is Why 'Grand Theft Auto V' Was Made For PC


"I'll get out first, and then you can follow me," I announced, directly before diving out of the plane and popping my parachute. She stepped out afterwards, leaving the plane to, um, yeah. We floated over the city together, and conveniently landed right on my doorstep. Sensing an opportunity, I asked her up to my apartment, and she didn't need a second invitation to get straight back on the booze. We cuddled (that is, sat strangely upright) on the sofa for a while watching TV, before retiring to the bedroom.

Now, I'm not one to kiss and tell, but this picture should speak for itself.

@Matt_Porter44

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One Time Eric Andre Tried to Give Tyler the Creator Acid and Viagra

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One Time Eric Andre Tried to Give Tyler the Creator Acid and Viagra

The VICE Guide to Right Now: News Crews in San Francisco Got Robbed on Live TV Today

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The scene of the crimes, via Wikimedia Commons user BrokenSpehere

On Thursday morning, two TV news crews were mugged in San Francisco. One of them was broadcasting live at that very moment, attempting to report on a murder that took place in the same spot Wednesday night. It was just the latest episode in a recent spate of Bay Area crimes targeting TV news crews and their high-end equipment, as KTVU Fox—one of the outlets that got robbed— reported.

The Fox station had just cut to anchor Cara Liu as she was preparing to detail recent developments in the murder of a 31-year-old woman when she said, "Hold on, hold on, wait," leaving the home audience hanging. Liu looked concerned about something happening off to her left.

The shot lingered on San Francisco's Pier 14 for a moment while something unfolded offscreen. Then a different woman could be heard yelling, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

The San Francisco Chronicle interviewed the crews, and was able to piece together what couldn't be seen: The frightened woman was Kris Sanchez, a reporter from the Fox station's local NBC competitor, KNTV. Sanchez and her camera operator named Alan Waples were in the process of setting up their own shot when a man came up behind Waples and aimed a gun at his head.

Meanwhile, the Fox anchor broadcasting from the studio, Brian Flores, asked Liu what, exactly, was going on. "Sorry, there's an incident out here," she said as she and her cameraman tried to help out the rival crew.

Waples was then pistol-whipped, and the assailant grabbed his camera and tripod, stuffing it into a black BMW 7-series, according to the Chronicle. The assailant then pistol-whipped Waples again and told him to stay down. All the pistol-whipping left the camera operator with a nasty gash behind his ear, and a bruise on his arm.

No other injuries were reported.

When Liu and her own camera operator, Keith Crook, jumped into the fray, the robber apparently seized the opportunity to abscond with their gear, as well. The assailant reportedly left behind an ammunition clip.

This has been happening a lot in the Bay Area lately. A crew had their gear stolen last month in Oakland while they were getting lunch before an NBA telecast. In February, a Fox TV news crew was robbed of their equipment in nearby Hayward. According to the Chronicle's coverage of this incident, in August of last year, Liu was bludgeoned by a woman in East Oakland while preparing to report on another murder.

A broadcast-quality TV camera and tripod fetch about $20,000 total, so even though they're bulky—and the robberies run the risk of being broadcast to thousands of people—there's obviously money to be made fencing this kind of equipment.


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Criminalizing Cartoons: How the Law Is Dealing with Anime Child Pornography in Canada

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Frankly, lots of anime is already plenty disturbing without involving sexualized children. Photos by the author

Last year, police executed a search warrant at 70-year-old Roy Franklyn Newcombe's house in Halifax, Nova Scotia. A swath of hard drives and electronic devices containing a vast collection of child pornography were seized.

Investigators then discovered something bizarre and disturbing: the majority of children depicted in the videos and images in Newcombe's possession weren't human children at all. They were cartoon characters—Japanese-style anime renderings of children engaged in sexual intercourse.

Newcombe's case highlights what could be a criminal trend across Canada: the emergence of cartoon—specifically anime—child pornography.

In a recent report funded by the Ontario Mental Health Association and Ontario Ministry of Health that examined 301 separate child porn cases throughout the province between 1993 and 2006, it was discovered that 32 percent of these offenders had in their possession, some form of anime or cartoon kiddie porn.

Internet Child Exploitation (ICE) units in police departments from Vancouver to Regina on to the Maritimes, as well as prosecutors and forensic experts across the country, all confirmed that they've encountered cases involving anime child pornography in recent years.

"Numerous [court] decisions across Canada have accepted that child pornography can include cartoon or animated representations," said Halifax Regional Police Sergeant Pierre Bourdages, who admitted that his department has encountered several cases over the years that have dealt with anime child porn.

"Many of these cases acknowledge that the images do not depict 'live victims,' but recognize that they do still visually portray sexual abuse of a child," Bourdages added.

What is happening to this young woman?!

Police in Western Canada are acquainted with cartoon and anime child pornography, too.

"VPD used to get some of this material forwarded from Canada Post when the main Post Office was located in Vancouver," said Constable Brian Montague of the Vancouver Police Department.

"It was obviously intercepted by postal inspectors as it travelled through Vancouver, often headed to other cities."

Newcombe's case in Halifax also highlights an unusual disparity between Canadian and Japanese laws on simulated child porn.

Japan just outlawed child pornography altogether in 2014, but the new law excludes anime child porn, which is a popular sub niche of its own there. Dubbed "lolicon," this brand of anime is known to depict mostly girls, in the adolescent age range. It's widely available in adult entertainment stores around Japan and is likely similar to what Canadian police are discovering here.

"You can buy it on the newsstands over there—it's not considered a cultural taboo," said Craig Botterill, a recently retired crown attorney in Halifax, who has led the prosecution of hundreds of cases in child pornography in the last decade.

In that time, Botterill said he has been aware of about 10 similar cases—about one a year—in Nova Scotia that specifically involved anime child porn.

"I've had quite a few cases here where the border services agency or Canada Post inspectors intercept this stuff coming in the mail to university students who are here from Japan."

Botterill said that in his experience, the Crown has been typically more lenient with Japanese adults caught with cartoon child pornography in Canada because of the discrepancy in laws between our two countries. He said some might not even be aware it's illegal in Canada.

"We usually give them a break," he said, despite the Crown not having any specific or articulated policy on this. "When it's Japanese people, we just take it away from them and tell them not to do it anymore," he said. "But when it's locals that are collecting it, that's kind of creepy and we charge them," he added.

Section 163.1 of the Canadian Criminal Code casts a wide legal net in its definition of child pornography: "A photographic, film, video or other visual representation...that shows a person who is or is depicted as being under the age of 18 years and is engaged in or is depicted as engaged in explicit sexual activity."

Botterill explained that just because the children depicted in animated kiddie porn aren't real humans, doesn't make accessing such material a victimless crime. He thinks cartoon child porn poses a "very real social harm."

"[It could] cause pedophiles to act on the same impulses and triggers as actual images of children," said Botterill."

"These types of images are used to satiate the lusts of pedophiles and they encourage them to go out and commit hands-on offences against children. If you want to protect children, you need to take these images out of the hands of people. It really doesn't matter if it's a cartoon rendering or a picture of an actual child—the use of these images harms children."

There, is unfortunately, little or no hard scientific or medical evidence to wholly support—or dispute—this.

"We don't know what the impact of what virtual pornography—not depicting real children—is," said Dr. Michael Seto, a forensic psychologist and director of the Forensic Research Unit at Royal Ottawa's Health Care Group, who has been aware of anime child porn since the early 2000s when he began researching online sexual offending.

Seto co-authored the recent Ontario Mental Health Association-funded report alongside Ontario Provincial Police behavioral scientist Dr. Angele Eke, that found nearly one-third of people in the possession of child porn, had some form of anime or cartoon material, too.

"For some individuals, it might be a gateway to pornography that depicts real children, or to sexual contact offenses," he added.

Yet Seto has mixed feelings about Canada's law regarding cartoon or animated child pornography—he thinks that the law should distinguish between animated and the real thing. Perhaps, he explained, cartoon child porn could be an escape valve for potential pedophiles.

"Having access to virtual content might be a safer outlet for some people with pedophilia. It would be better than accessing pornography depicting real children or committing sexual contact offenses."

The age(s) of children depicted is the basis for sentencing individuals possessing child porn in Canada. ICE investigators assign specific age ranges to children portrayed in material found in an offender's possession; this in turn determines severity of charges. Possessing pornographic material depicting pre-pubescent children, for example, is punished more severely than if children appear to be adolescents or closer to 18.

In Saskatchewan, staff sergeant Ron Weir of Regina Police Service's ICE unit said that cartoon child porn severely complicates this age-range based approach.

"Animated child porn is very difficult to prosecute because how can we say if the animated figures in the cartoons are under 18?" he said.

Newcombe, the Nova Scotian caught with child pornography that was predominantly animated, had several hundred videos in his possession that investigators were forced to categorize as "age difficult." It is unclear whether the cartoon renderings in Newcombe's possession were of girls or boys.

He was recently convicted on one count of possessing child pornography and is currently serving a 90-day jail sentence, limited to weekend terms. If Newcombe had been accessing child pornography depicting predominantly real human children, his punishment might have been harsher.

"Those are the ones where they always give the guy a break because how do you know how old the person in the images were?" added Botterill, who oversaw Newcombe's case in its initial stages before retiring last summer.

Botterill sardonically agreed that ascertaining the age of animated children who appear in pornographic cartoons is impossible.

"How old is Pokémon, right?"

Follow Dorian Geiger on Twitter.

Canadian Bill to Force Unions to Disclose Political Activities Could Hurt Hockey and Football Players

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Canadian Bill to Force Unions to Disclose Political Activities Could Hurt Hockey and Football Players

English Nazis Will Hold an Anti-Semitic Rally in London Tomorrow

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English Nazis gathered for the White Man March in Newcastle in March this year (Photo by Max Bernhard)

This article first appeared on VICE UK

Just over two months ago, on a warm spring afternoon in North London, an unwelcome group made a sudden visit to the Jewish area of Stamford Hill. It was Shabbat, the day of rest for Jews, and most of the area's orthodox community had just left their places of worship. At around 2PM, as they began to settle down to lunch, neo-Nazis from the dregs of the British far right began spilling out of Clapton Railway Station.

Among them were members of National Action (NA), a group of young, self-confident neo-Nazis currently training in "ISIS-inspired" boot camps; Polish expats from the far-right National Rebirth of Poland (NOP) party dressed in matching combats; and the organiser, Eddie Stampton, a middle-aged British nationalist whose ridiculous banner "Equal rights for indigenous whites" couldn't have looked more out of place in a largely introverted quarter of London's Jewish community.

The demonstration was, unsurprisingly, a total flop. Around 30 white nationalists were escorted by the police 100 metres down the street and left to protest incoherently about "Jewish privilege" on the side of the road by Lea Bridge Roundabout. The media largely stayed away, and around 100 anti-fascists – many of whom were kettled – made sure their path was blocked and their speeches heckled.

The non-event was something of a surprise given that just a month earlier the news had been awash with alarming reports about a march called "Liberate Stamford Hill" – the brainchild of a far-right activist we cannot name for legal reasons. When the activist first announced his plan to march on Stamford Hill to oppose what he described as "Jewification", the media were captivated – struck, presumably, by the language of a 1930s Munich beer-hall being applied to London in 2015.

In the end, the plan failed. After sending a series of anti-Semitic tweets to the Jewish, Labour MP Luciana Berger, the man pleaded guilty to a charge of "malicious communications" and was banned from entering London. The media's interest quickly dwindled. But all wasn't lost. Eddie Stampton, a veteran of the far right and a current activist with New Dawn, a British group influenced by Greece's neo-Nazi Golden Dawn Party, stepped in.

This Saturday, at 1PM, the same group of neo-Nazis will arrive in London for part two of their big tour. The original intention was for the rally to take place in Golders Green – another of the capital's big Jewish neighbourhoods – but the location has now been moved to Whitehall after a high profile campaign from various Jewish community groups and MPs convinced the police to force the demo to move.

The organisers had hoped to avoid this by repeatedly denying that what they're trying to do is anti-Semitic. Ironically they made their case to fellow protesters on the Vanguard News Network, a forum for anti-Semites, white supremacists and Holocaust deniers with the catchy slogan, "No Jews. Just Right". The group has said the target of its protest is the Shomrim, a Jewish neighbourhood watch group set up by North London's Haredi community to help the police fight crime. The organisers say their existence is a "special privilege" that "indigenous people" would never be allowed.

The strong response from Jewish communal organisations, who managed to get the march moved, is somewhat surprising. It's a shift in direction for the community whose concern over the far right – unavoidable in the 1930s and 1940s when Jews were being killed across Europe – has been largely replaced by concerns around the anti-Israel left.

While tens of thousands can be easily mobilised in support of Israel when the conflict with Palestine periodically flares up, few take any active interest in the far right, particularly at street level. This was certainly the case in early 2014 when Gabor Vona, leader of the openly anti-Semitic Hungarian far-right party Jobbik, came to London ahead of the country's national and European elections – the Jewish community was largely uninterested. It was also true in April when Nazis came to Stamford Hill.

Whether community groups actually turn up – now that Golders Green is off the cards – remains to be seen. The largest of the counter-demonstrations – called by the Campaign Against Anti-Semitism – has now been cancelled after the successful location change. But other groups including Jewdas, a piss-taking, radical-left Jewish group, will be present, along with various autonomous anti-fascists.

How much any of this actually matters remains contested. Anti-Semitic white supremacist groups are small and fractured and the target of today's far right is, by and large, the country's Muslim population. Nevertheless, while the organisers of this particular march may be opportunists, enjoying their time in the limelight, the threat posed by these kind of groups is worth taking seriously.

A police medic tends to a man on an English Defence League demo in Birmingham in 2013. After the EDL's collapse, the rump of the far-right has become more extreme (Photo by Lee Harper)

It was only in 2009 that the far-right British National Party gained nearly a million votes in the European elections, the highest ever achieved by a far-right party in the UK. This was the same year in which the English Defence League emerged, the first time the far right had taken to the streets in numbers since the BNP had abandoned them in the mid-1990s.

Since then, both organisations have collapsed, leaving a rump of a movement, which is fractured and volatile. Far-right street protests are taking place every weekend this summer across the UK – although many will struggle to attract more than ten angry men slowly getting sunburn. Gone are the attempts at respectability – the suits and ties, and the insistence that, "we're not racist, Muslam isn't a race". Back in are the overtly racist politics. The far right is becoming more openly extreme, in part because there is no hegemonic force on the right – no Nick Griffin figure capable of telling the more radical elements to tone down the Holocaust denial for the sake of being allowed on Question Time.

One particularly disturbing group to emerge and thrive in this new political environment is National Action (NA) – some of whom are likely to be present on Saturday's demonstration. The organisation, described by Hope Not Hate as "the most ideological Nazi group" to come out of Britain for decades, emerged from the ashes of the BNP and has drawn together the first generation of far-right activists born in the digital era.


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Having been little more than a collection of like-minded internet warriors, they have, in the space of 18 months, moved into the real world, putting their virulently anti-Semitic rhetoric into practice and becoming a pole of attraction to some of the most extreme aspects of the far right. Zack Davies, the loner recently found guilty of trying to murder an Asian dentist, was linked to National Action and connected to several leading figures in the group through social media.

The recent spate of neo-Nazi organising – from Stamford Hill to Newcastle – owes a lot to NA, who have slowly increased their street presence and appear to be going to regular training camps to get better at street fighting. NA are now behind the White Man March series of protests. These have drawn together a coalition of groups on the extreme right for the largest and most explicitly neo-Nazi street protests in the UK since the 1980s.

Over on VICE Sports – The Ashes: English Cricket's Post Party Comedown

If far-right groups continue to develop their capacity for violence, while agitating for what they believe is an ongoing race war, the possibility of racial attacks and lone wolf assaults could rise. Meanwhile, back in London's Jewish neighbourhoods, the saga is likely to continue well after Saturday's demo. More "anti-Shomrim" demonstrations have been mooted and flash mobs suggested for the places the group has been banned from. With the British far right so fragmented and disorganised, it's hard to predict whether it will peter out or turn into something much uglier.

Whatever does happen, the Jewish community has a long, inspiring history of opposing the far right that it can draw upon. From the Battle of Cable Street in 1936 to Group 43, a collection of Jewish anti-fascist ex-servicemen formed in the 1940s to fight the Britain Union of Fascists, getting numbers on the street to physically oppose the far right was never a problem. Today those times may have passed and the history been largely forgotten – but with the far right back in London intimidating Jews, it's worth remembering.

Peter Jacobs and Jimmy Acaso are the pseudonyms of two anti-fascist activists

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Making Faces: The Artists Who've Used Plastic Surgery in Their Work

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Alana Francis, Self Portrait My Two Skulls, 2015, Solar Plate Photo Etching (c) Alana Francis, Courtesy of Flowers Gallery

This article first appeared on VICE UK

"We reconstructed my entire skull. They cut my bottom jaw in half on either side and moved it forward. They cut my chin off and pushed it out. Then they cut the whole of the top of my face and straightened it."

My mouth fills with a queasy wash of saliva as artist Alana Francis describes her maxillofacial surgery to me over the phone. "If it gets very cold I can feel where some of the metal is, and on my chin, if I push it, I can feel the end of a screw." Okay. That's me. I'm done.

Francis' latest project, a range of seven images inspired by and based on the medical documentation of her own facial reconstruction surgery, will go on show today at Flowers Gallery as part of the annual Artist of the Day exhibition in Cork Street, London.

Artists like Orlan, Genesis P-orridge and Amalia Ulman have long been taking that hackneyed old phrase about the body as a canvas and slicing it open to reveal a fresh, quite literal, interpretation. But why are we, as artists and audiences, so drawn to life under the knife?

"I'm trying to reclaim ownership of my body, away from being someone else's canvas; away from this medical experience," explains Francis. "I found it quite cathartic to use my hands to make these solar plate photo etchings. In a way, I was taking back control for the aesthetic of the print, after giving up so much aesthetic control to the surgeon."

Because Francis underwent surgery for medical – rather than cosmetic – reasons, much of the outcome was determined by what the surgeons felt was best. Her aesthetic – how her own face would end up – was, she explains, "almost an afterthought".

Alana Francis, 2015, Solar Plate Photo Etching (c) Alana Francis, Courtesy of Flowers Gallery

Artist Ji Yeo explored this wrestle for control over your own body through her Draw on Me project. Yeo, who grew up between two of the world's busiest centres of cosmetic surgery, America and Korea, took to the streets of Brooklyn in 2010 wearing a nude suit, holding a sign that said: "I want to be perfect. Draw on me. Where should I get plastic surgery?"

Gratifyingly, most men who did take pen to Yeo's body did so to write messages of encouragement, like: "You are beautiful as you are," and: "You already are perfect." "It doesn't mean that I overcame all my fears or vulnerability," Yeo told The Guardian, "but it helped a little bit."

Genesis P-orridge (Photo by Aliya Naumoff)

For some artists, however, surgery is the frontier on a far more experimental journey than simply raising self esteem. "We call it unity. Pandrodyne – positive androgyne," Genesis P-orridge told me during an interview in 2013 to promote h/er self-titled, photo-heavy memoir, explaining h/er and h/er late wife, collaborator and muse Lady Jaye's quest to unite as one single entity by having surgery and undergoing hormone therapy in a bid to resemble one another.

"We wanted a term that didn't have a history already. We wanted to go somewhere that wasn't about gender at all, but about the ending of difference; about inclusivity and becoming one. We stopped doing hormone therapy because it drove Jaye mad," explained P-orridge, laughing. "After three or four months, Jaye said, 'That's it, no more – we've done that experiment, it sucks; let's just get tits and not bother with all that.' It was sexy, too, having tits."

READ ON MOTHERBOARD: This Plastic Surgeon Just Periscoped a Boob Job

Talking of tits, back in 2013, the French artist Camille Lorin exhibited a sculpture made up of hundreds of breasts implants, just days after five managers of the PIP company went on trial for selling dangerous and sub-standard silicon implants. Perhaps more controversially, the artist Amalia Ulman – who has used her Instagram feed as a long-term project in which she "creates" a modern celebrity character – pretended to have a breast augmentation by posting photos of a bandaged chest. While the boob job proved to be a hoax, i-D reported that Ulman did spend £1,280 on having a non-surgical nose job and facial filler injections in Beverly Hills.

Ah, the face. Perhaps above all other surgical interventions, it is the artist's relationship to their face that speaks so powerfully to our sense of identity. "Once you're in recovery, your face is so swollen you don't know what you're going to end up looking like, which was in itself a very strange experience," says Francis. "I mean, maybe it was partly induced by morphine. But also, because you're not able to physically feel your face for weeks, as all the nerves come back, you can't even regain a physical relationship with it. So my only anchor with my known physical aesthetic was looking into my eyes."


WATCH: Photographer Sophie Green trails a female banger and stock car racing driver.


At her exhibition, Francis' etchings, which show her unconscious face lolling behind an oxygen mask and the creepy smile of a flattened-out skull, are hung around the room at just the right height to force us, as viewer, to stare through those same empty hollows where Alana tried to unearth her sense of self.

"It's to do with this idea of the internal identity of your face," explains Francis. "You know you have a skull, but your personal relationship with your sense of identity isn't with your bones."

Not bones, not flesh, not rolls of fat nor lines of skin; perhaps what the artistic fascination with surgery really shows is that distance between body and self. Perhaps, as the late Lady Jaye once put it, the body is a cheap suitcase; it's what we pack that counts.

Artist of the Day runs until the 5th of July at the Flowers Gallery.

@NellFrizzell

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The Ashes: English Cricket's Post-Party Comedown

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360º VR Porn Is Great If You Want to Watch Anything But Sex

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360º VR Porn Is Great If You Want to Watch Anything But Sex

The VICE Guide to Right Now: Dylann Roof's Sister Creates, Deletes GoFundMe Campaign for 'Dream Honeymoon'

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Screencap via Roof's now deleted GofundMe campaign

Like most people, Amber Roof would like to have a nice wedding. Unlike most people, Amber Roof is the sister of Dylann Roof, confessed murderer of nine people at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal church in Charleston, South Carolina, on June 17. The murders were four days before her planned wedding day, so the ceremony was canceled.

On June 27 Amber Roof created a GoFundMe campaign aimed at remedying this. The campaign was intended to "cover lost wedding costs, to pay bills, and to send us on our dream honeymoon," she wrote in the GuFundMe description, which stated that she was hoping to crowdfund $5,000. The average American wedding costs $30,000.

According the Washington Post, Amber Roof's fiancé, Michael Tyo, lives three miles from the spot in Shelby, North Carolina, where Dylann Roof was arrested after his multi-state police chase.

In the description of the campaign, Roof described her plight:

Our wedding day was suppose to be the most important and special day of our lives. It was suppose to start our lives together with our new family. Our day was the exact opposite. Our wedding day was full of sorrow, pain, and shame, tainted by the actions of one man. The Charleston Massacre took place and our lives were forever changed.

She also wrote that "money cannot replace the wedding we lost and our perfect day," but she remained certain that the funds would "help us to create new memories and a new start with our new family."

Some donors left comments. "I can't imagine what you are going through. I too have a selfish brother that has ruined a few of my special days," wrote one.

The Washington Post wrote that less friendly comments showed up, such as "You have a lot of nerve asking people to finance your wedding while your brother is sitting in jail, and nine people are dead," but those were promptly deleted.

On Thursday morning, the page disappeared. According to the Charleston Post-Courier, Roof had raised $1,700 before the page went down.

It may be worth noting that on June 19, during Dylann Roof's first appearance in court, Judge James B. Gosnell momentarily shifted his sympathy over to Roof's family, saying, "We have victims—nine of them. But we also have victims on the other side." He added, "We must find it in our heart at some point in time not only to help those that are victims but to also help his family as well."

That judge was widely criticized for insensitivity, poor timing, and racism.


Want Some In-Depth Articles About the Racist Massacre in Charleston?

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Follow Mike Pearl on Twitter.

London Chefs Are Learning to Barbecue Like Texans

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London Chefs Are Learning to Barbecue Like Texans

Vancouver Picks Doing Nothing Over Proposed Transit Tax

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A Vancouver bus. Wow. Photo via Flickr user Yukihiro Matsuda

If you ever want to strike up a passionate conversation with someone living in a major Canadian city, just mention the crappy state of said city's transit and prepare for a gush of righteous rage. Better yet, put it to a vote.

"Hey there sheeple, how'd you like to vote in a non-binding plebiscite to find out whether you'd prefer a new tax to pay for transit infrastructure or have the government continue to figure it out for themselves." This was the moral can of worms Vancouverites recently found themselves writhing in.

The referendum was put forward by the understandably frustrated Mayor's Council and asked Metro Vancouver voters to accept a proposed 0.5 percent increase to the provincial sales tax to pay for, among other things, a new subway line to UBC, light rail in Surrey, a new Pattullo Bridge, more buses, and (yawn) road, pedestrian, and cycling improvements.

Why this was even a question is mind-blowing. Nobody wins, except the Liberal provincial government. Here's why.

If people vote "yes," Premier Christy Clark says, "We'll see if that's possible." People vote "no," and she gets to say, "No new taxes!" Guess what? People said no.

I mean, in what jurisdiction in the world would people vote for a new tax? None. Definitely not the Banana Smoothie Republic of Vancouver that fancies itself a fishing village-cum-resort town for the international jet-set. Not Vancouver's follow-the-herd suburbs, lured by the anti-tax rhetoric of astro-turf Randians making themselves out to be "the little guy." And yet there was a tiny part of me, let's call it the naive optimism of my now faded youth, that thought, maybe we did want to say, "Yeah, we know TransLink is awful, and we know this plebiscite is non-binding, and we know that a billionaire car salesman is going to oversee the funds, and we know the mayors have no backbone and spent $6 million on advertising, and..." Oh, god.

Alas, if you were to go by Facebook reactions (and who wouldn't?), people were legitimately surprised by the outcome. Some people, unaware they look like Americans protesting the Supreme Court decision, were even threatening to move. I'd blame the result on the heatwave-induced boiled brains of the hoi polloi if the plebiscite wasn't so cleverly engineered in the first place.

Back in February, Gordon Price was already calling it the Great Dupe. "TransLink, without an identifiable leader and a board without electoral accountability, was an ideal target. Hence the disproportionate attack on its performance. The goal: to get voters to justify a 'No' vote without, in their minds, voting against transit—which is what, of course, they are actually doing."

Indeed, as Stephen Rees reminded us, "most of the problems that beset TransLink at the moment all have their genesis with the provincial government. Christy Clark has done one brilliant job: she has deflected all the criticism of her failure to authorize adequate resources for running the transportation system in BC's largest metropolis onto an organization that she herself controls."

Premiers across the country take note: if you want to look like you're doing something to address financing transit shortfalls, follow Clark's lead. The people will be too confused to know they are only shooting themselves in the foot. Sorry every other city in Canada, but we blew it.

And TransLink isn't even that shitty. I mean it's really bad, but what major metropolis is truly satisfied with their transportation authority? (I'm looking at you, Toronto). Columnist and former Vancouver city councillor Peter Ladner notes that there's far more good news than bad in TransLink numbers. "The number of trips by transit is up 80 percent since 2000 ... an overall 7.4 out of 10 customer satisfaction rating in the last quarter ... and the items commonly cited as examples of TransLink's storied wastefulness add up to a mere fraction of one per cent of its annual expenditures." Good or bad, it's a red herring. TransLink wasn't on the ballot. It's like people didn't even see my paste-ups all around town that read "TransLink isn't on the ballot."

Clark knew this. The whole thing was, as Nicholas Ellan argued, "a pseudo-democratic charade, an exercise in populist rage against an organization, TransLink, that they have actively sabotaged for as long as they have been in power. It's a well-performed charade, though. You have to admire the choreography." No, no I do not. I'd much rather sit here and blame the suburbs, or drivers who think they shouldn't have to pay for public transit (or the roads they drive on), or people who complain about bike lanes. Unfortunately, it's a lot more complex than that.

Instead, we're spinning in circles. And we've been spinning long before creation of TransLink in 2000. As Crawford Killian reminds us, "we committed, in the Social Credit era, to SkyTrain. It looked cool at Expo 86, but its expensive extensions have caused endless political and economic misery. Now we seem stuck with it for any kind of rapid transit." As Burnaby mayor Derek Corrigan says, "buses aren't sexy." Infrastructure as a sex symbol, no wonder we were doomed from the start.

So what's next? The Clark government will surely tout the well worn line, "The people have spoken." But what have they even said? Trim the excess? Downsize transit, (lol)? As The Exile writes, "how making those with low incomes, students, new immigrants, and the elderly wait longer for the 99 B-line will induce Christy Clark to give TransLink executives a salary haircut is a mystery to me." It's even a mystery to the mayor of Vancouver, who has admitted there is no plan B. "Ultimately it's up to the province to decide how the funding gap is met," Robertson said. You mean like with, um, taxes? It feels like I'm the one taking crazy pills here.

In lieu of a massive grassroots anti-austerity campaign, or unless Thomas Mulcair really is the second coming of Tommy Douglas, we're stuck. We're stuck with a populace that wants better transit but doesn't want to pay for it. We're stuck with a provincial government that is constantly abrogating their basic responsibilities, leaving municipalities scrambling. We're stuck like an angry commuter in a kilometre long traffic-jam of their own miserable making.

Follow Sean Orr on Twitter.


We Went to the World’s Largest Anti-Scientology Conference

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The logo of the Getting Clear conference, held in Toronto. Photos by the author

Jon Atack is a willowy Briton with a closely shaved mustache and the split comportment of a school headmaster—endlessly affectionate, but prone to exasperation.

At 60, Atack has spent more than three decades on the front lines of a vicious information war against the Church of Scientology, whose controversial history he first exposed in his landmark 1990 book, A Piece of Blue Sky, which no doubt made him few friends in the church.

Last week, he stood at a podium in front of roughly 60 members of the close-knit counter-Scientology firmament and, with seething bitterness, proclaimed that "Scientology is a form of spiritual vampirism."

Jamie DeWolf, spoken word artist and great-grandson of L. Ron Hubbard

For his troubles, and his relentless activism, Atack, who spent nine years in Scientology before escaping in 1983, is widely seen in counter-Scientology circles as the movement's godfather, its intellectual and emotional heart. And he was in Toronto from June 22-26 to steer what amounted to a sort of retirement party, the culmination of his life's work: "Getting Clear," an international conference on Scientology in a dull and unassuming barely marked ballroom at the Sheraton Airport Hotel. Billed as the largest gathering of Scientology critics and defectors ever assembled, it was chockablock with some of the Church's most clamorous antagonists, including: Spanky Taylor (John Travolta's former aide), Gerry Armstrong (Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard's archivist) of Chilliwack, BC, Jesse Prince (a one-time confidante of Scientology's secretive chairman David Miscavige), and Jamie DeWolf (a spoken word artist and Hubbard's great-grandson).

My entrée into this world came with one stipulation, delivered to me in a email from Atack's co-organizer James Beverley, a professor at Toronto's Tyndale University and longtime Scientology watcher. "Your media pass is conditional on you not being a member of Scientology or related groups or working for the Church of Scientology or [the Church-run] Freedom magazine," he wrote. Unsurprised by the precautionary measure, I assured him I had no connection to Scientology and was granted one-day access.

While ad hominem attacks about Beverley's ties to Scientologists swirled online—planted by Scientologists, Atack speculated—over the course of my day at the conference pro-Scientology activity was nowhere to be found. Hana Whitfield, a soft-spoken 74-year-old who claims she has been stalked by Scientologists since leaving the Church in 1984, told me that she had noticed a few inconspicuous men wandering past the ballroom, scribbling notes, earlier in the week. When asked about Whitfield's allegations, in an email to VICE, Scientology's public affairs director, Karin Pouw, said the Church was "far too busy... to be concerned about this small gathering." (As for Atack, Pouw did not deny his claims outright but said, "he makes it up as he goes.")

From the moment I arrived, there was zero pretence conference participants harboured anything but unbridled animosity toward Scientology. The movement has been under fierce scrutiny since Hubbard, a prolific sci-fi writer, occult enthusiast, and reported womanizer and drug addict, founded it in 1954, weathering a slew of tax scandals, high-profile court litigation with aggrieved ex-members, and allegations of wanton physical and emotional abuse.

So to spend even 30 minutes at Getting Clear was to experience six decades of collective rage and anguish. This came as no surprise to Pouw. "It is a curious academic exercise to gather a group of people whose common bond is their animus against a worldwide religious movement for the sole purpose of having them vent at each other," she said. "With that much vitriol in the room, the outcome is inevitable."

Still, I had thought about canvassing participants' for their take on the longstanding debate over whether Scientology should be categorized as a religion, a new religious movement, a business conglomerate with spiritual components, or a cult, but I discovered soon enough that among this crowd—even activists who have never been Scientologists, the so-called "never-in's"—the matter was annoyingly academic.

"Scientology is one of the few cults that has most successfully hidden its true nature from the public," Hana Whitfield told me. Whitfield was a founding member of the Sea Organization, or Sea Org, an elite unit of Scientology clergy who sign away lives to the Church for a billion years. "Scientology is really all about [Hubbard's] sociopathic, megalomaniacal personality, his drive to be recognized as the returned saviour of Earth," she says.

Indeed, Scientology cosmology and philosophy is so wrapped up in Hubbard's ideas, even 29 years after his death, his presence loomed over every session of my 12 hours at the conference. During the morning session, Atack and Steve Hassan, a renowned cult deprogrammer and former Unification Church member, demonstrated several of Hubbard's Scientology training routines, which, they explained, in their opinion effectively ease the participant into a compromising state of hypnosis, leaving them dangerously vulnerable to mind control.

The purple-lit room was full of levity as the pair took to the stage, walking the audience through one routine called "Tone 40 on an Object," in which the trainee repeatedly shouts commands at an ashtray placed on a nearby chair. Tone 40 is the highest point on something called a "tone scale," which Hubbard devised in the early 1950s to identify the span of human emotion. An individual's position on the "tone scale" is determined through rigorous auditing. For instance, someone experiencing boredom registers tone 2.5 on the scale. "Exhilaration" is a tone 8.0; at tone 40, the ultimate goal, the individual has achieved "serenity of beingness."

In "Tone 40 on an Object," the trainee is expected to command the ashtray with tone 40 intent, in theory controlling the object through sheer emotional force. In actuality, he moves the ashtray with his hand. London-based cult deprogrammer Christian Szurko was called on to demonstrate. What ensued was reminiscent of a Monty Python skit.

"Stand up!" Szurko yelled at the ashtray, while holding it aloft.

"Thank you!" he said to the ashtray, which was a handsome shade of black.

"Sit down on that chair!" Szurko ordered, placing the object down gently.

"Thank you!" he barked again.

A place card at the Getting Clear conference

Many in the audience had performed this routine inside Scientology before exiting the Church. So I found the uproarious laughter throughout the demonstration, as well as others, confusing. Afterward, I asked Szurko about the lack of somberness in the room. Laughter, he said, is a coping mechanism. "It's inoculation. As long as I can laugh at myself, what's going to hurt me?"

That afternoon, I spoke with Chris Shelton, a Denver man who was born into Scientology. One of the day's themes was second-generation Scientologists, which Shelton would lecture about later on. Now 45, he left a couple years ago after 17 years in the Sea Org. A graphic designer, he seemed incredibly well adjusted. At one point between sessions, a conference administrator named Spike announced that Shelton held the record for quickest recovery.

"Six months!" she said.

"As if we're keeping track," Shelton muttered in response.

As a missionary, he traveled often around the United States, opening his eyes to a world outside Scientology. Still, it was a 10-year process extricating himself from Scientology after coming to grips that the information he was feeding recruits and fellow Scientologists about the Church's sweeping influence were, Shelton said, nothing but lies. "I'd gone around to dozens of orgs and they were empty," he told me. "It was frustrating to see we weren't succeeding and that people hated us. After a while it became undeniable. It was bullshit and we were fucked."

Today, Scientology claims a global membership in "the millions," and Pouw insists the number is increasing. In 2001, 55,000 Americans declared themselves Scientologists, according to a City University of New York study. Atack, who told me he's viewed internal membership reports, believes there are only roughly 30,000 card-carrying Scientologists worldwide, a shockingly low figure for an organization critics claim is worth billions of dollars. That striking discrepancy is one reason why Atack decided to hold the conference now. Organizers spent a huge sum hiring a film crew for the five-day conference, hoping the result can both raise awareness and provide therapy to some of the 250,000 people Atack allegeshave been "damaged" by Scientology.

"We're losing a fortune doing this," he said. "But whatever, it means that it's on the record now."

While the Church seemingly remains a powerful player in North America, several people I talked to at the conference believe Scientology is in a death spiral. Maybe the Church will flame out upon the death of Miscavige, the chairman, but maybe not. Regardless, Alex Gibney's 2015 HBO documentary, Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief, and the book by New Yorker journalist Lawrence Wright on which it's based, have thrust Scientology's dirty laundry back into the limelight, and that can only help.

"The Church of Scientology will collapse," Atack said. "When and how, I don't know. A dinosaur that big can keep on moving for a while."

Follow Josh Tapper on Twitter.

Canadians Seek to Halt Fair Elections Act, Compare It to Voter Suppression in the US

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Photo via Flickr user Democracy Chronicles

Young and Indigenous voters could have a harder time casting ballots in Canada's fall election thanks to the contentious new Fair Elections Act. On Thursday, two groups went to court to ask a judge for an urgent injunction to put the Act on hold.

"The public confidence in the election may hang in the balance," Steven Shrybman, a lawyer representing the Council of Canadians and the Canadian Federation of Students (CFS), told the Ontario Superior Court Thursday afternoon.

The Fair Elections Act, which the applicants compared to voter suppression efforts in the US, removes the ability of electors to use voter information cards they receive through the mail, and could prevent tens of thousands of Canadians from casting ballots in the upcoming Oct. 19 election, Shrybman argued.

"The tenor of all this is basically, we don't want you to vote," Maude Barlow, chair of the Council of Canadians, told VICE outside the court Thursday afternoon. "Our other concern is that fewer people are voting every year."

Only 39 percent of eligible voters aged 18 to 25 voted in the last election, she pointed out.

"This kind of legislation basically says: you're not welcome, don't bother. And that's the big concern—that it's just anti-democratic," she argued. "It dissuades people from voting."

The applicants say measures in the Fair Elections Act would disenfranchise young Canadians, Indigenous voters, homeless electors, and the elderly, and would interfere with their Charter right to vote.

Before 2007, Canadians on the list of electors only needed to state their name and address at the polling station—they didn't need ID. But the Elections Act was amended in 2007 making it mandatory for voters to produce ID stating their name and address.

After the 2008 federal election, the Chief Electoral Officer (CEO) realized certain groups had found it harder to meet the new ID requirements, so during the 2011 election he allowed 900,000 electors from those groups—students on campus, Indigenous voters on reserves, and seniors in long-term care homes—to use only their voter information cards to vote. About 400,000 people took advantage of his permission slip and cast ballots in this manner.

Before the Fair Elections Act was introduced, the CEO said he would allow all eligible voters across the country to vote in the Oct. 19 election using their voter information cards as proof of address plus one other piece of ID.

But when the Fair Elections Act came into effect on Dec. 19, it removed that option, meaning if you only have one piece of valid ID and it doesn't have your current address, you may be shit out of luck. The new voter information cards would carry a disclaimer saying they are not a valid piece of ID.

Previously, electors could have someone in their polling district vouch for them if they didn't have proof of address, but that too has been ditched under the Fair Elections Act. Now someone in your district can vouch for your address in writing, but only if you have two pieces of valid ID that establish your name.

Certain groups have more difficulty proving their current address, Shrybman argued, specifically Indigenous electors who live on reserves, seniors who live in long-term care homes, students who are more likely to live away from home, homeless electors, and Canadians who have recently moved.

Of the 400,000 electors the CEO allowed to use voter information cards in the last election, Shrybman admits that it wasn't clear whether they would have been able to vote in another manner.

If the applicants are successful, however, it will mean Canadians can use the voter information cards as ID on Oct. 19 after all. Though the case was heard in the Ontario Superior Court and the injunction would only apply in Ontario, the CEO has said he will allow the use of voter information cards from coast to coast in the upcoming election if Justice David Stinson grants the injunction.

Voter turnout in Canada is already abysmally low. Only about 60 percent of eligible voters cast ballots in the last federal election, with fewer than 40 percent of people under the age of 25 casting a ballot. And the Fair Elections Act could further suppress young voters, the applicants argued.

Jessica McCormick, former chair of CFS and one of the applicants asking for the injunction, knows how hard it can be to vote as a young Canadian.

When the last federal election rolled around, the Nova Scotian was studying in Newfoundland and had recently moved to a new apartment, so she didn't have any official documents displaying her address.

McCormick decided to bring someone who could vouch for her, but when they arrived at the polling station, she was told that person didn't live in her district so they couldn't vouch for her. She had to leave the polling station and return with someone who could vouch for her. It was only then that she was able to cast a ballot.

"It was incredibly difficult for me to vote, and I felt very discouraged in that process," McCormick told VICE.

"And I know that a lot of other young people, and students in particular, maybe wouldn't return to the polling station a second time if they didn't have the proper identification," she said. "It's for that reason that I feel really passionately about these changes that are being made into the elections law that will likely make it even more difficult for people to vote in the next election."

So why would the Conservative government pass legislation that would restrict the use of vouching and voter information cards? The Attorney General of Canada is expected to argue that voter fraud is a real and widespread issue that would be prevented by the measures in the Fair Elections Act.

But the lawyer for the applicants argued Thursday that voter fraud isn't a thing.

"We simply don't have examples of people showing up at polls pretending to be someone else to vote," Shrybman told the court. "There is virtually no evidence of that happening."

He argued that the minuscule risk of voter fraud is far outweighed by the irreparable harm electors would experience if they are not able to vote this fall.

VICE asked the lawyer for the Attorney General of Canada for her thoughts on the case, but she declined to comment and directed us to communications. They did not respond to requests for comment before deadline.

The lawyers for the Attorney General are expected to make submissions in court today.

Stinson said he would decide the fate of the injunction—the last ditch effort to halt the Fair Elections Act—by July 20.

Follow Hilary Beaumont on Twitter.

VICE Vs Video Games: Video Games Have Sapped the Spirit Out of World War II

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A screen shot from 'Medal of Honor: Frontline' (via YouTube)

This article first appeared on VICE UK

Devastating. Heart breaking. Intricate. Heroic.

These are just some of the words a person could use to describe World War II, one of the most destructive and widespread conflicts the world has ever known. The sheer magnitude of a world at total war is so awe inspiring that it is difficult now, in 2015, to fully comprehend the unimaginable horror of this vast struggle. It's a period of history that showed us both the best and the worst that humanity had to offer – and yet video games have somehow decided that the Second World War is boring.

Time and again, pundits and players repeat the same tired mantra: "When will they stop setting games in WW2? It's so boring. We've seen everything there is to see, twice over!"

It would be easy to blame the individual, yelling about a lack of education while you throw all 1,200 pages of William Shirer's Rise and Fall of the Third Reich at their head. Truth be told, the idea that World War II is boring, with its familiar theatres and unambiguous villains, is a misconception that has been perpetuated ever since we first ran through Castle Wolfenstein's maze-like corridors.

Wolfenstein 3D puts players in the boots of American secret agent B.J. Blazkowicz. In this 1992-released grandfather of the first-person shooter genre, the player, as B.J., is tasked with dismantling the Nazi war machine as a one-man army. The sprites you shoot do not represent men that may have fought for a multitude of reasons. They are cogs in a machine. Nothing more. The whole game culminates at the end of its third episode when the player must face off against a Hitler ensconced within a metal battle-suit. The ending famously shows the Nazi Party leader disintegrating under your hail of bullets. Mission accomplished.

While Wolfenstein 3D was certainly a bombastic thrill ride, it's rather telling that narratives surrounding games set in the Second World War haven't really progressed much further than the simplicity of running through levels and killing every jackbooted foe you see. Heading into the modern era of games, the Medal of Honor series brought WW2 to ever more popular heights. As consoles became more powerful it was clear that these games could begin to broaden their scope to encompass the sheer scale of the war. 2002's Frontline recreated the Normandy landings, and the following year's Rising Sun did the same for the attack on Pearl Harbour. Neither were easily forgotten, both events deeply embedded in our historical landscape.

Facing off against Hitler in 'Wolfenstein 3D' (screen shot via playfire.com)

Even though the scale of the games increased and players now found themselves fighting alongside Allied soldiers more often, there was always a tendency to lay the entire burden of winning the war on the individual's shoulders. We never got to explore who the enemy were in any meaningful way, and our protagonist tended to be just as hollow, simply a solo war machine capable of incredible battlefield efficiency. In a lot of ways we were still stalking Castle Wolfenstein's corridors. There was still a lack of humanity given to an event that, at its core, is heart wrenching.

Enter Call of Duty, and its sequels, which quickly dethroned the ailing Medal of Honor. Straying away from one-dimensional super-soldiers being recruited by the OSS, Call of Duty attempted to portray the war from the ordinary soldier's perspective, the game switching between American, British, and Soviet troops across the length of the campaign. It was a change of pace, and the beginning of one of the most successful game franchises ever. Yet Call of Duty still strode across familiar territory, and its Germans remained as foreign and alien as ever by video game standards. By Call of Duty 3 battle fatigue had begun to seep in.


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Today, we see D-Day and the Battle of Stalingrad as well worn staples of the shooter genre. Gaming didn't go back to the Pacific until 2008's Call of Duty: World at War, yet go back it did. And of course the six-year conflict would seem dull when we're given the same theatres recycled endlessly. But it needn't be so, as there are multitudes of stories that have never received any attention. The role of Indian troops has never really been covered. We've never had to survive the Dunkirk evacuation. China's retaliation against the Japanese is ripe for exploration, or you could even take the bold step to present the war through Axis eyes.

World at War is notable in that it included small moments of moralising, letting the player reflect on what they are actually doing. It at least tried to bring some nuance to both sides of the conflict. During one point of the game, the player calls in a naval bombardment on Japanese positions. You then have to walk through the previously held positions. Japanese troops scream, or drag themselves away, many missing limbs and bleeding out in the sand. It's a brief and horrible glimpse of the effects weapons have on the human body. Later in the game, now in the role of the Russians, the player must choose how German prisoners die. Quickly by firing squad, or slowly with Molotov cocktails. It's a flourish that questions whether your actions are any more just than the enemy's.

'Call of Duty: World at War' screen shot (via zero1gaming.com)


On Motherboard: How to Defuse a WW2 Bomb


Ultimately, it isn't in the industry's interest to humanise the Axis powers. Much better that they remain monsters, capable only of hate. It's the safest option, but there's more to it than that. Ever since the release of Wolfenstein 3D the Second World War has been viewed as a noble cause, and America most of all was a great hero. At least, that's when compared to their Russian counterparts, who are shown to be less disciplined and decidedly more savage. America selflessly lent a hand to the beleaguered European nations to oust fascism.

As games left WW2 behind and strayed into modern territory with the likes of 2007's Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, the notion of America's just cause to be involved in these conflicts survived, thanks in large part to a very westernised games industry. World War II was great PR and the biggest games based on it have cemented America's reputation as a powerful and noble entity. It is not rare today to play games set in Iraq or Afghanistan – but if Americans are fighting in the Middle East then they must have to be there. Because as WW2 has taught us: they are the good guys, and always will be.

@Corey_Milne

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Things You Only Know When You've Worked in Retail

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Photo from Empire Records (obviously)

This article first appeared on VICE UK

Most people have had a job in retail at some point because at some point most people have needed money and a minimum-commitment way to procure it. Maybe you worked in your mum's friend's boutique (posh), a Foot Locker? (sporty) or, if you were cool and hot, an American Apparel (me). Maybe you sold a lot of posters in the 90s (Athena) or you know what a "Hammer of Caliban" is (Games Workshop). Wherever it was, it was almost definitely when you were at your most beautiful, carefree and joyous – outside of the hours spent hungover on the shop floor, at least.

Retail is not an aspirational profession. No one goes into retail because they really want to help a 14-year-old buy her first perfect, illegally-tight party dress. No one goes into retail because they dream of being the manager in M&M's World. Why do you go into retail? Because you can quit at any time and need virtually no skills. Either that or you got trapped in a shop job in your teens – one minute, you're eagerly dropping off your dreadful CV to the beady-eyed manager at Waterstones, the next, it's eight years later and you're the only person over 25 on your "team".

But the truth is retail's OK. Stock checking in Urban Outfitters may not have the glitz and glamour of working in a bar but in the same breath it won't turn you into a functioning alcoholic and then spit you out at 38 with nothing but an ex–fiancé and their acoustic guitar to show for the last two decades. Besides, until you've repeatedly thrown up from acid reflux in the Covent Garden American Apparel changing rooms as you pathetically spritz the mirrors with window cleaner, you can't really say you know what real life is.

Here are some other bits of experience you might glean from a shop job.

Photo by Panhard. Image via.

FOR A BIT, IT WILL FEEL LIKE YOU'RE IN NARNIA

Oh my God, there's a door behind that mirror! Oh my God, I can learn to fold a shirt in a way that makes people afraid to try them on! Oh my God, this floor has to be mopped twice a fucking day and for some reason always by me... Fuck you, Jacqueline!

Well, I did only say it would be exciting for a bit. Like, 3.5 hours max. After that, when you realise the implications of the right piece of clothing having to be on the right size hanger in the right order on the rail, or have to tell the 20th person that day that no, the new Military Wives album isn't out for another three weeks, you will never enjoy shopping in the same way again. Or you'll never enjoy shopping in the same way again because the in-store radio has given you PTSD and going within 20 feet of Westfield gives you a panic attack.

Photo by Patrick O'Donnell. Image via.

YOU WILL LEARN HOW TO STEAL STUFF

An important milestone in any retail job is working up the confidence to steal so-much-fucking-stuff. It might seem scary at first but after a few months you'll be sweeping around top-to-toe in sweatshop-fresh bounty, getting your friends to come in and return your uniform allowance for cash.

Stealing from clothing stockrooms is easy; just drop what you want behind a big pile and leave it there for a week, then put it on under whatever you're wearing and smuggle it out. Everyone else's birthdays are sorted forever (shiny leggings for all!) though you will inevitably end up with a ratking-esque tangle of absolute shit on your bedroom floor which you may have to be cut out of when you're arrested for taking home an entire shop's worth of stuff over the course of two weeks.

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YOU WILL FIND OUT IF YOU'RE A SHIT PERSON

Even if you're on your second or third job in retail, you probably still have dreams – even if your dreams are awful. But some people you work with will not seem to dream at all. You are late every day, always have sweat patches and are on your final warning after a week, they will be puzzlingly clean, on time, polite and laugh really hard at everything you say.

These people are boring and at least once a week you'll feel envious of them. They might try to assure you that this job is only temporary because they're doing a really important Art Therapy masters, or complain to you once (ONCE) that they've had an argument with their long-term significant other (who wears black varsity jackets and is acceptably hot, in a melted-face kind of way) but the rest of the time they pootle on, smiling the straight-toothed, bright-eyed smile of somebody who will never truly understand love or pain.

Retail presents everyone with a tricky proposition: either be late every day, always have sweat patches and get fired within a year, or do well, always be put on the till and be forced to interact with more customers, touch their sweaty money and deal with their whiney returns.

YOU WILL WORK THE CHANGING ROOMS AND IT WON'T BE AS FUN AS YOU IMAGINED

"Hey, here's a big plastic numbered rectangle. Next!" x1000000000xdeath. Also, people will leave everything from shit to tampons in those cubicles, and you will be the one to clean them up.


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YOU WILL FANCY AND POTENTIALLY HOOK UP WITH SOME REALLY ODD PEOPLE

Close proximity to people with only slightly more personality than the dust that's collected inside a hoover bag means you will start to reach out blindly for human interaction on a level slightly deeper than, "No, you can't return that and wtf is that stain?" And this could mean agreeing to go for a drink at a Wetherspoons with the only customer to ask you out that month.

A friend of mine once went on a remarkably bad date with a guy who worked in the same HMV as her. He suggested Pizza Hut which TBH was actually quite a good call because it was one with an ice-cream factory in it but upon arriving he put his headphones in, played a song on his phone and then only ordered warm water to mix into a home-made protein shake. What he was listening to we'll never know but I assume it was late Usher. Actual dating aside, you will drunkenly make out with at least one stock room troglodyte who will continue to text you happy birthday for the next 11 years.

YOU WILL START TO HATE MIDDLE-AGED WOMEN

Because they hate you, because they hate shopping and because they hate trying on horrible clothes but feel pressured to go after work twice a week because if they don't they'll be hideous and unstylish and single forever and ever and ever.

Photo by Martin Howard. Image via.

IF I SAY 'WE DON'T HAVE YOUR SIZE' I'M DOING YOU A FAVOUR

Re: the above, it's actually pretty uncommon to notice any customers at all because people are so incredibly predictable that eventually they become one long slur of "mmpphnhnhhsize10turquoisespandex" or "hmmmmphidunnoiPadmini". This means that when you walk into the Disney Store and imagine all the staff are looking at you like a shoplifter you are just pranging out – they don't give one ounce of a fuck. The only time I ever actually looked at a person and saw anything other than a blurry potential commission was if they were famous, INCREDIBLY unbelievably nice to me or really fit.

Anyway, what I mean when I say, "Sorry, we're out of that one in a 12" is that I really can't be arsed to go and check the stockroom for your size in that absolutely hideous shirt.

YOU'LL BECOME QUITE WEIRD ABOUT MONEY

After spending tens or hundreds of hours loitering in the "visible area" by the door to greet or ignore customers (ouch, your back) and learning all the lyrics to La Roux on the store radio, there is really nothing else to do other than count down the seconds till you're done.

You will quickly learn to divide your shift into arbitrary brackets to make it go faster and then, soon after, you'll come to understand each section in terms of how much money you made during it. 'Okay, I just hid in the toilet for £1.75, which is nearly enough for a Frappuccino.' Or, 'Okay, I just snuck out to buy a Frappuccino so I better actually make some effort to sell something so I can make up the loss in commission.'

Eventually you will become unable to stop weighing up money in terms of hours of work, which actually seems like a pretty fascinating economic theory but in reality just manifests itself as 'another bottle of wine in this restaurant with all my friends who I love = 2 hours' vs. 'a bottle of wine from the off-licence to drink on my own = 45 minutes'. And so begins drinking alone.

YOU WILL GET FIRED FOR ONE OR ALL OF THE REASONS ABOVE

And your parents will be really relieved because it means you finally start thinking about getting a grown-up job. Eventually you'll go and work as a temp at a production company where you spend all your money on cocaine, get sexually harassed by your boss and start dating the (now sober) 38-year-old musician who's definitely about to relapse but also get signed by a major record label. You have now graduated from one emporium of bullshit to the next – congratulations! Your family is so proud of you.

@BertieBrandes

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There's Another Donald Trump Scandal that No One Is Talking About

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Via Flickr user Gage Skidmore

Just two weeks ago, Donald Trump was occupying his exact right place in the universe, preparing to line his pockets with another venture that contributes nothing meaningful or even tangible to the world. This time, it was the Miss USA contest—an annual event in which the human equivalents of Pomeranians fumble over political questions to the delight of schadenfreude-thirsty Americans.

Then he launched his presidential campaign. Under normal circumstances, this would have just been laughed at and quickly swept under the rug. But that didn't happen, because Trump referred to Mexican immigrants as "rapists" and "murderers" during his announcement speech.

The fallout was swift. Univision decided last week not to air the Spanish-language telecast of Trump's Miss USA pageant. On Monday, NBCUniversal, which co-owns the pageant, decided to cut him out of The Apprentice. Macy's followed suit, announcing it would pull all Trump merchandise from its stores. And today, the mattress company Serta said it wouldn't be renewing its contract for the Trump Home collection next year.

And now, as Trump's Empire hemorrhages money, we're getting closer than ever to learning the details of his business practices. In the past, Trump's net worth has been notoriously hard to pin down, and experts have said it's likely a much lower number than he suggests. But earlier this week, afederal judge ruled that Trump will have to clarify some of his murky finances, as part of an ongoing lawsuit over a "university" Trump named after himself.

Trump got into the distance learning game in 2005 as a way to further cash in on his then-recent reality TV success. According to a federal complaint, Trump University was marketed as "the next best thing to being Trump's Apprentice" and improbably compared it to the University's of Pennsylvania's famous Wharton Business School.

In October of 2013, former student Art Cohen claimed in court that he paid almost $36,000 for a three-day event in Palo Alto with hopes of learning real estate secrets from instructors that Trump handpicked. But actually, according to New York Attorney General Eric Schneiderman, Trump University was a scam school being run without a license. A court agreed, and Cohen's complaint evolved into a class action lawsuit.

In the latest development of the case, US District Judge Gonzalo Curiel announced Tuesday that Trump must disclose how much money he made from tricking wannabe business moguls with deep pockets and a shallow understanding of what differentiates an Ivy League business school and a weekend conference held at hotel.

"In this case, plaintiffs seek more than just a figure of Trump's net worth," Curiel wrote. "Moreover, the court finds it is not fair to say that Trump's net worth is equally available to plaintiff from publicly available sources. Publicly available figures of Trump's wealth have been the subject of wild speculation and range anywhere from $4 to $9 billion. Simply stated, plaintiffs are entitled to answers made under penalty of perjury."

The ruling could soon provide a rare glimpse into the finances of a man who constantly brags about being rich despite having declared bankruptcy four times. Losing the Spanish-language broadcast of Miss Universe and Miss USA will cost him $13.5 million dollars, and it's said that he makes $65 million a year through his work on The Apprentice. It's unclear how much his mattress contract was worth.

Although every presidential candidate that registers with the Federal Elections Commission has to file personal financial disclosure reports within 30 days, those forms are difficult-as-fuck to read, and also fairly vague. With this suit, we'll at least be able to get a glimpse into how one specific arm of his empire was run (into the ground.)

Oddly, Trump's PR nightmare only seems to be hurting him financially. Politically, he's doing great: Against all common sense, he's now second only to Jeb Bush in national 2016 polls; if the numbers hold, he'll surely have a spot on stage for the Republican primary debates, which means we'll be treated to even more batshit crazy remarks.

Attorneys for the plaintiffs in the class action case have until August 10 to ask Trump about the finances of his so-called university, according to the ruling, which is embedded below.

Follow Allie Conti on Twitter.

Trump_Discovery_Order

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