Photo via flickr

In a world where we’re constantly (and some might say needlessly) connected to one another, the idea of being forced into total isolation for up to 23 hours a day should be incredibly disturbing to anyone who values fresh air, chatting with other human beings, and having basic human rights. Solitary Confinement: Social Death and its Afterlives is a new book that explores the legal and institutionalized torture that we’ve come to know as solitary confinement. Written by Dr Lisa Guenther, an associate professor at Vanderbilt University, her argument is essentially that it’s not only unnatural to completely sever a person’s social stimulation but dangerous—as it can lead to that person becoming “unhinged” and radically harmed.

While all of that may sound completely logical to most people—solitary confinement is a popular form of imprisonment in the USA, with the actual amount of segregated inmates sitting somewhere between 25,000 and 80,000. Canada is, however, also in the business of segregating inmates. In fact, you just need to travel 46 minutes northwest of downtown Montreal to find a supermax style penitentiary—the Regional Reception Centre of Saint-Anne-des-Plaines—that comes complete with its own isolation unit that can hold almost 300 inmates (the latest data from 2008 said at 90 inmates were being held in isolation).

America’s struggles with solitary confinement are fairly well known, but I hadn’t ever really considered Canada’s own solitary confinement process. So I gave Dr. Guenther a call to chat about solitary confinement in Canada and her perspective on it.

VICE: For those of us who’ve only seen solitary confinement units on Netflix, how would you describe their general characteristics?  
Lisa Guenther: A lot has changed since the 70s, when solitary confinement was a kind of dark pit, a dungeon type place you’d be thrown into. That was the old style; we don’t use that anymore because that’s barbaric.

Good!
Yes! There were a lot of prisoner litigations in the 70s and 80s objecting to this form of confinement and referring to it as cruel and unusual punishment. Every prison is a little bit different but generally the special handling units (SHU) in Canada are modeled after the SHUs in the USA. The way both of these prison systems have proceeded to implement reforms was by addressing the prisoners’ complaints or concerns individually. For example, dark and unheated cells became 24/7 fluorescent-lit, heated spaces—a kind of space-station-hyper-clean antiseptic environment.

While this is certainly the complete opposite of a dark pit, it’s almost worse. What they did was really insidious: by addressing all concerns about basic living conditions point by point, they reinforced the feeling of isolation, made it in some ways more sustainable, but in others, they created a situation in which people can be legally confined in an isolation unit for years or even decades (in the US).

I read about a woman who had gone partially blind because of the exposure to 24/7 fluorescent lighting
Yes! That’s Susan Rosenberg; she referred to it as “white blindness.”

According to the UN expert on torture: “Indefinite and prolonged solitary confinement in excess of 15 days should also be subject to an absolute prohibition, [beyond that] the practice could amount to torture.” Have there been any proven, damaging effects on prisoners put into isolation?
There have been all kinds of psychiatric studies, notably those conducted by Stuart Grassian and Craig Haney. While different studies have yielded different results, Grassian and Haney show that a cluster of different symptoms, which they refer to as SHU syndrome, occurred in something like 90 percent of the prisoners they studied. Included symptoms can be affective, like paranoia and depression; cognitive, like confusion, memory loss, perceptual distortions, hallucinations; or even physical, like headaches and insomnia. So there is documented, psychiatric evidence that even a comparatively short term in solitary confinement can have negative consequences.

There aren’t exact figures for how long someone should be kept, and at which degree of isolation, to avoid lasting effects, partly because studies would have to be conducted in prison and the administration isn’t always cooperative.

You can find more on this topic at 15-days.org. It’s a website a friend of mine, Five Mualimmak, created to share his story as a former prisoner who spent five years in solitary.

I’ll check it out... Prisoners can’t be kept in isolation forever, can they?
In both Canada and the US there are limits on how long you can isolate someone continuously. The prison administration has to review that case periodically, but they can also renew those terms almost indefinitely. In the case of Ashley Smith, they moved her from prison to prison so they wouldn’t have to undergo a formal review of whether she should remain in isolation or not, so she stayed there for something like two years before…

…before she killed herself.
Yes. And they watched.

In your book, you describe yourself as a “Canadian white feminist.” How did that influence your research?
It influenced my perspective on American prisons in a more general sense. I didn’t work on prisons before moving to the US for a job at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee.

There, I was really disturbed by the inequalities and the violence I witnessed, both in terms of crime and the state’s reaction to it. The US still has the death penalty, the highest incarceration rates in the world, and they apply these extreme practices of isolation. I was living in the US as a Canadian—having grown up in a very different environment—partially blind to the way Canada over-incarcerates aboriginal people. After studying the phenomenon in the US, it’s interesting to come back to Canada and see our own system through different eyes. I’m no longer so naïve about the Canadian system.

I was especially shocked to find out aboriginal women were the most over incarcerated group in Canada. That’s an issue I want to learn more about and work on, intellectually and politically.

Former Ontario inmate Jim Cavanaugh reflects on his time in Millhaven Institution's SHU

What does that say about how the Canadian system works, that it’s aboriginal women who are the most incarcerated? It seems very targeted.
Kim Pate, from the Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies (CAEFS) is my go-to on the topic, you should check out the resources on their website. My sense is that aboriginal women are often represented in court in ways that are not effective and don’t address the intersection of their race, culture, gender, and class appropriately.

Elizabeth Sheehy, a law professor at Ottawa University conducted a study on women who had killed their intimate partners and were survivors of domestic violence—it looked at how they were represented in court and what kind of sentences they got. She found that because the public’s image of what an abused woman looks like is based on a white model, a lot of the First Nations women who had fought back against their abuser weren’t recognizable as survivors of domestic abuse. That was a mitigating factor in their sentencing. They got longer sentences and were portrayed as more aggressive. Sometimes, they were not only portrayed as aggressors, but also as the perpetrators of the violence done against them.

Over incarceration of aboriginal women is fuelled that way: they don’t get proper legal representation and social support to even appear recognizable as who they are and where they’re coming from.

So it’s blatant racism
Yeah. Basically. Short answer: racism.

Does anyone double-check who gets put into the SHU?
In Canada there is a “third party,” the correctional investigator, who prisoners can appeal to. His office is an independent body, not paid by the Canadian department of corrections. He represents an independent authority.

The rates of prisoners being placed in solitary confinement in Canada are on the rise (almost 2,000 more inmates have entered solitary confinement since 2009), what does that tell us about the direction the correctional system is headed?
On one hand we are seeing a much more punitive justice system in Canada with longer sentences and more mandatory minimums for certain offences. The rising rates of solitary confinement may also be an indication of punishment under a different name. However, I think that what we’re really seeing is a shift towards a more administrative management and micro management of prisoners, and that’s even scarier than the shift from a rehabilitative system to a punishing system.

At least punishment can be associated with the dark pit: it’s clear you’re being punished and the space expresses punishment; you know where you stand. This administrative power of isolating you to facilitate the prison’s operation and meet its security goals, that’s the kind of management of life and living death that is harder to resist because it’s harder to pin down. I think there’s something dangerous about that, something dangerous about leaving over to a handful of individuals the power to make these administrative decisions that affect people’s lives, their ability to think, to function their ability to sustain their own sense of a meaningful personhood.

Punishment is increasingly carried out under an administrative agenda and that’s what’s really scary.

An official from the correctional services of Canada actually said, “Solitary confinement is not a form of punishment but rather a means to help ensure the safety of all inmates, staff and visitors.” What are your thoughts on this?
If you put it that way and it sounds very reasonable! This is actually how solitary confinement has been framed since the 90s: it’s an administrative decision made by prison officials, it doesn’t happen in a court of law, in front of lawyers or judges. It’s just a security decision made at the discretion of prison officials and with little or no judicial oversight

It’s all done below the radar of the law.

Whatever the warden defines as a safety requirement can potentially provide the justification for isolating someone. The decision to take is left to the discretion of a few people who have a great interest in erring on the side of caution within their own institution.

Punishment is still in the realm of the law whereas administrative decisions relative to security are beyond it. A lot can happen on that level without legal scrutiny, and that leaves a huge area for abuse.

Solitary Confinement Is a Legal Form of Torture in Canada

Follow Martha on Twitter: @martcte

More on solitary confinement

http://www.vice.com/en_ca/read/thousands-of-california-prisoners-are-on-hunger-strike-right-now

http://www.vice.com/en_ca/read/the-mysterious-case-of-prisoner-x-and-the-israeli-prison-system

http://www.vice.com/en_ca/read/pen-pals-down-in-the-hole

(Photo by Paulius Ka)

The push to turn London's Southbank, one of the most iconic skate spots in the world, into a plaza of high-end fast food outlets continues. And while I'm sure we can all agree that London desperately needs another Pret a Manger branch, it does seem like a shame to destroy British skateboarding's most recognizable spot, as well as the cultural history that's grown in and around it.  

Director Henry Edwards-Wood has been leading the Long Live Southbank campaign since its inception, playing the dual roles of  spokesman and coordinator, as well as making a number of films about the undercroft along the way. His most recent short film is a 15-minute documentary that lays out the 40-year history of the spot, the nine-month campaign to protect it, and the story of its intended destruction by the Southbank Centre.

I spoke to Henry about what's going on with the campaign and why Southbank has come to represent much more than just skateboarding.

VICE: Hi, Henry. Can you give me a potted history of the Save Southbank campaign so far?
Henry Edwards-Wood: The custodians of the undercroft found out via a newspaper that we were going to lose our home and their sanctuary, with not one word of warning and not one attempt to ask us how we feel about it. They refused to engage with us, so we engaged with our network of individuals, who all share the same belief that we should view the world objectively and respect one another. Despite their every attempt to discredit, undermine, bribe, and ignore us, here we are nine months later, still not angry and still just celebrating the thing that bonds us all together.

How does the future of Southbank look at the moment?
The future of Southbank is whatever the disenfranchised generations of young people decide they want it to be. We have a really simple, easy chance to illustrate to the world that the people can affect, change, and even stop this cultural gentrification that’s happening all around us. Everyone can contribute because we aren't exclusive. We're not a brand, we are a manifestation of our own beliefs—of the hope, freedom, and brotherhood Southbank emits, which comes from the people having a free space that allowed us to develop a new way of seeing the world we live in.

How did the film come about?
Basically, when all of this kicked off, our whole world was turned upside down. It felt like our souls were about to be stolen, having put up with oppression by the Southbank Centre for 25 years, mixed with seeing all of our other treasured spots in London slowly become skate-proofed or redeveloped. All the people who use or used that space to find their place in life felt like, Well, I came here to get away from this backward world that doesn't make sense—now that world has caught up with me. What’s the point?

Everyone kept looking to me to do something, because I've been organizing these guys since I was a teenager so we could go and make skate videos. This film is basically a manifestation of all that frustration that has been built up, because I've been faced with the task of translating skateboarding to the British mainstream, and all I really want to do is make skate videos with my community to further our culture and progression.

(Photo by Andy Simmons)

It must be great to see the support coming in from around the world—not just from the skateboarding community, but from non-skaters as well.
This really isn't about skateboarding. Take the skateboards out of the equation and just look at the people who go there, interact, share ideas, learn their own history, and find their own identity. But what's so fitting is that it's the creative vessel that let's them realize the ideas and feelings they have been told a million times by institutions aren't actually valid.

And as far as the relocation site is concerned, can you explain why building a new park wouldn’t really replace what exists at the moment?
To answer that I would like to ask everyone to try this formula I have come up with in an attempt to make people understand.

OK.
Watch the film and think about this: culture V capitalism. Replace the "V" with a pillar and think about the pillar. Then think about what that pillar has come to symbolize to skateboarders and, by extension, free-thinkers.

A short film from the Save Southbank campaign.

All right.
Then watch your favorite skateboard film that inspired you when you were young. Or, if you’re not a skater, anything else that inspired you when you were young. Then imagine if you could explain it to the world just by telling them to go to Southbank.

Yeah.
Then watch your favourite non-skate film from the 1980s.

I can do that.
Then imagine if everyone in the world knows about Southbank and what it represents to the point where it doesn’t need to exist, because it has allowed society to be free, meaning skaters don’t need their Mecca because it has finally affected the whole world around it and fills the missing link between logic and nature to create a new symbol: the pillar, which represents the value of culture. The answer is in the archives of British skateboarding. Skateboarding is dead. Long live spatial broadcasting.

Anything else you'd like to add?
Just please take time to share this film and start as many conversations on the themes it raises to you personally. That is how we get this urban revolution rolling. Culture seems to equal either sport or art; skateboarding has combined the two to start making sense of the architectural anomalies and is figuring out a way to recycle the mess left in the wake of capitalist development. The Southbank Centre has provided a perfect example of how this country works, and it's all spin. Check out their PR, their new site, their copycat tactics and then reference it with what we have done and put out. 

Follow Niall on Twitter: @Niallkenny

More on skating in London:

Why Closing Southbank Skate Park Would Suck for London

A Decade of Photos from London's Southbank Skate Park

WATCH – Skate World: London

Photos by Pamela Giani

On November 5, Anonymous paid tribute to the final scene of V for Vendetta with their Million Mask March. But rather than blasting Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture" and obliterating Parliament with petrol bombs, they adopted the far more legal approach of donning their Guy Fawkes masks and spending a few hours shouting about corporate corruption, austerity, and how no mainstream media will cover their events.

The next day, almost every mainstream British media company covered the event, possibly mostly because Russell Brand got himself involved. But when you're committed to believing that the corporate media will do anything to suppress your message, you sort of have to ignore it when they write about you and the famous comedian who is publicly supporting your cause.

A few days later, Anonymous UK released this video, lashing out at the BBC via their animated avatar for not reporting the march. Confusingly, the BBC did actually report the march—in a pretty measured, non-partisan way. Regardless, the video called for another march, this time against media bias, concluding with footage of the November 5 demonstration and accompanied, weirdly, by Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack.

That march happened this Saturday, so I went into central London to see whether Anonymous would manage to attract the same amount of BBC attention as they always have—i.e., a decent, responsible amount, given that the BBC is a public broadcasting service and not an anarchist zine stapled together in a commune.

Arriving at the demonstration, I found around 200 people assembled outside the BBC's Portland Place studios, with between 40 to 50 Occupy and Anonymous members leading the proceedings. Some were wearing V masks and holding anti-BBC and anti-establishment placards, which was probably a fun photo-opp for the open-top bus tourists passing by.

This man was spitting bars to show his support for the cause, like a time-ravaged MC NxtGen. After he'd finished getting everyone all fired up, several people took to the soapbox to address the crowd with various tirades, the targets of which ranged from media bias to tax avoidance to the general state of the economy.

I had a chat with Kerry Anne Mendoza, one of the speakers and an independent journalist and blogger. She told me that she joined Occupy in 2007 and is disillusioned with the mainstream media.

"I’m really fed up at the BBC and the mainstream media for failing in their duty to reflect reality—it’s as simple as that," she said. "Particularly in the last couple of years, when you’ve got mass protest happening on almost a daily basis up and down the UK... If the duty of the BBC is to inform, educate and entertain, they’re failing in at least two of those principal duties right now, and it's just not good enough. We really need the media to take on their role as the fourth estate. They have an important function to hold power to account. To really add to that informed consent that makes any democracy workable, you need to have a populace of people who know what’s happening so that they can create a view about it. And the BBC aren’t doing that. In fact, quite the opposite."

A few minutes into my conversation with Kerry, her friend walked over and started chatting. He told me that he was just an average guy with an interest in politics, but said that Kerry had inspired him to go out and do something.

"It's inspiring words and commitment from people like Kerry that's making people want to stand up, man," he said. "You’ve got to look at what is going on out there. If you're going to be nonsensical and just sit there and be complicit in the system, you’re not going to be helping."

I also spoke to Dave (pictured above) from Occupy London, who focused much of his speech on the economy. "It's virtually impossible to get a straight message out about what's wrong with the economy and what [can be done to sort] the economy out, because the mainstream media are captured by corporate financial interests," he told me.

"We pay for the BBC—it's a public stakeholder thing. We deserve fair, proper coverage and we’ve not been getting that. Occasionally on a midnight on a Thursday you might hear some decent economic analysis, but the main message getting across to most people is the narrative of the three main political parties […] We're infested with corporate interests parasitising the rest of us."

As with most Anonymous and Occupy events, every attendee seemed to have a different reason for being at the protest. I heard everything from complaints about a corrupt media and government to calls to free imprisoned hackers (like the guy on the placard above). There was anger about rising energy bills and unemployment. Other than the usual outliers who attend any demo of this type—such as the one guy who said that the government is controlling everyone's minds via the mass media—the concerns seemed pretty legimitate. Alas, I often come away from these actions with the nagging feeling that such a multifarious list of gripes will only lead to an unfocused and ineffective protest.

The masks get made fun of quite a bit, which to an extent is unfair. They're supposed to be symbolic of everyone being equal—of there being no leader—which is perfectly fine and understandable and actually makes quite a lot of sense in a movement like this. (There's a long history of leftist movements self-consciously avoiding formal leaders.)

But the masts also neatly sum up the problems that groups like Occupy and Anonymous often encounter. Campaigning against the mainstream media while wearing a piece of pop culture iconography that's licensed to Time Warner shows just how poorly thought out the movement's actions can be, as does the fact that nobody seems to know exactly what they want out of these protests.

It's fine to campaign against media bias, but if you haven't got anything constructive to say, you're just a bunch of people complaining that the BBC give Huw Edwards more airtime than an animated YouTube avatar in a Guy Fawkes mask.

After the speeches had finished, the majority of the crowd dispersed. However, these guys were determined not to let the event fizzle out, so decided to occupy a traffic crossing.

After forcing a cab driver to temporarily drive on the sidewalk, they gave up their occupation and marched down Regent Street under the watchful eye of two bored policemen.

I asked a man in a mask where they were going. "I don’t know—I just want to piss some people off," he chuckled, before disappearing into the crowds of pre-Christmas shoppers.

Anonymous's marches are often ridiculed, but there are impressive elements to the movement. For instance, I can't think of many other organizations that would be able to sync up protests in over 400 locations in the same way that Anonymous did for their Million Mask March. And there are bound to be people with rational, productive ideas mixed in among those who just want to wave cardboard placards at police officers, but their voices are lost in the mass.

It was explained to me several times on Saturday that, even though the people at the demo have different agendas, they should still join to express their grievances together, but I couldn't help wondering if this is counterproductive. Surely if a movement had clearer objectives, it'd get taken more seriously, and maybe even attract more coverage.

Follow Murray on Twitter: @murrayonly

See more of Pamela's work at her website

More Anonymous:

Anonymous Tried to Bring Down the Government with Smoke Bombs and Fireworks

A Canadian Branch of Anonymous Is Standing Up for Anti-Fracking Protesters

A Chat with Some Immoral Hackers Who Don't Care About Your Feelings

Over here in chilly Canada, the versatility of Yaks is probably lost on you. Sure, you can associate the wooly animal with the letter 'Y' thanks to one of those basic animal life kids books you read at the age of 4, but Mongolia takes their Yak culture very, very seriously. A few years ago, one of our adventure travel crews went out to Mongolia to take the pulse of how the people there celebrate all things Yak. We're talking Yak cheese tasting, a Yak rodeo, a Yak race. Yak yak yak! So crack open a Cayman Jack and learn all about the exciting world of Yaks.

Photos by Maggie West

Amidst all the fanfare around Lee Daniels' The Butler, 12 Years a Slave, and the talk of 2013 being a landmark year for black filmmaking, the biggest name in modern black independent cinema, Spike Lee, drops another joint on the moviegoing public. Oldboy, an English-language remake of the 2003 South Korean film directed by Park Chan-wook comes out on November 27th. The film is as violent and dark as it should be, considering the source material, but it also contains plenty of signature Spike Lee touches, in particular, his penchant for including commentary on modern racial politics and gun violence.

We met in Hollywood last week to talk about the film, and all the hype about the year in black cinema. As you can see from the above photo, we did a lot of laughing.

VICE: I wanted to say that I really appreciated that you used two actors from The Wire in the movie [James Ransone and Lance Reddick]. I'm sure I'm not the only one who plays that "Spot the Wire actor" game when they see movie. Was that on purpose or was that just kind of like, you just cast who you like?
Spike Lee: The Wire had great actors. And I like to work with great actors. And I loved the show, David Simon’s a giant. And they were available.

What really attracted you to Oldboy as a project? It seems like a tough project to take on, first of all, it’s a remake—
Malcolm X wasn’t tough?

I mean, of course that’s tough.
I don’t run away from tough.

But what attracted you to it specifically? What was there in the original in the script that you got that made you really want to do this project?
I wanted to work with Josh Brolin, and I’d never done a reinterpretation before so those were the two things. We wanted to work together.

It seems like there’s a theme running through the picture of the cycle of violence and how people get into that world. And there’s that shot at the beginning of the sign of the gun—
That was my nod to the NRA.

So my question to you then is, is there a way to break that cycle of violence? Because the end of the movie is hopeful in a way, but there’s still a sense that this is such a hard thing for people to get out of, if they’ve been a victim of violence, be it emotional or physical violence. What does it really take to get out of that?
One, we gotta do something about these guns. I think that’s where it starts.

How do you think we can get these guns out of people’s hands?
The NRA, they’re not a pushover.

They have a lot of money.
They’re powerful. So it’s gonna be a battle. I don’t mean to say this as being cute, but it’s gonna be a fight.

This movie is very violent despite the fact that there isn’t a lot of gunplay. Was that purposeful?
Look at the source material. We had to be true to the source material. But Josh and I talked about how we don’t want the violence to be cartoonish. We did not want to be cartoonish.

Spike Lee and the author. As you can see, we did a lot of laughing together.

Oldboy is not overtly about race, but there are moments for myself, as a person of color looking at the movie and saying, there are things where maybe I feel you’re trying to say something, maybe you’re not. Specifically, the black bellhop in the hotel. Was there a reason why the bellhop was black?
That’s my brother. I just realized it after I cast him, he played a bellhop in the Jim Jarmusch film Mystery Train, with Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. Historically, bellhops have been—

Yeah, that’s why it triggered in my mind, that historical association.
I just remember those images of black men in those bellhop suits. So that’s where that came from.

It didn’t make me feel great for some reason. Not to say that it was something that turned me off from the movie. It brought up those memories of those old movies you watch on Turner Classic Movies of like—
Mantan Moreland?

Exactly. They just shuffle in with the fucking goofy hat on and shit, and I can’t stand it. There are certain movies I can’t watch because of the racial implications.
Like what?

Gone with the Wind. I had a girlfriend who was so into it.
One of the greatest movies ever made. I’m being facetious. [laughs]

Do you think there’s anything that you’re saying about race even though this movie isn’t ostensibly about race just because of the fact that—
There’s only one specific line where Sam Jackson on the phone says, “I must have reparations.” We slipped that in [laugh.]

With Oldboy, to go back to the movie, there’s I guess it’s a highly stylized movie and Samuel L Jackson’s costume is very out there and big and there’s a lot of big stuff. It’s an iconic-looking movie, it’s very well-shot and stylized. How do you keep that grounded? How do you keep that from going off into territory where it could be silly?
You have to have taste. Myself, Sharon Seymour, our production designer, Ruth Carter the costume designer, Sean Bobbitt the great DP, just shot 12 Years a Slave. We’re artists, so we know how far to go.

You mention 12 Years a Slave and this does feel like a banner year for black filmmakers in a lot of ways, and I know people say that all the time.
They say that every ten years.

Or like when Halle Berry won the Oscar.
They get excited.

I’m assuming you’ve seen 12 Years a Slave?
Yes.

Is this a turning point, or like you said, another ten years of “oh black people have made it?” Because the latter feels like a cop-out.
Ten years. It’ll be another drop, another nine years, and then the new new new new new new new wave.

Right.
So, I’m not excited. I’m glad this film is being made, but I don’t think it’s some type of grand world-changing attitude in Hollywood amongst people of color. I don’t believe that.

That said, 12 Years a Slave being directed by a black person, that probably wouldn’t have happened ten years ago. Would you say that that’s at least kind of a glimmer of hope?
That’s not true. People don’t know this, but Gordon Parks directed a film called Solomon Northrup’s Odyssey, which is the book, starring Avery Brooks. That film has been done before. People don’t know that. Did you know that?

No, I had no idea. I know Gordon Parks, I know Avery Brooks, but I didn’t know they made that film.
Same book. But it was called Solomon Northrup’s Odyssey. You should check it out.

So, what does it take then for a black male or a black female in Hollywood to overcome what is clearly either a systemic prejudice or general disinterest in the stories?
I mean, the angel on this film was Brad Pitt. McQueen has said this himself, without Brad Pitt, this film would not have gotten made.

But why does that continue when some of the biggest stars in music and film and sports are black?
You’ve got to ask the studio. I’m tired of answering that question. You’ve got to ask the powers, the gatekeepers, that question. Ask them.

I get frustrated, which is why I ask someone like you who a lot of people look up to, and I remember watching your films and finally feeling like there was someone talking to me, as opposed to talking down to me. We only ask because I think we’re frustrated.
Oh, there’s a lot of frustration. But I just hope that people, now that they see another view of slavery, and compare the two films. Big difference.

Yeah, there was an article in Vanity Fair which kind of compared Gone with the Wind with—
No, I’m talking about Django Unchained and 12 Years a Slave. Big difference between the films. And I’m going to say, that’s mostly due to the fact that you had a black Brit, an African-American, who was the writer. John Ridley—African American—and a black Brit—Steve McQueen, because the whole viewpoint is a different viewpoint of slavery.

It’s from the outside.
When you see 12 Years a Slave, it’s not a cartoon. It’s not funny. It’s not hip. You know? Was Spielberg’s Schindler’s List like that? Did he approach the Holocaust with that type of approach? The Holocaust is the Holocaust.

Do you feel that up to this point, up to 12 Years a Slave, there was a sense that we were forgetting about the actual horror of slavery? Was pop culture kind of—
It’s not forgetting, it’s not in particular… it’s painful. I know firsthand that many African-Americans don’t want to deal with that. It’s too painful. And up to that point, we really only had Roots. That was in the 70s. But, there’s still so much source material, and I’m not trying to knock Steve McQueen, because that film is great. And he would say the same thing now, there are many other stories. Harriet Tubman. Nat Turner. John Brown. Abolitionists. Harper’s Ferry. So, there’s many more stories to be told. Hopefully, these other people step up, besides Brad Pitt—and that’s a shout-out to Brad, because he didn’t have to do that. I think that’s a heroic act on his part, and he got it made. Steve McQueen comes into any studio without Brad Pitt, it’s not going to happen. It’s not happening. So, I’m glad it happened.

Do you still find yourself struggling when you go to a studio and say, “I want to do this movie?”
Yeah, it depends on what type of film I want to do.

So was Oldboy a little bit easier, just because it was more of a genre film?
No film is easy. Tough business.

Do you think the younger generations of black kids are spoiled?
Yeah, my son is spoiled.

I mean, more in terms of the struggle for equality.
They don’t know about it. It’s our job to teach them. Sometimes we’re not doing it, they’re not learning it in school. That’s not just black, that’s in general. Young kids, anything happened before they were born, it’s prehistoric.

Yeah. Right over your head.
Which is sad.

Well, I guess that means I have to watch that Gordon Parks movie as soon as possible.
Go find it. It’s called Solomon Northrup’s Odyssey. It was for PBS, American Masters. Starred Avery Brooks.

What do you have planned next?
Well, my thing with Mike Tyson’s coming out. I directed him on Broadway. It’s called Mike Tyson: Undisputed Truth, and we filmed the play, videotaped it, so it’s on HBO tomorrow night. And I just finished a Kickstarter film that we’re editing now. That title’s called The Sweet Blood of Jesus.

Is there anything you can say about what that project’s gonna be?
It’s about people addicted to blood. But they’re not vampires.

@dave_schilling

More filmmaker interviews:

The VICE Podcast - 'Escape from Tomorrow'

The VICE Podcast - The Time Philadelphia Bombed Itself

The VICE Podcast Show - Wong Kar-wai on 'The Grandmaster' and the Essence of Kung Fu

Thumbs Up! is our long lost travel show where David Choe and Harry Kim go on some crazy hitchhiking adventure—and this is the very beginning of their last Chinese adventure. It wasn't their last because anything terrible happened, but you know, people grow up and move on with their lives. Regardless, this immortal document is a testament to their awesome voyage, and we're happy to re-present it here for Cayman Jack's Travel Week.

Pretty much every guy at some point thinks about participating in a cum-for-cash scheme. Guys cum all the time. In fact, I bet you're cumming right now. So why not get paid for it?

After some googling, I found out that there are general criteria for selling your sperm, including having, or pursuing, a college degree, being over 5’9’’, being free of drugs, being from a family that's free of mental illness, and possessing a high sperm count.

I have a BA, I'm neither mental or a drug addict, I'm tall, handsome and charming, and quite the virile man (ladies?), so I figured this would be as easy as rubbing off a log. 

I sought out the bank that would pay the highest possible amount for my tadpole kin. The most remunerative group for my rudiment is Cryos New York. They offer $500 a pop, and up to $600 for an "open donation," where your kids come and find you later in life.

If I am going to be a dead-beat dad, I don’t need to know about it, so I filled out my application for closed donations only. After filling out my 10-page application form, I sent it to Cryos Bank, and I was thoroughly excited to begin my career as a freelance masturbator.

The next day, I was invited to go to Cryos Bank, where I met a well endowed a nurse named Jennifer. She told me most of the guys who came in were dumb and ugly, and they were thrilled to have someone like me donate. As I went in to the room to do my business, I dropped my pants when suddenly Jennifer entered the room wearing a lace corset, “Need help,” she asked in a sexy, whispery voice.

Oh wait, that’s what I imagined happened. Actually, within 24 hours, I received an email that my application was rejected. Talk about a downer. I felt like I was told I didn't get into the University Of Phoenix.

Over the course of the next week, I applied to a few other sperm banks and was universally rejected without so much as a visit to an office. It turns out—in a paltry salvation to my confidence—the financial recession has made sperm donating a competitive business. Sperm donation applications have doubled while woman looking for insemination has dropped. Cryos Bank brags it has a 1% acceptance rate and is “harder to get in than Harvard.”

After a few weeks of continued unemployment, I was franticly researching whether debtors’ prison was still a thing, afraid I might have an impending bunking session with someone who maxed out their credit card on webcam girls and impulse QVC purchases.

Eager to get at least something for my man-milt, I decided to take a different approach this time around. Instead of shopping for the best in the business, I went for the worst. Dive bars are cool, right? Why can’t the same be said for sperm banks?

The one that seemed to be the crappiest was Idant Labs, with a 90s website featuring stock photos of lab attendants looking into microscopes. They pay donors a whopping $60 per donation. Seemed to me like, outside of smuggling my semen out of debtors’ prison, it wasn’t getting any lower than this, so I sent them an application. Sure enough, I was immediately accepted, and I made an appointment to visit their office.

Upon my arrival I was handed some paperwork with a bunch of hilarious questions.

If I knew what my future goals were, I wouldn’t be selling my sperm. How many people aspiring to win a Nobel Prize in physics made their living jerking off into plastic cups? Also, really? A message to pass along to the unfortunate recipients of my semen? I wanted to write, “That’s what you get for coming to a place like this," but in the name of decency I refrained.

Question 7 kind of freaked me out. Is there an all of the above option?

As I handed in my paperwork to the doctor, I was asked if I "abstained" for five days—as outlined in the initial email they sent me. This is absolutely impossible for me. It has become second nature for me to masturbate; a bird flies, a fish swims, a WWE wrestler beats his wife, and I masturbate everyday.

The doctor looked at me skeptically, “Male fertility is on the decline. Many men can’t produce enough semen to donate. A donor gets three tries to donate a sample within our sperm count range. Most potential donors can’t get there”

“Although, we once had one guy who could donate three times a week, he was very unusual.” He beamed as if this guy was the Honus Wagner baseball card of masturbating.

I was then escorted into a little room where it was time to do my thing. There was a tiny 12’’ TV with a VHS player for my pornographic pleasure. Conveniently, there were only DVDs available. I tried playing the DVDs in the VHS player hoping for a pornographic miracle, to no avail.

Since the TV was a no go, there was the standard fair of old Playboy and Penthouse magazines stacked on a small table. The newest issue I could find was from 2008. As a longtime fan of Playboy interviews, I took the time to read Arianna Huffington’s thoughts on impeaching George Bush.

Despite how scuzzy the room was, I still managed to stop dry-heaving in time to get down to business. Incredibly I found it quite easy, and came within two minutes (ladies?). I handed in my sample, and I was told they would get back to me within three business days.

Incredibly, that’s where this story ends. I was never called back. I’m not kidding. That was it. I have done a lot of things in my life to make extra-cash, but nothing quite as soul crushing as trying to get someone to buy my sperm. Oh well, I never wanted kids anyway.

@Ryan_PMcCarthy

All photos by Andres Serrano.

Andres Serrano is perhaps best known for peeing on Jesus Christ, or rather submerging a plastic crucifix figurine in his own urine and photographing it. His 1987 work Piss Christ touched off one of the most famous controversies in contemporary art history. Christians were outraged at his blasphemy in the name of creativity—and the fact that the government had given him a National Endowment for the Arts grant for his work, including Piss Christ—which resulted in death threats and protests. Even today, the piece causes outrage whenever it is exhibited and is frequently the target of vandalism. Of course, Andres has made a lot of art since then, including images that have been used as album covers for Metallica, but it is his earlier work that is mostly taught in college art courses the world over.

We had no idea what Andres was up to until last summer when we got a call from Dahlia Heyman, a producer with whom we are working on a feature film. She asked if we’d be interested in accompanying Andres on a three-week trip to Cuba as he attempted to photograph the normally reclusive Fidel Castro. He was planning to leave in three days, Dahlia said, but we agreed before she could even finish her pitch.

The following day, we met Andres in his West Village home, which is decorated like a Gothic cathedral, complete with pews and a collection of taxidermied cats and bats. We were as giddy as schoolgirls when he used us as models for lighting setups that he was planning for portraits in Cuba. We were less enthused when, a few days later, we found ourselves carrying cameras through crowded Havana streets in 105-degree weather, wishing desperately for a sip of water. The trip had us piling into the backs of 1950s Chevrolets and rickshaws, venturing into morgues, underground gay bars, and reggaeton concerts. Alas, Andres did not end up shooting El Comandante himself, but he did manage to document what seemed like the entire country in a few weeks. We followed him into the homes of Cubans of all social classes—including some members of the Castro family.

We hope the following portfolio of his photos from Cuba—which will also appear in a forthcoming book—will force the world to realize he’s not just “the Piss Christ guy.” We interviewed him a few months after our return to the US to learn more about the motivations behind the adventure.

VICE: Why did you decide to photograph Cuba?
Andres Serrano: Although my mother was born in Key West, Florida, she was raised in Cuba and didn’t return to the States until she was in her late 20s. When she came back to America, she only spoke Spanish and never bothered learning English. I was born in New York City and grew up speaking Spanish. As a child growing up in the 50s, Cuba and Castro were bad words and it was not a good thing to say you had anything to do with Cuba. The Reds were our enemies: Cuba, Russia, and China. Fifty years later, Cuba is the only one left on the list.

You’ve never been to Cuba before? Even on vacation?
I only travel for work. If I wanted to go to Cuba for the sake of visiting Cuba, I would have done it long ago. But I wasn’t interested in going to Cuba until I was ready to do some work there. So I got in touch with Jorge Fernandez, the director of the Havana Biennial and of the Wifredo Lam Contemporary Art Center. In the past, I had been invited by Jorge to participate in the biennial; however, my galleries had not been interested in sending work there. I felt it was time I go to Cuba, so I contacted Jorge and asked him if he still wanted me to participate. He said yes, so I sent him some works from my studio and prepared for my trip. I knew I was going there not only to participate in the Havana Biennial but, more important, to do a big work on Cuba.

As an artist, my relationship to the world is through my work. I waited a lifetime to go and went with big intentions. I wanted to capture as much of Cuba as I could. I was there six weeks and went to seven cities, from one end of the country to the other. I took more than 700 rolls of film with me and shot thousands of photographs.

Was it how you imagined it’d be after waiting all those years to make the trip?
Better. I didn’t know what to expect. It surpassed all my expectations.

Did you find it more difficult to get people to let you take their picture in comparison with other places you have worked in the past?
It was a lot easier. Everyone welcomed me with open arms. Where else could you go and have strangers open up their homes to you and say, “Come on in, do whatever you like, this is your home”? I’ve done work in Budapest, Rome, Amsterdam, New Orleans, Atlanta—even though I felt at home in those places, I really felt at home in Cuba. That’s because I speak Spanish, and I have some Cuban blood.

Would you consider this a more journalistic project than your previous work?
I’d say it’s investigative and exploratory work. When I photographed the dead in The Morgue or The Klan or Nomads, the portraits of homeless people I did in the 90s, I photographed those people in a “studio,” with lights and a backdrop. The studio was the morgue, or the subway where I photographed the homeless, or outdoor locations in Holland where I set up my camera and lights for A History of Sex. When I got to Cuba I realized it made no sense to limit myself to a studio. Even though I did some studio work in Cuba [for] portraits and nudes, I took my camera and lights to the streets and into people’s homes and made Cuba my studio.

What was the most unexpected aspect of the trip? Were you truly surprised by anything or anyone you captured?
I think what was most surprising was the ease with which I traveled and worked in Cuba. I did a lot of work, met a lot of people, and got into a lot of places without any restraints or restrictions.

More than once, I even went into a home where someone was asleep, and I was given permission to take that person’s picture while they slept. But the most interesting thing for me was when I went to the Mercado Unico, the big marketplace in Havana, where I found a vendor selling live chickens and roosters. Rather than take his portrait at the market, I decided I wanted to take the vendor and his chickens to the studio. I had set up a studio at Martha Obregon’s [bed -and-breakfast] in central Havana, where Sean McCormick, my assistant from New York, was staying along with some other friends who decided to go to Havana with us. So I say to Sean, “Let’s get the car. I’m taking this man to the studio.” And Sean says to me, “Hey, do you think that’s cool with Martha, to bring this dude with his roosters to her house?”

It never occurred to me to ask, but Sean made me think I should call ahead. So I call the house and Maria, Martha’s sister, answers the phone. “Maria,” I say, “I have a man here who sells chickens and I was wondering if I could bring him and his roosters to the house to photograph?” And Maria answers in Spanish, “You’re the king here, you can do whatever you want.” After that, I never asked permission about bringing anyone to the studio.

How did you go about trying to get access to Fidel?
When I got to Cuba, I did a couple of interviews for radio and TV. The TV interview was for the [state-controlled] Cuban station that everyone watches. The interviewer asked me in Spanish, “What do you want to photograph in Cuba?” I responded that I wanted to photograph everything and everyone I could; I said I wanted to photograph the people on top—Raúl [Castro, Fidel’s brother and currently serving president], the celebrities, intellectuals—the people in the middle, and the ones at the bottom. “What about Fidel?” she asked. “Don’t you want to photograph Fidel?” I looked at her and smiled and said, “I didn’t want to say it, but yes, I came here for Fidel!” After that, I would see people on the street and they’d say, “Did you get Fidel?” And I’d say, “Not yet.” And they’d say, “Good luck then. I hope you get him.”

One of the people I photographed early on was Mariela Castro, the daughter of Raúl, who is also an activist for gay and transgender rights. I asked her to ask her father if I could take his picture the day after Father’s Day… I called her up and said, “Yesterday was Father’s Day; I know you saw your father. Did you ask him if I could take his picture?” And she said, “I did, and he said he’s been so busy he hasn’t even had time to sit for the presidential portrait.” So I said, “I’ll take the portrait!” She laughed.

I also photographed Alex Castro, who is a photographer and Fidel’s son. I called Alex that same day and said, “I know you saw your father yesterday for Father’s Day. Did you ask him?” And Alex said, “I gave him the letter you wrote with the photos, and he looked at it and didn’t say anything. He just stared into space. He often does that.”

Your work has always been very controversial. Do you think these pictures will inspire any outrage, perhaps regardless of their content and just because you are you?
Cuba is controversial just for being Cuba. And in Miami, Cuba is a lightning rod. I always see my work as a mirror and everyone sees what they want when they look into it. Those who want controversy will find it, even when none is intended.

All photos by Andres Serrano.

Watch Serrano Shoots Cuba, Alexandra and Natalia’s documentary on Andres’s journey.

More from this issue:

The Fresh Prince of Chiraq

Soul on Fire

The Bible Needs More Sex Scenes

The next time you find yourself in Manila, you could walk, bicycle, or scooter around like some kind of unartistic sucker, but here at VICE we've always known that the Jeepny is the preferred method of travel for anyone in the Phillipines who really understands how to live. These highly decorated all-terrain vehicles are fascinating, and they're the kind of cultural touchstone that you probably would have never heard about if it weren't for this Travel Week we're putting together with Cayman Jack. So go and tell all your friends about Jeepnys, and enjoy this classic VICE travel piece.

A Vietnamese man in downtown Hanoi, where ever-tightening state restrictions are making it harder for activists to communicate freely (Photo by Bui Hoang Long)

Last week, the UN elected serial human rights repressor Vietnam to its 47-seat Human Rights Council (UNHRC). Despite operating a single party communist regime—under which freedom of speech, right to protest, and many other liberties are routinely denied—Vietnam received the most votes from UN members out of the 14 newly elected countries (184 out of 192). Which is kind of ironic when you consider that voting is a practice not many of the country's 90 million citizens are too familiar with.

The result is just as hypocritical as it is confusing; in the past, Vietnam's Hanoi regime has stubbornly refused permission for the UNHRC to investigate allegations of human rights abuses. Over 50 dissidents have been imprisoned already this year for exercising their right to free speech, while others are routinely beaten, harassed, and intimidated. Uprisings from minorities and religious groups aren't tolerated either, and are often crushed with completely unnecessary force. For example, a small group of Catholic protesters in Nghe An Province were recently met by a reported 3,000 police and soldiers wielding guns, batons, and grenades.

"Vietnam is still a poor country rife with corruption and moral degradation," says Nguyen Van Dai, an activist who's well acquainted with the government’s means of oppression. In 2007, the communist regime seized Dai for giving lectures on human rights to students at his office in Hanoi. He was sentenced to four years imprisonment and remains under house arrest until 2015. Since his release from prison in 2011, Dai has been detained five times by the Vietnamese security agency, being questioned for at least three days on each occasion. 

Despite his treatment, Dai remains committed to spreading his message. "I blog to express my opinion on political, diplomatic, and human rights issues," he said. "I also want to explain political rights to Vietnamese people so they can use their rights to protect themselves."

Whether Dai's mission will become any easier now that Vietnam is a member on the Human Rights Council remains to be seen. From 2014 to 2016, Vietnam will be in the illustrious company of five other new UNHRC recruits—China, Cuba, Russia, Algeria and Saudi Arabia—that are better known for violating human rights than observing them. Vietnam clearly wasn't voted onto the council for its unwavering commitment to civil liberties, so why did 184 countries offer their backing?

The cynical explanation would be money. Vietnam has frequently been touted as a star economic performer and is projected to be one of the world’s fastest growing economies between now and 2050. Of particular interest to investors is the country’s nuclear energy, with the US, South Korea, and Russia already courting Hanoi to get in on an industry estimated to be worth $50 billion by 2030.

With the Western economy still reeling from the debt crisis, developed countries are salivating over any opportunity to attract Asian capital, as demonstrated last month when George Osborne exchanged his dignity for potential investments on a business trip to China. And looking over some of the other new inductees to the council—China, Russia, oil-rich Saudi Arabia—it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch to wonder if countries might be willing to put principles aside when voting for a token, toothless UN committee in the hope of sharing future profits.

"Vietnam's election shows how horse-trading for positions among governments at the UN has trumped the requirement to uphold human rights principles," says Phil Robertson, deputy director of Human Rights Watch’s Asia Division. Aside from the business angle, Phil also thinks that historical sympathy and naivety over the extent of Vietnam’s "disastrous" human rights record played a part in their election. "For many members of the public in European countries, Vietnam is now a new tourist spot that's cheaper than Thailand and has nice beaches and mountains," he said. "The whole consideration of human rights doesn't even enter their mind."

As for Vietnam’s motives for joining the council, many suspect its membership will be used as a shield to deflect awkward questions about abuses. Foreign Minister Pham Binh Minh was quoted in state media as saying: "Vietnam’s selection for this position shows that the country has won high degree [sic] of confidence from UN member states." He later emphasized that this should be used as a stepping stone for Vietnam’s "active integration" into the global economy, while ignoring any suggestion that the country’s wanton abuse of freedoms should be addressed now that the regime has been tasked with addressing wanton abuses of freedom around the world.

So, it seems Hanoi is also viewing this political pantomime as a chance to raise some cash and buy its security services some shiny new batons. According to a contact of mine at the UN who wished to remain anonymous, Vietnam's human rights hatchet job has been the one hurdle in its dash towards prosperity, so council membership will serve as a useful bargaining chip in negotiations for lucrative trade deals with the EU and US.

Of course, the UNHRC itself isn't exactly free of blame here. By allowing itself to become a venue for economic cottaging, it is making it tougher for dissidents worldwide to peacefully exercise their basic human rights. The body is now in its second incarnation, replacing the UN Human Rights Commission in 2006 after it was deemed weak and ineffective. Having entrusted Vietnam and those five other rights-violating countries with protecting human rights around the world, perhaps it's just a matter of time before this council also ends up on the scrapheap.

Follow Jak on Twitter: @JakPhillips

More stories from Vietnam:

Vietnam Won't Stop Locking Up Its Bloggers

Photographing the Loving Gays of Vietnam

I Ate and Drank Cobra in Vietnam's Snake Village

Image by Courtney Nicholas

I think I can learn a lot from Corey Feldman’s autobiography, Coreyography. He was a child star in the 80s who was pushed into acting by his parents. His mother was a former Playboy bunny at one of the clubs, and his father was a struggling musician. Once Corey started booking commercials at age three, he became the family’s breadwinner; with that came a host of unfair responsibilities for the young Corey, which seems to have warped his perspective on his place in the world and his relationship to filmmaking; it must be hard to shake that feeling importance. He was, like all child actors, working in a professional environment filled with and designed for adults—having to play child characters but performing a job that required the stamina and perspective of the adults who worked alongside him.

Because he was the major earner for his family, the pressure for him to continue working was extraordinarly—abusively—high: he was beaten with belts and wooden dowels if he didn’t perform well in school (bad grades would prevent him from getting a work permit), if he ate too much (his mom had an obsession with his weight), or if he didn’t book jobs or had problems on the set. As a child, Corey was in some of the most important movies of the 80s, Stand by Me,The Goonies, The Lost Boys (the first of the contemporary teenage vampire projects—decades before Twilight). And he was part of the pop phenomenon “the Two Coreys,” alongside Corey Haim, and was a close friend to Michael Jackson; Corey was at the center of most of the popular youth projects and events of the era. By tracking his story, one gets to a peak behind the scenes of many of the projects that shaped the culture of my generation.

Corey had a crazy secret life going on that eventually affected his public life: the book reveals that after the abuse of his childhood, he was repeatedly sexually abused by an employee, had to emancipate himself from his parents as a minor, and became addicted to cocaine. The way that this information is structured and delivered in the book creates a tension-filled story that uncovers a somewhat uncharted aspect of the crazy world of Hollywood: the crazy world of young Hollywood.

Corey starts the book with the death of his best friend, Corey Haim. This creates a frame for the narrative and a reason to go back to the beginning of their Hollywood journey: to figure out how everything happened as it did. After the introduction, Corey re-starts the story with his childhood. His first memory ever is filming a McDonald’s commercial for Christmas coupons when he was three. This kicks off the sad and destructive period we already kind of know about: being pushed into professional performance by both his mother’s need to support the family and her drug habit, and by Corey’s love for performance. This dual drive distorted Corey’s relationship to the world by professional entertainment by the norm and the necessity in his life. He was unable to fit in at his schools when he was working on films because the students viewed him as an outsider because of his acting career.            

On the other hand, he was getting more and more acceptance and praise as a performer. So, his perspective was corrupted and he came to believe that success in entertainment was the only way to be fulfilled, that success in entertainment was the only end worth pursuing because it would bring the money his family wanted, the friends that he couldn’t get at school, and the fame that would fill the hole created by the lack of love he didn’t receive from his parents. And for a while he was one of the most successful child actors around, even as all this crazy stuff was going on. So what happened to him? How did he turn into the guy who throws the most depressing birthday parties ever? There was his growing dependence on drugs to escape the emotional battlefield of contradictions and pressure created by his mother, and the sexual abuse he and others suffered as a child actor. Amid all his private darkness, Michael Jackson emerges as his savior, the one safe friend in the chaos. He is ironically portrayed as Corey’s mentor. The pop star befriended Feldman on the set of The Goonies when he was a young teen and became a role model for Feldman, the voice of sane professional and personal advice. 

The book is fascinating because, on one level, we are brought to the sets of the famous movies of the day: Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter, Gremlins, The Goonies, Stand by Me, The Lost Boys, and License to Drive, so that is interesting to hear about. The nostalgia factor. Corey reveals all the sadness that was beneath these projects. In his case, much of the darkness was created by his family’s expectations, irresponsibility and drug abuse. Their lack of attention led him into situations where he was given alternate guardians and parental figures—some of whom introduced him to drugs and molested him. Plus his best friend with the same name died tragically at a very young age... Corey Haim became an extreme reflection of everything he was going through: he suffered more abuse and started acting out more, destroying more hotel rooms, having more sex, and doing more drugs.

Well, it’s arguable who did more drugs. It is a portrait of two boys slammed together in the zeitgeist of youth culture, while at the same time, they pushed each other into a life of destruction, a dichotomy of public success and private darkness—and only one of them survived to write a book about it. 

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Doug Fine giving a talk on cannabis law reform at London South Bank University. Photo by Jake Lewis

The US war on cannabis is over and there's no turning back, according to author Doug Fine. Doug took the stage at London South Bank University last week as part of a world tour devoting to spreading news of the "green economic revolution" currently underway in the US, where a legal—and potentially highly profitable—weed industry is sprouting up thanks to some states decriminalizing marijuana.

"My message is this: if it can happen in the US, then it can happen here in the UK," a relaxed Doug told his audience of academics, activists, students, and journalists. "There’s no stopping this train now."

That Fine is upbeat isn't particularly surprising. His most recent book, Too High to Fail: Cannabis and the New Green Economic Revolution, provided a blueprint for America's nascent medicinal cannabis industry. Published in 2012, it took a look at Mendocino County, California, where Sheriff Tom Allman bucked longstanding trends in American law enforcement and essentially sanctioned regulated, organic, eco-friendly cannabis cultivation. (The Feds later put a stop to Allman's innovations, and earlier this year the California sheriff came out against Colorado's legalization of weed.)

Fine effectively predicted the future of the pot industry before any state allowed anyone to sell weed without calling it "medical marijuana." Today, cannabis is pretty much as legal as tobacco in Washington and Colorado, and the market for weed is one of the fastest-growing areas of the economy—according to some estimates, it'll be worth $2.34 billion a year by 2014 and top the $10 billion mark by 2018 as legalization spreads.

A medical marijuana dispensary in San Francisco. Photo via

In London, however, Doug was more focused on the potential for a "green rush" in the British Isles. "Look at what’s happened in Portugal," he said, referring to the country's relaxation of drug laws that made the possession of any drug for personal consumption a misdemeanor at worst.

Few governments would accept that heroin addicts aren't criminals, as Portugal has, but many nations are exploring new ways of approaching and exploiting cannabis. In October, Uruguay announced that it would be the first country in the world to effectively nationalize the cannabis industry in a bid to undermine organized crime. That same month, Romania legalized the use of cannabis derivatives for medicinal purposes and became the tenth country in Europe to recognize the legitimate medicinal uses of the drug, while Switzerland made possessing ten grams of pot or less a minor misdemeanor.

Meanwhile, in Britain, the surprise appointment of Liberal Democrat Norman Baker—a former advocate of cannabis reform—to the role of Home Office drug tzar further buoyed hopes among UK cannabis campaigners that the green rush was lapping at Britain's shores.

But could Fine’s model for a regulated, organic, sustainable cannabis industry really take root in Britain?

Calls from both the House of Commons and Lords late last year to revisit Britain’s drug laws were promptly dismissed by Prime Minister David Cameron, who once made noises indicating he'd be open to reform. But Parliament did spur Deputy PM Nick Clegg into ordering a review of international reform alternatives that will likely look toward Washington and Colorado's recent reforms.

The arguments made by Doug about marijuana in the US can easily be applied to the UK. On a local level, legalization, or at least decriminalization, is a no-brainer, but politicians who have explored those options in the past have ended up hitting a brick wall. In April of 2012, when Green Party politicians called for cannabis cafes to be licensed in Brighton, the city’s head cop, Graham Bartlett, agreed that decriminalization was the way to go. But the people in charge of the country's marijuana policy have turned up their collective nose at such suggestions.

West Midlands police dismantling a cannabis factory in Birmingham. Photo via

A study published in September by the Institute for Social and Economic Research, which is connected to the University of Essex, claimed that the country could earn up to £1.25 billion ($2 billion) a year in tax revenue if weed was decriminalized. Others claim the figure would be much larger, with the Independent Drug Monitoring Unit estimating that it could be as high as £6.7 billion ($10.79 billion) per year based on current market prices. According to the pro-legalization Beckley Foundation, the UK would also benefit from cuts to the law enforcement budget—a shift to a regulated cannabis industry could save the government between £200 to £300 million ($321 to $483 million) a year.

The problem is that Britain has a long history of politicians, including Cameron, posturing about relaxing cannabis laws when at the fringes of power before reneging on that stance once they're sitting at the head of the table. (For an across-the-pond example of this, see Obama, Barack.)

And despite the liberalization of laws in the US at state level, the US federal government’s commitment to both the war on drugs and the international agreements that bind world powers to prohibition means that Britain’s politicians couldn’t currently deliver Doug Fine's dream world even if they wanted to. Unless, of course, a UK prime minister was willing to unilaterally withdraw from the country's global obligations and risk upsetting our special relationship and trade agreements with the US.

Leading criminologist and cannabis expert Gary Potter, who is currently undertaking a review of cannabis policies in Holland, Spain, and the US at South Bank University, explained how UK policymakers are boxed in when it comes to revisiting the laws on cannabis use and cultivation.

"Under current global drug regulations, Britain’s policymakers are bound over what they can do," he told me. "The UK doesn’t have the enshrined constitutional rights seen in countries like Spain that could override its international commitments. UK policymakers are limited to changing the status of cannabis use, which could be decriminalized. But cultivation, like trafficking, must remain illegal."

As such, any reform would still leave the production of weed in the hands of criminals, nipping all hopes of a "green economic revolution" in the bud.

A cannabis law reform protester in Edinburgh. Photo via

However, many cannabis campaigners, including Doug, believe that the next step for the US will be to reset the international landscape for cannabis laws, ushering in an era of reform and allowing the British government to act independently. But the hurdles don't stop there; according the UK reform advocates, the biggest challenge in Britain is winning the war against the stigma of drugs.

Rupert George is the head of communications for Release, an organization that lobbies for drug laws to be based around public health issues rather than the criminal justice system. "There is far more entrenched 'reefer madness' [in the UK] than in the US, with the dominant issue being about psychosis," he told StoptheDrugWar.org last month. "The idea of a regulated drug market for cannabis, or any other drug, is politically a long way away."

The first step towards winning the stigma war, say activists, is rebranding the cannabis industry. NORML UK (an offshoot of the US-based National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws) is pragmatic about the challenges they face. NORML UK was instrumental in bringing Doug Fine to London, and the group's current goal is to reset the image of the medicinal cannabis industry in Britain—giving it a coherent voice, objectives, and gaining the support of the public and the trust of police and politicians.

A photo from NORML's website.

"We hope that what's happening in the US will prompt the government to look at what's happening in other countries more seriously, and that Doug's story will inspire the public and law enforcement alike to look at this issue in a different light," said NORML UK spokesman Deej Sullivan. "For too long drug policy in this country has focused on punishing individuals for their drug use, which has led to a breakdown in the relationship between normal, law-abiding people and the people who are supposed to protect them—the police."

How the US moves forward will dictate change around the globe. However, a new generation of UK activists are looking to Europe's grassroots (har har) cannabis social clubs for ways to tackle reform at home. The goal is to bring together local networks of pro-legalization activists and helping them exploit legal loopholes that permit personal use and cultivation, thus allowing them to develop supply networks that operate within the law. Eventually, they hope that the European federation of clubs will form the foundation of a future industry.

Michel Degens, the founder of Mambo, a Belgian cannabis social club, told me the European cannabis community was rebranding itself. "We want to emulate what has happened in the US," he said. "And to do that we have to present ourselves as a mainstream business… We want to pay taxes and be regulated, and to do that we have to show that the industry had grown up and that we're not criminals. If we have to start small, so be it—this is only going to grow."

The federation has already forged links in the UK. With almost 40,000 Likes on Facebook, the London Cannabis Club (LCC)—established in 2011—is gaining traction. On April 20, the traditional pothead day of celebration, the LCC gathered around 10,000 cannabis fans together to call for reform in Hyde Park, a number far beyond the expectations of organizers or police.

The LCC's April demonstration in Hyde Park.

A guy who goes by the nom de plume of Orson Boon is the administrator of the LCC and the new face of the UK cannabis community—a young, smartly dressed professional who believes potential public support for change is only beginning to be tapped. "What we're doing is making links between communities, that, for the past decade, have operated beneath the radar," he said. "We are not criminals. In every other aspect of my life I am a respected, law-abiding professional, and there are tens of thousands of people in similar situations. If politicians can’t find a solution, then we will work to find one. We believe there is public support for change."

Despite the challenges, Doug Fine remains optimistic that the "future for the medicinal cannabis industry in the UK is bright." Having predicted the US green rush in 2012, he now claims that America is on a trajectory that cannot be reversed, and suggests that the global weariness with the war on weed will eventually see the industry accepted around the world.

But for UK cannabis activists, the reality is that the watershed moment is unlikely to come until the US decides to end its war on cannabis at an international level. And whatever's proposed in Nick Clegg's review of drug policy—which is supposed to come out before the holidays—the UK's war on cannabis isn't going to be over by Christmas.

Steve Sampson is the co-author of Narcomania: How Britain Got Hooked On Drugs. Follow him on Twitter: @Narcomania

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Kings of Cannabis

David Perdue, who was shot at by the LAPD while they were hunting for Christopher Dorner last February.

On Wednesday, a judge ordered the city of Torrance, California, to release the name of the police officer who shot at surfer David Perdue during the February manhunt for former LAPD cop Christopher Dorner, who at the time was out to murder as many of his ex-colleagues as he could. At the time the officer came after Perdue, Dorner had already shot two sheriff’s deputies, killing one, and gunned down the daughter of a LAPD officer and her boyfriend.

Fearful that Dorner might go after a local LA police official next, Torrance cops pulled over Perdue on February 7, asked him a few questions, then let him drive away. A few seconds later a second cop car rammed his truck, and an unnamed officer fired three shots, all of which (thankfully) missed. Perdue’s attorney also alleges that he was dragged from his vehicle afterwards. Dorner, by the way, was black and Perdue is white.

Perdue wasn’t the only victim of the police and their sudden inability to see color during this manhunt. A pair of newspaper carriers—47-year-old Margie Carranza and her 71-year-old mother, Emma Hernandez—were fired on by LAPD officers that same day because their pickup truck apparently looked like vaguely like Dorner’s. That incident provoked a backlash against the LAPD after Hernandez was hit in the back twice and her daughter suffered a hand injury. In fact, Torrance police said they were responding to the report of these mistaken shots when they fired on Perdue. The mother and daughter received a combined $4.2 million from the LAPD for their troubles, while Perdue has refused to settle with the city for the $500,000 they offered him.

Sometimes when police shoot bystanders, it’s not quite as embarrassing as mistaking a white man or two hispanic women for a black male fugitive—and often, victims have a harder time getting compensated for their pain and suffering. According to a recent New York Times piece, wounded civilians in New York have a particularly hard road to travel when they sue the NYPD. As with many other errors made by the police, when the wrong person catches a bullet from a government-issued gun it’s assumed that such collateral damage is unavoidable. “The state’s highest court has recognized that police officers’ split-second decisions to use deadly force must be protected from this kind of second-guessing,” a city official told the Times. That’s apparently true even when it comes to the 2012 incident at the Empire State Building when NYPD officers shot a gunman but managed to injure nine bystanders in the process. Some of these civilians have sued New York City, but the city government is so confident in its position that it isn’t even offering settlements in those cases.

Sixteen people have caught in NYPD crossfires over the past two years, and the city has paid $18 million for similar cases in the past decade—but those payouts mostly came from older incidents. The NYPD is generally insulated from lawsuits filed by bystanders thanks to a 2010 decision by the New York State Court of Appeals that ruled police weren’t negligent when they fired at a robbery suspect who had previously fired at officers even though two bystanders were injured.

However, two women who were injured by NYPD bullets during a confrontation with a disturbed man on September 16 might have a chance to get the city to admit wrongdoing. In that incident, a man who had been walking into traffic near Times Square was fired upon by cops when he acted like he had a gun. That decision is pretty suspect, considering they were in the middle of a crowd and no weapon had been spotted, but if one of the women follows through on her threat to file a lawsuit, she'll still face a tough battle from city attorneys.

No one expects cops to be perfect, especially when they are in life-or-death situations. But firing on unidentified vehicles, as the police did during the Dorner manhunt, is a screwup that goes way past a split-second decision that resulted in a mistake—which is why the LAPD is having to pay out. Generally speaking, making it easier to sue cops might incentivize departments to train their officers better and teach them not to shoot first and identify later.

On to the rest of this week’s bad cops:

- Sheriff Joe Arpaio of Maricopa County, Arizona, is now punishing jail inmates—many of whom haven’t been convicted of a crime—by forcing them to be patriotic, because he is the worst.

- On October 28, Oriana Ferrell was pulled over by New Mexico state police for going 71 in a 55 mile-per-hour zone. Ferrell then apparently sped away—with her five children in the minivan. The office caught up to her, pulled her over again, and angrily demanded that she get out of car. She did so, but when she tried to get back into the was a scuffle, and Ferrell’s 14-year-old son got out of the vehicle, “rushed” the officer, and was then scared back by the officer’s Taser and the arrival of backup. The first officer smashed the van’s window with his baton and as Ferrell sped away for a second time, just as the police fired three shots. Ferrell and her son were arrested at gunpoint after another brief chase, this one reaching speeds of 100 miles per hour, and the mother was arrested on charges of evading police, intentional abuse of a child, and possession of drug paraphernalia. The fact that cops fired on a van that contained five children—four of whom hadn’t done anything except scream in fear—has provoked “an internal investigation” by New Mexico state police. Ferrell isn’t exactly mother of the year, but the cops’ dangerous overreaction to evasion of a speeding ticket is more alarming than anything she did.

- A married couple who are both former CIA employees are suing Sheriff Frank Denning of Johnson County, Kansas, and seven of his deputies. In the lawsuit, filed in federal court on Thursday, Robert and Adlynn Harte claim they were subjected to an unconstitutional “SWAT-style raid” on April 20 of last year after arousing the cops' suspicions with a purchase of “plant material” at a hydroponic store and some used tea bags the police found in the trash (seriously). According to the Hartes—who are asking for $7 million in total damages—deputies field-tested the tea leaves and found no drug residue. They also saw the Hartes’ hydroponic vegetable garden, consisting of a half-dozen completely legal plants. But in spite of this disappearing probable cause, the cops spent two and a half hours turning the house upside down and frightening the family’s five- and 13-year-old kids. The lawsuit says that the Hartes used to tell their son in particular that the government only went after the bad guys, but “the Hartes could find no authentic words of reassurance for their frightened and bewildered children."

- This month, New York City paid out a $22,500 settlement to Kaylan Pedine, who was arrested last year for criticizing stop and frisk. According to Pedine, she simply said she wished the NYPD would stop that controversial program while in earshot of several NYPD cops. Officer Craig Campion seemed to take great offense at this and cuffed her. Pedine, a self-described activist who works for a social justice organization called American Jewish World Service, knew that she had a better chance of getting free quickly if she kept her mouth shut. She says she followed all the police’s commands, and she was soon charged with disorderly conduct, a frequent catch-all for offenses better described as “contempt of cop.” Pedine was detained for only an hour, so it could have been worse, though she had to go to three different hearings before they dropped the charges. That’s when she saw her police report, which claimed she was blocking a bus lane and refusing to move. She sued over that alleged lie and the city settled out of court—costing taxpayers over 20 grand in the process. Campion seems to have so far gone unpunished for his BS arrest.

- According to an Associated Press story published on Friday, Gerardo Hernandez, the TSA officer shot on November 1 at Los Angeles International Airport, lay wounded for 28 minutes after alleged gunman Paul Anthony Ciancia was safely in custody. This might have been because LAPD officer John Long said Hernandez was dead, even though that declaration needed to be made by a medical professional. Long allegedly checked on Hernandez repeatedly, but didn’t request paramedics, nor did several other officers. Not until airport police noticed a pulse was Hernandez taken away in an ambulance.

- For our Good cop of the Week, we’ll go with Suffolk County, New York, police officer Christopher Germano, who did a hell of a job playing firefighter. On Friday, Germano beat firefighters to a burning house on Long Island and used a ladder to reach the second floor and carry down a six-year-old handed to him by an adult. He then lead two other children and several adults to safety. One of the adults was treated for minor injuries, and Germano was briefly hospitalized for smoke inhalation, Good job, officer. Excellent use of police skills.

Lucy Steigerwald is a freelance writer and photographer. Read her blog here and follow her on Twitter: @lucystag

Previously: The Police Can Probe You if They Think You Have Drugs

Photo via

I think tap water tastes like shit. I drink a lot of bottled water. But the first time I heard about Martin Riese—the German restaurant professional dubbed the “water sommelier”—I wanted to break something. Unless you’re a medically diagnosed supertaster, it seems like the flavors in our drinking water are, well, nonexistent.

Unlike probably everyone else on the planet, Martin has been fascinated with potable water since childhood. On family vacations he obsessively sampled regional tap water to discern geographical differences in taste. He’s got a certification from the German Mineral Water Trade Association, a degree he’s flexing at Ray’s and Stark Bar, an LA restaurant with an intimidating 43-page water list that offers a water tasting with the savant himself. He’s even created the world’s first water "designed and crafted for taste," which the restaurant calls Beverly Hills 9OH2O (insert Dylan McKay rehab reference here). It’s hard to tell if Martin is scamming bourgie suckers or proselytizing thirsty humans into entering a new era of hydration. I decided to call him up and ask why he's so into drinking recycled dinosaur piss.

VICE: You’re the only water sommelier in the US. In a country where the average consumer spends a decent penny on bottled water every year, why do you think that your concept is met with such skepticism? Martin Riese: When I started the program, you wouldn’t believe the amount of hate emails I received from unreasonably pissed off people, to the point where they demanded that I go back to Germany. I think that most people don’t realize I’m simply giving them more options. I will never argue with anyone who wants to drink tap water. I’m just there to provide a service to those looking for new experiences.

Beyond the basic differences between bottled versus tap water, most people aren’t able to tell the difference between the types of water they’re drinking.
I think it’s a matter of personal taste. Everyone tastes distinctive things. I view the unique qualities in water in the same way that many people view and appreciate art. Though I may have more experience in tasting and differentiating between waters, I don’t think that other people have to necessarily agree with me.

Sort of like terroir in wine culture?
Exactly. Water is odorless, but that doesn’t mean that it’s flavorless.

Do you think that labeling yourself as a “water sommelier” may be part of people’s aversion to your concept?
People have a hard time wrapping their heads around what I do. It sounded really awkward to refer to myself as a water expert. The media was the first to label me as a water sommelier, so I just decided to run with it.

You provide water tastings for your patrons. What type of vocabulary do you use to describe these different waters?
I start with lighter waters that are low in TDS levels and work toward those that are more complex and higher in mineral and salinity content. I simply express what I am tasting, but it’s all about what you like.

In wine tastings, it’s normal to cleanse the palette between tastings with something bland, like crackers. Since water is pretty “neutral,” what are you supposed to do?
You want to keep your palate clean, since the flavors are often quite subtle. Coffee is the worst thing you can drink in between pairings. If people drink coffee, I suggest we try again tomorrow. But wine can be quite complimentary.

You’ve got a 43-page water list at your restaurant. Do most people read through the entire list, or just order tap water?
More often than not, people are fairly perplexed when we present them with our water list. About 50 percent of them order tap water. The list is there to engage and educate our guests. Each of the 20 waters gets its own page description that includes a complexity and salinity rating.

Photo via

What are the qualities that make a $20 bottle of water different from a $1 bottle of water?
It’s about how rare the water is, and how expensive it is to produce. The priciest bottle on our list is from Canada that sells at $20 for a 750-milliliter bottle that comes from icebergs. This water is virtually untouched by man. As massive icebergs break off of 15,000-year-old glaciers, they are harvested and melted under strict purity guidelines to preserve the water’s natural qualities. The last mammal to drink it did so about 10,000 years ago. I’ve been to springs in Denmark much smaller than the size of my apartment. These waters are more labor intensive to collect. I would rather pay to keep these kinds of companies going than contribute to large purveyors of purified water.

I heard you recommend Vichy Catalan water as ideal for hangovers. Based on its high salinity content, doesn’t it make a person more dehydrated?
It’s great for hangovers because it’s high in electrolytes—it has half the amount Gatorade does, without the sugar. If you are a heavy drinker, that high salt content might be a problem.

I do not consume in moderation.
I think you should try to consume a glass of water for every glass of wine. It’s also possible to drink too much water.

Do you have a method for converting the nonbelievers?
I like to give my customers options. I think that water is so fun and embodies the soul. I do not understand why the luxury of it is so off-putting to most people.

Do you drink from the faucet?
I don’t drink tap water.

Follow Joe Ricchio on Twitter: @joericchio

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Lap That Shit Up

In 1997, Toronto photographer Lincoln Clarkes began shooting for his stunning, albeit shocking photo series of over 300 female heroin addicts in Vancouver’s downtown eastside. A year later, when the Heroines series was first published and exhibited, public reaction was split: praised as humanizing a forgotten sector of society, and also condemned as exploitative and voyeuristic. However there’s no doubt that international media attention of the work raised awareness of these at-risk women, some of whom had gone missing (the remains of at least five were later found on serial killer Robert Pikton’s farm), and played an important role in helping a community that had, until then, been largely ignored by the city and law enforcement.

And while Lincoln’s work is currently part of a street photography show at the Museum of Vancouver, and the launch for his new book Cyclists approaches on November 21 at the Supermarket in Toronto, we wanted to look back on the amazing, albeit heavy series that first got us into his work. Lincoln sent us a sampling from hundreds of his Heroines photos, and we discussed what it was like shooting these women and how there’s still a lot of work to be done in that area.

VICE: How did the series begin?
Lincoln Clarkes: Leah, a solid friend who died in 1999 of a heroin overdose, introduced me to that addicted subculture. We frequently ran into each other for near a decade, she was usually engulfed in bizarre, surreal situations. But it all started the summer morning of meeting Patricia Johnson (who eventually went missing) and her two girlfriends. When photographing the trio, it became a Film Noir episode of drama. The portrait of them strung out on the steps of the Evergreen Hotel on Columbia St. brought me to my knees and made friends cry. I willingly slid into the new obsession of documenting at that point, in the vein of Lewis Hine and Jacob Riis, portraying social injustice and calling attention to the plight of addicted women. Within a few months the whole country was welling up with tears, and the police finally noticed.

Was it difficult to gain access to these women in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside?
Everybody is suspicious in the heroin/crack ghetto, but it’s also [paradoxically] a friendly place. When walking into those streets and alleys you're really walking into their living room, dining room, and bedroom. During this series a female assistant usually accompanied me, someone the Heroines would find amusing and a joy to meet, and who really cared about their situation, giving them apples, applying band-aids, lighting their cigarettes, etc. We would always try to make them laugh, or they would tell us some sordid sad story. Getting the skinny of what was going down in the ‘hood or with them, they opened-up like butterflies to us and became very generous. We made a point of giving every one of them a picture of themselves, and promised that we would not divulge their identity, unless they died.

If you could take us back to that time, what was it like shooting them, one by one?
The loneliness of the women was heartbreaking, they were dropping dead left and right and never knowing if they would make it to tomorrow. Many of their friends were going missing by the week. I think they really welcomed the attention and enjoyed participating in a photo project; the image being perhaps the only thread of their existence. Most of them lost everything that came before; they had nothing left to lose except their lives. Each woman had private tales that I tried to tell silently in the language of a photograph. It was an introduction to the people uptown that didn’t want to see or know these women. For the first time they were looking into their eyes.  

How many do you recall were heroin users and how many were using crack cocaine?
The women that were just using heroin seemed to be a lot less messed up. As long as they had money, they would manage their habit as a self-medicated alternative to deal with their crippling emotional handicaps. The heroin gals were mostly introverted loners who would just maintain a solo existence and stay in the shadows, compared to the crack head girls who were completely uncontrollable, unreliable, and unhealthy. Crack cocaine makes its subjects psychotic headcases that are frequently delusional, loud, and constantly lacking in good judgment; you can see that clearly in the behaviour of Toronto’s mayor. And then there’s the cross-addict, which is a heroin and crack mash up; look out for that combo. I was always suggesting ‘use not abuse’ to them, or to do the cold turkey method of withdrawal. Or perhaps go the pothead route for a while. Magic mushrooms? You couldn’t give them away down there.

Were many of them friends or strangers?
All the women were strangers when I first asked to portrait them but they were also literally my neighbors that I saw every day. I wasn’t parachuting into the situation. Walking a block with a First Nations woman, she would say hello to half a dozen cousins. The sense of camaraderie and family between First Nations people is so amazingly tight; they all shared similar histories, and a certain sense of humour. Life is so tragic for so many that they really enjoy a good laugh amongst the tears. All the women were in the same boat and the men were always bad news: johns, cops, jocks, dealers, pimps, and killers, all out to get them. So they do stick together in a lot of ways, sharing what they have. If one woman had a room, it would often be a sleepover with five on a bed. Some of the worst violence was women having catfights over a $10 rock of cocaine; then the next day you would see them sharing a cigarette wearing their wounds proudly.  

You’ve said that what these women needed was unconditional love. What else were they missing?
Most of these women had such a miserable abusive past or childhood; a happy history is what they don’t have. They are caught up in low self-esteem, unable to let it go and move on. They need serious therapy: lessons on managing their life regarding health and nourishment, a place to call home, an education and employment would help immensely. When these women rolled into town they didn’t have the advantages that the locals have: the connections to get them settled into decent circumstances. They didn’t have the social skills to fit into the right scene of relative comfort and normality. They are not contenders in the big picture of their generation in Vancouver. So what they need is what the privileged have, just to be able to fit in and participate with respect andequality. 

What kind of stories did you hear while shooting this series? I understand there is a documentary, too.
One story out of the hundreds of sad tales involved a woman who had just arrived in town on a Greyhound bus from living in rural British Columbia; her daughter had died in a car accident because her husband was a drunk brute and driving on a mountain road. She lost her job at the local bakery and subsequently her home. All she had left from her previous life was her daughter’s lunch box. Asking what had happened to her husband, she replied he’d been killed; I asked how, she said “mysteriously” as she smiled… Each addicted woman has a story of such misery and humiliation; they are willing to share if you just give them friendship and the opportunity to do so.

At what point did you decide to move to Toronto? Would you ever want to portray Toronto’s dark side similarly?
I left Toronto for Vancouver as a teenager in the mid 1970s. Bit of a stranger here now; British Columbia and England are both a big part of my life. I’m not interested in photographing the dark side of Toronto because it pales in comparison to the Wild West. And besides, my photographic practice nowadays is a world away from those images.

Has the situation changed much? Are the users in the Downtown Eastside getting any help?
If only…Insite was founded in 2003 and provides safe injection sites for addicts as well as medical staff for addiction treatment, mental health, housing, and many other related issues. They're saving lives. But for the women who are sucking latex with full-blown addiction, things have not changed. It’s just as wicked and even more tragic as ever, with well over a billion dollars being spent on “the poverty industry” since 2001 by federal, provincial, and municipal governments, which largely benefits “consultants.” The area still feels cruelly wounded under a veneer of aid. The population of hopeless homelessness seems to have doubled since the 1980s and 90s. It’s really the most soulful area of town sadly, with what’s left of the historical buildings slowly being gentrified by upstart people that are making a positive change of the landscape and attitude. Only the locals call it the Downtown Eastside the rest of the world calls it Vancouver.

Are you still in touch with any of the heroines today?
Yes, I do receive the odd email from time to time. They like to reminisce and are quite proud to be still kicking and to have survived the Robert Pickton murder spree. Since the mortality rate was off the chart in those days, I never knew who made it out alive. Their daughters get in touch more often because most of the women have died. As I recall, many of them had children and 15 years later some want to know about their mothers. They barely knew them, so they want to know all that there is to remember.

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