"I am Michel Baljet, a Dutch journalist and researcher. My travel has taken me across continents and into conflict zones, where I was regularly in the right place at the wrong time. I am driven by the desire to discover the truth and provide impartial reporting, even if that means immersing myself completely in the most challenging landscapes of our society. I am currently in a period of medical rehabilitation. Despite this temporary setback, I remain resolute in my work, using this time to write about current events and share thought-provoking pieces from my extensive archive. As always, I stand ready to dive back into the wonderful waste heaps of our society as soon as I am able to do so again.
Like many people, I often take a moment to reflect on life during the month of December. At the events that have made our world more beautiful and a lot uglier in recent months. At the people I have had the pleasure of meeting, and unfortunately had to lose. I then dwell on friendships that have been formed and think of the wonderful people I have had to leave behind sometimes in hopeless situations in their home countries.
In my work, sometimes you wish you had a little button that you could turn so that you no longer feel connected to the things you see, the poverty, the dead, the sadness. I can tell you that there is no such button. It is nonsense to think that I don't fall asleep with it, wake up in the morning and dream about it in between. And the day it won't touch me anymore is the day I will look for another profession.
Today I pause to remember the people I met in a refugee camp in Bulgaria, where the situation is so degrading that no human being would want to live there. I pause today with the former residents of the Jungle in Calais, many of whom are still wandering around the old camp this winter month without shelter. I pause today with the children in Donetsk whose parents are no longer there due to the ongoing war in the area. I pause today with the street children of Caracas who may look for their Christmas meal in the garbage bags of leftover garbage.
But I also reflect on the tens of thousands of Dutch people who will spend Christmas in their own country on the streets, or in an emergency shelter. The Dutch who have to get their Christmas meal through the food bank and the Dutch who are isolated in their homes due to loneliness.
When I look at the decaying world around me, I am often proud to be a Dutchman. Often, just with shame. We have become good at distancing ourselves from the problems around us. We have become good at closing our eyes and turning our backs on the problems. We have become good at worrying about futilities that we sometimes seem blind to reality. As if it's a button that makes us sleep better, dream nicer and get up finer.
Nevertheless, I wish everyone, here and far from home, Merry Christmas.
Our fixer Cheo runs back and forth to the gate of the prison while Joris and I sit just down the street waiting anxiously on the hood of our car. A daily market develops on the street outside the prison; it is a coming and going of visitors and vendors at the gate of Venezuela's most notorious prison.
Yesterday, When we visited the prison, not everything went as planned. It was not the first time we visited the Tocoron prison. While we were convinced that everyone was properly bribed before we entered the prison, all of our equipment was confiscated by the national guards guarding the outside of the prison. When we left the prison, we did not get our equipment back. Later that evening, after some conversations between our fixer and some prisoners, we were told that the inmates' boss had taken our things from the Guardia National and that we could get them back at the prison gate.
Tocoron, a prison for 750 inmates was built in 1982. Today it holds 7,500 prisoners. Guards and government personnel are not welcome in this prison run by prisoners. Chief among them is inmate Hector Guerrero Flores aka Niño Guerrero (The Warrior Child). The ruthless leader has two faces. While he runs his prison and his criminal empire with an iron fist, he is otherwise known as a benefactor. He lifts families out of poverty and gives wheelchairs and medicine to those in need. Niño Guerrero not only runs the Tocoron prison, but his former residential neighborhood of 28,000 residents is completely under the control of Niño and his men. Many others tell us that his power goes even much further in Venezuela.
In recent years, Niño has transformed his prison into a small town where nothing is missing. As we walked through the prison, we saw a swimming pool, a zoo and a disco. On the main street are restaurants, stores and amenities such as a bank, a television provider and gambling houses. Niño and his armed friends ride around the crowded prison on motorcycles undisturbed.
After an hour and a half of waiting in front of the prison, there is rescue. One of Niño's henchmen walks out of the front gate of the prison with our shoulder bag. When we open it, we see that all our equipment is still in it and wonder how much this prank has cost us? Nothing, courtesy of Niño .
Relieved, we continue on our way to Venezuela's capital, Caracas . A mass demonstration is planned there today. For years there has been unrest in the corrupt country ravaged by an economic crisis. In previous demonstrations we visited in recent weeks, there were clashes between protesters and authorities. So far, 43 protesters have been killed in these clashes.
When we arrived in Caracas, we exchanged our car for motorcycles. Because of the protests, there was almost no other way to get through the congested streets of the capital. Once we arrived at one of the highways serving as the route for today's demonstration, we saw that the first protesters were already preparing for what was to come. Logs are being dragged across the road, fences and anything else they can find are being used for the first barricades. In the distance, we see the first clouds of smoke from tear gas coming our way. In the hours that follow, a battle erupts between the authorities and the protesters, and the protesters are gradually forced to move into the center of the city.
While there is no money to import food into Venezuela, there is no shortage of tear gas canisters, which are sometimes shot at protesters by the dozens. As night begins to fall, the mood grows grimmer. As Joris and I make our way to our car, we witness the first car fires, stores and offices being looted. As the protesters continue their struggle, a new demonstration is announced on social media for the next day. Joris and I continue toward our next stop, the city of Maracay.
Axel (23) holds open a refrigerator to show its contents. He lives with his brother Billy (27) and mother Glenda (55) and father Rosvelt (60) in a middle-class neighborhood of Maracay. At the kitchen table, the family talks about the effects of the crisis.
Glenda worked as a bioanalyst at the hospital for 20 years. Since yesterday, her minimum wage has more than doubled to 105,000 bolivares. That is equal to $18. Until yesterday, her full-time job earned her less than $9 a month. The father of the family has been a merchant all his life, a job that today, with the complete collapse of imports, is almost impossible: "Nowadays the only merchant in the country is the government, but I trade in clothes. There is no trade for me now."
The family has lived together for 22 years in a safe middle-class neighborhood in Maracay. The father explains to us that the neighborhood has changed in recent years. "People with money used to live here. When the crisis got worse, many of our neighbors left. The government expropriated many of the houses in this neighborhood and gave them to "government-related people," people with almost no income, sometimes no job, no education. They don't maintain their belongings, don't care about the neighborhood and have no respect." "We used to be able to talk to our friends and family about politics in Venezuela, that subject is too sensitive now."
"We don't have money for the car or the house anymore. All the money we have, we spend on food and medicine, it's too expensive." From his closet, Rosvelt pulls out a strip of medicine. "Take this for example. This strip of 14 pills, enough for a week, costs 25,000 bolivares in Venezuela." In his other hand, he holds a box. "This box, with 300 of the same pills...., and enough for five months, costs me 55,000 bolivars in Colombia."
"I suffer daily when I work in the hospital. It is terrible not being able to give people the help they need because of the shortages of medicine and medical equipment. The government watches but does nothing to change the situation," continued an emotional Glenda. "Every day people die unnecessarily, people stay sick unnecessarily. The government is more concerned about their image. All hospital employees are required to participate in pro-government demonstrations and the government spends a lot of money on propaganda materials.
"A shortage of food and rising inflation have forced people to queue for hours at the supermarket every day in the hope of getting basic items like bread, rice and milk. Food prices are rising daily, and for a simple lunch on the side of the road you easily pay 7,000 bolivares. With luck, you can find a pack of pasta for 4500 bolivares, which is more than a day's wage.
Before yesterday's 60% pay raise, Glenda, the sole breadwinner of the house, earned 48,000 bolivars a month. How can you live with that? "Little by little, any money that comes in goes to food or medicine," she said. Does yesterday's wage increase help the family? "No, in fact it makes the situation even more difficult. Every time wages go up, prices go up twice as much," Rosvelt replied.
"Almost all the teachers have left my university, I think 80% is gone," Axel says. "The oldest students have taken it up and are now teaching." Axel worries. "You can study, but who am I going to work for in Venezuela? There's no one to give me a job. If you're realistic, I have to say it's unrealistic to think that studying here in Venezuela is worth anything."
"Many young Venezuelans have left the country," he said. "My family also offered me to leave Venezuela, but I wanted to finish my studies, I would like to call myself a professional. But I also have ambitions. My dream would be to move to Canada, but that is not realistic, I would go anywhere possible at the moment."
"Yes, leaving Venezuela leaves the country without professionals, but we have to think of ourselves, of our family. The government gives us no choice but to leave. Personally, I am not protesting, several students have already died in demonstrations and death is not part of my future plans."
Later in the evening, over a beer from the cost of almost a day's wages, Joris and I talk about the day. It remains incomprehensible what has happened to one of the most oil-rich countries in the world. We wonder what tomorrow will bring, because every day in Venezuela seems to consist of unthinkable and unpredictable developments.
Those who still had doubts about democracy in Venezuela need fret no longer. The last little bit of democracy was thrown overboard the sinking ship yesterday. While the world watches and slaps Maduro's regime around with sanctions and requests for dialogue, Venezuelans are fleeing the country en masse. Those who remain behind are getting ready for an increasingly violent struggle.
Maduro's regime had called an election for last Sunday whose results were known in advance. Yesterday Venezuelans were allowed to go to the polls to elect the 545 members for a "Constituent Assembly. The 5,500 candidate members were all affiliated with Maduro's party. The goal of the new parliament is to rewrite the constitution, with Maduro taking even more power to himself. The opposition, which has held two-thirds of parliamentary seats since 2015, denounced the elections from day one and boycotted them. In a self-organized plebiscite earlier this month, it called for new presidential elections.
It was not only the opposition in Venezuela that went head-to-head. Countries like America and Colombia saw nothing in this "sham" election. Colombia indicated it would not recognize the result and America announced it would come up with new sanctions. The European Union also had an opinion and called on Venezuela to reach a solution through "dialogue, political will and courage.
Meanwhile, violence in the streets is increasing. For months, members of the opposition have been taking to the streets to call attention to the humanitarian crisis in the ravaged country and to protest Maduro's policies. The atmosphere is getting grimmer by the day. Whereas when I was there last month I was still shocked to see the Guardia National gas canisters firing directly at protesters and the press, today my Whatsapp floods with images of large explosions and soldiers armed to the teeth.
But anyone who is honest sees that there has actually been a dictatorship in Venezuela for a long time. Maduro has ruled by decree for years. The parliament where the opposition has held the majority since 2015 has been out of power since day one. Opposition members are usually locked up and elections that should have already been held have not taken place. Government employees have been pressured for years to support government policies. If not, you lose your job, house or both; that threat was no different in last Sunday's election.
Until recently, the world seemed to look the other way with closed eyes, and comparatively almost no attention was paid to developments in the country. Now the world is watching. Naively and from the sidelines, this while a major humanitarian crisis is unfolding before our eyes.
The opposition's diplomatic paths that were full of holes all turned out to be dead ends. As it stands, the Venezuelan does not have to expect much from the international community either, beyond some sanctions and "well-meaning advice.
The hungry Venezuelan has no choice but to try to stay on his feet and fight for change. Claiming victory in last weekend's election, it is clear that Maduro has no intention of throwing in the towel anytime soon. However, Maduro no longer had very many friends, and there will be even fewer once he will lose total control over the people who keep him in power, his friends armed to the teeth in the Bolivarian National Armed Forces.
While Venezuela is on its hiatus, in prison life goes on as usual. Journalist Michel Baljet and photographer Joris van Gennip are met at the entrance by two armed prisoners, meant to keep guards out. Welcome to Tocoron, one of Venezuela's most notorious prisons.
Next to me walks a young soldier with an oversized machine gun around his shoulder. Joris, the photographer who traveled with me to Venezuela, walks behind me on the right, our fixer on the left. We have been walking for a few hundred meters along an unpaved dirt road, which we feel leads nowhere, when I again ask Joris to be extra vigilant. From the other side comes a motorcycle with two more soldiers.
Forbidden area
Over an hour earlier, Joris and I arrived at Tocoron to do a report on life in one of Venezuela's most notorious prisons. What was supposed to be a routine job did not go as planned. While we thought we had bribed all the soldiers guarding the outside gate of the prison, our belongings - some cameras and other equipment - were taken away by a major. After mutual consultation, he sent us and the young soldier up the deserted road that ran alongside the prison.
The motorcycle carrying the two soldiers comes to a stop and the soldier accompanying us talks to his colleagues. After a few skittish glances our way, it is decided that we should turn around, to walk back to the prison gate. It will never become clear why we had been sent in this direction in the first place.
After that, things moved quickly. At the gate, we didn't get our stuff back, but were allowed to walk through. In my pocket was another phone that we could use to take pictures. We decided to go in without equipment anyway. Walking into the prison, we breathed a sigh of relief, both with the feeling that this might have ended very differently. From here we encountered no guards, no military and no government employees. Indeed, from here on out, it is off-limits to them.
We walk into the world of Niño Guerrero, an inmate who has been running this prison along with his accomplices for years. The authorities gave up controlling the prison years ago and now focus only on guarding the prison's fence. In 2012, Guerrero escaped with several accomplices, a year later he was back and since then he has not stopped for a day to build his empire. Héctor Guerrero Flores, aka Niño Guerrero (The Warrior Child), is a ruthless leader with two faces. Where on the one hand he keeps the prison and his criminal empire running with an iron fist, on the other he is known as a benefactor. Like a modern-day Robin Hood, he lifts families out of poverty and distributes wheelchairs and medicine to those in need. The Warrior Child not only runs the Tocoron prison; his former neighborhood of 28,000 is also completely under the authority of him and his men. If our fixer is to be believed, his power goes much further.
Power grab
Tocoron, built in 1982 for 750 prisoners, today houses more than 7,500. For years, the government has had no say here. In fact, at the entrance leading to the center of the facility, two armed inmates stand to keep guards out. 3 years ago this security was even more extreme, when there were prisoners with machine guns and you could find an armed prisoner on every street corner. Recently, Niño decided to replace these weapons with knives on visiting days. 'For imaging,' I later learn.
Most of the bullet holes are from a conflict that took place a few years ago. In a gunfight that lasted hours, Niño won back his power
This is not the first time Joris and I have been here. Last week we were there as well. Both fascinated by the developments inside this prison, we decided to go back today. The first time I visited this wonderful world was in 2014. I even volunteered there for a few days to understand what is going on here.
Walking through the gate of the prison, you come to a main road leading to the center of the prison. To its left are the two buildings that once formed the original prison. Inmates are doing restoration work on the flat; they are about halfway there. Under the newly applied exterior coating, bullet holes are still clearly visible. Most of these bullet holes are from a conflict that took place a few years ago. A prisoner was of the opinion that not one person should be in charge within the walls of Tocoron. Niño disagreed. In a firefight that lasted for hours, Niño won back his power. Dozens of people did not survive the power grab. The official death toll stands at 16. Videos taken by prisoners, however, show us a much higher death toll.
Subordinate
Right after the entrance, we find a square on the main street with a basketball court. A stage is ready and the boxes for a performance later in the day are set up. Next to the plaza is the newly renovated swimming pool with a playground for the youngest visitors.
Walking down the main street for a while, we come to the center of the prison. While there is a major food crisis in Venezuela right now, it does not seem to exist here. Several stores and restaurants offer all kinds of food and necessities. Here, unlike in the outside world, customers do not have to stand in line for hours before making a purchase.
Nor is a swimming pool lacking at Tocoron Prison, which is doing better economically than outside its gates.
While developments in Venezuela have stalled in recent years due to a shortage of building materials, developments in Tocoron have continued apace. For example, several buildings that were plywood when I visited 3 years ago are now concrete.
The small, autonomous city offers numerous amenities for those who can afford them. For example, you can get a television connection for 100,000 bolivar a week (a monthly wage). Residents of Tocoron pay an allowance to stay in prison; if you can't pay that, you become a subordinate, recognizable by a tie. You must then work for Niño to pay for your place inside the prison. Subordinates are allowed to walk around and stay in a locked part of the prison only with permission. Subordinates help visitors lift luggage, do maintenance work and drag large buckets of water through the prison. Every day they receive a government-paid meal. We see a long line of skinny men waiting in the afternoon as food is distributed from large pots.
Banco de Tokyo
Tocoron is structured in sectors. The closer you are to the center, the better the amenities. So you have cabins with or without air conditioning, and with or without TV. If you do very well, you can have a store on the main street, with an adjoining bedroom.
There is a bank: the Banco de Tokyo. Prisoners who want to transfer money can have it done to one of the many accounts of Niño's henchmen. After deducting a 10 percent commission, you can collect your money. Borrowing money is also possible, at interest rates between 10 and 20 percent. But oh woe if you pay back late.
Joris and I had decided that it was not smart to walk into prison with large piles of money. Due to the massive inflation in Venezuela, 100 dollars is worth 430,000 bolivars today (now even 600,000). Recently there have been new banknotes up to and including a value of 20,000 bolivar; however, these are nowhere to be had. The largest bill available has a value of 100 bolivar. Instead of putting over 4,000 bills in a backpack, we decided to bring dollars. As we had been told, we had these exchanged in no time at a good rate within the walls of Tocoron.
Together with our fixers, we do a tour of the prison. One of the fixers has been stuck here and knows many people inside the walls. With every turn we make, I see photographer Joris' amazement increase. Besides the pool, playground equipment and shopping, Tocoron has plenty of other amenities. For example, there are bars and Tocoron has the most famous disco in the region: Disco Tokyo. Famous artists from home and abroad perform there, and there is even airtime purchased on the radio to announce the next party. Currently, the disco is being renovated; from what I understand, the just-new marble floor is being replaced with a lighted floor.
Corrupt arms deal
A little further on we walk into the zoo. While the inhabitants of the zoo in capital Caracas are starving, here we see the opposite. A wide assortment of animals, including flamingos, monkeys and a panther live in a well-maintained area on the north side of the prison. Food is plentiful, day and night inmates keep busy caring for the animals. A new arena has been built in the zoo for cockfighting, and further along is a stable with competition horses.
Cockfights also regularly break out in Tocoron.
Through the pigsties, we walk past the baseball field to one of the prison's quarters. It is a coming and going of motorcycles, a mode of transportation available only to Niño Guerrero's henchmen. Small houses made of plywood form a kind of slum here. This is still the better part of the prison. Entering one of the houses, we enter a small room with a double bed. White A4s make up the wallpaper, the roof is neatly sealed with a system ceiling. It is cool, the air conditioning is on, a music program is on television.
With the weapons and grenades on hand, Niño and his crew can win a small war
Back downtown, Joris and I, over a beer, talk about what we've seen. "I actually feel safer inside the prison walls than outside," Joris says. Indeed, at first glance, it seems that the gigantic crisis currently plaguing Venezuela is passing Tocoron by. Developments continue apace. Food is plentiful and everything functions. You would almost forget that you are not in a resort, but in one of the country's most notorious prisons. Hundreds of people die there every year. In fact, a day after our visit, three bodies are found at the gate of the prison. And a week later another one.
Empire
To maintain order, Niño Guerrero's henchmen are armed with modern, sometimes automatic weapons. In a corrupt arms deal with the government in 2014, more than 1,400 weapons were turned in. For that, at least as many more modern ones were returned through the back door. With the weapons and grenades on hand, Niño and his crew can win a small war. In addition, Niño has a court in his prison, of which he is the judge. While Venezuela does not have the death penalty, in the court of The Warrior Child, that is different. We are shown gruesome pictures of lifeless people from various prisoners, some mutilated before they were murdered.
Niño and his men live a safe distance away at the edge of the prison. His home appears to be fully equipped and is guarded 24/7. Niño's revenue comes not only from cell rental fees, but also from a commission on restaurant and bar sales, gambling revenue, his bank, extortion, drug trafficking and theft. According to officials, 90 percent of crime in the region has a link to the prison. It even goes so far that a carjacking victim will get a call from Tocoron a few hours after his car is stolen with the amount of the ransom to get the car back. The victim may then come and pay this off inside the gates of the prison, after which he or she will get back the location of the car as well as the key. The price to get your stolen car back is between one and seven monthly wages, depending on how new it is.
It is difficult to estimate how much Niño Geurerro's empire is worth. A rough calculation tells us that at the current rate he is bringing in around 200 million bolivars with the rent payments alone, or nearly 2,000 regular monthly wages. The rent payments are just the tip of the iceberg.
Greetings from The Warrior Child
After talking to some people and walking around a bit, we decide it's a good time to go. On going out, the major who took our belongings does not want to give them back. A plea from our fixer does not help. Even offering money, something that is the order of the day in Venezuela, offers no relief.
A prison with a zoo, anything is possible in Tocoron.
To still try to get our cameras and other belongings back, we try to get in touch with the Guardia National outside the gate. A phone call to inmates inside Tocoron offers relief after a few hours. In the evening, when we are back in Maracay, the redeeming call comes: 'Your stuff is no longer with the major but in the prison.' The next morning we can come and pick it up.
Early the next morning, we drive back to Tocoron. And lo and behold, after an hour of waiting, an accomplice of Niño Guerrero walks out of the gate of the prison with our shoulder bag. Everything is still in it. What that cost us? Nothing, courtesy of The Warrior Child.
Looking out over the now empty, weed-covered site, it is hard to imagine that just over half a year ago nearly 10,000 people lived here. I went back to Calais to see what has changed since the evacuation of the Jungle, the illegal refugee camp next to the tunnel to England.
Standing on the hill, looking out over the former camp, I imagine what it was like at the end of October last year. The camp was burning in several places. Dark clouds of smoke filled the air. Several refugees packed up their last belongings, while the massed police swept the grounds. While bulldozers are ready to raze their homes to the ground, the 8,500 refugees are driven like a herd of animals to a large chilly shed temporarily set up as a sorting center. They are then taken away in buses to be placed in various cities scattered across France. Saying goodbye to their dream "England.
Nothing of that camp is visible today -as if it did not exist. How will the former residents fare? We don't have to wait long for the answer. Less than three blocks away, in an open field between some industrial buildings, we find the first refugees. As if we had come to bring food, the first refugees come our way as soon as we get out of the car.
I did not travel to Calais alone today. One of the others who went with me is Bob Richters. It's his first time in this area. He didn't just go along to drop off a van full of donated goods. He wants to see for himself what is happening here. Earlier in the day, we drove past a collection shed a few kilometers outside the former camp. Well-meaning volunteers collect donated food and goods here and then distribute them to the refugees. Tower-high items are stored. Skittishly, several volunteers watch our arrival; "keep the gate closed for security reasons. What are these cameras doing here. Don't film the location of the building, we have been attacked by extreme right-wing thugs in the past." "I don't really know what to make of this," Bob tells me. "They offer no tools, nothing will be solved with this." I have to agree with him. Indeed, with all the good intentions, it offers no solution. I also saw the bad sides of this kind of charity last year. Many volunteers take on tasks without being knowledgeable. Some take, consciously or unconsciously, an undesirable position of power and a deeper purpose other than sticking band-aids is lacking in many cases. Today there is food again, what there is tomorrow we will see.
One of the volunteers reports being greatly inconvenienced by the police. "We get one hour to hand out food at a location, then we have to stop" The organization Bob donated items to makes food for between 1,200 and 1,500 people daily.
Bob is his own little do-gooder. In Rotterdam, he helps the -in many people's eyes- underprivileged of our society with his project Hotspot Hutspot at three locations. Ex-addicts, homeless people and a girl indoctrinated by the IS are part of his clientele. "My project evolves as what is needed, for example, I now have two homeless people who are active with me, they need shelter, so I am now working on a hot spot hot spot hotel." "You know Michel, development aid at home is what I do." The field less than three blocks from the former "jungle" is dotted with people. In the middle of the field something like cricket is being played, next to me a little boy of a few years old is stepping along the piled up garbage, some others are asleep. One of the boys who walked up to us, a boy from Eritrea, I remember. He was one of the boys I met in the jungle in October. He was there for five months then, this means he has been in this area for a year now. He looks tired, his eyes are red. In his poor English, he tries again, as he did in October, to explain to me that he has a sister in Canada who is willing to take care of everything for him. "I don't need to go to England anymore," he asks me if I can mediate, again I give my number, a phone call I don't expect from her, still not.
The refugees in this field report sleeping in the open. A few say they are harassed by police, "They come at night, take away our belongings and spray pepper spray in our eyes." Some report being regularly picked up only to be released a few hours later. There are no facilities on the field, including water.
Last year I met Zimako, a Nigerian refugee who fled his country in 2011 after the elections. His Togolese father who had worked for the previous government was threatened. Via Libya and Italy, he ended up in France. Unlike others here, Zimako does not want to go to England. He wants to stay in Calais.
Zimako has grown fat when I meet him today, he is here because he is meeting with Bob and with Veerle. They have brought a washing machine, a dryer and monitors for him. Until the eviction, Zimako had a school in the refugee camp the jungle. His -handily built- school was razed to the ground along with the rest of the jungle. Even before the eviction began, Zimako had a new project, a laundromat for the refugees and residents of Calais. Now he also wants to start an Internet cafe.
I don't know what it is but unlike last year, I miss the confidence with him when he talks. The washer, dryer and monitors end up in a basement of an apartment complex and the story he spins in front of my camera seems too scripted, including his jokes. Is Zimako still the do-gooder and ray of hope in the gates of hell I wrote about last year? Was it just me, have I become too suspicious because of the refugee hatred in the Netherlands? As I stand on the edge of the field, staring at what is taking place before me and watching my half pack of shag being distributed to a dozen or so refugees, Bob comes over to me. "And Michel? How do we solve this, do you know the solution?" I don't think I give him an answer to that question. And as we drive past -the police cars parked just around the corner- I hear Bob say to two of his boys who are along for the ride "Customization, talk to them one by one and come to a solution." Personally, I think Calais is a great example of how we, in Europe and also in the Netherlands, deal with refugees. We don't solve the problem, we move it and pretend that everything is cake and egg. We continue to make the same mistakes we made in the past. We segregate, create a new class and get distracted by discussions of whether we as human beings have any responsibility at all for another human being. Only to find out ten or twenty years from now that these new Dutch people are going to turn against the established order.
And as we do so, not only are the thousands of refugees in Calais sleeping in the open, waiting for the day that may never come.
"I am looking for people to join me in throwing stones at the Beringen Mosque, at least 500 people, as a "playful" response to the radical Muslim violence of recent nights. Date and time to be determined later. :D"
The post was shared many times on Facebook and there were also several comments on Twitter, including that of Nourdeen Wildeman
Judith Brockhoven - a fan of PEGIDA and Wilders - has her own interpretation of the word "playful. pic.twitter.com/To1gekSjF2
Anne Fleur's first post is mostly met with outrage, with one person asking her if it is a fake account and another asking if it is serious. The message has been shared a total of 18x.
An hour later, Anne Fleur posts another message on the same subject. In her post she says: "Who will join me in throwing 500 stones at Wilders? Do I think it's a 'playful action'.", later this post was deleted.
July 19, 2016 4:33 PM Anne Fleur posts a print screen of the two earlier posts on Twitter saying "Parody is extremely difficult, apparently. Muslims are outlaws. But if you say something about Wilders you should die."
Parody is extremely difficult, apparently. Muslims are outlaws. But if you say anything about Wilders, you must die. pic.twitter.com/yTkyf8iYtK
But it doesn't stop there. Later that evening, Judith Brockhoven posts another facebook update "So seh, today my furlough officially started, yeah, when am I going to storm that rotten mosque ???" the message is once again shared dozens of times on Facebook.
Anne Fleur posts a print screen of the message on her Twitter 'Judith continues her 'playful actions' for some time to come'
A day later, Anne Fleur posts a blog on its website, ze indicates therein "That made me decide, as an experiment, to turn the call around: what if someone called for a "real Dutchman," to go pelting? You don't get any closer to Dutchness than Wilders, so voila:
And as expected, this did create a shitload of fuss. Experiment successful, then, as my hypothesis was confirmed."
In the blog, she says she has had several threats following the tweet.
Except for a few comments on her blog, things remain (relatively) quiet, until March 18, when the website "love of Holland" published a post dedicates to Anne Fleur.
In the article titled 'Green Left activist was chairperson of polling station, calls for stoning Wilders. PVV votes gone?" they show tweets from last year without mentioning Anne Fleur's other tweets. They also make no mention of the Facebook post of Judith Brockhoven to which Anne Fleur responds. The post from "Love for Holland" also makes no mention that Anne Fleur never ended up chairing a polling station. 'Given her political background, the municipality decided not to allow this.' (Update: Anne Fleur indicates opposite the IJmuider Courant two weeks before the election itself said it could not be president "it appeared I would not make it")
Geert Wilders shared the message of "love of Holland.
GreenLeft extremist Dekker did write, "Who will join us in throwing 500 stones at Wilders?"
On March 16 this year, a letter bomb addressed to Jeffrey Frank, the managing director of the IMF in Europe. An IMF staff member was slightly injured in the process. It would later be revealed that the letter came from Greece, 8 other bomb letters, including one to Dijsselbloem, were subsequently intercepted. Responsibility was claimed by "Conspiracy of Fire Cells," a leftist autonomous group from Greece.
A day later on March 17, it seemed to hit again. A 30-year-old man shouted "Allah akbar" in a Paris suburb and slit the throats of two men, then started praying. Later, the victims turned out to be the perpetrator's father and brother, and terrorism has been ruled out.
The next morning was another hit in France. On that Saturday morning, March 18, 39-year-old Ziyed Ben Belgacem was gunned down at Paris' Orly airport after attempting to take a soldier's weapon. Earlier that day, on his way to the airport, Ziyed shot an officer in the face during a road check; the officer sustained minor injuries. The man of French nationality was known to police and previously arrested for drug offenses. He was wanted for involvement in a bank robbery. Four people suffered minor injuries this day, Ziyed died and air traffic remained disrupted throughout the day.
And last week, exactly one year after the Brussels attack, London was targeted. Kent-born 59-year-old Adrian Russell Ajao, aka Masood, drove into pedestrians on Westminster Bridge after which, after stabbing an officer, he was shot in front of the Parliament building.
A day later, 39-year-old French-born Mohammed was arrested after driving at high speed down a shopping street in Antwerp. He is suspected of attempted terrorist murder. Various media reported that he was allegedly drunk; in his car, officers found stabbing weapons, a riotgun and a canister of unknown contents.
This all seems like a lot, but is it? Today in his Column on RTLZ the question 'But is the situation really that exceptional? No, actually not.'
In his column, Okhuijsen states, "Karst Tates' attack in Apeldoorn in 2009 is the most recent serious terrorist incident with us. The shooting in Alphen aan de Rijn is not considered a terrorist act'. The last officially designated terrorist act before that dates back to 2004. Okhuijsen also states that the situation is not unique. Until the early 1990s, Europe was very unsettled. Plane hijackings, bombings and kidnappings were much more common than now.' Statistics on datagraver.com also show that through 2014, more than half of the attacks were committed by groups with no Islamic background. Only in the past two years have perpetrators with an Islamic background been in the majority.
A number of events dominated the news this week, editors were working overtime and everyone, as is common these days, had their opinions ready to shout about it on Twitter....
I can sometimes be devastated at how we handle an event like an "attack. Sometimes it doesn't seem to matter what actually happens, as long as we can call it an attack, because then the finger-pointing can begin. We immediately scream murder and fire, and if we don't already do it right away, our finger very quickly manages to point at the only perpetrators that many of us seem to know: 'the foreigner,' IS, the terrorists.
For days on end, "the attack" dominates the news and front pages, and this while most of the attacks that take place every day with regularity do not even make the newspaper. In March alone, so far over 500 people have died worldwide in terrorist attacks, last month over 1,000. Six of these perished in Europe, and that's not counting the perpetrators. In the case of two of the six victims, the father and brother from France, it was actually not even terrorism, but a double murder.
Read along. In 2015, terrorist attacks killed 151 people in the EU, 360 others were injured that year. Globally, over 38,000 people were killed in terrorist attacks in the same year, and an additional 44,000 were injured. Not to mention the victims of war. Am I saying that those 151 victims are comparatively insignificant? Nonsense. What I am saying is that it seems we can get super busy about what happens in our backyard, while what happens a few thousand kilometers away doesn't really seem to matter.
And if we look at it more broadly. While in one year 151 people within the EU were killed by an attack, over 5,000 people within EU borders were murdered without terrorist cause, over 26,000 other Europeans died after a road accident that year.
First of all, let's say that like everyone else, I regret every victim, whether it is from an attack, from a murder, from a car accident or from starvation. Yet sometimes I am disgusted by our selfish attitude. If I am to believe Henk and Ingrid, all terrorists today are targeting us, while less than 0.4% of the victims of attacks fall within the borders of the EU, let alone here in the Netherlands where there has been no attack for 10 years. Can we speak of "luck," do we have things in better order than, say, Belgium or France? Do we have better intelligence services?
When a man drove into pedestrians in England this week, Twitter exploded and it dominated the evening news. Consider this, the same day there were over 100 victims worldwide from terror attacks, the same day over 70 people died in accidents in the EU and 14 others were murdered. Indeed, within 24 hours of the attack, over 40 people died trying to reach Italy in two boats, 200 people from that accident are still missing. There were also possibly more than 200 civilian casualties in an attack in Mosul, according to eyewitnesses.
On Twitter, several people immediately blamed terrorist refugees or Islamists. This while none of the perpetrators of last month's attacks in the EU were refugees. All were born within the EU. However, the perpetrators did have an Islamic background.
Journalists are also quick to voice their opinions when something happens in our backyard. Take as an example last night when reports came in about a shooting in Lille. According to initial reports on Twitter there were a large number of victims in a shooting at a metro station, RTL Late Night immediately spoke of a possible attack, a little later it would turn out that it was a confrontation between two criminal groups, 3 people were injured. But oh well, fear reigns.
Sometimes it's okay to put things into perspective, and sometimes it's okay to take a closer look beyond our national borders. For example, take a look at Venezuela, a country that strangely enough you almost never hear anything about. Around 70 people are murdered every day in Venezuela, over 26,000 people a year, which is 220 times more than in the Netherlands. No, that is not because Venezuela with 30 million inhabitants has a lot more inhabitants than the Netherlands or because there are so many Muslims living in Venezuela, 95% is Roman Catholic.
But then shouldn't we be concerned? Of course we should, because if you punch someone in the face then you can expect a punch back. For decades the Netherlands has also interfered in geopolitical conflicts, sometimes to protect the EU, sometimes because we believe that implementation of Western democracy can help the local population. Sometimes we only find out decades later what our actual basis was for interfering in something. The hatred of various people toward "the West" has only grown in recent decades partly because of this.
In between, we have our own problems, some of which seem impossible to solve. For example, we have made mistakes with immigration by segregating groups and populism has created more and more divisions. You can expect that if you put someone in the corner long enough, that person will not stare silently ahead forever, but will at some point begin to resist it. I think that is exactly what has happened, including with us.
I think we are a lot less divided on how to deal with hate, aggression, violence and attacks. Few people, when you ask them on the street if the attack in London was justified, will answer "yes. There is only a very small group of people who glorify these things, but sometimes it seems like that small group of people manages to win out over our common sense.
The world is turning at a rapid pace. We live in a rapidly changing world where right now a wide variety of geopolitical powers are busy defending their self-interest. Russia, Turkey, the EU, and that is if we look close to home. We are waiting for the flame to really catch fire one day and we will not be able to get out of it with our Dutch diplomacy. Wars have happened in the past over smaller things, and then we were lucky, because then we lived in a less divided country than we do now.
Perhaps our fear comes from a very different place and we are afraid because we do see what is happening outside the EU, and deep down we all know that those images that seem so unrealistic and distant are not unrealistic and may also be very close. Because of that thought, every "attack," no matter how small in proportion, makes us rightly fear the future. Just walk into a senior center, have a cup of coffee, and talk about the past, because the past is not that long ago.
(Statistics on terrorist attacks can be found at the website of datagraver.com)
Today in newspaper. An interview with me about the superficiality of organizations like the ANP and NOS, my work as a freelancer, threats, relationships and my "sometimes" somewhat eventful life.
Here is the answer to last week's 13 most frequently asked questions
1: Did you enter Ukraine illegally?
I entered the DNR not through Ukraine but through Russia. Since Ukraine does not recognize the DNR as a country, this is illegal in their eyes. I should note, however, that we are allowed to travel visa-free in Ukraine. My purpose of the trip was to highlight the other side of the story, the DNR story. It would be illogical to visit via the enemy.
2: Have you been approached by the Russian government?
No. However, we did approach the Russian government. This for the application for our transit visas. During that application, we visited the Russian consulate in The Hague to explain our visa application. Other than that contact, we were never approached by the Russian government.
3: Did Graham tell you to go to the disaster site?
It did come up, of course, but I made the choice to go to the disaster site myself. It wasn't actually in the planning either and came unexpectedly. Graham, like Stefan, was also not with me during my visit.
4: Have you no doubt that someone put that bone part in the shed before your arrival?
That's something I always take extra into account. Not only in this case, but you always have to be wary of not being influenced by your surroundings. But no, I don't doubt that. Hardly anyone knew I was going to visit the place. I determined our route myself and chose where we walked. In addition, I filmed the entire visit.
5: You say you are doing it for the bereaved. Why so disrespectful in a garbage bag?
Using that word in conjunction with that poll is the biggest mistake I made. I also immediately apologized for that to the next of kin. I packed all the parts separately when I got back to the hotel, packing the bone part extra. I handled the items with great respect, they definitely did not come back to the Netherlands in a garbage bag.
6: That poll? Why did you do that?
I wanted to make a point. I do tend to be sarcastic on Twitter, with occasional black humor. This was, in retrospect, highly inappropriate. Especially towards the relatives. I never meant it that way, I sincerely apologized for it and I do so again.
7: Why not just take pictures, did you really have to take it back to Holland?
That was a consideration. At the time, I myself was enormously surprised, also a little angry. I never thought there would be so much left there. At that time I could not determine with certainty all the items. For example, while I thought it was a bone part, I didn't know if it was human. The only way to find out was thorough research. With just a photograph, I couldn't get DNA testing done.
8: Why did you say goodbye to Beck before leaving the plane?
Stefan was not there the day I went to the MH17 disaster site. He only learned later that I had taken things with me. While he supported this in part, he found it more than reprehensible that I had possibly taken human remains with me. Because we weren't sure how it would be reacted to in the Netherlands, we agreed that he would distance himself. I didn't want him to get into trouble because of me.
9: Why were you trying to smuggle things out of Schiphol?
Nonsense. On the contrary, I have been very open with the research team from day one. The agreement was also that I would hand it over voluntarily at Schiphol Airport. Things went wrong when the research team wanted a copy of all my data. Of data that had nothing to do with MH17. And also all the data on my phone and laptop. I refused in order to protect my sources. Then the trouble started and they confiscated everything.
10: You took things from a crime scene. That's not allowed. Why did you do that?
As far as I know, the investigation is closed and no one from the investigation team has been there in the last year and nine months. So it remains to be seen whether it is not allowed at all. I find it outrageous that something is still lying around two and a half years after the disaster. In my view, those things don't belong in an open field or in an open shed anyway. They belong in the Netherlands, in my opinion. In addition, research was needed on the items. The DNR also stated in a press statement that I had all the permits to do what I was doing.
11: How was it that Beck took your bag?
We had traveled with shared luggage the weeks before with 4/5 bags and suitcases. During the visit to DNR, we constantly repacked bags depending on what we needed that day. The night before departure I repacked all the MH17 stuff in 1 of the bags. At Schiphol Airport there was some confusion about this. When I saw Stefan packing the wrong bag, I immediately spoke to him. Within a minute, a few meters from the baggage belt, the bag was already with me. We then proceeded with the luggage to a police room at Schiphol.
12: When do you repent for taking human remains?
I support the decision to take the human remains back to the Netherlands. First, because otherwise we wouldn't have known today if it really was human remains. Many of the next of kin who have approached me in recent days do not feel that there may be remains of loved ones lying there. I think they are right to ask the government to take another look at it.
13: Are you still the "criminal" you used to be?
It is very cheap of some people to attack me on my past. I was in contact with justice between 2004 and 2006, I then served my sentence and picked up where I left off. In the meantime, I have been a committee member, won an award from MinBZ and have not been in touch with the justice system again. That we would be a country where you have equal opportunities after being tried feels like nonsense to me. This is a daily struggle for me.
In recent days, there has been a lot of buzz around my decision to bring remains of MH17 back to the Netherlands. This is my side of the story.
On Sunday, December 25, I left (along with Stefan Beck) for Donetsk via Warsaw, Moscow and Rostov. The purpose of the trip was (among other things) to research DNR daily life and developments in eastern Ukraine since the war began in 2014. Many stories are going around about what is going on there, and many of them contradict each other. In total, we spent two months preparing and taking into account all possible scenarios including those related to security.
Why via Russia.
It was ultimately chosen to travel to the DNR via Russia. Another, more logical in some people's eyes, route would have been to do so via Ukraine. There has been a war going on in eastern Ukraine since 2014. There is no country that currently recognizes DNR. My goal of the trip was not just to find out what is happening on the front lines, but rather to see what the daily life of the residents is like and the internal political developments within DNR. Apart from the fact that it is almost impossible to travel to that area via Ukraine at the moment, and also to get press permits, it was not a logical choice for us to enter the DNR area from (in their eyes) hostile territory to expect cooperation afterwards. After consultation with the Russian Consulate, among others, and contacts within the DNR, the Russia route was chosen.
Visiting the MH17 crash site.
Given we only had a limited number of days, visiting the site where MH17 crashed two and a half years ago was not on the shortlist of things I would do. The conversations I had in the first few days with various people from the area decided me to adjust the schedule and visit the crash site for a day after all. Stefan Beck did not go with me that day. Arriving in the area I found to my surprise in several places still clearly recognizable debris. After some longer consideration, I decided to take a selection of debris with me. Most of it was aluminum and plastic parts and circuit board. I wanted to take these things with the goal of having them researched, to turn them over to the authorities, and to make a strong point that after 2.5 years things can still be found. Among the parts I found fragments that strongly reminded me of bone remains. Earlier bone remains were found, some turned out to be not human but animal. I am not a forensic examiner but did not rule out that they could have been bone remains of a human being. I made the consideration to take one of the bone remains for further investigation in the Netherlands. The consideration for me was: if these are human remains then they do not belong here but should be returned to the Netherlands.
Taking stuff with you.
The MH17 crash site is about 3 hours travel from Donetsk. An area where there are a few houses and a sort of simple first necessity store. I decided to pack a selection of the parts in separate bags. One of the bone parts I packed in a sealed tube. Later on my return, all the parts were packed separately in ziplock bags. The bone part was packed in a sealed hard container throughout the trip. I took film recordings and photos throughout the day, both of the items, the original place, as well as the items we encountered but did not take. I tried to document the items taken as best I could.
The Tweet
I was touched by the fact that so many things were still lying around in the area. I couldn't imagine that, if something like this happened in the Netherlands, it would be like this. I was reminded of Rutte's statement "the bottom line" and I then sent a, in retrospect, very misplaced Tweet.
To whom would I best bring a trash bag full of MH17 stuff?....
with the thought: who is still in it to get to the bottom of it or is no one in it anymore and let's leave things be. After posting the tweet I did not immediately get crazy reactions. During a broadcast of EenVandaag it became clear to me that it had been badly received by the relatives. I immediately apologized for this.
Public Ministry
January 6, I received an email from Gerrit Thiry (Coordinating Team Leader MH17) in which he stated that he would like to be in touch with me soon "to get the items that were secured available to the investigation team as soon as possible so that forensic investigations can be carried out if required. He also warned me that under Dutch law it is a criminal offense to take items from a crime scene. On the same day I received an email from Gerrit Thiry, this was in response to an interview with EenVandaag in which I indicated that I wanted to hand over the items. He confirmed my wish in the email and gave me two options for transfer, the Liaison in Moscow or at Schiphol. Last Saturday we confirmed with each other via text message and phone that it was a voluntary transfer, not a criminal recovery. Our flight had a delay, of this I still informed him. Upon arrival at schiphol, I received a message from him that they would be ready for me at the gate.
At customs
Since Stefan was not there on the day of the visit to the crash site and he did not support me taking the bone part with me, we agreed before the flight to say goodbye firmly. Upon arrival at the gate, I was received by Gerrit Thiry and several other men including a digital forensics expert and some members of the State Police. Together we walked to the baggage belt to get the luggage. At the baggage belt, confusion briefly ensued as my traveling companion took the wrong luggage off the belt. Within a minute I managed to reach him (by phone) and took the bag from him. I then walked on with Thiry and several others to a room somewhere inside Schiphol that was reserved for us. Stefan was taken to another room; I didn't speak to him again until a day later.
In the room, even before the handover, I was asked if digital forensics expert could make an ISO (copy) of all my data. I then indicated that I was willing to hand over the images from the crash site with the understanding that any sources and conversations would be anonymized. I refused to make available all my data from the entire trip in Russia and DNR because over 90% of the data had nothing to do with MH17 and contained politically sensitive information. In addition, I also did not see the point in transferring data from my audio recorder and phone because 0% contained data from MH17. With my proposal to limit it to the data of MH17 and the crash site, the OM immediately disagreed, after which they proceeded to confiscate all my belongings. They seized from me a laptop, 3 phones, a 4k panasonic camera, a nikon d80, a small camcorder, an audio recorder, an external hard drive and several SD memory cards. My request for an attorney was denied. I did eventually get to make a phone call in their presence to notify someone.
How to proceed.
I regret how things turned out. I am disappointed in the prosecution's conduct. I also completely disagree with the press release they issued. I indicated from day one that I wanted to hand over the stuff and at no time did I abandon that thought. One can argue about ethics, but that's a whole other discussion. What is also another discussion is the way some media platforms and journalists published about this issue without reciprocity. This has created a lot of noise in recent days.
I am grateful for the support of the NVJ. A magistrate judge is currently considering the seizure. I have invoked my source protection. I assume the Judge will grant source protection, after which I am still willing to voluntarily turn over the relevant footage. The Judge's decision is expected on January 10 or 11.
To the relatives of those who perished in the MH17, I would like to apologize, both for the very lousy tweet and for the fact that old memories are being brought up. The misinformation within various media over the past few days has not helped. Should you have any questions for me, I am always available.
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am looking for people to join me in throwing stones at the Beringen Mosque, at least 500 people, as a "playful" response to the radical Muslim violence of recent nights. Date and time to be determined later. :D"
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