At the end of last week, Haiti began three days of national mourning to honour the near 900 people who died as a result of Hurricane Matthew. Its effects within Haiti have been immense, with tens of thousands of homes obliterated and over 350 000 people in need of aid.

Mainstream media outlets took two varying approaches in covering the disaster. Unsurprisingly, the news within the US focused on the effects upon the citizens of the east coast of their own country, whilst appearing indifferent to the high number of Haitian fatalities.

On the other hand, UK Media outlets did recognise the devastation caused in Haiti, yet it fundamentally lacked nuance. They carelessly juxta-positioned Florida’s hasty and organised response to the disaster, involving millions of citizens being encouraged to evacuate their homes in cars full of essential supplies with the Haitian response, blaming its mass devastation on its poor infrastructure, ineffective government, and lack of a coherent plan if such a disaster should strike. It also drew attention to Haiti’s vulnerability to natural disasters due to over half of the population dwelling in shantytowns in a nation still recovering from the aftershocks of the 2010 earthquake and the subsequent cholera outbreak.

As illustrated above, Haiti is portrayed in a very negative light. It is often forgotten that Haiti was the first independent nation of Latin America after the first successful transatlantic slave revolt during the Haitian revolution of 1791-1804. It is this dismissal of history which leads to the wretched portrayal of the country by foreign news media.

It is not by lack of luck that Haiti is so poor. After becoming an independent, slave-free nation, Haiti was coerced into signing a treaty with France which involved paying 90 million Francs, 40 billion US dollars today with the consideration of inflation, as a form of reparations for the loss of “property” of slaves by the French plantation owners, having only finally paid off this unjust debt by 1947. Yes, unstable and corrupt governments, such as the Duvalier rule have played their part over the years. However, how much could the country have developed and progressed without this crippling debit?

International NGOs such as the Red Cross, Oxfam or UNICEF, though benevolent in their intentions, cannot continue the “rinse and repeat” cycle of shoe-horning aid into Haiti whenever a natural disaster strikes. This is mere short term solution which fails to address the historical legacy left behind by French colonialism. It is no use highlighting the lack of response in the poorest country in the western hemisphere without acknowledging the historical framework and role of France’s colonial legacy in doing so.

It is not enough for France to send 32 tonnes of humanitarian aid to appease its own moral conscience, while failing to attempt to reconcile its own damaging colonial legacy within Haiti. It is this historical background, which has lead to Haiti’s fragility and its consistent reliance on international aid. This is something several news outlets should bare in mind in their ignorant portrayal of Haiti.

Like every European federalist, I was devastated by Brexit. Here was the third largest country by population in the European Union rejecting a watered down version of a shadow of a United States of Europe. For someone coming to the UK hoping to find a liberal and rational environment, it seemed horrifying.

But after the initial shock of the referendum result wore off, reflection came, and with it optimism. In many ways, Britain leaving the EU is the end of an awkward relationship which prevented the continent from becoming more unified, and could help shock a movement back into existence.

Britain has never felt at home in Europe. Britons tend to insist that their island is different, that their history and institutions make it impossible for them to join a pan-European state. That is of course false—regardless of what Britons may like to think, they are Europeans, and geography fates them to be forever Europeans.

Britain was excluded from the founding of what would become the European Union, the European Steel and Coal Community, and didn’t join the European project until two decades after it began. Even then, it joined reluctantly, over the howls of politicians on the left and right. Since joining, Britain has been one of the greatest causes of the watering down of pan-European institutional power. Carving itself out of the euro and Schengen, Britain also pushed for a weak European parliament.

The consequences of this pro-individualism has led to the current E.U., which everyone knows and no one loves. It is undemocratic, ineffective, and costly—but not because the Europhiles have made it that way. It is that way because it is a compromise, and like all compromises it disappoints all parties. But while some compromises manage to combine what is best from either side, the EU has managed to do the exact opposite, creating a lugubrious bureaucracy, while remaining ineffective in dealing with continent-wide issues, such as the migrant crisis, allowing itself to be held hostage by individual member states.

This is where Brexit comes in. People chose between a tedious status quo and an inspiring message of change and freedom. No matter how disingenuous that latter message was, it won hearts and votes. But the victory of illiberal sentiment with Brexit also offers hope for us who support a United States of Europe.

Brexit means that Britain will no longer be able to stymie the efforts of greater centralisation of power into pan-European institutions.

Brexit has also shocked the European Federalist movement back into action. What was recently the sleepy preserve of eccentrics has revived a vigorous new movement. Brexit has created a generation whose support for a United States of Europe is forged in opposition to the illiberal sentiment of Brexit, and may yet save the European project.

“Any change please?” he whispered. I glanced and scurried along. For a few seconds I was aware of the chasm separating our two lives. My 18 years of relative peace, and his, if I had to guess, life punctuated by a combination of drug addiction, domestic violence, and nasty separations from loved ones.

The gnawing guilt as you pass homeless people can make them an unwelcome presence. Outside central London, Oxford has the UK’s highest number of homeless people. Just 15 metres separates the stand selling VitaCoco Coconut Water in Tesco Metro on Magdalen St. and the squalid square metre where this man is sat; our society is able to siphon luxurious nectar for drinking but is unable to shelter all of its citizens each night.

There is no silver bullet for this problem. A combination of action by local government, charities, and major stakeholders in the area could manage the situation. Camden, for example, has a homelessness rate much lower than the London average because of this holistic approach. People are given a bed, treatment for the issues that put them on the street, and are helped to find jobs. Oxford Council, by contrast, cut the housing support budget by 39 per cent in 2014, and considered cutting the 2016 budget by a further 65 per cent. As a result, Lesley Dewhurst, Chief Executive of Oxford Homeless Pathways, remarked recently “there is never a spare bed”.

The pressure on housing is another reason too many people sleep rough in Oxford. Our wealthy university thus has a duty to off er help. Commendably, OUSU successfully campaigned against the council’s plan which would have made the lives of those on the street even harder, whilst Just Love (a student-run Christian outreach group) meets, talks to, and buys food for the local homeless population. The university itself is less active. A suggestion: off er up the handful of bedrooms needed by the local homeless out of the several thousand that make up the campus.

The Ku Klux Klan’s burning cross, the Nazi Swastika, and now Pepe the cartoon frog—as of now all are, according to the prominent civil rights agency, the Anti Defamation League, symbols of hate. The strange demise of this internet meme, while difficult to comprehend, is a testament to the disturbingly swift rise of the alt-right movement and to the absurdity of the current presidential race. In particular, Pepe’s capitulation to the dark side highlights some home truths about the alt-right’s racist appropriation of internet humour in the form of memes.

The alt-right’s sudden emergence onto the political scene in mid-2016 is only now starting to be fully understood. What started as an obscure group of white nationalists and self-proclaimed “anti-feminazis” who lurked among the nastier fringes of anonymous internet fora (specifically 4chan and 8chan) swiftly morphed into a loosely-grouped, internet-based movement with real influence on the American political scene, fighting what it saw as the incoming tide of “cuckservatism” (traditional republicanism), “feminazism” (feminism), “SJWs” (social justice warriors) and, of course, “Crooked Hillary”. The catalyst? Donald Trump’s candidacy. Although not a self-proclaimed alt-righter himself, Trump’s flirtation with authoritarianism, xenophobia and misogyny has made him an pseudo-idol in the eyes of many of the alt-right.

In many aspects then the alt-right movement is merely another example of the populist farright backlash to progressive liberalism and establishment politics in the 21st century seen all across Europe and beyond. America, of course, has its own flourishing tradition of far-right lunacy (consider the Ku Klux Klan, McCarthyism, and the John Birch Society, to name but a few). Why, then, has the alt-right gained traction in the mainstream political sphere whilst other far-right groups have seen their popularity fall, and how has it managed to attract such a young membership base? The unlikely answer to these questions lies in its use and abuse of internet memes.

Why memes? The alt-right is almost wholly an online phenomenon; you cannot join your local alt-right society, vote for an alt-right candidate as your president or attend an alt- right national convention. It eschews both traditional print media and the established political parties in favour of quick to create, easy to propagate internet content with a focus on deriding establishment politicians and lionising their own members (notably Donald Trump and Milo Yiannopoulos).

Paradoxically, memes, recognisable bites of pseudo-humour, offer the alt-right’s toxic dogmata a thin veneer of credibility through what one might call the sanctity of humour. By this I mean the widespread belief that all humour, no matter how offensive, should be inherently safe from moral judgement. It is the exploitation of this flawed, yet amazingly widespread, credo which has led to the terrifying legitimisation of the alt-right as a real force in American politics.

As a society we treat offensive jokes, regardless of their intent, with far more lenience than we treat offensive statements. Consider, for example, the last time you heard a racist joke. Maybe you laughed; maybe you didn’t. Maybe you were shocked; maybe you weren’t. However, compare this with the last time you heard somebody make a racist statement. First, the odds are that you’ve heard far more racist jokes than straightfaced racist statements. Now, consider what your reaction was the last time you heard someone seriously espouse racist doctrine. You probably did not laugh, or even willingly keep the conversation going.

The alt-right understand that it is easier for us to shut our ears to people who make racist statements, but that many of us, perhaps grudgingly, perhaps willingly, allow racist sentiments to linger in our conversations and online, principally in the form of jokes. Since the alt-right recognised this tendency, it seems they have gone about clothing their racist, misogynist, and nationalist ideologies in the thin coating of “meme humour”, in the hope we might unwittingly allow their Trojan horse of toxic doctrines onto the mainstream political landscape.

Pepe the Frog’s shocking racist transformation is but one example of this disturbing trend. Designed and released in 2005 by the graphic designer Matt Furie as a completely benevolent cartoon character, Pepe the Frog gained immediate notoriety. As time passed, Pepe became an in-joke among edgier sections of the online community, and it wasn’t long until people worked out how to personalise and edit Pepe. Pepe-editing became an unlikely craze and various redesigns saw the unfortunate frog sporting Chelsea kit, lingerie, and a magical robe (though thankfully not all at once). This, then, is exactly the kind of opportunity which the alt-right seizes upon; a distinctive, but easily distorted, piece of internet humour, which, when abused, could easily be passed off as “just some tasteless humour” or “a dark joke”.

Before long, Pepe was making the rounds on seedy fringes of the internet, sporting the altright’s garments of choice: a Swastika jumper, a Yarmulke, and a white hood and not long after that, the alt-right adopted Pepe as their unofficial symbol.

Our unwillingness to condemn offensive humour has had far-reaching negative effects in American politics; is there anything we can do to repair the situation, or are the alt-right here to stay? There seems no ready and simple strategy to combat such a diffuse and uncoordinated opponent. We would do well, though, to remind ourselves that many offensive jokes, especially on the internet, are nothing but aggressive intentions dressed, barely, in sheep’s clothing. On the same front, we ought to resist the easy and populist move to deride political correctness; both Trump and the alt-right have been vocal in their abuse of “PC culture”. To tolerate the alt-right’s retaliation against political correctness would be to disarm ourselves at a vital moment: just when we must resist their barely-veiled attempts to propagate racist and misogynist dogma.

If Donald Trump and his alt-right fan-base are vindicated this November, life for minorities, not just in America, but worldwide. Many will feel helpless to resist this. Yet, the war of ideas, fought online, is one we are all involved in.

In certain fringes of the press, there has been opposition to awarding the Nobel Peace Prize to President Juan Manuel Santos of Colombia. He is accused of being soft on the FARC rebels. Others have remarked on the irony of him being awarded the prestigious prize just days after the Colombian electorate (it would be disingenuous to say the Colombian people, given less than a third voted) rejected the peace deal which would have ended a 52 year old war.

My objection to who won the prize isn’t that the deal was too lenient to the FARC (for the record, I am a Colombian citizen who favoured the peace agreement) or that it was ironical (after all, nearly a century of Nobel peace prizes haven’t ended war, so past laureate’s effort’s efficacy are open to doubt), but to the fact that only President Santos won the prize.

Usually, when the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded for ending a war, the award is shared between the two sides, often with the inclusion of a mediator. In 1998, when the peace in Northern Ireland was celebrated, Catholic John Hume and Protestant Jonathan Trimble won the prize. In 1978, when the Camp David Accords were celebrated, Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin and Egyptian President Mohammed Sadat shared the prize. Yet now, in 2016, when the longest running war in the New World is nearly ended by a landmark peace deal, only one side won the award.

Ending a war is like dancing: you need two parties. In this case, the two parties would be the Colombian government and the FARC, a Marxist-Leninist guerilla group inspired by the exploits of Che Guevara and Fidel Castro which has been fighting the Colombian government since 1964. For the past several years, the government and the FARC have been negotiating in hopes of ending the civil war with the help of Raul Castro, the President of Cuba, who has served as an honest broker between the two sides of the conflict.

Santos was a pivotal partner in this dance of peace. But his own partner was the FARC’s leader, Timoleon Jimenez, better known as Timoshenko. Timoshenko has been the supreme commander of the FARC since 2011. In his term, he has pledged to ensure that the FARC stopped kidnapping and ended its involvement with the drug trade, and has pledged to continue working for peace even after the failed plebiscite.

Raul Castro may not be a Colombian, but he too played a pivotal role in the peace negotiations. Although both Santos and Timoshenko favoured peace, neither could have worked with the other had they not had a mediator. Castro worked handsomely in that role, ensuring that both sides met and not allowing them to leave until they had a workable peace deal.

Of course many more than these three men worked for peace in Colombia, but Nobel rules sadly limit the prize to be shared, at maximum, between three people. And if anyone should’ve won the Nobel for Peace in Colombia, it should be Santos, Timoshenko, and Castro—not Santos alone.