Monday, August 1, 2016

How Majority Muslim Countries Are Handling HIV Infections

Despite strict rules against promiscuity, homosexuality, drug use, and sex work, the Islamic world is nevertheless—and perhaps as a result—facing up to a growing HIV problem.

When the HIV epidemic hit in the 1980s, governments in the Islamic world declared their countries were immune from the "Western" virus because of religious and cultural values shunning pre-marital sex while encouraging faithfulness. They were partly correct; this way of life resulted in a very low HIV prevalence. For years, many Muslim leaders denied the existence of HIV within their borders, until they could no longer.

In most parts of the world HIV infections and deaths from AIDS have been falling, even in southern and eastern Africa, where more than half of the global HIV population lives. New drugs to prevent infection and lessen the impact of the virus on the body have blunted its impact.

Yet in the conservative, Muslim-majority regions of North Africa, the Middle East, and parts of Asia, new HIV infections have been on the rise since 2001. The latest figures show that, despite the availability of antiretroviral drugs, the region is one of two global hotspots (the other is Eastern Europe) where new HIV infections and deaths from AIDS are increasing. Damningly, in the Middle East and North Africa, the proportion of people living with HIV who are receiving lifesaving antiretroviral treatment is the lowest in the world.

So how are religion, culture, and politics in the region helping, or hindering, efforts to deal with what could become—especially in the face of war and upheaval—an HIV epidemic?

A couple of weeks ago I went to the 21st International AIDS Conference in Durban, South Africa, the scene 16 years ago of a major turnaround in the way HIV was tackled in Africa. At the conference there was a session dedicated to how Islamic communities were dealing with rising HIV. The panel consisted of experts from around the Muslim world, including Wafaa Jlassi, a woman living with HIV in Tunisia. Her story was pretty shocking.

She found out she had HIV after her husband died. A post-mortem discovered he had died from AIDS, so she was tested and found to have the virus. Her husband's family wrongly presumed, because she was a woman, that she had passed the infection onto him. The local police told all her neighbors she has the "disease." She was thrown out of her family home. Only by the skin of her teeth did she manage to keep custody of her two daughters. The sudden impact of losing her husband, being told she had HIV, and being treated like dirt by her community left her close to suicide.

Speaking in French, she told the conference of her native Tunisia: "I'm scared of the society I live in, where homosexuals live in fear of the law; where women lose their jobs because of their HIV status, and people with HIV are refused medicine," said Jlassi, who now works for a charity helping to raise awareness of HIV in the country. "We need to stop this ignorance and suffering."

Tunisia is one of the region's less conservative societies. In Saudi Arabia, for example, homosexuality can be punishable by death, which is not the ideal start to dealing with HIV. In Iraq, a country enmeshed in bloody conflict and where HIV positive people are murdered, Amir Ashour of gay rights organization Iraqueer says the country pretends HIV does not exist.

The reality is that, from Marrakesh and Mogadishu to Dubai and Karachi, stigma and discrimination against people with HIV—especially sex workers, gay men, and drug addicts—is a problem. Prejudice against those with HIV and vulnerable groups exists the world over, from developing countries to the UK: one of Nigel Farage's 2015 election pledges was to ban people with HIV entering the country. It wasn't that long ago that the virus was being labeled by British tabloids as the "gay plague." But the dominance of traditional, conservative attitudes in societies across North Africa, the Middle East, and parts of Asia has created a significant barrier to dealing with HIV.

In the region, a positive HIV test is far from being a private matter. Police often report HIV+ people to their neighbors. Patients risk being branded with their HIV status for life. Amir Ashour tells me that in Iraq "the bad practices are usually committed by doctors, clinics, and hospitals. Like outing persons living with HIV to the government, which puts the lives of those individuals at great danger."

Rita Wahab, of Middle East-based HIV organization MENA Rosa described having HIV in the region as a double bind: "Those who are at greatest risk of infection are also engaged in practices, such as sex work or same-sex relations, that are condemned by religious doctrine, social norms, and the law. This wide-ranging stigma and discrimination further fuels the epidemic by driving those living with HIV and those most at risk of infection away from testing and disclosure, making HIV prevention and treatment increasingly difficult."

This deep-rooted prejudice is highly tangible: it can directly be the cause of destitution, lack of healthcare, violence, and death. As UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon warned back in 2008: "Stigma helps make AIDS the silent killer, because people fear the social disgrace of speaking about it. Stigma is the chief reason why the AIDS epidemic continues to devastate societies around the world."

Beneath the umbrella of the Islamic world, amid the undercurrent of prejudice, there are marked disparities in the way the virus is being tackled. In North African countries such as Morocco, governments have set up extensive programs to prevent and treat HIV. In Iran and Pakistan, spiraling HIV infections caused by high levels of injecting drug use have been confronted head on by governments.

"A country's politics, its culture and the mentality of the policymakers can have a stronger impact on policy than religion. In some Muslim countries the religious leaders are more open minded than the politicians," says Iranian Kamiar Alaei, a human rights expert at the State University of New York.

With his brother Arash, a physician, Kamiar set up Iran's first HIV clinic in the late 1990s, establishing a network of needle exchanges primarily aimed at stemming the spread of the virus through intravenous heroin use. Swimming against the tide in a conservative society such as Iran can get you in trouble. The Alaei brothers were jailed for three years between 2008 and 2011 for "attempting to overthrow the Islamic regime" just because they attended a few HIV conferences in the US. Now, Iran's HIV treatment service is not perfect—in fact, the very people supposed to be helping patients discriminate against them—but for a country where homosexuality is punishable by death, it's progress.

For most governments in the Islamic world, public health pragmatism has trumped religious doctrine, the outlawing of homosexuality, and public prejudice. Governments have responded to the rising tide of HIV by stepping up the distribution of condoms, clean needles, and treatment for drug addiction and for those with HIV. Much of this is implemented with the help of foreign NGOs, which is also a convenient way for conservative regimes to avoid being seen as helping the "unworthy" by a less than sympathetic public.

A 2013 survey in Pakistan—which, like Iran, has had to tackle an HIV epidemic fueled largely by drug use—found only two percent of people said homosexuality was "acceptable." In Qatar, a country which deported a foreign journalist working for Al Jazeera after secretly testing him for HIV, only five percent of young men and two percent of young women expressed tolerance for people with the virus. Across the border in Saudi Arabia, a survey found three quarters of college students believed people with HIV or AIDS should be "isolated from the public."

In Sudan, which has the second highest HIV+ population in the region after Iran, HIV is tackled at arms length. The Sudanese government is happy to give the silent nod, opening the back door to allow foreign NGOs to work inside their country, without being seen to sanction what could be seen as an irreligious health intervention.

In Turkey, the only Muslim country where legalized homosexuality is enshrined in law, President Recep Erdogan flexed his anti-gay muscles in June by banning Istanbul's Gay Pride in a flurry of water cannons and plastic bullets. But behind the reactionary veil, officials have reacted quickly to an HIV epidemic that has seen a 900 percent rise in new infections in under a decade, from 180 in 2005 to 1,800 in 2014. Unlike many Muslim countries, the country's 10,000 HIV+ population now has access to life-saving antiretroviral drugs to boost their immune systems. Consequently, the number of people dying of AIDS in Turkey has fallen dramatically.

So what do imams say about HIV? In Morocco there is one imam known as the "Imam of AIDS" because he helps people with HIV. But not all imams are as HIV-friendly. When asked at the conference in Durban why some encouraged hate crimes against people with HIV, Mohammed Abou Zaid, an imam and one of Lebanon's senior court judges, said there were two types of religious leader. One who thinks they are superior to other men, who claim to represent the divine, the one truth. Or the other who serves the people, who accepts he is a fallible human being. "The second man, he has better understanding of the role of religion in our lives," said Abou Zaid. "But if you find the first imam, please get away from him—he's very dangerous; more dangerous than the HIV virus."

Abou Zaid said that, in his view, Islam should be an agent for change in attitudes to HIV. "It all started when I met a transgender Muslim woman who said her father had thrown her out aged 14. He did not accept her at home. He closed his door to her. I was moved. I said to her, 'Maybe your father has closed the door, but I'm sure God will never ever close his door.' God created us, God loves us, his doors always stay open. If I'm related to God and I claim I'm a religious figure, I should also open my doors, and my heart and mind."

In the UK, which has around 100,000 people living with HIV, the number of new HIV infections each year has fallen by 25 percent since 2005. NAZ, a charity in London, helps around 60 Muslims in the UK with HIV and has trained over 50 imams in the capital on how to address sexual health and HIV at mosques. Muslim service coordinator Khaiser Khan tells me clients can feel ostracized from their families and their religion. But, he says, although it can take time, people are usually able to tell their family and do not feel they have to turn away from their faith.

Tariq, an accountant from Berkshire, used partying, drugs, alcohol, clubbing, and sex as a form of escapism because he was secretly gay. He found out he was HIV+ in 2008 and locked himself in his room for two days. He went for help at NAZ, told his sister and ended up helping to train a group of ten imams to deal with the issue. "It's about dealing with the shame of being gay, of being a Muslim with HIV, understanding what's happening to you, and recovering from it," says Tariq.

As younger generations of Muslims become more Westernized, the old cultural mores that have historically kept the HIV problem in check are gradually evaporating. However tempting otherwise, perhaps it is time for religious leaders to step into the breach, and follow the example of people like Abou Zaid, to become the public face in the fight against HIV and against the stigma and ignorance that is driving its rise in the Islamic world.

Follow Max Daly on Twitter.




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People Told Us Their Guiltiest Secrets

"I've made a huge mistake." Will Arnett as GOB Bluth. Photo via Fox

Guilt can be a good compass, one that keeps you on the track of something resembling an upstanding, moral life. If you've done a shitty thing to someone—be it subtle or outrageous, big or small—you should carry some guilt around about it. If not, you're a sociopath. And that's not a good thing. With that in mind, we asked from friends and co-workers things they've done in the past that they still feel guilty over. The people that said they didn't have any are the ones we now avoid.

LITERALLY THE SHITTIEST THING EVER

In eighth grade, everyone was trying to be the class clown. There was a construction site outside our middle school, so one day after class, I walked over to the site and set a port-a-potty on fire with a Zippo that I stole from my older brother. The town smelled like shit for hours, and it made the news, but I was never questioned about the incident. To this day, my parents still have no clue that I was the one who set it on fire.

GRAND THEFT AUTO

When I was 19 years old, I had a crappy job at a gas station and an even crappier boss—he was handsy and just kind of a dick overall. After I decided I couldn't take it anymore, I skimmed almost a grand from the safe and framed him for it. I found a different job, and he didn't get into serious trouble (just an audit).

CLITORIOUS B.I.G.

I was a Boy Scout who went to summer camp every year. In eighth grade, I brought Rolling Stone's 2004 summer preview issue to camp—the one that featured Jessica Alba on the cover in jorts and a high-cut top. A sixth grade Scout saw me reading it and screamed, " HAS PORN!" I explained to the adults that it wasn't, so I was in the clear—but I was still mad.

One day, we were all sitting around shooting the shit when someone mentioned the clitoris. The same kid asked, "What's a clitoris?" I replied, "It's that little thing between your tongue and the roof of your mouth." He bought it, and before long, he was showing everyone his "clitoris." On the last day of camp, he tried to show one of the female counselors his "clitoris"—God bless her, she explained the truth to him.

NOT-SO-SWEET REVENGE

In primary school, my three friends and I had an exclusive clique on the school bus. We wanted to get back at a girl who was rude to us, so we took Play-Doh, repackaged it in a purple Starburst wrapper, and gave it to her. She ate it. I still feel so bad.

THE BB GUNSLINGER

I grew up in the foothills of California between Yosemite and Fresno. For my 11th birthday, I got my first (and last) BB gun. Playdates were few and far between in the mountains, so I spent a lot of time outside with this gun. My sisters and I had a feud with the neighbors' kids across the road, who weren't as well off as my family (my father was a pastor). One time, they were playing outside and one of the boys began to taunt me: "I bet you can't shoot that trash can, fatty!" I shot the trash can. "Bet you can't shoot the lid," he said. I aimed at the lid, fired, and hit him in his stomach instead. I'd say it was an accident, but it probably wasn't.

Later, a deputy sheriff knocked on our door. My dad called me over and asked what happened; I lied and said that I saw them throwing rocks, they called me names, and I returned to the backyard. My lie was good enough for the deputy, since it came from a pastor's kid and trumped the four poor kids who saw me do it.

WE ALL (TAKE) PAUL DOWN

I suppose we can call him Paul (that's not his real name, so feel free to refer to him however you like). I went to high school with him, and he was one of those subtle bullies, the type who would brag about his sexual escapades in front of the class and then ask you about yours, knowing full well you had no boasting to do. He was also wealthy and drove a red Mustang convertible. He and his four buddies idolized that guy who wrote I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, and they referred to themselves as "local legends." Outside of the group, they were universally despised, but no one ever said anything to them. Paul, of course, was the leader.

Toward the end of my senior year, in late May, the administration decided it would be a good idea to give us a district-wide writing sample. The people in charge intended it as a way to measure our success, but they underestimated, with graduation looming, how little we gave a fuck. We had about a week notice before we had to sit down and draft a persuasive essay about school uniforms or whatever, and during those few days, my three friends and I promised one another that, regardless of the prompt, we would all somehow make it about Paul.

I had English first period, and when I saw the question was about the ethical implications of locker searches, I immediately sensed things might get out of hand. By the end of the afternoon, news of our idea to focus on Paul had spread (we all bragged about it incessantly), and in total, more than 150 people had written about him. Multiple people accused him of being a drug lord, arguing he kept class A narcotics stashed in his locker. Some simply asserted how much they didn't like him. Others penned long pieces about how cool he was. At one point, I spotted his best friend sprinting down the hallway, shouting at strangers to "write about Paul."

A couple days later, I spotted a downtrodden-looking Paul. Word about the writing sample had gotten back to him. He looked sad. So sad, in fact, that I wanted to cop to starting the whole thing and apologize. I didn't. I still feel very bad about it. So if it's worth anything Paul—you know who you are—I'm sorry.

Follow Lauren Duca on Twitter.




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How It Feels to Be a Dissident in Turkey After the Failed Military Coup

Government supporters burn photos of Fethullah Gulen, who they believe organized the coup. Petros Giannakouris / AP

To plan a speedy political exile from Turkey today you need two things: a world map and the Wikipedia page on "visa entry requirements for Turkish citizens." If you get out a highlighter and start cross-referencing the two, you'll quickly see the bottom half of the map is more accessible than the top. If you can speak Spanish, the options are endless: almost every country in Latin America is happy to have you.

"It can't be that hard to learn, can it?" asked my friend, looking up Duolingo on the app store. We were sitting on a balcony in Istanbul, where we both live. From Taksim Square, just a few hundred meters away, came the sound of thousands of people singing the name of the president, Recep Tayyip Erdogan.

Since an attempted military coup took place last month, Turkey has been more divided than ever. Government supporters and others who took part in the huge public effort that helped stop the coup have flocked to squares across the country every day to revel in the survival of Turkey's democratically elected government.

But others, including government critics like my friend, are not celebrating. They're terrified they'll be caught up in the huge purges that the government has ordered since the coup was thwarted, which have so far seen over 60,000 people suspended from their jobs and over 18,000 arrested—including 17 prominent journalists.

Dozens of institutions linked to Fethullah Gulen, a cleric who is suspected of organizing the coup, have been closed down, and 50,000 passports have been canceled—a move the ruling AKP says is aimed at stopping plotters from fleeing the country. A three-month state of emergency has been declared and the government has begun to rule by decree.

Just a week after the coup, Amnesty International published a report containing evidence they say proves the torture and rape of suspected coup plotters in detention—claims the state has denied.

The most disturbing thing is that you can't figure out what will happen, you can't even make plans.

Though the government claims that they are only targeting supporters of Gulen, who lives in self-imposed exile in a Pennsylvania mansion, critics say the purges are a smokescreen for an attack on any critics of the government. Many liberals, terrified they'll be detained or banned from doing their jobs, are making plans to flee the country.

"This is the first time I've started thinking maybe I should leave," said Burcu, an academic living in Istanbul. "I suffer from the termination of freedom to work, speak, and even go abroad now. It's completely unstable. That is the most disturbing thing: that you can't figure out what will happen, that you can't even make plans."

After google imaging every country in south and central America, my friend eventually settled on Costa Rica. There are beaches and Americans there, he reasoned, and where you have beaches and Americans there will be work in bars. But others—especially academics—want to move somewhere they can find work in their field. For most, that means Western Europe or the US—neither of which are particularly keen on handing out visas to Turks.

"I wouldn't leave Turkey for just any country whatsoever. Hungary, Russia, and Belarus are no better. I would like to go to western Europe, possibly back to Britain," said Ali, a policy analyst at a think tank who did his master's degree in the UK. "I feel more at home there. July the 15 was a good reminder of why I'd really like to get out again. I used to criticize the government openly... but with the state of emergency and the suspension of the European Convention on Human Rights, I think the atmosphere is too intimidating."

It's a strange position to be in. On one hand, middle-class liberals in Istanbul aren't living in a war zone. Their life isn't in direct danger. But the fear of arrest and the pervasive, haunting feeling of being watched—having to constantly self-censor everything you say and write—is grinding. For most, though, it's not strong enough grounds to get political asylum in the West. They have to find another way out.

"I just feel disillusioned. I don't want to be this involved in politics," said Mert, an academic, sitting in a café on Istanbul's European side. "You can only fight so much. After a point you start thinking that living your life the way you want is a political statement in itself. It's ridiculous."

For many, the desire to leave is driven by a feeling that things are about to get a lot worse. On the night of the coup, almost 300 soldiers, civilians, and policemen died. F-16 jets bombed government buildings in Ankara, and attack helicopters strafed the streets with bullets, mowing down anyone in their way. On the Bosphorus bridge, where coup plotters had parked tanks to stop cars crossing to Europe from Asia, pro-government protesters allegedly beheaded a soldier.

Many of the army recruits who were on the streets on the night of the coup have since claimed they had no idea they were part of a plot to overthrow the government, and had been told they were taking part in a military exercise.

No one knows whether the president will use this period to reconcile with his critics, or use the state of emergency to make a grab for power. Such a move could trigger a second coup attempt, or even lead to civil war.

Ayhan couldn't wait to find out which way it would go. A few days after the failed coup, his name appeared on a list of journalists suspected of supporting the plotters—a claim he denies. He knew he had to get out.

Avoiding the airports for fear of detention, he managed to escape the country. "It's not safe," he said, from a secret location. "Whatever you write, they make a case against you. It's not possible for me to work any more. It's very difficult for those who believe in democracy and for liberals who side with the standards of the EU."

Back on the balcony in Istanbul, my friend was looking on Skyscanner for flights to Costa Rica. They were expensive—more than three times the average monthly Turkish wage. The Americans on the beaches would have to wait.

Some names have been changed to protect identities

Follow Louise Callaghan on Twitter.




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Congratulations Niantic, You’ve Broken ‘Pokémon Go’

Screencap of people enjoying 'Pokémon Go.' Good luck with that now, guys. Photo via YouTube

Unless you've been living on the moon for the past few weeks, you already know about Pokémon Go, the phenomenally successful mobile game from Niantic, made in partnership with The Pokémon Company. Using a combination of GPS tracking and augmented reality, Pokémon Go allows players to go hunting for Pokémon out in the real world. It's been a breakout success for its makers, but that's almost certainly all about to change, thanks to a very poor decision from Niantic.

When Pokémon Go launched in early July, it had an incredibly simple but functional tracking system in which nearby Pokémon would be displayed in the nearby section with a number of footprints underneath their picture. So if you saw a Charmander with one footprint beneath it, it meant you were within throwing distance of the little guy; while three footprints meant it was a fair old trek away. The only way to track down a Pokémon was to move in a direction and see if the footprint number dropped, indicating you were getting hotter. It wasn't the most elegant system on Earth and it could be bloody infuriating at times, but it was something at least.

Then came the three footprint bug which completely broke the system, showing three footprints for all Pokémon regardless of how far away they were. Dragonite on your radar? Good luck finding it, buddy. This could easily have been the end of Pokémon Go, especially with the rumors that the "bug" was in fact an intentional move by Niantic to reduce the load on their struggling servers.

But we're an enterprising species and when a hole in the market appears, you can bet your ass someone will fill it. Along came Pokévision, a browser-based system that allowed players to search their surrounding area for nearby Pokémon. None of this three footsteps crap was necessary: Pokévision could tell you the exact location of any Pokémon along with the amount of time left before it despawned. The game was saved and Pokémon trainers the world over could rejoice.

Was it cheating? Sure, I guess you could call it that. But in the absence of an official system it was all we had. Understandably, when asked what they thought of Pokévision, Niantic wasn't exactly thrilled. Speaking with Forbes, Niantic CEO John Hanke said:

"Yeah, I don't really like that. Not a fan. We have priorities right now but they might find in the future that those things may not work," he said. "People are only hurting themselves because it takes some fun out of the game. People are hacking around trying to take data out of our system and that's against our terms of service."

A fair point, if not for the fact that the in-game system for tracking Pokémon was completely fucked. These weren't empty words either, as just three days after this interview was published, on July 31, Pokévision was shut down.

Read on Motherboard: Have We Reached Peak 'Pokémon Go'?

So now Pokémon Go has no viable tracking app and players have to just wander around aimlessly and hope they bump into something worth catching. Fantastic move Niantic, you've blown it. It's perfectly understandable that you don't approve of Pokévision, but at least get your own solution working before you shut them down. We don't even have any sort of time frame as to when the tracking system will be fixed. The latest update actually removed the footprints altogether, presumably to reduce frustration from confused players, a move which suggests that the fix isn't coming any time soon. Without any reliable way to find the Pokémon they're looking for, the majority of high-level players now have very little reason to play. Some are demanding refunds as their plans for in-app purchases have now been altered.

We've all read the stories claiming that Pokémon Go is nothing more than a momentary craze, a flash in the pan destined to burn out after a month or two, so the developers should be doing everything in their power to prove them wrong, surely. By shutting down Pokévision, Niantic has destroyed the game's momentum, something very precious to its ongoing success. It's likely, given the user base of over 75 million players worldwide, that Go will survive this rather significant bump; but it's a stupid move that will do nothing but alienate a large portion of the hardcore fanbase while simultaneously making the game less inviting to newcomers.

Follow Ian Stokes on Twitter.

Read more gaming articles on VICE here, and follow VICE Gaming on Twitter at @VICEGaming.



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The VICE Morning Bulletin

Photo by TIMOTHY A. CLARY / Staff via Getty

Everything you need to know about the world this morning, curated by VICE.

US News

Pence Defends Trump over Khan Family Comments
Donald Trump's running mate Mike Pence has attempted to defuse the row between the Republican nominee and the family of fallen Army Captain Humayun Khan. In a statement posted on Facebook, Pence insisted: "Donald Trump and I believe that Captain Humayun Khan is an American hero."—ABC News

One Dead, Four Injured in Austin Shooting
A manhunt is underway in Austin, Texas after a gunman opened fire on a crowded street late Sunday night, killing one person and wounding four others. Relatives identified the woman who was killed as 30-year-old Teqnika Moultrie. The suspected shooter is described as a man with long cornrows and a goatee, according to police.—USA Today

Uber to Sell China Business to Rival
Uber is to sell its China business to Didi Chuxing, the leading ride-hailing service in the country, after failing to compete with its rival for customers. The valuate of the combined business has been estimated at $35 billion, and investors in Uber China will receive a 20 percent stake in Didi Chuxing.—The Washington Post

Two Killed in Maryland Floods
Two people were killed and more than 100 had to be rescued after devastating flash floods in Maryland over the weekend. Baltimore County police have identified the victims as Anthony Blevins, 38, and Jessica Watsula, 35. Their bodies were recovered in the Patapsco River after they were swept away by rushing water.—CBS News



International News

Taliban Targets Foreign Compound in Kabul
Three people were killed after Taliban fighters attacked a compound housing foreign contractors in the Afghan capital of Kabul. A truck bomb exploded at the entrance before two gunmen went inside. One police officer and both attackers were killed during a gun battle, according to police.—BBC News

Syrian Rebels Launch Offensive to Break Siege
Syrian rebel fighters have launched an assault on government troops in eastern Aleppo, aimed at breaking the siege. The UN estimates 300,000 people are trapped in the city with difficulty accessing food and medical supplies. Rebels and government forces have clashed along several fronts on the outskirts of the city.—Al Jazeera

Tokyo Elects First Female Governor
Former Defense Minister Yuriko Koike has been elected governor of Tokyo, the first female leader of the Japanese capital. Koike, an independent, received more than 2.9 million votes in Sunday's election, more than one million more than her nearest rival, backed by the ruling Liberal Democratic Party.—CNN

Turkey Captures 11 Soldiers Involved in Coup Attempt
Turkish special forces have captured 11 fugitive soldiers who are suspected of being involved in a plan to seize President Tayyip Erdogan during last month's failed coup. The soldiers are part of a group accused of preparing an attack on a hotel in Marmaris where Erdogan was staying on the night of July 15.—Reuters



Jon Stewart. Photo via Flickr user Cliff

Everything Else

Beenie Man Cancels Show After Contracting Zika Virus
Beenie Man has revealed why he canceled his Saturday performance at Toronto's OVO Fest: the reggae star said he was denied a Canadian visa after contracting the Zika virus. He shared an Instagram photo of himself undergoing blood tests.—Rolling Stone

Miss Teen USA Keeps Crown Despite Racist Tweets
The Miss Universe Organization has insisted the new Miss Teen USA, Karlie Hay, will get to keep her crown despite criticism over tweets she once wrote using racist language. Hay admitted she used language she is "not proud of."—NBC News

Jon Stewart Returns with Animated Series
HBO has revealed that the former host of The Daily Show will begin releasing short-form videos and animations as early as September or October. Stewart's videos will comment on "what's happening during the day's news events."—Vanity Fair

Australian Troll Convicted of Online Abuse
Zane Alchin, the 25-year-old troll who made sexually explicit and threatening comments on Facebook, was convicted and put on a 12-month probation. His victim Paloma Brierley Newton called it a "huge win" for harassment campaigners.—VICE

French Muslims Attend Catholic Mass
Muslims across France attended Catholic Mass on Sunday to show solidarity following the murder of a French priest by two teenagers. Anouar Kbibech, the head of the French Council of the Muslim Faith, called for "national unity."—VICE News

Niantic Shuts Down Pokémon Tracking App
Niantic, the studio behind Pokémon Go, has shut down tracking apps like Poké Radar that help players find the rarest of Pokémon. The tracking app maker said it will no longer be available out of desire to follow "Niantic and Nintendo's wishes."—Motherboard




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Sunday, July 31, 2016

Meet the Auckland Boys Who Blast Celine Dion from Tiny Bikes

Mount Roskill is a listless suburb of Auckland, a collection of cul-de-sacs lying under heavy skies on the slopes of a dormant volcano. When New Orleans photographer Aubrey Edwards visited on one of her frequent trips to New Zealand, she spotted a group of teenagers riding the streets with huge sirens strapped to their handlebars. Within 24 hours she had found the group on social media and was back to photograph them at their unofficial headquarters, the small street of Howell Crescent.

Calling themselves "Straight Outta Roskill," the group of locals have worked out sophisticated car battery systems to rig up their pushbikes with sirens to blast music. The craze has caught on around the city, and police have accused young people of stealing sirens from local schools to attach to their bikes. But Straight Outta Roskill, the originators, insist they never steal. They're church boys.

VICE spoke to Aubrey about photographing the group and their code.

VICE: Hi Aubrey, So who are these guys riding around with ludicrously big sirens on their bikes?
Aubrey: They're mostly Mormon, and mostly Tongan. There are other Pacific Islanders and Catholics and Christians. It's kind of an extension of their church. They're not a gang, they're very clear about that. Their rules are when they pass by someone who is elderly they turn down their music, and they don't play their music on Sabbath. They're very wholesome kids

How did it all start and how does it work?
When I do these projects I'll do lots of subcultural work and I'll trace back to who were the pioneers. The pioneer of this group is about 24. He started it when he was 16. The youngest members are about five. It came out of seeing cars that were decked out with these speakers, but they couldn't drive so they decided to take that form of expression and strap it on to these really shitty bikes. Through different trial and error they figured out the best way to create these platforms, figure out the best way to rig the speakers to batteries. They've got this system down. They call it strapping. They'll strap their bikes up and ride through the streets, but mostly they'll meet for these battles with other kids on bikes to see who has the loudest music.

Is the street where you shot really where it all began?
Yes, it's right on Howell Crescent. They say they're the first ones who started doing it. There's another group called the Farm Boys who started doing it, and another group down south.

What do they get for winning a battle?
Street cred. They get to call themselves king, but it's always disputed who actually wins so they'll have another battle.

What's the best music to play for a win?
They play some music from Tonga, so they're representing their homeland. Apparently the worst music has the highest treble and that's the loudest music, so the battles are really horrible music going back and forth. Maroon 5. Lady Bee. Celine Dion.

Where do they get those giant speakers?
They're . They'll get them from second hand stores, from alarm stores. They said they don't steal any of them. Each bike has about five speakers.

What's the secret to getting the winning sound levels?
Different bikes have different ways of doing it. They all have a car battery. So everything is connected to a basket that holds a car battery. From that it feeds on to a receiver and that plugs into an auxiliary cord that plugs into their phone. It's tested. It's tried and true.

They've had some negative blowback in the media. How open were they to you photographing them?
My background is in visual anthropology. There's always gaining trust and being transparent about what your intentions are. It was a tattooed American girl that found them on Instagram, so I think they were really curious. I went the first day and showed up on Howell Crescent and waited until they started coming. I talked to them and then asked if I could come back and take photos the next day. So they had time to get their bikes ready.

Why are they called Straight Outta Roskill?
Yeah, it's from "Straight Outta Compton." It was interesting because given their Christian ideology it's very different from what they're pulling from in American culture. I grew up in LA listening to Ice T and all that. They said it comes from that. I asked why and they said, "Well, we like it." I think it just sounds hard.

Words by Frances Morton. Follow her on Twitter.



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It Just Got Easier to Convict Your Online Troll in Australia

The Tinder profile that first sparked Zane Alchin's threatening comments. Image via Facebook.

It's been more than a year since a Facebook fight landed 25-year-old laborer Zane Alchin in front of a judge, charged with "using a carriage service to harass, menace or cause offense." His victim, Paloma Brierley Newton, was in court Friday, July 29, to watch his sentencing.

Facing three years in prison, Alchin escaped jail time with Sydney's Downing Centre Local Court putting him on 12-month probation. "We still had a huge win," Brierley Newton told VICE. "We got a conviction."

In the judgement, Magistrate William Pierce conceded Australia needs better laws around online harassment, explaining the current legislation was designed for angry ex-boyfriends over the phone. However, Brierley Newton told VICE she has serious concerns about how the judge handled the case.

She explained the magistrate went into an extended soccer metaphor, which was lost on her. "He kept saying like, 'In the grand scheme of the big game, Alchin had only made a small indiscretion,'" she said.

Some of Zane Alchin original comments via Facebook

Brierley Newton also said Magistrate Pierce had "slut shamed" Olivia Melville, the young woman whose Tinder bio first kicked off the conflict with Alchin. Back in 2015, Alchin commented on a screenshot of Melville's bio, which referenced Drake's lyrics from the track "Only." It read, "Type to wanna suck you dry and then eat some lunch with you."

" said she'd made a sexually explicit comment on her Tinder," Brierley Newton said. "That she was a woman of 'low morals' or whatever he wanted suggest with that." According to New Matilda Magistrate Pierce referred to the lyric as "a somewhat inflammatory comment," eliciting gasps from crowd in the court, which also included Melville.

Brierley Newton said it was hard to watch Alchin's lawyer, Sophie Walsh, argue the troll was the real victim in this situation, a position she believes the judge accepted. The court was told Alchin was in counseling, that he'd had to face telling his grandparents about the charges, and his girlfriend had needed to take time off work.

Walsh argued that by going to the media, Brierley Newton was "inciting harassment" towards the 25-year-old man. The judge also told Brierley Newton she'd taken part in a "vast overreaction."

Some more of Alchin's comments. Image via.

"I think it's the whole intrinsic idea that women are hysterical, emotional... I'm not emotional, I'm angry," Brierley Newtown said, rejecting the judge's criticism. "Alchin got this much attention was because his comments were so disgusting."

From Brierley Newton's perspective, Alchin's comments were explicit rape threats, ranging from, "The best thing about raping a feminist is that they don't get any action so they are 100 times tighter" to "I'd rape you if you were better looking."

However, his lawyer argued that his client had been drinking during the morning of the online battle and his comments weren't serious. "In his mind, he was defending his friend against these feminists," she told the court. "We say he was doing it to be deliberately offensive, there was no truth in his words."

Image via Facebook

"It's deflating to see that structurally we live in a world where men rape women... but our system doesn't seem to see the kind of incremental damage these attitudes towards women are having," Brierley Newton said in response.

"I think the judge had an opportunity today to make a point about the attitudes women face today, and I don't think he did that."

Brierley Newton said she plans to keep working with the group Sexual Violence Won't Be Silence, which has grown from the small organization that first launched a petition against Alchin.

Paloma Brierley Newton, left. Image supplied.

While Alchin may not have received any jail time, securing a guilty verdict is a significant step for fighting online harassment law in Australia.

"It's not about punishment, it's not about retribution, it's about changes," she said. "We need to keep pushing against it. If you see something, and you don't think it's right, don't just let it slide."

Follow Maddison on Twitter.



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