Farrago Magazine, Edition Seven, 2015

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farrago edition seven 2015

plants / trigger warnings / films

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farrago / welcome to farrago, your student magazine!

Submissions for our last edition have closed, but like farrago on facebook for updates on our 90th birthday, Wordplay, launch parties and when you can apply to be a part of the 2016 team.

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/ farragomagazine.com / www.facebook.com/farragomag / @farragomagazine / @farragomag / farragomagazine2015@gmail.com

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contents 42 60

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23 36 science / campus / 6 7 8 9 10 11 14 16

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Calendar News in Brief Grand Coalition Sweeps UMSU Elections Comedy Comes to Campus Arts Academic in Controversy Believing and Disbelieving So You Think You Can Campus UMSU Office Bearer Reports

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Taipan Tiger Girls Artist Profile The Book Melanie Basta and the Deathly Books Fake it ‘til You Make it In the Mood for Movies Das Geschlecht Best Bargain Boogies Agony Agatha Charlie in the Whitehouse Neighbourhood Watch In Soviet Russia, Games Play You

culture /

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Cover artwork by camilla eustance

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Your Brain and Mindfulness Science Lab Drawn to Science The Future of Food Tree-ting Maladies

society / 40 41 42 44 46 48 49 50 52 53 64

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Looking Back to the Future Savers, Anxiety and the Mohair Cardigan of My Dreams Chlorine Dreams Trigger Warning I.U.Delight Cyclord Playing the Field In the Wake of the Earthquake Surfing the New Age The Traveller For and Against: BeyoncĂŠ

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Fundamental/isms Jellyfish Umbrella Street Rhubarb

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editorial P

icture this: the year is 2003, Guy Sebastian is everybody’s dreamboat and… your brother just took a dump in the public pool.

It’s a hazy, January afternoon and the Golden Gaytimes and Calippos are flowing free. At about 2:30 (you’re two ice creams down at this point) you feel a fierce current of chlorinated water approach, followed by the strong but desperate whisper of your mother.

“Your brother has been sick in the pool. We need to take him home immediately.”

A whinge of ‘this isn’t fair’ and ‘why can’t he just sit on the grass for a bit’ etcetera is about to burst from your tongue, when a brown lump swims into your vision and floats mockingly past. A mad scurry ensues.

By the by, the only reason this story is now available for public consumption is that said pool has since been re-built. Until this renovation, the “Your brother has been sick in the pool” story was one for the family grave.

So, on the back of this tale please enjoy Camilla Eustance’s joyful front cover and Edie Bush’s nostalgic dive into the (hopefully poo-free) public pools of your childhood; the scene set by Lucy Hunter’s vibrant paddle-pop and pool-tile inspired illustration.

Also within these pages: Ghill de Rozario investigates the future of food, Tegan McCarthy celebrates the IUD and Clara Ng reflects on her experience in Nepal, following the country’s devastating earthquake earlier this year.

What’s more, Cindy Zhou’s vibrant poem ‘Jellyfish’ is accompanied by an equally dreamy illustration by Nini Li and Ellen Cregan’s vivid poem ‘Rhubarb’ is complemented by Emily Keppel’s luscious artwork.

Finally, by now you’re probably aware that we’re big supporters of the trigger warning here at Farrago.

Therefore, we’re thrilled to have Ava K. explore and articulate the importance of trigger warnings in our community. And oh yeah, Laura Foo and Harvey Duckett battle it out over the Queen herself (Beyoncé) in this penultimate instalment of For and Against.

So, enjoy the sun and long live the public pool!

Eternally yours, Catch you later, With love (and rage),

Maddy, Martin, Lynley and Simon

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illustration by lynley eavis

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LETTERS FARRAGOMAGAZINE2015@gmail.com / W FARRAGOMAGAZINE.COM / @FARRAGOMAGAZINE / @FARRAGOMAG HELLO I AM VERTY ANGYR.

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EAR FARRGO “LETTERS TO THE EDITOR” I AM WRITING TO EXPRESS MY STERN DISTASTE AT YOUR LATEST ISSUE. AND INDERD EVERY ON OF YORU ISUES> THERE WERE FAR TOO MANY SPELING AND GRAMMAR ETC MISTAKES IN YOUR “LETTERS TO THE EDITOR” SECTION. AS A PROFESIONAL EDITOR OF A REPUTBLE PUBLICASION I WILL NOT STAND FOR YOUNG UPSTART JOURNALIST F*CKHEA*S RUINING THE REPUTATIOM OF THE PRINT MEDIA INDUSTRY WITH THEIR SHODY FACT CHEKING AND THEIR IMGRAMMATICAL ARTICLES. UNSUBSCRUBE PLEASL> YOURS>

– ANONMYUS NEWSPAPER EDOTR

AVIAN DISGRACE.

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ear Farrago, your pro-avian bias is a disgrace. How can you claim to be representative of the student population when you only cater to the few pigeonlovers among us? What does this say about your morals?

– MORALISER

HE RETURNS.

D

ear Farrago, I went a whole week without being hassled by one student politician. If was beautiful. My secret tip is to graduate. Regards,

– AN EX-STUDENT

A PERSPECTIVE.

D

ear Farrago, don’t tell me what to do or think. I refuse to exercise my democratic right not because I am as cynical or calloused as you all are to student politics (don’t worry I am) but because I refuse to vote for anyone but myself. Luckily that wasn’t an issue this year and I didn’t need to wander into a booth or throw my mates at people in order to lick the boot of power.

Fun fact: if I had shirts they would be black and if I had posters they would be black and if I had flyers they would be black. Watch your back Jack, I’m poised to attack.

In other news I won’t miss PAs, I don’t like the touch of the glossy election section and I have never cried so Thiashya’s article did nothing for me. ‘White Knights’ got the people going and I agree that we should all Fuckerberg and cool our cocks. That was the point of the article yeah? Maybe I need to take another look at that one. All in all, congratulations on another great edition, even if I came up with half the article titles inbetween our sweet passionate embraces and you promising to call.

You are a cruel but enticing mistress, never change babe.

Forever together, Au revoir, My heart (and balls)

– Tyson

EDITORS Maddy Cleeve Gerkens, Martin Ditmann, Lynley Eavis, Simon Farley.

SUB-EDITORS

Danielle Bagnato, Melanie Basta, Emma Breheny, Jim Burgemeestre, Alex Capper, Kitty Chrystal, Jess Comer, Ellen Cregan, Sebastian A. Dodds, Harvey Duckett, Nathan Fioritti, Laura Foo, Morgan KainBryan, Stephanie Kilpatrick, Elena Larkin, Kate Lawrence, Sheri Lohardjo, Helena Melton, Ryan Mitchell, Rachael Morris, Francesca Ohlert, Yuzuha Oka, Baya Ou Yang, Putu Dea K. Putra, Bracha Rafael, Mireille Ryan-Nicholls, Claudia Schroeder, Monica Sestito, Sasha Sheko, Gajan Thiyagarajah, Hannah Tricker, Jakob von der Lippe, Will Whiten.

CONTRIBUTORS FOR THIS EDITION

Ayu Astrid Maylinda, Alistair Baldwin, Melanie Basta, Edie Bush, Nina Cheles, Kitty Chrystal, Samuel Condon, Kate Cranney, Ellen Cregan, J-Dart, Ruth De Jager, Ghill de Rozario, Rose Doole, Harvey Duckett, Alexander Eastwood, Camilla Eustance, Georgia Evert, Laura Foo, Jack Fryer, Dexter Gillman, James Henshall, Lucy Hunter, Ava K., Peter Kelly, Emily Keppel, Jack Kilbride, Sarah Layton, Bonnie Leigh-Dodds, Charlie Lempriere, Nini Li, Rebecca Liew, Wilson Liew, Tori Lill, James Macaronas, Tegan McCarthy, Sarah McDonald, Jaccob

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social media FROM THE MASTER, CAMPUS CELEBRITY and FARRAGO REGULAR, @PARKVILLE PIGEON “IT WAS ONLY ONE TIME AND IT WAS ONLY A YOGUT”

– 14 SEPTEMBER 2015 ON FACEBOOK “if you cant beat them, do not join them. they will make you feel negativey-inferior about your skills and you don’t need that kind of sad inside of ur life. hang out with birds of feather (we stick together) #emotionsbird”

– 12 SEPTEMBER 2015 ON FACEBOOK “#pigeon4pressidentofstudentunion ofuniversityofmelbourn”

– 11 SEPTEMBER 2015 ON FACEBOOK “I feel like I get ignored this week? but I did use a how to vote card to make part of my nest-hovel. Honesty, it was not such a bad week. Poo on a member of political party as well so i give it a six out of ten (it is a bad week when it gets a four or bellow)”

– 11 SEPTEMBER 2015 ON TWITTER

“To maintenance of digestive balance eat more than 12 rocks per day (pebbles including)”

– 11 SEPTEMBER 2015 ON FACEBOOK

McKay, Kylie Moore-Gilbert, Zoe Moorman, Jeremy Nadel, Clara Ng, Dominic Shi Jie On, Rachael O’Reilly, Adriana Psaltis, Samantha Riegl, Alexander Sheko, Ella Shi, Ellen Y.G Son, Aisha Trambas, Ben Volchok, Sean Watson, Clare Weber, Emily Weir, Will Whiten, Jenny Yan, Reimena Yee, Adrian Yeung, Cindy Zhou, Candy Zoccoli, Yan Zhuang.

APOLOGIES

We aplogise to Alexandra Patterson and Chiara Scafidi for spelling their names incorrectly in the last edition. Additionally, in the processing of Edition Six an unfortunate oversight occurred. An incorrect version of the election guide was sent into the printing process. Apologies to candidates on Wom*n’s Committee and Disabilities Committee. A complete list of all candidates and committees was made available online.

FINE PRINT

Farrago is the student magazine of the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU), produced by the Media Department. Farrago is published by the General Secretary of UMSU, Hana Dalton. The views expressed herein are not necessarily the views of UMSU, printers or editors.

Farrago is printed by Printgraphics, care of the ever-patient Nigel Quirk. All writing and artwork remains the property of the creators.

This collection is © Farrago and Farrago reserves the right to republish material in any format.

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illustration by reimena yee

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calendar / october WEEK ten

WEEK eleven

WEEK twelve

swotvac MONDAY 26

MONDAY 5

MONDAY 12

MONDAY 19

1pm: Activities – BBQ 1pm: Disabilities – Anxiety Support Group 4:30pm: Disabilities – Addiction Support Group 5:30pm: Enviro – Play with your food 6pm: Comedy Fest – Opening Night Gala

1pm: Activities – BBQ 1pm: Disabilities – Anxiety Support Group 4:30pm: Disabilities – Addiction Support Group 5:30pm: Enviro – Play with your food

1pm: Activities – BBQ 1pm: Disabilities – Anxiety Support Group 4:30pm: Disabilities – Addiction Support Group 5:30pm: Enviro – Play with your food

TUESDAY 6

TUESDAY 13

TUESDAY 20

9am: Enviro – Bike Co-op 12pm: Activities – BBQ 1pm: Queer – Trans Collective 1pm: Wom*n of Colour Collective 3pm: Queers with Disabilities Collective 5:30pm: Welfare – Free Yoga 6pm: Comedy Fest – Discussion 8:15pm: Comedy Fest – Open Mic night

9am: Enviro – Bike Co-op 11am: UMSU Student Market 12pm: Activities – BBQ 1pm: Queer – Trans Collective 1pm: Wom*n of Colour Collective 3pm: Queers with Disabilities Collective 5:30pm: Welfare – Free Yoga

9am: Enviro – Bike Co-op 12pm: Activities – BBQ 1pm: Queer – Trans Collective 1pm: Wom*n of Colour Collective 3pm: Queers with Disabilities Collective 5:30pm: Welfare – Free Yoga

WEDNESDAY 7

WEDNESDAY 14

WEDNESDAY 21

12pm: Enviro – Collective 12pm: International – BBQ 12pm: Wom*n’s – Collective 1pm: Comedy – Rowdy Laughter 3pm: Comedy Fest – Workshop 5pm: Wom*n’s – Anti-racism workshops 7pm: Comedy Fest and Activities – Comedy Union Night

12pm: Enviro – Collective 12pm: Wom*n’s – Collective 1pm: Comedy – Rowdy Laughter 5pm: Wom*n’s – Anti-racism workshops

12pm: Enviro – Collective 12pm: International – BBQ 12pm: Wom*n’s – Collective 1pm: Comedy – Rowdy Laughter 5pm: Wom*n’s – Anti-racism workshops 6:30pm: Queer – Queer Networking Night

THURSDAY 8

THURSDAY 15

THURSDAY 22

8:30am: Welfare – Free Breakfast 12pm: Disabilities – Collective 12pm: Wom*n’s – Queer & Questioning QTs 12pm: Comedy Fest – The Fodder radio broadcast 1pm: Queers of Colour Collective 3pm: Queer – Ace/Aro Collective 6pm: Comedy Fest – shows

8:30am: Welfare – Free Breakfast 12pm: Disabilities – Collective 12pm: Wom*n’s – Queer & Questioning QTs 1pm: Queers of Colour Collective 3pm: Queer – Ace/Aro Collective

8:30am: Welfare – Free Breakfast 12pm: Disabilities – Collective 12pm: Wom*n’s – Queer & Questioning QTs 1pm: Queers of Colour Collective 3pm: Queer – Ace/Aro Collective 5pm: Queer – Queer End of Semester Party 5pm: Media – Wordplay

Friday 9

Friday 16

FRIDAY 23

TUESDAY 27

WEDNESDAY 28

THURSDAY 29

Friday 30

11:00am: Comedy Fest – Access and the Classics Workshop 12pm: Comedy Fest – Film screenings 6pm: Comedy Fest – shows 6pm: Activities – Oktoberfest

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artwork by emily keppel

campus /

NEWS IN BRIEF GOOD UNIS GUIDE The latest Good Universities Guide has shown that teaching quality is better at some of the less prestigious universities.

Federation Uni received five stars, whereas Unimelb received one star.

RTS CUT It is increasingly likely that the Research Training Scheme will be cut by 10 per cent by the Federal Government. The RTS funds RHD students and supervisors. Group of Eight unis oppose the cuts.

GRAD UNION Dr Ken Loughnan AO has been announced as the new president of the Graduate Union.

The Graduate Union is a membership association, college and meeting place for graduates.

IYSSE The IYSSE socialist group have continued to protest following their rejected application to affiliate with UMSU Clubs and Societies.

C&S have been described as carrying out “vindictive treatment”.

Some IYSSE groups from other universities and countries, as well as university professors, have registered their dissent to the decision.

C&S continues to state that the constant uproar from IYSSE violates the “good faith relation” requirement of affiliation.

HJC BAr GONE

GSA By-election

CENTRES MERGER

HJC Bar has forfeited its lease after a long period of difficulties following financial issues and negative criticism from students.

The Graduate Student Association has undergone yet another by-election.

The results saw Jim Smith, a longtime student unionist, return to the seat of President after holding the position in 2014.

The University has taken a significant step towards merging all the student centres, as senior staff from the Arts/Music Student Centre merge with those from the Commerce Student Centre at The Spot.

The UMSU Student Lounge is up and running in the interim until it is tranformed into a student-run bar. The bar is expected to be ready by next year’s uni term.

Clubs and societies are able to book out the space for events, and students have been hired as casual baristas.

USYD SHAKEUP

ANNIVERSARY

A proposal from the University of Sydney will see a radical overhaul of research programs. Under the proposed changes, some honours and RHD courses will be replaced by a intensive masters degree.

On 18 September 2015, the Melbourne University Liberal Club (MULC) will celebrate the 90th anniversary of its founding date.

ORMOND COLLEGE

GENDER CHANGES

Students at Ormond College have been banned from viewing pornography on the college network. It’s caused a lot of controversy.

In line with Australian Law, the University will be providing a third gender option on all forms. This option can be chosen by students from their my.unimelb portal without any documentation.

College master Rufus Black believes it “presents women primarily as sex objects who are a means to the end of male pleasure” Students have protested the ban, stating it is a limitation of freedom and unecessary.

The broad span of banned material has also been brought into question.

GRADUATES The number of female graduates is outweighing male graduates at a record level, an Education Department report finds.

129,045 women graduated in 2014, compared to 86,337 men.

Founded in 1925, the MULC is the oldest university Liberal club in Australia. Many of the MULC’s founding members featured in significant national events such as the formation of the Liberal Party in 1945, and the debate against the 1951 Communist Party Referendum.

“Since its inception, the club has prided itself on being at the forefront of developing liberal and conservative thought on campus, and has indispensably acted as a key foundation for future Liberal politicians,” said MULC Treasurer Toby Wooldridge.

VET FUNDING

UNI SQUARE

VISAS GONE

The Council of Australian Governments has committed to considering of federal takeover of VET funding, replacing the current state-funded model. Victoria and WA have began a review.

The City of Melbourne, in partnership with the University, have developed a concept plan of the redevelopment of University Square. Features include removed pathways and increased lawn space.

Australian immigration authorities have cancelled the visas of almost 11,000 former students. This number is signficantly greater than 8018 cancelled visas from 2014 and 8930 in 2013.

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GRAND COALITION SWEEPS UMSU ELECTIONS

by MARTIN DITMANN

Martin Ditmann spoke to a range of sources from groups, who agreed to go on the record, but anonymously.

A

broad coalition of the Labor Left, More Activities!, Labor Right and Grassroots Left groupings has won the UMSU elections, in an unprecedented result.

The coalition and its partners, running as Stand Up!, More Activities! and Activate, swept every office and the vast majority of seats on the UMSU Students’ Council, in the biggest and broadest landslide in UMSU history.

Current UMSU Activities Officer James Baker from the More Activities! grouping running on the Stand Up! ticket will be the 2016 UMSU President.

Student union elections are dominated by big political groups.

The Labor Left grouping, known nationally as National Labor Students (NLS) and locally as the ALP Club, have dominated both the National Union of Students (NUS) and UMSU over the last few years.

More Activities!, an independent coalition of various clubs and volunteering groups, has emerged from relative obscurity to hold a large part in the union.

Melbourne’s Labor Right group, known locally as the Labor Club, is to connected the Centre Unity or ShortCon sub-faction of Labor.

The group is not connected to the national Labor Right student group (Student Unity), which dominates NUS alongside NLS. Student Unity formerly had a large presence on campus, but has since had its campus branch implode.

Activate, a grouping of autonomous and grassroots collectives, has some connection to the National Grassroots Left grouping.

At the last elections, a coalition of the Labor Left and Grassroots Left (running as Stand Up! and Activate) faced off against a complex alignment of More Activities!, Centre Unity, Student Unity and Socialist Alternative (running as More Activities!, ignite, and Left Action respectively).

The 2014 election saw Labor Left and Grassroots Left sweep most positions, except President. That ballot saw Rachel Withers from More Activities! become the student union’s first independent President in a long time.

The 2015 election season kicked off when the Grassroots Left picked current Students’ Councillor Pat Dollard and Disabilities Officer Susannah Gordon as their “communicators” with other factions. This was followed by More Activities! selecting Rachel Withers and current Clubs & Societies Officer Stephen Smith as their negotiators (a similar role).

Labor Right picked Labor Club President Stephen Mitas and Treasurer Joshua Rose as their negotiators. Labor Left picked current UMSU General Secretary Hana Dalton, Wom*n’s Officer Allie Ballantyne and Queer Officer Lloyd Rouse.

The negotiations saw More Activities!, Labor Right and Grassroots Left band together as a bloc, agreeing to either run together as a trio or in a grand coalition with Labor Left.

The trio approached Labor Left as a bloc, offering Labor Left the General Secretary, Education (Public), Welfare and Queer offices, with More Activities! picking up President, Clubs & Societies,

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Activities and MUSUL Board, Labor Right picking up Education (Academic) and half of Environment, and Grassroots Left picking up Wom*n’s, Disabilities, Creative Arts and half of Environment.

Crucially, the deal would give Labor Left all NUS positions on the main ticket, which they coveted.

Negotiations saw several tweaks to the deal offered – Wom*n’s and Queer were swapped between Labor Left and Grassroots Left, More Activities! agreed to allow Labor Left to pre-select the NUS delegate running on the More Activities! ticket, and an agreement was made to increase the amount of affiliation fees given to NUS (which Labor Left sought).

Additionally, the deal now was struck to give the UMSU President and General Secretary candidates “equal standing” in attending meetings and leading UMSU. Even with the changes, the Labor Left caucus narrowly voted down the proposed deal after heated debate, with the lack of the presidency as the large sticking point. Labor Left instead agreed to look at alternate groupings, seeking support from independents and Socialist Alternative.

The decision would soon be reversed. Labor Left were told that if the two did not sign together, the trio would offer Socialist Alternative the Education (Public), Queer and NUS spots in their coalition, leaving Labor Left with no significant coalition partners.

Labor Left reversed their decision and signed the deal, sealing the “Platinum Square” deal to form one of the broadest coalitions in Melbourne electoral history. Labor Left and Labor Right would run together on the Stand Up! ticket, backed by the More Activities! and Activate tickets.

The election period itself, largely a foregone conclusion, was a relatively quiet affair, marked by very low voter turnout.

Perhaps the most notable event of the election was the Socialist Alternative printing scandal. Socialist Alternative, running as Left Focus, were found to have used the UMSU VCA Student Department photocopier to print their election materials. This resulted in a campaign ban, and at time of printing, penalties against them were being considered.

The grand coalition won by a landslide, with the Left Focus ticket coming a far distant second for the Presidential ballot, followed by informal votes and then the Create (Liberal Club-backed) ticket and the Universal (Student Unity) ticket.

On Students’ Council, More Activities! and Labor Right will have five seats each, Labor Left four seats, Grassroots Left two seats – with one seat each for Socialist Alternative, the Liberals, Independent Media (a Media Collective ticket) and the Biggest Blackest Ticket (an Indigenous Collective ticket).

How the union will fare in the future, and the relationship between the different groupings, remains to be seen.

Martin Ditmann has campaigned for the last three years with Independent Media, the grouping formed out of the Farrago writers, artists and broadcasters collective, which successfully contested the Media Office and a Students’ Council seat. He is a former Independent Media ticket registrar; Indie Media backed the grand coalition in these elections.

photography by ben volchok

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Comedy Comes to Campus by emily weir

I

f you’re reading this, you probably don’t have a sense of humour.

I know that because Jerry Seinfeld said so. According to Seinfeld, the disease of political correctness has swallowed universities whole, enabling them to produce nothing but angry social justice warriors with blogs.

The comedian, who literally made a film about a bee in order to make a pun, told ESPN Radio that college students call out ‘racists’ and ‘sexists’ because “they just want to use those words.”

We can thus surmise that making jokes without sexism, racism, or homophobia is utterly impossible. Stand up comedy is dead.

It seems inexplicable that in this climate of suffocating liberal censorship, Melbourne University should decide to host its first ever comedy festival. Simply put, there could not be a single funny person in the entirety of Parkville. Where would you find such a person?

In the interest of saving comedy, I have searched for any evidence of humour with the desperation of a seagull at a South Lawn Barbecue. And not only have I proven that Jerry Seinfeld was wrong, and that jokes with a social conscience are possible, I have proven that there is a logic to holding a comedy festival at this godforsaken establishment.

The festival will feature acts from both the 2015 Law and Med Revues. In case you’re not familiar, these are shows put together by law and medical school students. They probably should be studying, but have instead spent hours upon hours writing original sketch and musical material so that the people who see them will not only laugh, but generate profit for those in need. That’s right – 100 per cent of proceeds of both the Law and Med Revues are given to charity. If you’re going to try and argue that these are not legitimately humorous shows, you should consider that they have been the training ground of real-life Australian comedians, including Magda Szubanski, Celia Pacquola and Sammy J. Sammy J himself will actually be performing at festival on the Monday Gala, which will open the six-day event. The MC for the

photography by wilson liew

night will be another Law Revue alumnus, Joshua Ladgrove, who performs under the name of Dr. Professor Neal Portenza, which is confusing because he was never in Med Revue and is probably not even a real doctor. Tuesday night will feature a panel on the future and history of comedy at the university, which will probably even discuss the fact that discriminating against people in your comedy is a crap idea. Melbourne comedy legend, Rod Quantock OAM will be appearing, alongside real-life writer and ‘reformed comedian’ Courteney Hocking, and stand-up artist Aamer Rahman of Fear Of A Brown Planet.

But that doesn’t prove anything. Jerry Seinfeld wasn’t criticising current, established comedians who’ve already made their way on stage. He was talking about current students, dragging out the ol’ “the youth are doomed” trope in an attempt to disguise his own fears of irrelevancy. So I must go on. Every night , the festival will feature acts from both university past and present, experienced or otherwise. At the heart of this festival lies the concept of accessibility – it’s about making comedy easier for the uninitiated to view (and create), as well as bringing together existing campus comedians with emerging ones. Just this year, the media office brought out The Fodder, paving the way for the next Hamish and Andy (more UoM alumni). Being comfortable enough to call yourself a “comedian” might be beyond many of those just starting out, but it’s a gateway.

Part of what the festival hopes to do is to showcase the fact that there indeed is a gateway, and that this gateway is open. If you believe that comedy ended when Jerry lost touch with his audience, prepare to be surprised.

The Melbourne University Comedy Festival is on from 5–10 October 2015. Tickets and venues TBA. Pick up a program on campus or check out the online guide at http://umsu.unimelb. edu.au/what-is-on/comedy-festival/

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Arts Academic in Controversy by anonymous

F

or the past year, Murdoch University has sunk deeper into scandal. Towards the end of 2014, an investigation by the Western Australian Crime and Corruption Commission (CCC) has been under way.

According to Murdoch Chancellor David Flanagan, the investigation has found evidence of excessive termination payments, anomalies in credit card use, conflicts of interest in appointment procedures, destruction of documents protected under the Freedom of Information Act, provision of misleading information to the CCC and bullying.

In February this year Ann Capling, the University’s Provost, Vice-Chancellor Richard Higgott and senior human resources director Karen Lamont all resigned.

In an FYI statement shared on Murdoch University’s “staff announcements and coming events” it was made public that Ann Capling accepted an unpaid honorary position at the University of Melbourne. Prior to being recruited by Higgott in 2012, Capling was a professor of Political Science at the University of Melbourne for several years.

The decision to re-appoint Capling was made with a recommendation from head of the School of Political and Social Science (SSPS) Adrian Little. It is a decision that has been met with confusion and disappointment from some of Capling’s former colleagues here.

Last October, an anonymous letter claiming to be from a group of 35 academic and professional staff was sent to Murdoch’s Chancellor Flanagan, accusing Vice Chancellor Higgott and Provost Capling of being “arrogant poor listeners who had systematically destroyed the colleague culture of the university”.

Through interviews with colleagues of Capling’s during her time at the SSPS at the University of Melbourne, Farrago has been informed that controversy surrounding Capling’s administrative decisions and relations to other staff existed before the current scandal at Murdoch University. While at the University of Melbourne, Capling was at the centre of staff disputes and accusations of bullying that often led to disciplinary procedures being initiated.

One such event arose out of an SSPS meeting in March 2010. According to multiple anonymous sources, Professor Sheila Jeffreys expressed concern that School decision-making was less democratic and transparent than it used to be. Professor Ann Capling reacted negatively to the suggestion. Two other professors (Verity Burgmann and Philomena Murray) raised objections to how Jeffreys was treated. Two days after the meeting, Jeffreys, Burgmann and Murray received an email from Little informing them they would face disciplinary procedures because of complaints made – by Capling – about their comments at the meeting. “Capling instituted a disciplinary witch-hunt against me and two other

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female colleagues over a lively disagreement in a meeting,” one anonymous colleague claimed.

With advice from the National Tertiary Education Union, the three professors made a formal complaint against Adrian Little to then Provost John Dewar, alleging Little’s chairing of the meeting failed to provide a safe workplace because of his bias in favour of his close friend Ann Capling. At the time of writing, Farrago was unable to discern the outcome of this complaint. However, Farrago can confirm that Dean of Arts Mark Considine hired a consultancy firm Australian Workplace Mediations (AWM) to run an independent inquiry in 2010.

Multiple colleagues of Capling during her time at the University of Melbourne have expressed the view that appointing Capling while she is still under investigation is by nature controversial, arguing that Little is compromising the integrity of the University in order to protect a former staff member he has previously been allied to in workplace disputes. One anonymous colleague of Capling’s made the comment that “Capling has for a long time pulled the strings of Adrian Little, as his action against those who dared disagree with her at a School meeting reveals. His involvement in reappointing her to a position within the School is unsurprising.”

The anonymous interviewee then went further, criticising Adrian Little’s “peculiar appointment practices” more generally. Allegedly, “early in 2012 he presided over a selection committee process that appointed his partner’s twin sister to a continuing position. During this process, he chaired a meeting at which School members offered their assessments of the relative merits of the short-listed applicants after hearing presentations from them. School members could not frankly and fearlessly offer their opinions of the candidates to someone so closely related to one of them. Even if Adrian Little fully declared his conflict of interest within the selection committee, his chairing of this feedback session, which could and should have been conducted by someone else, ensured that applicants were not treated equally and fairly.”

Farrago asked Adrian Little to comment on Capling’s appointment. His defence was that “Professor Ann Capling is a highly distinguished political scientist and a Fellow of the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia. She has published widely in the field of international political economy and trade policy in particular...The Faculty has appointed her to an unpaid position as an honorary professorial fellow as she works on her current ARC-funded project, ‘The World Trade Organization and the Future of the Multilateral Trade System’. In regard to Murdoch University, we would make no comment on unproven allegations of such a political nature.”

artwork by emily keppel

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Believing and disbelieving by jeremy nadel

“B

-E-L-I-E-V-E.” It’s popped up in plaques across the Professor’s Walk outside the Baillieu Library, it’s on the front page of envelopes sent to every staff and student, it’s the shiny writing on the wall of alumni dinners hosted in Beijing, Shanghai, San Francisco and Los Angeles, it’s even ascended in several metre-high letters across the South Lawn. What does it mean? Believe is the slogan of the University’s recent campaign to reach out for $5,000,000 in philanthropic donations by January 2017. According to Vice-Principal Sue Cunningham, the Campaign will aid the University’s “longestablished mission of educating tomorrow’s leaders, finding answers to the world’s grand challenges through research, and enriching the wider community.” Twenty per cent of donations will be spent on scholarships, 14 per cent “to affiliated colleges and associates”, 40 per cent to research, 16 per cent to community projects and 10 per cent to “unrestricted gifts”, which means areas the donor has not specified that they want their money to be allocated.

Half a year from the deadline, the campaign has already reached $4,000,000. It is the biggest fundraising campaign in the University’s 160 year history and the Australian higher education system as a whole. A culture of universities being financially dependent on donors has existed in the U.S for decades, which is why the Believe Campaign has been viewed by some as a symptom of the University’s complex reaction to declining government funding .

In the mid 1970s – under Whitlam’s premiership – government funding accounted for 90 per cent of universities’ incomes.

Since then, access to universities has widened, jobs increasingly require university qualifications, more institutions have received the imprimtur ‘University’, and Federal government funding has dwindled, presently account for only 23 per cent of a University of Melbourne’s revenue pool. The Group of Eight – a coalition of Australia’s research-heavy universities and of which the University

photography by tori lill

of Melbourne is a member, have long argued that should adopt policies to make universities financially autonomous and selfsustaining. This attitude was enshrined in the University of Melbourne’s recent 2015-2020 Strategic Plan Growing Esteem, which states that the University aims to “reduce reliance on government funding, and build a more diverse and sustainable revenue base.”

However, as treatments to funding cuts go, the $5 million that the University plans to raise through the Believe Campaign is just the spoonful of sugar that accompanies the much fouler-tasting medicine. In the past year, Glyn Davis has become one of the most outspoken advocates of fee deregulation. He has written articles and delivered public lectures arguing that the decline in federal government funding for teaching makes allowing universities to set their own tuition fees the only viable option. Opponents of fee deregulation allege it will intensify social stratification, worsen the gender pay gap and split Australia’s tertiary education into a two tiered system, in which elite universities prosper as less prestigious and regional universities become low-cost alternatives that struggle to compete.

Even more controversially, in late 2013, to an audience of University of Melbourne staff, Vice Chancellor Glyn Davis unveiled the Business Improvement Program (BIP). The BIP consists of cutting 505 professional (non-academic) jobs by January 1st 2016 and reorganising student services to be increasingly automated and centralised.

The BIP was architectured by a management consultancy firm called Booz and Co (now Strategy&), with whom the University entered a $23 million contract. According to the BIP Co-ordinating Group, the committee responsible for administering the BIP, convened by Vice Principal Ian Marshman: “Once fully implemented, savings... of $70m per annum will be realised.”

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However, despite the emphasis on cost efficiency, the BIP Coordinating Group stress that the BIP is more than “a simple costcutting exercise”. Eighty per cent of savings raised will be returned to faculties “for reinvestment in core academic activities...teaching, research and engagement.” Furthermore, the University intends for the BIP to eventually finance 300 new academic jobs.

What does this mean for student services? Despite some efforts of University management to keep students and staff consulted as the BIP is carried out, the document outlining the full framework of the BIP is kept from public view by a password-protected website and not all the proceedings are known. Farrago interviewed Alex Mcaulay, Vice-President of professional staff at the Melbourne University branch of the National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) on the BIP. It was explained that one of the biggest complaints that both students and staff have made against how the BIP has been conducted is that administrative positions were cut before adequate replacements to the often vital roles that they performed were introduced. Cutting administrative staff from 3,568 to 3,028 means 15 per cent of roles formerly performed by those staff must either be shifted onto academics, added to the workloads of other administrative staff, cut completely, automated or streamlined into the University’s new central service system that is shared between faculties. “A significant change underway is to place all services together in one location as a single hub for students” Provost Margaret Sheil (a member of the BIP Co-ordinating Group) explained in an email sent to all students last year. Part of this change involved setting up a single online inquiry management system. There is a widespread attitude across the campus that centralizing the inquiry system has furthered lengthened delays in services like applying to enrol and seeking other forms of administrative assistance.

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The University’s disability support programs will also be altered so that instead of there being disability coordinators for separate faculties they will be concentrated in a single contact point. It has also become known that the number of library staff will be reduced although the exact numbers have not been released.

It is clear that the list of things that the University Council and management are prepared to do to make university funding more sustainable includes cutting university services, encouraging ministers to uncap student fees, slashing low-income, administrative jobs and running enormous fundraising campaigns like Believe.

While no-one denies sustainable funding is something universities should strive for, these options become more questionable when considered against the backdrop of areas of massive expenditure in the university’s budget that have not been considered as alternative savings measures. Namely, the inflated salaries of top-ranking academic and administrative staff and the eyebrow-raisingly high amounts spent on marketing.

The NTEU, Graduate Student Association and a number of student and staff-run organisations opposing the BIP have long attacked progressive increases to Vice-Chancellors’ salary packages. In the heat of 2014 demonstrations against fee deregulation Socialist Alternative clipped a banner to the fence of Glyn Davis’s on-campus house that read “He earns over $1,000,000 a year and wants fee increases for students” and “look behind you that’s your Vice-Chancellor’s tennis court.” The Vice-Chancellor’s annual salary in 2014 was $1,055,000.

It may seem like a cheap shot to argue the BIP must be unnecessary if the VC can afford to be paid this amount. However, analysis of other bloated incomes in the top section of the University staff reveals there are numerous employees with incomes that could fill the annual wages of multiple low-paid administrative staff who have already or

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are going to lose their jobs-and the issue becomes a legitimate flaw in the logic of the BIP rather than a just a propaganda weapon.

According to Alex Mcaulay “The university is only obliged to provide the incomes of its highest salary earners, which is over a million, but it’s clear Glyn Davis has brought in lots of people from the corporate sector that wouldn’t be coming if they weren’t getting pretty juicy salary packages.” One of the few available peepholes into the annual incomes of the higher-ranking staff is the Careers at Melbourne page, in which places for Marketing and Communications Managers with salaries well over $100,000 are frequently advertised.

Although it is not one of the NTEU’s official policies, an article in the union’s journal, the Australian Universities’ Review, offered a solution to the problem of the wages of top-level administrators continuously bloating and in the process pushing out bottom-level staff to make the financial space. The solution was “pay-ratios”. “Administrative salaries could not exceed, for example, ten times that of the lowest paid full-time academic staff member. This would not cap administrative salaries, but it would prevent inequities from growing to unacceptable levels” Viviane Callier wrote.

The University of Melbourne’s communications are another area that could have been trimmed before the 505 administrative jobs were cut. According to the University’s annual reports, advertising, marketing and promotional expenses totalled $13,001,000 in 2014. This is the consolidated amount, which means it includes subsidiaries and other semi-autonomous bodies controlled by the University like the Ian Potter Museum, University of Melbourne Sport or MU Student Union Limited. The NTEU have queried why such a large amount is being spent on improving the University’s public image instead of employing the administrators

photography by tori lill

that make its support services, research projects and teaching curricula more efficient.

The NTEU argues that the University distorting the figures in their explanations for why cutting jobs is a financial necessity. The NTEU allege that “the University is in a strong financial situation”.

In 2014, the University reported a surplus of $5.7 million. A Victorian Auditor-General report issued in December confirms this figure is false and should have been closer to $230 million.

The Auditor-General’s report backed up the NTEU claims that the university calculated its surplus through erroneous treatment of grant-incomes. “The University treats grant income as a ‘reciprocal transfer’ and thereby only recognising it as grants income when expended. In the interim the unspent grant income is treated as a liability and thereby reduces the operating surplus. In other words they never really count research grants as income because they are written off as they are spent.”

Regardless of where you stand on the issue, it is very clear that the federal government’s continuing agenda of transforming the originally public nature of Australian universities into private, U.S-style degree factories. In this environment, the University of Melbourne has changed its colours with chameleon-like swiftness.

Although, very few university councils have joined their students and staff in opposing the government’s push for financially independent universities that are funded through their students and alumni rather than taxpayers, it is questionable why the University of Melbourne has been the most efficient in this metamorphosis. No other universities have committed to the same level of historically large fundraising and although many universities have restructured their workforce in response to the cuts, the BIP ranks as one of the most severe.

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so you think you can campus: a tour of parkville with alexander eastwood Redmond Barry Building Named after the judge who sentenced Ned Kelly to hang (also the first Chancellor of the University and founder of the State Library), this is the tallest free-standing brick building in Melbourne.

Old Law Quadrangle This was the first building on campus, and a historical epicentre for Australia’s labour history: stonemasons downed their tools in 1856 and joined the marches that led to the world’s first 8-hour working day. Check out the plaque on the northern wall for more info.

The original University fence With only a single segment remaining outside the Medical Building, this impressive wrought-iron fence once encircled the entire campus at a time when you could only enter University grounds as student or staff. This changed when the University agreed to make its grounds public in exchange for free gas lighting by the City of Melbourne. The original gate from the main Grattan Street entrance is now located at the entrance to the Systems Gardens.

1888 Building This grand Victorian building was the original home of the Melbourne Teachers College until 1989 when it merged with the University. The emblems above its entrance – rose, thistle, clover – reflect a time when Ireland still belonged to the UK.

Lemon-scented Eucalypt This magnificent gum was spared during the construction of the Sidney Myer Asia Centre in the late 90s by outcry from the staff of the University.

University Lake Now the ‘Union Lawn’, a beautiful ornamental lake once occupied the space between Union House (formerly, the Luncheon House) and the new School of Design Building.

It was filled in the 60s due to flooding and, apparently, increasingly wild Orientation antics.

University Square Prior to the University redeveloping the site in the 90s, there was an operating Bowls Club on this site for 125 years. Unfortunately, this all occurred just before the release of Crackerjack, and the ensuing revival of the sport. Imagine barefoot bowls on a Friday night!

artwork: lost on campus map, reimagined by farrago

The University as a Park (anywhere) When the Victorian Parliament legislated for the University in 1853, kangaroos and emus still roamed the ‘grounds’.

Before trams delivered tens of thousands to Parkville each day, ladies and gentlemen used to travel to campus by horse and cart to picnic.

River Red Gums These trees – including this enormous one near University House – predate the University and link it to its history on the land of the Wurundjeri people. Such trees were used as an essential source of shelter, bark for canoes and tools.

Visit http://www.murrupbarak.unimelb.edu.au/ to learn how to take Billibellary’s Walk.

Systems Gardens A lost oasis on campus. As you squeeze between the Botany and Babel Buildings, look for the curved line of bricks in the ground – these demarcate the original perimeter of the original concentric gardens. The surviving larger trees allude to this demarcation around the remaining octagonal tower in its centre.

Professor’s Walk The first professors – all Law and all male – lived upstairs in the Old Law Quad, alongside all of the male students.

As the University grew in its disciplines, more professors were recruited and each lived in their own residence on campus, which was where the Baillieu Library now resides. University House – now a private club for Staff and Academics – is the last remaining house (built for Proffessor Nanson, who was renowned for his work on our preferential voting system).

Old Arts Building The only building on campus intentionally built in a style not of its time: opened in the 20s, it is built in the TudorGothic tradition. Check out the roman numerals on the clock face – can you notice anything odd?

University Car Park Sitting snugly under South Lawn, this car park built in the 50s was featured in the film Mad Max. It was engineered so that no buildings could be built above it, and has since endured as the largest open space on the original Parkville campus. Note that all the trees on the Lawn are planted equidistant from one another due to being planted directly above the columns beneath in the car park.

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UMSU OFFICE BEARER REPORTS PRESIDENT rachel withers email: President@union. unimelb.edu.au instagram: @umsu_president

G

osh do I love Semester 2! Balls, BBQs, Bands and (Student) Bars…and Prosh Week. Yeah nah. Brace yourselves for Week 9.

We’ve got a second UMSU Student Market coming up. Come along to Concrete Lawns between 11 and 2 on October 13th and support your fellow students/snag a bargain or twelve/eat some noms/have you palm read(?)/ buy some art(??).

This semester’s market will be taking place during Anti-Poverty Week (11 – 17 October) with a focus on offsetting student poverty – whether that’s through useful affordable items, raising money for charity or just making

general secretary hana dalton

email: secretary@union. unimelb.edu.au

W

hile you’re busily working on assignments and studying for your mid-sems, your student representatives at UMSU are working hard to represent you.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been involved in discussions with the University around a range of issues, including the University’s equity targets for disadvantaged students, and how to make students’ enrolment records inclusive of all gender identities. Another important issue at the moment is study space on campus, or lack thereof during peak study periods such as SWOTVAC. It is pleasing

EDUCATION (academic) nellie montague & shanley price email: educationacademic @union.unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook.com /umsueducation

P

icnic against Pyne is on the 14th September, this is a joint event with NTEU to raise awareness about the higher education changes being proposed by the federal government. Come down and lounge on beanbags and picnic rugs and snack on some delicious 130degrees sangas, cakes and cheese platters while learning about all the political hoo ha!

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a bit of money for yourself to help cover those costly student expenses.

ANY student can apply for a stall. Whether you’re a crafty creator, an Etsi expert or just have a lot of excess stuff to offload, you SHOULD (before Sept 20): http://goo.gl/ forms/39FylywjW1 I am personally hoping someone applies to facepaint so I can be a dragon, hint hint.

For those who still haven’t heard the news, HJC Bar vacated that huge space on Level 1 – with that balcony that I can’t wait to sit on as the weather warms up! There will be an UMSU bar/café/food outlet next year, but in the meantime it’s a student lounge – I’ve put some comfy couches in there for you. And now there’s coffee in there too! Please make the most of it and tell your friends – it makes us so happy to see you in there.

Want to be involved in the creation of the bar? There’s a mailing list JUST for bar updates: http://goo.gl/forms/ xYQK3S7p1V (Google forms 4 life).

to see that the University is committed to providing more study spaces, and UMSU will continue to ensure that students are consulted as part of the planning process.

On August 19, students from UniMelb joined others from across Victoria in protest against university fee deregulation, which remains on the Federal Government’s agenda. It is important that we maintain momentum on this crucial issue.

On the Students’ Council front, recent meetings have addressed matters such as the forthcoming UMSU bar, Clubs & Societies Regulations changes, and expenditure for a number of exciting UMSU initiatives and events on campus, including the UMSU Comedy Festival.

I have also been running regular meetings of the Constitutional Working Group and developing proposals for constitutional change. All students are welcome to participate – details on the Secretariat page of the UMSU website.

Be super careful with your mid sem assessments everybody! To avoid Academic Misconducts make sure you brush up on your referencing skills and check out Academic Skills if you are unsure of any of the rules.

We are working with UMSU International on their International Student Survey which will be out soon, make sure you fill it in if you are an International Student to help UMSU International and UMSU Education support and lobby for your academic needs.

Student Representative Network has been meeting regularly and discussing numerous issues including study spaces, peer assessment and increasing practical work experiences for undergraduates.

Science Students please fill in the survey on our facebook page (facebook.com/umsueducation) so we can collect some data on whether Science students would like to be able to complete double majors.

photography by bonnie leigh-dodds

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EDUCATION (public)

conor serong

email: Educationpublic @union.unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook.com /umsueducation

Y

o! The end of the year is slowly rolling into sight, and with it, the end of an era for yours truly.

Election week is happening as I write this report, and while there’s an element of schadenfreude watching all the campaigners from my office window, the reality is that over the next few months I’ll be preparing to hand over this work to a new face (or two new faces!).

welfare james bashford

email: welfare @union.unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook.com /UMSUwelfare

I

t’s time for our penultimate reports already? Wow the year’s flown by! We’re past half way through semester now and for many of us the assessments are piling up – or maybe you’re experiencing calmer waters before the storm that is exams. Either way for many of us the stress is going to start building up for the next few weeks so it’s super important we all look after each other! At the time of

Wom*n’s allison ballantyne & lucy curtis email: womyns @union.unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook.com /umsuwomyns

W

hat a busy semester! We’ve had a trivia night, a panel, mentoring nights, a film screening just to name a few.

It’s been wonderful seeing so many new faces engage with the department and hope to meet even more people before the semester is over!

Our collaboration with feminist art project f generation resulted in the collective creation of a banner, which will

Even so, there’s still a lot to be done before you see the last of me – if you’ve got any ideas for how to spend the remainder of the education department’s budget, we’re still open to suggestions! We’ll have run our Picnic Against Pyne alongside the NTEU by the time this edition goes to print, but we’re always enthusiastic about new ways to promote our campaigns, or even new campaigns to run.

Hit us up! As we approach exam time, we’ll be flat out once more dealing with issues such as clashes, allegations of misconduct (don’t cheat! Please! Seek support if you need it, we’re here to help, but please don’t cheat!) and all sorts of other issues as they arise.

Study hard, come along to our events, and we’ll keep smashing fee deregulation and funding cuts, and all that other crap that we don’t want. It’ll be a ripper. xoxo

writing this is just before R U OK Day and I guess that serves as a reminder that we all share a bit of responsibility for looking out for each other as parts of our Uni community.

A simple question like “Are you ok?” or “Is everything alright” may be the start of a really important conversation.

The rates of mental illness amongst students are far higher than for the average population and this isn’t something we can keep ignoring or avoiding – if you sense someone’s having a tough time, reach out and help. Of course, we’re not all qualified to help out, but the University offers a fantastic, free and confidential counselling service to all students and staff. It doesn’t matter how minor or major you think an issue is, they can help. Good luck with all the assessment and look after yourselves :)

be on display in the George Paton gallery later in semester.

The Anti-racism workshops, organised by the Wom*n of Colour Collective, are a space to open up dialogue about racism and have been very popular. There are still a couple more to go (Wednesdays, 5-7pm), be sure not to miss them!

Also keep an eye out for the launch of our department magazine Judy’s Punch. Along with our sub-editors, we’ve been busy putting it together and can’t wait to share it with you. We’re celebrating its release with a launch party in Week 12 and you’ll also be able to pick up a copy around uni.

We know it’s coming up to the particularly stressful time of semester, but don’t forget about our weekly events in the Wom*n’s Room (Wom*n of Colour Collective, Wom*n’s Collective and Queer and Questioning QTs).They’re great if you ever feel like a chat, a rant and/or a free lunch. Hope to see your lovely faces there!

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creative arts Bonnie leigh-dodds & isabella vadiveloo email: arts @union.unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook.com /umsuartsdepartment

C – Mudfest R – happened E – real A – good

Activities Hayden michaelides & James Baker email: Activities@union. unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook.com /umsuactivities

T

he activities department has been incredibly busy over the past month or so, with cocktail party shenanigans, Tuesday BBQs with some amazing bands playing, and the organising of a bigger than ever Oktoberfest, all in between those pesky (but not really, hope you all voted) elections.

We’ve continued to have a great turnout at the BBQs,

queer

andrea gavran & lloyd rouse email: Queer@union. unimelb.edu.au

Trigger Warning: mentions of HIV and assault. have worked with the University to be more inclusive of non-binary identifying folk and trans people Support groups are being set up for the HIV positive and survivours of assault and abuse. The legalities of the support groups is being analysed. Training for students has been located with CASA and the expressions of interest are being confirmed.

The department ran two events for wellness week which were a blanket fort and a colouring in session. The queer space has many completed pieces stuck to the walls and the fridge.

I

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T – and I – now V – we E – are A – sleeping R – forever T–z S–z

Mudfest was a huge success featuring over 300 artists and over a thousand audience members. So much fantastic work was presented and we had a great time seeing what the many talented artists on campus created. We are now having a bit of a rest, but are still working hard on our Mudfest report.

with some amazing acts performing. Make sure you don’t miss the last few of them, and come get some free food and drinks while you’re at it!

The second cocktail party was in late August, and while the turnout wasn’t as big as the one in semester 1, everyone who came had a great time and loved the atmosphere at the party.

The planning of Oktoberfest is well under way, with the plan for it to be bigger than ever. The planned date is the 9th of October, so check out the UMSU Activities facebook page for full details when they’re released.

For all updates, chuck us a like on facebook, as that’s where we release most info. Also send a friend request to one “Tobias Trunke” for an invite to all the big events XOXO Gossip Trunke

VCA: I am trying to run a collaboration space for artists down at their campus. I want to do this because art is often a solidary endeavour but socialising is needed to maintain mental health. I would prefer that the space be as apolitical as possible.

Constitution working groups have continued to push queer and disabled rights in the constitution groups but unfortunately had not made any meaningful progress toward the enfranchisement of trans women, until a chat with the Returning officer of the electoral ballot revealed that students who have their honorific titles changed to Mrs, Miss, or Ms are granted the right to vote for women’s officer within the Union. While this is not optimal and is not widely known at all, it is better than many of the options described in the working groups.

More condoms of varying sizes have been ordered for the queer space as at this time only one size is available.

I have managed to secure a donation of sanitary products for the queer space for those who menstruate but may not feel comfortable purchasing their own.

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enviro daniel sullivan email: environment@ union.unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook. com/umsuenviro ENVIRO WEEK 2015!

With over 25 events from the 28 October to 8 September, it felt like there was something for everyone. Thanks to everyone from MU Enviro Collective, MU Food Co-op, and the many clubs, organisations, workshop presenters, volunteers and guests that made Enviro Week so successful.

ASEN East Gippsland Road Trip & Citizen Science Camp – 25-28 September The first weekend of mid-semester break we’ll be joining Goongerah Environment Centre (GECO) and Australian Student Environment Network (ASEN) in the wonderful

Clubs & Societies

claire pollock & stephen smith

email: clubs @union.unimelb.edu.au facebook: www.facebook.com /UMSUClubs

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e are now well into Semester 2 which means two main things in the Clubs & Societies world: New Clubs and AGMs!

NEW CLUBS! Initial approval has been granted to 21 fabulous new clubs who are now on their way to joining our already affiliated 208 clubs! CLUBS FOR EVERYONE!!

The range of clubs that applied for affiliation were significantly varied, however unfortunately a number of

indigenous

tyson holloway-clarke

email: Indigenous@union. unimelb.edu.au phone: 0488506881

T

he semester has been bubbling along nicely with some amazing social events and high levels of engagement.

It is safe to say we have had a fantastic year thus far with a wide range of social gatherings and activities to break up the monotony of study and #unilyf with your mob. A huge thanks must go out to the collective for their enthusiasm and breathing some life into the department.

Mudfest was a raging success with a Night Under Bunjil and our amazing artists providing some highlights not only for the department and collective but across the whole

forests of East Gippsland to conduct Citizen Science surveying for threatened species and rainforest areas to get forests off the logging schedule. We can support you to attend! Register here: http://bit.ly/1LgM4WR

Fossil Free Summit 2015 – 30 September to 1 October During the mid-semester break, our University will be hosting the Times Higher Education (THE) World Academic Summit. Students are holding an alternate Fossil Free Summit to put divestment on the agenda! You’ll hear from inspirational speakers involved in the global fossil fuel divestment movement, learn campaigning skills, network and socialise.

Register here: http://www.fossilfreesummit2015.com/ Come along to the Fossil Free MU Speakout for Divestment!

Monday 12 October, 12pm under Raymond Priestley Register here: http://bit.ly/1LgMCMv

applications were rejected due to overlap with already existing clubs. Some of the initially approved clubs that are now currently in the affiliation process include: Soccer Appreciation Society, Art History Student Society, Chinese Chess Club, Magic Society, Motorcycle Club, Vegan Club, United States of America Society and the Woofers Appreciation Guild …plus a bunch more, keep an eye on our Facebook page for more details on our new clubs! facebook.com/UMSUclubs AGMs! AGMs, otherwise known as Annual General Meetings are required each year of all our affiliated clubs. Around 75% of all our clubs hold their AGMs in the 8 weeks spanning from week 2 to week 9 of Semester 2. This means lots of AGM training and lots of AGM paperwork to process!

Congratulations for all the newly elected committees of all our amazing clubs! <3 CLER, STEPHEN & GUNTER XOXO

festival. Exalted before the eager crowd of Mudfest a huge congratulations must go to our artists for their hard work before the festival and for the quality of work put forth.

Special thanks to Amy, Todd, Marley and Kyle for sharing their work at a Night Under Bunjil and for everyone that made their way out- and Marley for collecting an award at the conclusion of the festival. The last thanks must go to the Creative Arts Officers, Bella and Bonnie. Without their fierce determination to diversify the festival and enthusiasm to work with me to make it possible has left a great impression on me and the collective. I look forward to seeing such a fantastic relationship continue into the future.

Under Bunjil is also due in between Edition 7 and Edition 8 of Farrago and we are busy hacking away at our keyboards working toward an early October release date.

Keep your eyes peeled for the publication, I couldn’t be more excited to share it with you!

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photography j-dart 20 / Farragoby2015 / edition seven

photography by j-dart

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Taipan Tiger Girls

by CHARLIE LEMPRIERE

A

person who I’ve not met, and will not go on to meet, offers something in my direction. I politely decline and don’t make eye contact again. Eventually that person and their small group peel off, returning to their homes. Huddled in my big green Lindsay Weir jacket, I was too timid to join their discussion of Thurston Moore’s lost credibility following Kim Gordon’s book Girl in a Band. The group’s sophistication is alluring, but their decision not to continue on towards the Old Bar is highly questionable.

The night belongs to the album launch of Taipan Tiger Girl’s debut 1. Variants of ‘LP1’ have almost been rivalling eponymous selftitling recently. While I favour a worded title, I can’t deny the stark practicality of such a coded signifier. The cover art is minimal too: a shot of the band in motion barely visible through a fog of darkness.

I enter the Old Bar to the schizoid sound mutations of Antediluvian Rocking Horse. ARH’s scope goes beyond the typical notion of a disc jockey; the two scientifically manipulate their wild selection live to create music that stands alone. It is fascinating to watch their hands hover over the spinning records as though the turntable was the furthest extension of the arm. Four eyes intently focused on life at 33 1/3 rotations per minute. The scene is pure anarchy. ARH have been refining the art of analogue screech spitting for longer than I’ve been alive.

On the projection screen behind the stage, a computer desktop error message transitions to a video installation by Exotic Forest.

Ollie Olsen, the synthesiser maniac of Taipan Tiger Girls and occasional third member of Antediluvian Rocking Horse, makes hand gestures to the duo behind the decks. Brief silence. The crowd tilts its focus to the front. Several stages of force arise from Lisa MacKinney’s guitar in a slow rumble, exploring the potential of feedback. Elevated in the far back corner, a man with a face covered in tattoos yells ecstatically, brandishing a clenched fist. His whole body is covered in green ink too, but the sound swirls unfortunately cannot summon enough heat to tempt him to bare all.

Aggression strikes. Congealing the loose noise with tribal propulsion, drummer Mat Watson begins a marathon pounding

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of his kit. I’m sure tattoo man up back has thoroughly lost his shit by now, even if his shouting replies to new additions in the wicked soundscape are cannibalistically absorbed. My mind likewise has a mild freak-out, though it is just my right leg that responds to the beat. I had a glass of water, and then a glass of lemonade… where do I put my glasses? The basest response would be smashing them against a wall, bloodying my hands, adding the shattering of glass to the immense sound in the room. I keep my cool and smother the glass in sweaty grime throughout the set.

The solution is to dedicate all attention to the projection, which has moved beyond splayed colours to the textured sieving of sand particles into facial animation. Human minds form faces in all places. I’m fully mesmerised, nodding my head and smiling along. Psychedelic properties can’t be defined in music; there is a traditional conception, but ultimately it is the discretion of the listener. TTG transports me to an audio-visual realm separate to the norm. On this night, I experience true psychedelic music.

The individual songs on the album are melded into one monster punch of consistent momentum. I have no idea how long they play for and I don’t care. Given the perfect circumstances, I could rock out to TTG for a long time. The Old Bar is a swell venue, but the crowd are their predictable Melbourne selves, statue still. Near the front, a person of small stature is bouncing around. I would give up my prime view of Exotic Forest’s awesome projections to be with them. They get it. This is music to dance to, despite the stigma of abrasion associated with ‘noise’. Melodic beauty can emerge from a warped package.

The drums cease, then the guitar and synth. Appreciative applause, most enthusiastically by the tattoo man, follows as the united trio bow in front of us.

The crowd disperses and ARH commence again. Windowlicker

by Aphex Twin plays, only this time people are dancing.

Taipan Tiger Girls are playing at Hootenanny #7 on October 24.

photography by georgia evert

culture /

Evangeline

artist profile by rose doole

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ooking at her now, a conservative Catholic girls’ school certainly seems like it would never be somewhere that Evangeline could fit in. With hair that’s been every colour from silver to purple to blue and a wardrobe featuring anything from all black to rainbow holographic, the 20-year-old Geelong singer/songwriter clearly has no fear of standing out.

When she started high school Evangeline took up opera and jazz singing to follow her interest in music, as she found it difficult to satisfy her passion for performance at school. “I was too pop”, she says. “I’d get involved in the school musicals and shows but would never get a lead role – I was always just an understudy.”

Today, being onstage is no longer just 20-year-old Evangeline’s hobby but her career, having been pushed by her love of music and a supportive family to make her dream of playing music for a living a reality. In 2013 she left school to pursue her passion and study music performance and songwriting at Oxygen College, a contemporary music school, which in just four years of operation, has helped to revitalise Geelong’s live music scene by training and supporting artists like Evangeline.

Evangeline’s classically-trained voice now acts as something of a personal signature worked throughout her music. Evangeline pairs a vocal range and strength unheard of in most pop singers with a mix of keyboards, guitar and synths. The resulting sound is an intriguing mix, creating a laid-back and catchy style described

by Triple J Unearthed as “dark electro-pop”. The intimate nature of her lyrics leaves no doubt that, for Evangeline, playing and writing

artwork by camilla eustance

music is a personal venture, based very much on her own world.

Her words explore moments of love and heartbreak, and her latest single ‘Chemical’ sees Evangeline describe in her lyrics and arching vocals the painful experience of viewing substance addiction from the outside.

“I have to be in control of writing my songs”, she says. “My ideas can come from anything and everything; sometimes I think in colours, and I might write a song that feels purple. I might be walking down the street and see something that gives me an idea.”

Evangeline’s work is now paying off for her. After many features as a guest artist with performers such as Nussy and Melbourne rapper Bam Bam, her single ‘Chemical’ debuted at number 6 on the Triple J Unearthed charts, and at number 2 on their pop charts. Over the last few months she’s also appeared on Channel 31’s Countdown, radio stations in both Geelong and Melbourne and in publications like Forte magazine and Geelong’s Weekly Review.

Those lost lead roles in high school mean little now as Evangeline works her charm and boundless energy into a commanding stage presence, describing live performances as a profound personal experience. “It’s like you go to this different, other place, where you feel totally connected with the people watching you,” she says.

However the music industry is by no means an easy path to choose, and Evangeline acknowledges that for young artists like herself there’s a long way to go yet to cement a place in Australia’s extensive music scene. “It’s not glamorous”, she admits with a laugh.

“It’s hard work. But I get to do what I love every day.”

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the book sean watson talks mislead

T

he philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer once argued (I am immediate sorry for this pretentious lead-in, by the way) that people understand irony only to the extent that they are in agreement with the person addressing them. As in, I can only really understand Stephen Colbert’s character on The Colbert Report because I largely agree with his values and his caricature of the typical American conservative.

I don’t think this is wholly true – surely there are a lot of conservatives who at least get where Colbert is coming from on a conceptual level – but it goes a long way towards explaining why some irony can be incredibly abrasive: the speaker positions themselves and their presumed reader as a kind of in-jokey, selfcongratulatory and consciously exclusionary pair.

Literary irony in particular can be guilty of this. A lot of postmodern American literature that emerged in the ‘60s and continued until the ‘80s (I’m thinking of writers like William Gaddis, Thomas Pynchon, John Barth and Robert Coover) is marked by a distinctively facetious and irreverent tone that assumes the reader

“...this journey is narrated in such a zany, caustic voice that if you don’t identify with it, you might be pretty put off.”

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is as clued-in and hypereducated as the writer, and if they’re not, nuts to them. This style seems to have fallen out of critical favour in the last couple of decades, maybe as a result of David Foster Wallace’s public disavowal of it and his yearning for a more sincere kind of fiction, or maybe because of a shift in perception as to what good fiction is and should do.

American expatriate Nell Zink’s recent novel Mislaid, however, reads like a kind of revival of this sensibility. Not in the sense that it shares the same concerns, but that it’s unafraid of arcane or highbrow references, relies heavily on wordplay and irony, and couldn’t care less if you ‘got’ it or not. The book follows Peggy Vallaincourt, a young would-be writer who has a brief affair with trust-funded poet Lee Fleming. She falls pregnant, keeps the child, hurriedly marries him, and then has another kid. But Lee has other interests, and after promptly melting down, Peggy splits with one daughter, and takes on a new dubious identity down in the American south. It sounds compelling, and it is, but Zink is a strange, erratic writer, and this journey is narrated in such a zany, caustic voice that if you don’t identify with it, you might be pretty put off.

Zink’s rise to literary fame has been a strange one. In 2012, she struck up a friendship with novelist Jonathan Franzen (the same Jonathan Franzen who recently wanted to adopt an Iraqi war orphan in order to better understand today’s youth – up yours, Franzen!), who suggested she take herself more seriously as a writer. To prove that she did in fact take her work seriously, she wrote her debut novel The Wallcreeper in four weeks. Published last year when Zink was 50, the book received enormous amounts of praise from such institutions as The New York Times and The New Yorker, and levitated her to heights of serious critical adulation.

And deservedly so. Mislaid is a bizarre book, and certainly more challenging that a lot of contemporary fiction, but it also has a lot to say about gender and racial identities. Maybe this is what sets is apart from more intensely cerebral, postmodern writers: while Zink occasionally seems a little too clever and struck by her own wit, she is willing to use her smarts to examine some essential human subjects.

culture /

melanie basta and the deathly books young adult fiction with melanie basta

T

he Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon is about Christopher Boone. He is 15 years old and Asperger’s Syndrome. When he sees five red cars in a row he will have a super good day and when he sees four yellow cars in a row he will have a bad day, where he doesn’t eat or speak to anyone or take risks. His favourite book is The Hound of the Baskervilles and he likens himself to Sherlock Holmes.

“The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.”

Christopher aims to document and discover the mystery behind who killed his neighbour’s dog, Wellington. Astute as he may be, Christopher makes a rookie mistake.

He notes on several occasions that most murders are committed by someone known to the victim, which is why he surmises that his neighbour’s ex-husband killed the dog.

As perceptive as he may be, Christopher cannot actually solve the mystery. His strengths lie in logic and mathematics rather than identifying and understanding human emotions.

Gradually, we learn that Christopher’s father has lied to him. His mother is not really dead. She has written letters but Christopher’s father hid them.

She left the household, after having an affair with the

illustration by ellen y.g. son

neighbour’s ex-husband. She couldn’t handle raising Christopher, a difficult child who needed more care and attention than she could provide. Christopher’s father killed the dog.

Christopher litters his book with scientific facts and observations, and often things he doesn’t understand such as this excerpt from The Hound of the Baskervilles: “Learn then from this story not to fear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in the future, that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered so grievously may not again be loosed to our undoing.”

The things that Christopher finds difficult to understand lead to his own undoing. We’re all vulnerable to some kind of undoing, no matter what we would like to believe.

Although this book won the Whitbread book of the year, readers are divided over whether it is an excellent book or a horrible book. Just by trawling through Goodreads you can see that the top two reviews rate the book five stars and one star respectively.

It is not an excellent book. Nor is it horrible. Both kids and adults can read it and take something from it. The achievement lies in the totally and completely convincing voice of a teenage boy with Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s a breezy read.

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Fake It ‘Til You Make It: A Layman’s Guide to Cinema Appreciation

by Zoe Moorman

T

he film ends, the credits roll, and the lights come up: discussion begins. What did you think? How cool was that scene? Wasn’t she fantastic? Soon your friend makes a comment about the director (who?) and one of their other films (what?), someone else goes off about their oeuvre (huh?), and you quickly find yourself knee deep in a conversation about films you’ve never seen, people you’ve never heard of, and jargon like ‘auteur’, ‘mise en scene’ and ‘cinema verite’.

You, my friend, have unintentionally entered the world of cinephilia: love of film. While you may not know anything about film, in five easy steps you will at least be able to save face. With a sprinkle of confidence and some fancy words, you can argue about some film you’ve never seen over a single origin cold-drip as well as the next hipster.

Given that knowledge is power, step one is to arm yourself with the facts and consensus on whatever film it is you’re seeing or discussing – whether prepared before an outing, or sneakily googled under the table while you’re “texting your housemate”.

Your first stop is IMDb, a.k.a. the Internet Movie Database. While home to user created lists that give the inanity at BuzzFeed a run for its money, it is also a touchstone for any cinephile wanting a quick fact check on anyone and anything related to the movie business. It does particularly well at keeping all the information in a format that is much shorter and easier to scan than Wikipedia’s. For example, a cursory glance at IMDb will tell you that the director of Ant-Man also did Bring It On, which is clearly important knowledge to add into any conversation.

The second most important website for our purposes is RottenTomatoes, a critic aggregator site, which gives a handy onesentence summary of critical opinion on any film and essentially lets you know whether or not something is awful. For example, Amy Schumer’s Trainwreck currently has an 86% approval rating – which is why you are going to recommend it to a mate as if you actually bothered to see it. You can even reference LeBron James’ hilarious cameo role… that you found out about from the previous IMDb search.

Step two in pretending to be a cinephile is to start acting like you have seen all these movies that you read a one line review of in the

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bathroom, and start making blithe value judgements about them.

Disclaimer: This takes years of listening to other people’s equally unfounded opinions, a lot of googling, and a lot of confident fibs, but give yourself time – I believe in you!

Step three is to begin dropping in these jargon words I mentioned earlier. The most important one is ‘auteur’, meaning author in French, which comes from the theory that a director is the sole “author” of the film, and thus the film is attributed to them above any other person. Just refer to anything in the film as directly belonging to the director/s and you’ll fit right in – “Her camera moves so fluidly”, “I can’t believe his ending – genius!”

This language indicates to other cinephiles that you, too, are one of them – an intellectual, cultured and experienced with film criticism – unlike the little people who talk about Channing Tatum and Jennifer Lawrence (mere players on the stage!). Some examples of auteurs that (some) cinephiles love include, Quentin Tarantino (Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill), Wes Anderson (The Grand Budapest Hotel, The Royal Tenenbaums) and Tim Burton (Edward Scissorhands, Sweeney Todd) – name drop away, my friends.

Step five is mastery of important genres or movements, which are films grouped together by common theme or style. Film Noir, German Expressionism, the French New Wave and Mumblecore are just a few examples of the many styles you could reference. When discussing Mad Max: Fury Road, reference Ozploitation and bask in the golden rays of intellectual snobbery.

After we have mastered all this – the white lies, the sly googling, using the right words and dropping the right names – comes the final step to peak film snobbery: talking about films you have actually seen.

The day you proclaim how much you love Christopher Nolan’s films (such as Inception and the Batman trilogy) and at the same time reference metafiction, Film Noir, and his ‘visual language’, then you will have finally ascended to the ranks of true film poseur.

Your arguments are now 100% more pretentious, and users report increased ability to make impressive small talk at networking events – congratulations, and you’re welcome.

photography by wilson liew

culture /

IN THE MOOD FOR MOVIES

by Candy Zoccoli

S

ometimes, we all just need to know we’re not alone. Certain situations call for certain responses – and like a good friend, a good movie can provide the perfect solution for whatever your problem may be. In my (biased) opinion, the best kind of movie to quell your pain is an old movie. The emotional pitch is at the right level, the characters’ feelings are felt right through to their nerve endings and everyone looks great while dealing with their deeply entrenched flaws.

So here’s a list of movies you should watch. Don’t worry, the usual suspects aren’t lurking around. Casablanca and Breakfast at Tiffany’s – we love you but, for now, be gone! I’ve compiled a list of films that I think are not only worthy of your time, but extremely appropriate for the given mood you may find yourself in. You’ll find movies to make you laugh, cry, or coil in disgust. Let’s get that popcorn in the microwave for…

...When you’re in the throes of unrequited love: Buster Keaton’s entire filmography When entering the silent realm, I’m going to suggest something quite provocative: forget Charlie Chaplin. Buster Keaton is the man you’re after. He knows what he wants – the girl – and he is going to get her no matter the amount of bodily injuries he may have to sustain. His ambition and persistence are nothing short of aweinspiring, and on top of this he’s able to get through the day without anyone ragging on him for his chronic resting bitchface. If love as a reward when properly pursued is your goal, look no further for a guide to achieving your aims. I’d start with Sherlock, Jr (at only 45 minutes long) before trying The Cameraman, College, and, of course, The General.

…When you’re home alone due to a philandering spouse: Sorry, Wrong Number Since Melbourne is apparently one of the top cities spreading their collective seed on Ashley Madison (too soon?), I think it should be mandatory for everyone to prepare themselves for what their lovers are really planning in the dark. If that’s not enough incentive to watch this film, there’s a book in the Baillieu with a chapter devoted to the wonder that is Burt Lancaster’s neck. Your provisional film buff status requires this kind of awareness. Basically, Barbara Stanwyck is sick in bed when she gets a phone call that may or may not be linked to her husband, who is conveniently absent. What’s going to happen? You’ll have to tune in to find out.

artwork by sarah mcdonald

Also: The Two Mrs Carrolls and East Side, West Side. Poor Barbara Stanwyck seemed to get herself into a bit of trouble with the men in her life. Shelley Winters also seemed to fall under the spell of the not quite right partner (see: The Night of the Hunter, A Place in the Sun). …When you’ve just got off your Ps and are ready to embark on a month-long bender: The Lost Weekend Another film to prepare you for the dark road ahead. You may think you can quit any time, but so did Don Birnham. Watch him descend into a weekend-long binge – if the resonance is too strong, you may have to rethink your beverage consumption habits. You can thank me later.

…When the sibling rivalry in your house is reaching its peak: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

It’s the film that sparked the ‘psycho biddy’ sub-genre of horror films about old women going crazy and resorting to armed violence.

Bette Davis keeps a dependent Joan Crawford locked up in their Hollywood mansion, the result of bitterness that stretches back to when they were competing starlets. You’ll either grow more gratitude for your forsaken siblings or hate them even more. Go on, take a chance.

Also: Bette Davis is so good at what she does, you’d truly be missing out if you didn’t just have a marathon with Hush Hush, Sweet Charlotte, The Anniversay and Dead Ringer.

…When you have to clean your tear ducts because the build-up is becoming a health hazard: La Cinema Paradiso Okay, so maybe this film is on a lot of those ‘Movies to See Before You Die’ lists. Whatever. This film will get you in the gut so hard you’ll need to take a week of uni. At least. The story of a boy, a man and their shared love for the cinema. If you have feelings, you should spend Friday night in front of this movie at some point.

So, there you have it. No matter what your issue, there’s a celluloid fantasy calling your name. Ye Golden Olde Hollywood filmmakers sure knew how to draw in an audience – and it still works today. Forget the slick modern-day fare and settle down with a tried-and-true classic. I can guarantee you’ll feel all the more better for it.

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/ culture

Das Geschlecht etymology by adriana psaltis

I

love German, but when I found out I that I may have to study and learn to speak the language on exchange this semester my brain went into “No, no, please no!” mode. I’m. Scared. Of. German. No, I’m terrified. Why? Well, being a linguistics student, I just can’t be satisfied learning a language without nailing every aspect of its grammar, and the systemless plight of German grammar haunts me therefore.

Like many of the world’s languages, German uses an odd and arbitrary grammatical function called ‘gender’. The gender category is meant to function as a way of categorising nouns. However, because the concept of gender is so salient in society, language learners must continuously refer back to societal concepts of gender when learning these grammatical categories and their differences.

As a first language English speaker, deciding whether a table is more feminine or more masculine is difficult enough. However, German introduces a twist by throwing in a third gender category called ‘neuter’. Neuter is used to describe a word that is neither feminine nor masculine.

An example of a neuter word that relatively makes sense is das Baby, which means baby. I can reason with das Baby, and give German points for labelling baby a neuter, because babies are without any fixed gender identity. However, most other examples just baffle me. Words such as the future, die Zukunft, and the past, die Vergangenheit, are both strictly feminine; yet das Fräulein, which means young lady, is just neuter. Another strange example is that der Rassismus, meaning racism, is masculine, but das Patriarchat, which means patriarchy, is not.

At the end of the day German, you’ve been fun so far. However, an innocent language-learner like me is still left feeling a little confused by you!

Best Bargain Boogies music previews with jack kilbride

So it’s getting close to summer and uni is practically finished again for the year. After shouting too many drinks and buying too many coffees on Sunday morning recovery sessions, you need to start saving some cash. Some people would just stop themselves from going out, be the responsible adult and save their money for the summer parties. But no one ever had any fun being a responsible adult. You need to dance!

You need to party! You need to go to one of these October bargain gigs!

Drunk Mums

T

hey say getting drunk is all about losing your inhibitions, to stop you caring about what everyone thinks about your dance moves – even if they accurately resemble the movements of one of those inflatable tube men car yards actual think are good advertising. But just because the need to feed yourself means you can’t afford to get drunk doesn’t mean you have to stay at home. The solution: go to a place where everyone is so drunk that nobody is watching and definitely aren’t going to remember you.

The Drunk Mums fit the bill. They’re a hectic bunch of Melbourne lads and their lyrics are a testament to it. One single called ‘Plastic’ is about finding a piece of plastic in their backyard and not knowing what it was, another named ‘Nanganator’ is scripted as a tribute to ‘nangs’ - the inhaling of nitrous oxide for a quick high. Known for their rowdy live shows, the boys are kicking off a whirlwind Australian tour in support of their newest single, ‘Pub On My Own’.

This gig is the gateway to one of the best nights of your broke life!

Howler, October 24, tickets $15

Woodlock

I

f you are looking for something a little less chaotic, Woodlock are probably more your cup of tea. Chances are you’ve probably seen these guys before, either at the free Tuesday BBQ in North Court or busking on the streets of Melbourne. Now I know what you’re thinking… “Is this guy trying to tell me that paying to see a busker play is a bargain?” Well, if you were thinking that (or are now), hear me out.

Shaped by years of entertaining tourists and shoppers, the trio are real crowd pleasers, with unique covers of Coldplay, Armin van Bueren, James Bae and Matt Corby scattered throughout their sets. The harmonious melodies of sibling vocalists Ezekiel and Zechariah Walters are sure to draw comparisons to American indie powerhouse Grizzly Bear or Triple j alumni, Boy and Bear who fittingly helped produce the band’s new single, ‘Sirens’. But it’s the band’s bearded, lanky and smiley drummer, Bowen Purcell, that instantly sets the group apart from the rest. With his snare and tom drums set atop milk crates, a bucket substitute for a kick drum and a solitary cymbal that he plays on the floor and dampens with his foot, Purcell shows that you don’t need fancy equipment to rock. The band’s blend of gorgeous vocals, acoustic tinkling, synthesised bass and impressive drumming are something that truly deserves a spot on the stage. For only $15 dollars at The Corner, I assure you they will not let you down.

The Corner, October 30, tickets $15

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illustration by ella shi

culture /

agony agatha Alistair baldwin solves your relationship woes with the help of the mistress of mystery herself Dear Agony Agatha, it’s coming up to the penultimate edition of Farrago! I write a regular column, and after setting aside the last edition for a sincere and solemn goodbye, this edition is my last chance to break the confines of the structure I’ve built around myself these past few months. What’s a fun, kooky way to open up the scope for meta-commentary and abstracted self-reflection?

D

evoted, and presumably handsome, reader – coincidentally, I too have been thinking of ways that I might tear down this highly artificial, reverent and irreverent mausoleum of amateur Christiology (Christianity was taken), so that it might flatten out my physical form as a metaphor for the deconstruction of form I so desperately want to achieve.

Sometimes it feels like this column is bleeding into my real life. The other day, I was made to watch The Mirror Crack’d at university. Now I know what you’re thinking. The argument that VCA is a legitimate faculty of the University of Melbourne is… unconvincing, at best. The argument that VCA is a legitimate university at all is downright laughable – it’s like the movie Fame, except caramel slices are $3.50.

So when I say that this Agatha Christie haze is seeping into what is already probably just a fever dream (i.e. VCA) it’s not exactly setting off alarm bells at the CSIRO’s Quantum Tear Division.

The Mirror Crack’d is the 1980 film adaptation of The Mirror Crack’d From Side To Side, one of Christie’s finest Marple mysteries. It’s about famed movie star, Marina Gregg, who moves to the sleepy village of St. Mary Mead. She soon becomes the apparent target of a number of attempts on her life – a local woman, Mrs Badcock, drops dead after drinking from Marina’s daiquiri instead of her own.

I love this book for many reasons. It’s based on a true, heartbreaking story that made the tabloids back in Christie’s day, a testament to her obsession with staying culturally relevant. It also explores the terrible stigma disability had in the 60s. But I mainly love it for fooling me better than any other Christie novel. Almost the entire mystery hinges on a premise that, ultimately, proves to be a red herring. This was Christie’s best skill: making you think that you’re reading one thing, then, at the very end, revealing something completely different and subverting all of your expectations.

Wow. How very meta of me.

Trouble in paradise? Need love advice? Email Alistair <alistairb@student.unimelb.edu.au>

artwork by sarah layton three farrago 2015 / edition seven / 29

/ culture

CHARLIE IN THE WHITEHOUSE by peter kelly

E

ver since learning Roald Dahl had published a rare, second sequel to his classic Charlie And The Chocolate Factory in 1980, I’ve been eagerly anticipating reading it. It’s a difficult book to find: the only copy I’ve ever seen was a tattered paperback hidden in the Giblin Eunson library, its existence unacknowledged by the library catalogue.

The novel’s action picks up from where its maligned predecessor Charlie And The Great Glass Elevator left off, as Willy Wonka and his associates accept President Lancelot R. Gilligrass’s invitation to attend a White House function. Dahl uses this celebration to satirise American culture, through Charlie’s disgust at senators deferring to an obese millionaire and Grandpa Joe’s innuendo-laden conversation with starlet Helen High Water. Meanwhile, Wonka insinuates himself into the President’s inner circle by exposing his advisors’ hypocrisy with simple questions and parlour tricks.

Charlie returns to England to run the chocolate factory with the help of his bickering grandparents. After the Oompa Loompas unionise, Grandpa Joe suggests that offering factory tours will allow them to recruit new workers while generating extra revenue.

Relying on Wonka’s factory manual, described by Dahl as ‘thicker than a phonebook and written in very messy handwriting’, the Buckets explore a chocolate factory more terrible and wonderful than their wildest dreams In forty pages Dahl details a veritable smorgasbord of grotesque wonders as Wonka begins the Wonkafication of America. He builds unmeltable chocolate houses for the homeless, transforms soldiers into bouncing blueberry killers and develops a serum that when injected into the eyes of prisoners turns them into delicious fudge. His most alarming act is the invention of the W-Bomb, a purple bon-bon that can only be detonated by the President and Secretary of Defence.

Chapter Eight begins when a Vernicious Knid, one of the shapeshifting aliens Wonka thought defeated at the end of Glass Elevator, is woken by a bald woman wearing gloves. Within weeks, a Knid army terrorises all nations, and only a united effort by the world’s militaries can slow the terrible alien invasion. Intelligent foxes sabotage enemy supply lines, telekinetic savants cooperate with

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dyslexic vicars to herd civilians underground, and unfriendly giants wrestle with inflated Knids under an exploding peach. Dahl packs too much action into these ambitiously violent scenes, but Quentin Blake’s illustrations of the narrative rank amongst his best.

After America is covered in the rotting corpses of seven slain giants, President Gilligrass begs Wonka for permission to use the W-Bomb. Wonka consents, after using Wonkavision to tell Charlie to bring as many Oompa Loompas as possible to the caves beneath the factory. He then borrows a jet to scatter chocolate bars all over America, distributing one Golden Ticket in each thousandth bar.

Evacuating with the Golden Ticket holders in an enlarged Great Glass Elevator, Wonka witnesses two distant men struggling over the bomb before shielding his eyes from a violet flash.

In the epilogue, Charlie’s descendant, Cacao Bucket, becomes the first person to leave the factory in over a century. Cacao enters a world where all natural forms of life have been replaced with chocolate copies. Think the ‘Pure Imagination’ scene from the Chocolate Factory movie, but expanded to cover an entire planet.

The biggest surprise is the silently screaming survivors of the W-bomb, their bodies melded together and made immortal by a thin coating of Wonka caramel. Quentin Blake’s illustration of this scene is an absolute masterpiece. The book ends with Cacao looking up at the night sky and recognising one star to be the legendary Great Glass Elevator.

Most critics who reviewed the novel were unnerved by White House’s apocalyptic tone, although some saw it as a return to the anti-nuclear themes of Dahl’s 1948 debut Sometime Never: A Fable for Supermen. It also bears comparison to Dodie Smith’s The Starlight Barking, another esoteric sequel to a children’s classic and whose bizarre ending alienated most readers. Charlie In The White House may not be suitable for all readers of Roald Dahl, but fans of his adult writing – particularly those who enjoy a certain desperate humour – will find it a delicious treat.

Disclaimer: Charlie in the Whitehouse is an imaginined text! Sorry if we got your hopes up – we’re sad too.

artwork by samantha riegl

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neighbourhood watch / spotswood by jack fryer

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’m always surprised, and a little flattered, when I meet someone who knows where Spotswood is. Spotswood, or Spotty to the locals, is wedged between better known suburbs in Melbourne’s west, and I almost always have to reference them when locating Spotswood for those who haven’t been before. Describing the suburb requires similar comparisons with the surrounding areas. “It’s not as cool as Yarraville, not as large as Newport, not as edgy as Footscray, but still worth checking out”, I say, hoping the person I’m speaking to will still want to visit. It’s a small and pretty sleepy town, but sleepy things generally don’t sleep forever, and nor is Spotswood.

Spotswood is waking up.

The wave of gentrification and respectability moving westward across Melbourne has decidedly started lapping at Spotswood, and with it have come changes. The Spotty pub as it once was is now gone, and with it, the hordes of Hells Angels members who made it their de-facto clubhouse. So too the ‘Exotic Foxy Lady’ dancers that once entertained them. The Spottiswoode (sic.) Hotel now boasts a welcoming, family friendly atmosphere, impressive menu, and annoyingly well enforced policy against outside drinks. The hormone riddled charcoal chicken shop is also no longer; instead visitors and locals can now enjoy the four cafes that line the main strip, all within 50 metres of each other. VB Long Necks were once the most common beverage on the streets of Spotswood, now it’s a skinny latte. For those who prefer hops and barely over espresso and steamed milk, the recently opened Two Birds brewery has got you covered. Gaze on the huge steel tanks and imagine the beer fermenting inside as you knock back a fruity Golden Ale, or sip on a darker Sunset ale.

illustration by nina cheles

As much as Spotswood has changed, some of its less-polished past thankfully still remains. Foremost is the Al Nada Lebanese pizza shop, practically a Spotswood institution. Decorated inside with newspaper cuttings of favourable reviews and signed band merchandise from The Living End, Al Nada is the tastiest, probably cheapest, and certainly funniest place to eat at on your visit here.

Come for the delicious cheese and spinach Sujuk pizza, stay for owner Michael’s outrageous jokes about his mother-in-law. Stay also because he’ll probably prank you by giving your change in useless 2 cent coins, or not at all, insisting that the price of your single pizza has suddenly risen to $20. Eventually you’ll be free to leave with your change and generously sized lunch, but you might just find yourself staying in to eat, won over by this rascal and his salient advice on marriage (I’ll let you find that out for yourself), but above all his friendliness. It’s the shop with the huge toy dog out the front, the one inexplicably wearing a Vietnamese rice farmer’s hat. You can’t miss it.

Once, the only reason to come to Spotswood was Scienceworks (a fun and interactive science museum still well worth a visit), and the only people that would venture into town would be tourists who had taken a wrong turn from the train station looking for it. Now, Spotswood is notable on its own merits, and you should definitely come on down and see why. Of course, if you’re just here for Scienceworks, and do end up getting lost, I’ll be happy to point you in the right direction, but not before I shout you a coffee (I work at one of the cafes and get free stuff). A mere 25 minute train ride from the city is all it takes to experience this little western suburbs gem.

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In Soviet Russia, games play you

by Adrian Yeung

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here has long been debate over whether there’s a correlation between violence in video games and violent behaviour in young people. However, the simpler games of yore are not the innocent, wholesome amusements that we may think they are – nay, they are in fact insidious pieces of government propaganda.

Due to all of Putin’s recent antagonism towards the West, it’s no surprise that many are concerned that the Cold War is reigniting (read: ‘Winter is coming’). Some speculate that the Cold War never really ended to begin with. However, long before the Berlin Wall came down, the Soviets had already infiltrated the minds of young Westerners with something so innocuous and ridiculously addictive that we didn’t even notice. I am, of course, talking about Tetris, which was designed in 1984 (gasp!) by Soviet game designer Alexey Pajitnov.

Tetris is a piece of communist propaganda. No matter what shape or colour, all blocks are created equal, each consisting of four squares. The aim of many other games is to accumulate as many points as possible, and come up on top as the winner. This is a very capitalist way of thinking, is it not? In contrast, Tetris tells you that, no matter how far you go, no matter how many points you get, you can never win. It should be noted that Tetris is a never-ending game, so trying to get points and beat high scores means just chasing goals that are ultimately meaningless, as you always lose.

But the game also reflects communistic thinking by not encouraging creativity. You aren’t being asked to adventure or innovate. Instead, you are just allocated resources from some faceless central source. And they’re not particularly exciting things that you get but the same blocks and shapes over and over. This is symbolic of the stagnation of innovation in communist countries, where everything remains the same, as opposed to the constant technological advancement in capitalist societies.

One of the strengths of capitalism over communism is that competition and the profit motive lead to more innovation and higher productivity. People are more motivated to work hard and achieve their goals because they will be rewarded accordingly.

However, to this day, kids waste countless hours on Tetris – a game

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that is still popular even with the plethora of video game consoles – time that should have been spent studying in order to better become productive members of society. I remember many of my fellow high school students wasting countless hours in class playing Tetris. Not only did our teachers fail to tell us off, they would often join us.

So there you go. Tetris is a piece of Soviet propaganda. And yet the capitalists also had their propagandistic games too – not surprising, as a fundamentally immoral ideology needs all the help it can get convincing the masses that it is the only acceptable system under which to live. Monopoly, where players win by accumulating the most wealth while bankrupting everybody else, goes against the egalitarian principles of social democracy, where everybody gets a fair go and economic monopolies are condemned.

Ironically, the game was designed by anti-monopolist Elizabeth Magie who wished to explain the negative consequences of property ownership concentration. Doubly ironically, it was later acquired by businessman Charles Darrow, who then claimed he was the sole inventor of the game. Fittingly, Monopoly has now become the world’s bestselling board game. Magie received only $500 for her invention and until recent times was not recognised as the creator of the game.

On a larger scale, Monopoly reflects America’s strategy during the Cold War, in their attempt to encircle and ultimately bankrupt the Soviet Union. The control of land was an important part of American foreign policy, as seen in the stationing of military in NATO and East Asian countries, and the upset of losing Iran and Vietnam.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States now has an uncontested global monopoly on wealth and military power. But Elizabeth Magie may yet have the last laugh, as monopolies do not last indefinitely. In their dominance they begin engaging in unethical practices and collapsing under the weight of their own power, having long abandoned their founding principles. Al Qaeda attacked the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon after all, not the Statue of Liberty or Harvard University.

As for the libertarians? Well, there’s Cards Against Humanity…

artwork by jenny yan

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science / artwork by samuel condon

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your brain and mindfulness with ruth de jager

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indfulness – I know – it sounds like some otherworldly brainuniverse-smoothie bullshit, but I implore you to continue reading despite the bad first impression. Mindfulness is possibly one of the most powerful (and scientifically backed), life-enhancing approaches I’ve ever come across. It’s used by psychologists in treatment and has been shown to be beneficial for people suffering from depression, anxiety, PTSD, hypertension, addictions and even chronic pain. But I think it’s something that could enrich everyone’s lives, and something everyone should know how to utilise. As to what it actually is, mindfulness is simply a way of attending to the present moment without judgment.

We have so many things going on, so many sensations and thoughts that we ignore and avoid because they’re weird, unpleasant or inconvenient. However enticing, avoidance rarely results in anything good. For example, avoiding that essay that’s due in two days. Just thinking of doing it kick-starts that sick feeling in your stomach. So you suppress and continue scrolling through pages and pages of drivel on the internet. You’re not enjoying this normally relaxing activity. It’s guilt soaked and dressed with anxiety. You want to start the essay, you know you have to, but you can’t. You’re overwhelmed by maybe’s and could-be’s and but’s.

Mindfulness tells you to sit and concentrate on what’s going on in the present, without letting your mind wander. Acknowledge the bad things as well as the good – they’re just feelings, they’re just thoughts. Focus on your breathing, use it as an anchor. What is your body doing? Are there aches, itches or tingles? This is fine, they’re allowed to be there. What emotions, images or thoughts are streaming behind your eyes? Let them come without judgment.

Mindfulness is a type of consciousness built upon questioning, sensing, acknowledgment and letting go. Not surprisingly, this promotes well-being as well as improved functioning.

Doing this is challenging and takes consistent practice, but oh my goodness is it worth it. I would highly recommend seeking out mindfulness meditation groups if you’re feeling out of control, or even talking to a psychologist about these techniques if you feel you need clinical help. If you’re like me and enjoy doing something with your body while working on your mind, look into yoga or martial arts like Tai Chi. The control over your body needed in these sports creates a similar focus to that of mindfulness, and damn do you get strong. So use this brain-universe-smoothie sounding bullshit to your advantage, especially with assignments and exams around the corner. Everything is going to be alright.

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Glow Stick Jars words and illustration by Rebecca Liew

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ver wondered how glow sticks do that awesome glowing thing they do? The chemistry behind it is fairly simple – glow sticks contain a mixture of coloured dye, diphenyl oxalate, and hydrogen peroxide, the latter of which is contained within a sleek, inner glass tube. When your excited fingers snap the glow stick in half, the chemicals react to produce an unstable compound that excites the coloured dye molecules, resulting in the release of a photon of visible light. The whole process is known as chemiluminescence, and is a pretty cool #uselessfact to share with your friends when you try this experiment.

method:

Step 1. Put on your gloves (you don’t want your skin to get a nasty rash from the chemicals!) and proceed to snipping off the tops of your glow sticks, one at a time. If you’re making more than one glow jar, remember to separate the glow sticks by colour.

Step 2. Carefully empty the oozy contents of the glow sticks into the Mason jar.

Step 3. Stir in desired amount of diamond glitter, seal the top with the lid, and then shake the heck out of it!

These glowing beauties are best admired in a dark place – ideally in a backyard, lighting up against the night sky.

Have fun!

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Tip: Glow sticks react more slowly in colder temperatures – so if you want your jar to glow for longer, freeze your glow sticks for an hour or so before the experiment.

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drawn to science Opening the trapdoor: Frogs and artificial wetland traps with kate cranney

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eet Michael Sievers, PhD candidate with the School of Biosciences, who researches artificial urban wetlands and the frogs that call them home. Michael asks: are these wetlands actually ecological traps for native frogs?

As a boy, Michael Sievers would spend hours in wetlands, rock pools and rivers. He says he’s kept “almost every aquatic pet you can think of,” including countless fish species, axolotls, starfish and a crayfish called Pinchy. As a teenager, he had six fish tanks in his bedroom.

Years on, he still spends hours in wetlands … as a profession.

What trapped Michael’s interest?

Michael’s affinity for aquatic animals has taken him to some incredible places.

After studying a Bachelor of Science (majoring in Marine Biology), he completed a Master of Science at the University of Melbourne. His Masters project helped the cultured mussel industry in Port Phillip Bay understand the interactions between mussels and biofouling (when unwanted organisms grow on mussels). Following this, Michael spent two years up and down Australia’s east coast as a research assistant, sampling the intertidal zone, collecting data, and designing and carrying out experiments.

In 2013, Michael travelled to Norway where he worked in a tiny little town called Matre, at an international marine research station called (take a breath) Havforskningsinstituttet researching Atlantic salmon. After two months there, he returned to Australia to work with Tasmania’s Huon Aquaculture, tutor at the University of Melbourne and start his PhD. With this impressive background, it is little surprise that Michael recently won The Nature Conservancy Applied Conservation Award for his PhD.

Suspicious ponds: caught in an ecological trap

Have you seen artificial wetlands in your suburb or town? Maybe you can picture a shallow, densely planted wetland in a low-lying area? If not, the next time you’re in Royal Park, stop by the Trin Warren Tamboore artificial wetland – a five-hectare haven for water birds.

The primary function of artificial wetlands is to treat stormwater naturally. They are like urban kidneys. They filter stormwater, removing pollutants before the water enters our rivers and oceans.

But wetlands serve another, sometimes unintended, function – they become home to countless animal species that colonise them. Artificial wetlands certainly do seem inviting – they provide abundant food and shelter, and in highly urbanised areas, they may be the only suitable wetland habitat around.

On the surface, this situation sounds rather rosy. But Michael’s PhD dives a little deeper.

Michael’s PhD research: frogs in planted ponds

Michael tells me, “The ecological consequences of [animals] choosing these habitats are unknown.” So his research asks: what are the ecological costs and benefits of artificial wetlands in Melbourne’s urban landscapes? Are artificial wetlands an ecological trap for native frogs?

Illustration by kate cranney

As part of his research, Michael will be surveying native frogs.

First, Michael will figure out the pros and cons of artificial wetlands for frogs. He says the likely pros are permanent habitat, food and plenty of vegetation. And the likely cons are predation, low genetic diversity and pollutants.

Pollutants like heavy metals, pesticides, and high levels of salinity and nitrogen can reduce fitness and cause deformities in frogs. Pollutants may also reduce a frog’s ability to reproduce and detect predators. This is a serious issue given that 41 per cent of all amphibian species face the threat of extinction.

Michael will also create management guidelines to assess the conditions of wetlands and improve wetland design. Finally, he will develop new ways to test how pollutants affect frogs’ behaviour and their sensory development.

Therefore, the ultimate question of Michael’s PhD is: are artificial wetlands ecological traps?

What is an ecological trap?

An ecological trap is a habitat that an animal perceives as high quality and is preferentially selected, because of cues like a high cover of plants. However, undetected factors (like pollutants) actually mean the habitat is an undesirable place to live and can reduce the animal’s fitness (survival, growth, reproduction etc.).

This spring and summer, you can find Michael surveying urban wetlands around the Greater Melbourne Region, mostly in the Yarra and Dandenong catchment areas.

And when Michael’s not chasing frogs, you can find him diving and snorkeling. He says, “During my last dive off Rye pier, four dolphins came out of nowhere and hung around playfully chasing a huge school of salmon for ten minutes.” However, his favourite dive is The Cottage by the Sea in Queenscliff, where he has dived with giant cuttlefish and the iconic blue devil.

I ask Michael what he’d like to do after his PhD. He talks about the merits of academia, before settling on an appropriately aquatic turn of phrase. “In many cases, you have to take whatever opportunities come your way … you just have to go with the flow.”

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The Future of Food: it’s not what it used to be

by Ghill De Rozario

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ood shortages and severe environmental concerns are often framed as some of the biggest global challenges of our time.

They are less often framed as opportunities for culinary adventures in the laboratory. But as it turns out, new developments in food production (hello, steak grown in a petri dish!) have the potential to alleviate many environmental and social justice issues in the most delicious of ways.

It is too bad, really, that as we make efforts to drive less, use less electricity and recycle, a more significant source of carbon emissions is often overlooked – our meat consumption. When I was a kid, Sesame Street used to tell me to switch off the light when I leave a room. Great idea. Too bad that eating a 300g steak is roughly the CO2 equivalent of leaving a 60watt bulb on 8 hours a day, for 5 weeks.

The United Nations has released reports urging people to move towards vegetarian or vegan diets in order to curb global warming.

They have argued that a meaningful reduction in environmental impacts from food production would only be possible by a global shift in diet.

However, while many do make the switch to vegetarianism, the world is actually increasing its per capita consumption of meat; by 2030, the average human will consume an estimated 100 pounds of meat per year, 10% more than today. There are various reasons behind this: access to meat increases as people in developing countries rise above the poverty level, while meat costs drop as industrialised animal factories produce mass quantities at low prices. And despite the worldwide campaigning by environmental and animal rights organisations, or the growing research into the health benefits of reducing meat intake, the vast majority of the population is still unlikely to be convinced to become vegetarian.

Here is, perhaps, where new meat manufacturing processes may take the stage...

Now, meat grown in a petri dish has been dubbed as ‘frankenmeat’ by some, it is true. But perhaps the idea is more

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appetising upon closer inspection? The process is not as strange as some may think, and has come a long way since the first edible meat grown in-vitro was produced (goldfish cells made to replicate a fish fillet). The process uses harvested myosatellite cells, which are a type of stem cell used by the body when repairing injured muscle tissue. The cells can be taken from an animal without harm and can be used to replicate muscle growth and repair outside the body – forming strips of actual muscle tissue. Dozens of research facilities around the world are researching and testing lab-grown meat. This technology essentially makes it possible to eat any meat, (without negative consequences to the animal itself) and has the potential to alleviate food shortage issues, as well as mitigate the high carbon footprint associated with the meat industry.

The exciting part here is that this would allow us to eat animals whose consumption has posed ethical problems – such as whales – without actually harming them. It could allow the repopulation of animals that are at risk of extinction, while still allowing their meat to be consumed – without a single animal killed in the process. We could even use this technology to grow meat of animals that have long since died off. The muscle tissue of woolly mammoths found frozen in glaciers could be commercialised and enjoyed. Scientists have been successfully creating stem cells from skin cells, so only a minuscule sample of skin would be required to produce the meat.

At the first public tasting in August 2013, strips of in-vitro grown beef were cooked into a burger and served to two food critics who stated that if it had been a blind trial, they would have believed it was beef. And while that first burger cost a whopping $325,000 to produce, that figure has now dropped to around $11. That stills ends up at around $80 per kilo; however, like most new technologies, this price is expected to significantly decrease as it becomes more widespread and developed.

Nutrient value also remains a concern. As protein is normally formed through exercise, the in-vitro meat has less of it.

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However protein can also be introduced through electricity and other stimulation, methods that are currently being investigated.

Omega-3 fatty acids could also be added to improve nutritional value – in the same way that livestock today are fed different foods for that very reason.

While those two food critics were clearly won over by the taste, it is true that the flavour and texture is not entirely the same because the muscle tissue grown has little fat. However, growing whole limbs, rather than smaller amounts of tissue in a petri dish, would help solve this issue... Lucky that growing entire limbs is exactly what Harald Ott at Massachusetts General Hospital has successfully done with rat and monkey limbs earlier this year, even creating arms grown from human cells. While Ott’s ultimate goal is growing replacement parts for amputees, the same process could potentially be used to grow (delicious) meat for consumption.

The technique Ott uses is called “decell-recell”, and involves stripping all the cells from a donor limb (which can be taken from a dead animal) to create a scaffold for the new limb. This scaffold is then reinforced with collagen and used to grow the new limb.

Nutrients are provided to the limb so that it can grow fat and muscle like normal. This creates the possibility of harvesting the meat by periodically shaving it from the detached limbs while they grow. So maybe the next generation of drunken teenagers will be getting the freshest lamb kebabs ever as they stumble home from the nightclub – shaved straight off the living leg. Delicious.

As these new technologies and processes are still very much in development, they are unable to be accurately assessed for health concerns. However, so far it is hypothesised that producing meat this way would reduce the need for growth hormones and reduce exposure to bacteria, disease, pesticides and other dangerous chemicals. But the biggest barrier towards the human consumption of lab-grown meat may be psychological, especially if companies begin to produce meat from animals we are culturally unaccustomed

illustration by reimena yee

to eating. How many people could eat dog meat, even if they were assured that the cells were harvested from a dead animal who had lived a long life and passed away naturally? These perceptions are significantly shaped by culture and religion, and differ greatly around the world. But perhaps these barriers won’t exist for future generations who grow up seeing these processes as no more than standard meat production.

Change is perhaps the one certainty we have when it comes to what the future will look like. The recent developments in meat production have the potential to completely alter our perceptions of food and to change the entire industry. The advent of ‘frankenmeat’ may well change the way we produce and eat meat, and the way we interact with animals. These new production methods may make some squeamish right now, but perhaps in a few decades we will ponder how people could have been so comfortable knowing that each time they ate meat, an animal actually had to die. Or we may be bemused by the fact that a third of the world’s grain production was grown simply to feed animals that were then killed for meat.

Of course, some may argue that there are still ethical concerns surrounding any form of meat consumption. Or argue that growing meat from extinct animals simply to eat them is wrong. On the other hand, a strong argument can be made that these new methods of meat production could very well be one of this century’s greatest wins for animal welfare and environmentalism.

It is still estimated to be a few decades before this produce is commercially viable. Rather than fearing the future of food, we should use that time to reflect on our perceptions of meat consumption, and to explore both the concerns around these emerging technologies, and the potential they hold. It still might be a while till I eat kebab meat shaved off a living limb though.

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Tree-ting Maladies

by Rachael O’Reilly

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hether it’s oodles of oxygen or resources for our building and textile industries, plants are the silent contributors to our community. Yet many plants possess more unique qualities than their ability to photosynthesise, demonstrating they can do much more than contribute to our environment and economy. These overachieving plants not only help the environment thrive but are also able to treat a range of symptoms from your self-induced hangover to your university-induced headache.

Lavender (Lavandula) A common ingredient in many perfumes, candles and other hygiene masking products, lavender has also been used throughout history for medicinal purposes. In Ancient Greece, lavender was used to treat almost every disease, from a small head cold to the cure for insane individuals. Though it’s unlikely any plant or chemical could have such a wide therapeutic benefit, it’s been found that this plant does indeed have an impact on the autonomic nervous system. Responsible for controlling most of your body, the autonomic nervous system is divided into two parts – the I’m so chill parasympathetic division and the I’m highly strung and probably need to get laid sympathetic division. When inhaled, a study found that lavender oil appeared to decrease autonomic arousal, turning down the volume of the highly strung division. As a consequence, both heart rate and blood pressure were found to decrease and an overall relaxing effect was achieved. To summarise, when faced with a stressful situation a good sniff of lavender oil or your neighbour’s alluring potted plant will add a bit of calm to any stressful storm.

Aloe Vera (Aloe Barbadensis Miller) There’s no denying that succulents are on trend and with the not-sosurprising reveal that paw-paw cream is essentially just petroleum jelly, this succulent’s popularity is on the rise. Not only does aloe vera look super cute sitting on your desk, the elongated leaves are filled with a gel that’s rich in compounds and appears to heal many dermatological conditions. Have sunburn? Spread that aloe vera gel like peanut-butter. Eczema? Sooth that scratch with some aloe. The list goes on. Though the mechanism is not exactly known, it appears that the compound acetyclated glucomannan may be responsible for

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accelerating healing and reducing inflammation. Though aloe vera gel has long been used topically for healing wounds, several studies have found that it may also be beneficial for internal ingestion as it decreases cholesterol and relieves chronically high blood sugar levels. So go on, suck on this succulent.

Willow Tree (Salix Alba) Whether it is Grandmother Willow, guiding Pocahontas on her moral journey, or willow bark tea curing headaches since Ancient Egypt, the willow tree has always found a way to ease our minds. Yet unlike Grandmother Willow, the willow trees we encounter today have not provided us with age-old wisdom. Instead, scientists have found that the bark of the willow tree contains a chemical known as salicylic acid, a potent anti-inflammatory agent. By drinking willow bark tea, an individual could relieve headaches, fever and pain. This chemical is able to inhibit all the symptoms commonly associated with inflammation by inhibiting an enzyme involved in the inflammatory pathway. Despite its therapeutic benefit, salicylic acid also produced gastric irritation and thus, the prodrug aspirin was made and is still readily used today. Though the bark was once brewed as a tea, enthusiasts should stick to T2 to find their leafy loves and the pharmacist for all their drug needs.

Korean Pears (Pyrus pyrifolia) Recently, it has been discovered that pears may play a greater role in our everyday life. Not only are pears full of vitamins and all that healthy goodness we probably should be eating rather than banana bread from House of Cards, the CSIRO has recently discovered that this nutritious snack may be the cure for every university student’s nightmare – the dreaded hangover. Pears, in particular the Korean kind, appear to affect two enzymes that are crucial when metabolising alcohol. By acting on enzymes such as alcohol dehydrogenase and aldehyde dehydrogenase, Korean pears are able to lower blood alcohol levels, metabolising this glorious toxin in top speed and thus reducing the severity of your hangover the next day.

Yet this fruit cannot work miracles, with effects only being found in individuals that ingest juice made from Korean pears prior to a pissup. Maybe cold-pressed juice isn’t such a fad after all.

illustration by aisha trambas

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society / artwork by nini li

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looking back to the future words and illustration by ella shi

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he concept of ancestry is often thought of wholly in terms of personal identity – a specific bloodline and a family name passed down the generations. But to what extent is personal ancestry wrapped up in national identity? It’s inevitable that living through a period of time means being touched by the significant events of that era. This intersection between the personal and the national often dictates what we know of the past and how we understand ourselves.

Recent episodes on SBS’ Insight called Bloodlines brought together the descendants of significant WWII figures. This included Hidetoshi Tojo – great grandson of Japanese President Hideki Tojo – and Niklas Frank, son of Hans Frank, Governor of Nazi-occupied Poland. For these individuals, their sense of self is permeated by their ancestors’ actions and they still feel the ripples of previous global events in their daily lives. Tojo speaks of grappling with the legacy of a grandfather who lost the war and was executed for war crimes.

“In Japan (my grandfather) was the biggest taboo subject during the post war period, so there was an atmosphere that made me feel uncomfortable talking openly about my forebears. […] I tried to run away from my identity.”

However, the family name is more than just an identification trait. It also serves as a reminder for self-reflection within a broader social context. Tojo explains the significance of family legacy: “The Kanji character for Hide is only used for the first son and I am the 18th in the family line. I also have a son and my father told me that I didn’t have to carry on the tradition, but I passed it on to him because I wanted him to think more about his own name.”

In a similar experience, Frank speaks of being haunted by the legacy of his father, who, as Hitler’s associate, authorised many of the decisions concerning the establishment of concentration camps.

“Well, I’m travelling on the ticket of a mass murderer […] there is always this dark cloud behind me.”

He carries around a photo of his father’s body, stating: “It makes me strong not to follow him.”

It is not just in these extreme and infamous cases where historical events have also touched personal lives. Christine is a second generation Australian of Italian ancestry. For her, there is an acute awareness of family history and the narrative is told through a very personal lens. She explains, “The story goes that in the days of the war, my family spent half a day scavenging for grass to eat, and in the remaining half, searched for twigs and branches to burn. Lipari, their hometown, is but a tiny island that received little provisions. […] My aunt, as a girl in her teens, travelled three months by boat to arrive in Australia. […] This aunt, now approaching her 90s, has passed onto us many stories of our ancestry, up to four or five generations back, including the temperament of the people, their occupations and their marriages.”

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Her family’s story is conveyed by word of mouth and becomes embedded through retellings. The presence of details experienced first-hand means the story surpasses objective facts to become an empathetic narrative.

For some people, however, this narrative is absent. Sometimes it’s simply disinterest. Biological roots can be ambiguous for various reasons, from circumstances of birth or adoption. In other cases, narratives can be repressed out of grief, or dismissed as incompatible with shifts in nationality. Language is also a barrier which can divide generations. Melanie is a second generation Australian with Chinese ancestry. She has an interest in her family’s past – but it’s not always accessible.

“It’s kind of amazing your grandparents were born somewhere totally different to you and at your age were totally different […] so they do have a lot of stories to tell. But the language barrier with my grandmother is frustrating in general.”

Sites like ancestry.com provide a means to bridge gaps in family history. The site offers access to documents like war records and marriage certificates. However, these seemingly neutral documents can facilitate the conflation between national and personal history.

Much of ancestry.com’s promotional material emphasises English heritage and highlight certain events in Australian history such as colonisation and the First and Second Word Wars with the overarching legacy of the ANZACs. These events are mapped onto personal histories through an almost nationally ordained paper trail.

Interestingly, a study conducted by the site suggests Australians are particularly proud of ‘black sheep’ convict ancestors. Statistics like this reveal just how deeply the national narrative permeates the sense of self.

The consequence of this national framework is that some ancestries are affirmed as being nationally relevant, and by implication, suggests that others are not. This becomes a disparity for those who can’t position themselves around this specific cultural identity. In more general terms, stories which are deemed to reflect badly upon national identity are often hidden. Most pertinently, attempts to reconcile the effects of the Stolen Generation are sometimes hindered by lost or destroyed documents, while contemporary shame means the attempt to move away from the legacy can result in the silencing of it. In cases where the national framework overwhelms the personal, individuals are prevented from accessing their past.

If national narratives so greatly inform individual understandings of ancestry, then the question is what kind of paper trail are we leaving for future generations? What records will surface in their search of family lineage? More war records? Identification numbers from detention centres? Uncovering someone’s past is a huge task – but perhaps not as huge as the way we go about shaping their futures.

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Savers, Anxiety and the Mohair Cardigan of My Dreams

by Ayu Astrid Maylinda

W

alking through Savers on Sydney Road is an intensely personal experience... personal in the sense that it is both sensorially and spiritually engaging for the individual shopper. There is the familiar smell of your grandmother’s kitchen and closet all at once; the rows and rows of multifariously coloured and textured clothing and the nondescript changing rooms somehow remind you of that time you spent in an emergency department cubicle. The humour of finding a sateen 80s dress with a ridiculous amount of shoulder fabric is not lost on the savvy Savers shopper. The gist of the Savers model is that these clothes and bric-a-brac once belonged to someone else and were given away, perhaps as part of one of those new-fangled Marie Kondo material cleanses of the mind, for the betterment of someone else’s life. Or is it?

As a human being with more than moderate levels of anxiety inhibiting my everyday existence, I tend to view the act of purchasing items as a double-edged sword in the quest for stress relief. On the one hand, it feels great to have something new in your material inventory, something to play around with when you’re deciding what to wear to uni on a cold Monday morning, or something to slap on your lips when you’re feeling decidedly miserable about the state of your face. On the other hand, when your bank account balance teeters dangerously close to $0, depleting it further does nothing more than cause a resurgence of the anxiety that was quelled with the purchase of shiny new material things.

The Savers model appears to be promising in its mediation of the everyday struggle of the stress-shopper. Cheap second-hand clothes assuage your financial anxiety, the need for material comfort, and that part of your soul that is still firmly lodged in the long-form article you read months ago about the sins of fast fashion. I had this

photography by samantha riegl

insane experience with a fifties cashmere jumper once, just by the sheer power of imagining someone’s grandmother having once worn this. The garment and the age-related scars (read: holes) it bore proudly felt like a pair of imaginary hands encapsulating me in an emotion that I can only describe superficially as ‘graciousness’. The graciousness of age. The graciousness of warmth. The graciousness of someone having handed this over to the possession of someone else. The graciousness of the afterlife of the material.

My mother finds the smell of my mohair cardigan off-putting.

She describes it as “needing more than a carton of mothballs to neutralise”. But it’s really not that bad – it’ll probably only take either a few washes or a period of olfactory acclimatisation, depending on your perspective on sensory enjoyment. To me, however, the mohair cardigan, grey and yellow and fraying in more than one place, tells a story. It tells a story of how it was once made, once worn, and once given away, and then purchased by me. As with the physiology of human bodies, it tells the story of use and abuse, wear and tear.

Imagining the afterlife of the material necessarily invokes an inquiry into the sense of material preservation: how our bodies, like our Savers buys, continue to sustain themselves through ineffable cycles of illness and health, use and disuse, and the handing over of the material body, in its imperfections to the ideations of the everyday.

It is up to us to conceive how we will now wear the garments we have chosen to receive, how we will move our bodies away from the instructions of our parents. Perhaps, when Marx was talking about commodity fetishism, he was really talking about how I can’t let go of that one dress my mother bought me when I was fifteen, into which I can no longer fit more than one and a half thighs.

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chlorine dreams by edie bush

U

nlike our coastal counterparts blessed with an abundance of sharks and sand rash, our childhood summer days centered around the public pool. Every year the first lungful of fresh chlorine was a blast of memories of summers passed. Every year, the crystal clear water would slowly become tepid and cloudy with dead skin cells, and our eyes would become permanently bloodshot, yet its mysticism endured. Houses with air-conditioning were few and far between. Restless kids were sent outside under the wear-them-out doctrine. Drowning risks, sunstroke and general paranoias about basic hygiene? Pfft, she’ll be right mate. Bruised shins from a walrus re-enactment gone wrong*? Easily patched up with Band-Aids and ice packs, not legal action.

Romanticised and ringing with the stretched out vowels of rural Australia, this is my ode to the public pool.

The Pool was the shrine of salvation from a drought-stricken childhood. From the October long weekend until ANZAC day, we crossed barren sheep paddocks and parched creeks seeking its twinkling waters of respite. The Pool was a typical 1970s council build: squat and symmetrical. In fact, take away foam pool noodles and first aid kits, add some rugby paraphernalia or some hay and dust and you could just as well be in the footy change rooms at the oval or the toilets at the rodeo ground.

The Pool was smack bang in the middle of town. Its real name – Murrurundi Memorial Baths – was written in concrete letters on a decorative breezeblock wall.

Its covered entrance was flanked by the pool manager’s office and the Kiosk, and depending on what job Mr Russell was performing, this office also doubled as an office for the lifeguard, swimming instructor and squad coach.

Stepping out from the shadow-cold threshold of turnstiles, our eyes would take a reverent three seconds to adjust to the blinding light. Spread before us in perfect visual harmony lay three pools: the Baby Pool, the Kids Pool, and the Big Pool.

This was Nirvana. An oasis of rippling green fields and the pools glimmered alluringly under a radiant sun. Nothing could muddy our wide-eyed wonder. Not even the threadbare bindi-infested grass. Not even the scorching hot concrete that scarred water-soft skin. The aqua blue of the pools left patchy circles of questionable paint powder on our fingers and feet after a long day of duckdives and handstands; our marks of holy ritual.

Big existential questions were prompted by The Pool. Like what is the real flavour of rainbow paddlepops? Is cola slushie colder than raspberry? How many times can you use the ‘fish out of water’ rule in Marco Polo? And is it justifiable by the code of a decent game?

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Going to The Pool meant perishing Speedos, rockhard Killer Pythons, Ocean Girl re-enactments, floating bandaids, prune fingers, sunscreen, and sunburn. It was defiance of authority: broken no diving rules, broken no running rules, broken no swinging on lane ropes rules. And it was survival of the fittest: swimming club races, squinting through leaky Goggles, graduating to swimming caps, one breath for the whole 25 metres, dry heat stripping tender nostrils, tumble turns, and inch-wide polyester ribbons pinned proudly together.

It also provided us with un-subtle answers to the questions of life. Where my parents and teachers failed to educate me about the grossly confusing world of puberty, The Pool valiantly filled in. Boobs began to bulge under lycra and goosebumps came with nipple lumps. My friends started wearing boardshorts and avoiding the pool for a week at a time. Claire Friedman’s** yellow one-piece was see-through as she stood on the blocks for the weekly Swimming Club 50m freestyle. Fortunately, though, despite the warnings of a cartoon sex-ed video I saw at Healthy Harold, I never once saw an untimely erection. Nonetheless, hormones ran amok on the vectors of sweat and chlorine. Our blossoming sexualities had us holding hands underwater, sitting on shoulders for tackling matches and knees tentatively touching while we watched club races.

By the time my puberty hit, I was safely in the North Coast, swimming at Byron Bay where pubes and boobs soak up sun with reckless abandon. But I still wonder how I would have dealt with the fierce embarrassment of everyone knowing everything. Was this a rite of passage? Could have I known the secrets of surrendering to change, or to embracing my body for its rawness? I will never know.

These public pools are almost lost in the nostalgia abyss, a place just beyond our living realm where all ‘back in my day’ things go. A kind of Harry Potter Room of Requirement where the artefacts of our childhoods gather a rosey tint. In this place, there’s your dad’s marble collection. There’s a neighbourhood where kids can stay out late and roam the streets alone. There’s Icy Poles that cost less than a dollar and BeyBlades in chip packets.

Yet I clutch onto hope with a booger-soaked hand that some things do resurrect from the dead. Whether or not the quintessential public pool still exists, I’ll be here with open arms for whatever manifestation it takes, ready to thrust my imaginary children into its depths of wonderment and self-discovery. * My best friend insisted it didn’t hurt. It definitely hurt. ** Name concealed for belated dignity.

illustration by lucy hunter

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trigger warning by ava k.

Trigger warning: references to rape and sexual violence, PTSD, depression, anxiety and suicide

“S

he’ll kill him! She’s going to kill him!”

My friends watch good Netflix drama like other people watch sport: boisterously.

Watching the woman stare, trembling, into his eyes, I have a sinking feeling. The character isn’t going to kill her abusive exhusband. She’s going to kill herself.

Ten minutes later, my silent prediction comes true as she jumps from a roof, ending the episode. There are gasps, then everyone packs up the popcorn kernels and fuzzy blankets and retreats to bed.

I sit very still on the sofa and begin to disassociate. A feeling like I am a head floating on a wax doll body, a loose skin bag filled with static.

Time passes, blotted out by the huge roaring things that fight inside me. They redecorate, ripping out breath and blood and organs and leaving a clamour of raw nerves, a white-noise wound. They do not leave a core, only a vacuum.

I am hugged against my best friend’s chest, shaking.

“I’m so sorry... I ruined the... I... they must think I’m... so f-fucking weird. Pathetic. You.... I’m so sorry. You – you should just trade me in. Trade me in for a friend who isn’t faulty. D-d-d-defective.

I’m defective.”

“Shhh. We love you just as you are.”

“I just knew she was going to... because so many of us do. We survive, but then we’re so traumatised that- that we...w-w-we kill ourselves... I’ve... wanted to. For so long.”

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A week later and I am in class. I’m not familiar with the classical world, but Ovid is being studied. He revels in his lover’s reluctance to remove her clothes, how she turns from him, the tussle. As we progress through reading the poem, I realise he is revelling in rape.

An iron hand closes around my throat, familiar static starts up in my guts. The discussion ticks by, words like romance and desire are thrown around, echo in my blank head. I want to cry. I can’t cry.

I can’t leave the room. I can’t make a scene. I can’t breathe. A girl across the room says in a frowning voice how violent and rapey the poem is – not romantic at all! I look to her with the gratitude of a mortal saved by a good angel. The tutor looks nervous. “Yes, well, that’s the elephant in the room, isn’t it?”

If I read one more pseudo-intellectual op-ed written by an ‘academic’ on how trigger warnings are a product of an “outrage culture” that “cocoons millennials” from “offence and uncomfortable feelings”, I’m going to rip my eyeballs out and feed them to the local university pigeons.

I’ve only recently shaken off the shame and begun speaking publicly about my personal experience with PTSD, so it’s only recently that I’ve realised how deep this anti-trigger warning sentiment goes. Everyone seems to feel the need to weigh in: academics, tutors and lecturers, paid opinion-mongers writing for blogs and online magazines, and even one-time friends on my personal Facebook page.

photography by tori lill

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Anti-trigger warning proponents overwhelmingly have one thing in common: they are not trauma survivors and thus do not need trigger warnings themselves. Yet, disturbingly, they feel qualified to debate the value of trigger warnings and even question the validity of triggers. Attempting to ‘debate’ a trauma survivor on the value of trigger warnings is equivalent to walking up to someone in a wheelchair and presenting an argument against the installation of ramps and elevators on campus. Put simply, you come off looking like an ignorant jackass.

I’ve collected a few of the arguments against trigger warnings (henceforth TWs) below. Let me break down for you why they are absolute tripe.

“Students shouldn’t be cocooned against things they find offensive or uncomfortable because they’ll end up weak.”

My response to this argument is angry and three-pronged: 1) Offence is not my problem. Discomfort is not my problem.

PTSD is my fucking problem.

2) Conflating mental illness and weakness stigmatises mental illness.

3) How are you able to study or teach at a bastion of critical thinking when you can’t seem to think critically enough to differentiate between “offence”, “uncomfortable feelings” and mental illness?

If you’ll permit me one cliché – healing from trauma can be a long and arduous journey. You, the onlooker, do not get to decide what material a traumatised person should be up to encountering, or when and where they should encounter it. Anti-TW arguments overwhelmingly rest on the assumption that unexpected exposure to triggering material will somehow toughen survivors up like a callus. Demanding survivors face triggering material to ‘toughen up’, however, is akin to sticking your fingers in someone’s open wound and claiming to heal them – in reality, you’re going do more damage, slow the healing process and probably give them an infection to boot.

Survivors sometimes spend hundreds of dollars an hour on therapy to work through the knotty snarls of trauma at our own pace. We are bravely fighting to break free of flashbacks, nightmares, and the accompanying depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts. Yet anti-TW proponents have the staggering arrogance to suggest that they know better – better than a trained therapist and better than a person living through trauma. “Simply have your worst nightmares thrust upon you in front of a lecture hall full of 100 strangers and you‘ll end up harder, better, faster, stronger!” they advise. And if you refuse?

Well, you‘re cocooned and weak and pathetic. Typical millennial.

“It‘s too much work for the academic to go through every bit of material they will be teaching to identify triggers and post trigger warnings.”

How on earth are lecturers so unfamiliar with what they’re teaching that they can’t post an outline of the general content and themes?

Knowing the material inside out and upside down is a lecturer‘s paid job. So why is writing a few sentences about potential triggers consistently characterised as some kind of Herculean effort? Even if we were to entertain for a moment that doing so was a difficult or time-consuming job (it’s not), we don’t make similar arguments against accessibility for the physically disabled. You’d sound like a movie villain if you argued, “Oh no, we can’t afford to put in ramps or elevators to improve accessibility for the physically disabled. It will require too much effort on the behalf of the university staff and building contractors...”

“PTSD isn’t very commonplace, and anyway, triggers are very subjective. We can never hope to give an exhaustive list that covers every student’s potential triggers – so what’s the point?”

A 2007 survey conducted by the Australian Bureau of Statistics indicates that 6.4% of the Australian population is living with PTSD at any one time. This means that in a subject of 100 students, there are six or seven people who need trigger warnings. To use one horribly commonplace example, study after study shows that 1 in

4 women* will be sexually assaulted or raped in their lifetime, and about half of these sexual assault survivors will develop PTSD. If you have a subject of 80 people, and half of those are women, then you have roughly five people who need trigger warnings for content involving rape/sexual assault. *Non-binary trans people, transwomen and women of colour are disproportionately victims of sexual abuse and violence, at higher rates than cis women. I recognise and wish to include their struggles but do not speak for them.

In addition, triggers are not necessarily as subjective as you’d think. Other very obviously sensitive content that needs TWs includes suicide, gore, violence, war, street harassment, pedophilia, child abuse and domestic abuse, as well as homophobia, transphobia, and racism.

“You should just take responsibility for your own mental health!

Email your lecturers! Stop expecting other people to take care of you!”

People who need TWs should not have to ‘come out’ to acquaintances about their abuse histories for trigger warnings to be made available to them. Often, cold-calling a stranger or teacher about these personal struggles without knowing how that stranger will react can be extremely anxiety-inducing, or even triggering in itself. Funnily enough, trauma survivors also have every reason to believe – thanks to the plethora of academics writing articles about how people who need TWs are weak and pathetic – that a lecturer will treat them as if they’re weak and pathetic.

Taking the time to compile a list of TWs fosters an atmosphere of respect towards survivors – it sends the message that triggers are being taken seriously. This respect may empower those whose triggers haven’t been included on TW lists to reach out and write an email to their lecturer without fear of humiliation.

“We don’t want to spoil the material for students who don’t need trigger warnings.”

Do you understand how intra-university communication works? It is very simple to make a separate page on the LMS entitled “Trigger Warnings for Subject Content” and to have that page link to a PDF with trigger warnings so students can choose whether the course material is ‘spoiled’ for them. Setting this up would take all of 20 minutes, and sending the document out in an email would take even less time.

“You can’t just avoid the topic forever!”

This shows a misunderstanding of what a survivor will do when forewarned of triggering material. Just as no two trauma histories are the same, so it goes that no two reactions will be the same.

Maybe we will miss the class that discusses that triggering text.

Maybe we will listen to that lecture at home with a hot cup of tea and warm blanket on hand, instead of subjecting ourselves to triggering material in front of a full lecture hall. For some, the phrase ‘forewarned is forearmed’ rings true – maybe we will turn up to the lecture and the tutorial psychologically prepared for what is to come and engage fully with the material.

Ultimately, it is up to survivors and their mental health professionals to decide what they can handle, be it a little bit, a lot, or nothing at all. It is up to you to get the fuck out of our way with your unwanted, uninformed opinions as we fight the good fight, make the choices right for us, and find a way back to peace and empowerment.

For information and support about mental health, please visit www.beyondblue.org.au or call 1300 22 4636. If you or someone you know need urgent help, you can Lifeline on 13 11 14 (www. lifeline.org.au) or Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467 (www. suicidecallbackservice.org.au).

To contact any CASA (Centre Against Sexual Assault) in Victoria and the after hours Sexual Assault Crisis Line (SACL) simply call 1800 806 292 or email SACL at ahcasa@thewomens.org.au UMSU Legal Service: Level Three Union House, (03) 8344 6546

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illustration by lucy hunter

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I.U.Delight

BY TEGAN MCCARTHY

“A

re you still on the pill?”

This is a question my friends and I have been asking each other for many years and I’m sure it rings a bell for all women aged anywhere between 16 and 35. We are utterly obsessed with making sure our nearest and dearest are using a contraceptive method that works for them.

“But you’re using condoms, right?”

Since I was about 17, I have considered the recipe of condoms and the contraceptive pill to be the only way to go, losing the franger once it’s been established that there are A) no STDs, and B) no third party involved to potentially introduce one. The combination pill has long been established as a safe contraceptive method, with the risk of blood clots still being a shitload lower than at any stage of pregnancy. And of course, it’s a pretty dang reliable baby-blocker.

Condoms can be a bit annoying, but really, they’re preferable to pretty much any sexually transmitted disease on the market.

“But I thought you liked the pill?”

I did. I do. It’s a pretty phenomenal invention that played a major role in women’s lib in the 60s and 70s. It’s convenient, inexpensive and has very few, minor side effects. It should be considered as an acne treatment before Roacutane. It should be readily available to every young woman and we should take it with a bit of pride and without fear, despite what some media outlets have to say.

But sometimes, we’ve just had enough of the same thing for a while. Sometimes, we just want to try something new. Sometimes we want to find out what our real cycles are like, instead of the bizarre every-now-and-then-take-the-sugar-pills-cos-it’s-been-ages-andis-starting-to-seem-a-bit-weird cycle. So, I stopped taking the pill.

I had been a bit forgetful for a few weeks and couldn’t be bothered keeping track of the seven-day ‘just in case’ time.

“So, what contraception are you using?”

Glad you asked! I moved to Melbourne only earlier this year and one thing I needed to do was suss out a good doctor. I managed to do exactly that and scored a lovely, 30-something-year-old woman with fantastic bedside manner who is within walking distance of my house. Due to an irregular pap some time ago, I’m on the regular list for smears. Our first appointment was a revelation. I explained that I was just a bit over the pill – not for much of a reason, but basically because I was curious about my natural cycle and wanted to learn about how my body and mind changed throughout it. She understood immediately (I tell you, she’s a mind reader!) and asked if I would be interested in a copper IUD. I admitted ignorance; I knew it meant intrauterine device and that copper is a metal but beyond that I was clueless (thanks school, good job). Well, apparently this little gem of a contraceptive isn’t well known because no pharmaceutical company backs it, because nobody makes any money out of it (great system). She said it’s pretty standard in

England and probably the safest, most effective, least expensive and has the fewest side effects of all the methods (aside from the dreaded Abstinence).

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I am talking about a long-acting, non-hormonal, reversible form of contraception.

I am talking about a T-shaped plastic and copper doo-hickey, a few centimetres in length, which, once inserted by a GP or specialist, can be left for 10 years with very little worry. This is a contraceptive that has been around in some form for more than 100 years.

“And that doo-hickey works how?”

I’m pretty terrible with chemistry and biology but apparently, copper kills sperm (there’s a feminist superhero idea in there). It sends out little waves of coppery-infused fluid power and zaps any sperm trying to get all up in your love oven. That’s it. Unlike the pill, the ‘typical use’ failure rate and ‘perfect use’ failure rate for a copper IUD are the same because your actions don’t impact its effectiveness.

Once it’s in, you just live your life and have all the spontaneous sex you want. The only thing you need to remember is to take it out 10 years later.

“Sounds great. What’s the catch?”

A few minor side effects – it’s pretty normal to have a slightly heavier period, maybe a few extra cramps. I make that sound like no big deal because for me, it isn’t. But I’m sure I’d be singing a different tune if I suffered like some do. At least you can take it out with a quick trip to the doctor and only about $100 out of pocket (keeping in mind, that’s $100 for 10 years. That’s the most cost-effective sentence I’ve ever written).

One other potential problem is a slight chance of perforation of the uterus. Doctor Fantastic assured me this was very rare and basically shouldn’t happen if the doctor has any clue about what they’re doing (it would be like a nurse messing up an injection).

“Can I get one?”

Probably. Unless you have some sort of reproductive organs issue, diagnosed or otherwise, like abnormal bleeding, infection, STI, etc. I’m currently waiting on an HPV all-clear before I can get an IUD. Other than that, any person with biologically female bits who’s had a single period can get one.

Of course, I’m not a doctor. You need to check with a pro that knows you, your bits and their business. I was very lucky to happen across this new doctor of mine; I hope everyone can find one like her.

The best thing she said to me was, “I got the copper IUD a few years ago. I love it.” This was not some hypothetical medical journal and industry selling point; this was woman-to-woman advice. The kind of shit my girls and I talk about over wine, cheese and Beyoncé. I’m getting one on my next visit, I’d be happy to let you know how it goes.

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O

ne of the main reasons people don’t want to cycle, or cycle less than they otherwise might, is that it’s perceived to be a dangerous activity. Makes sense, doesn’t it? When you’re on the road, you’re dodging car doors and vehicles many times as heavy and as fast as you, with only a helmet to keep you safe. And when you’re off-road, well, let’s just say I once narrowly avoided going over my handlebars courtesy of an unrestrained and less-than-intelligent pug.

In Melbourne, each trip you take by bike is four and a half times more likely to kill you than one in a car and about thirteen times more likely to seriously injure you. That sounds pretty bad. However, these risks, horrific though they may be, are relatively small. There are around four to five cyclist fatalities a year in Melbourne and a hundred among car drivers and passengers (keeping in mind many more people travel by car than by bike). While these numbers are terrible and should be reduced (hopefully to zero!), there is evidence that the risk of cycling is many times outweighed by the reduced risk of health complications and early death associated with a sedentary lifestyle. Plus, you’re about seven times more likely to be hospitalised playing football than cycling.

I don’t mean to downplay the seriousness of injuries and fatalities from cycling at all. These are largely due to the way road environments are designed, namely excluding pedestrians and cyclists to maximise traffic flow and the convenience of on-street parking.

However, I would say that cycling is perceived to be a more dangerous activity than it actually is and this puts off heaps of people that might otherwise do it. This means lost benefits in terms of public health, the environment, reducing congestion... You’ve heard it all before.

Basically, we need to make cycling feel safe. One of the most straight-forward ways of doing this is providing physically separated bike lanes where people want to go. Unfortunately, it’s also one of the most expensive solutions and impractical to do everywhere that people want to cycle. We can also make people safer by reducing speed limits, removing on-street parking, reducing the number of cars on key cyclist routes and promoting better behaviour on the roads.

Plus, the ‘safety in numbers’ effect means that as these initiatives

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cyclord / CYCLING SAFETY with alexander sheko

start to take effect, they are self-reinforcing, as the greater presence of cyclists on the roads makes others more comfortable joining them.

None of this is easy, particularly in a system where the ability of motorists to drive and park wherever they please is often the first priority for roads agencies and politicians. But I would think we could all agree that safety is paramount, and so the need to protect the life and limb of more vulnerable road users should be treated much more seriously. Plus, if we think that we need to get people into more efficient and environmentally-friendly modes of getting around, as well as encouraging them to live active lifestyles, we need to think not only about how to make people safe, but how to make them feel safe.

illustration by lynley eavis

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playing the field / AFL Grand Final with dexter gillman

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n Tuesday the 18th of August the AFL announced it had sold the rights to broadcast matches for the six seasons from 2017-2022 for an Australian record of $2.508 billion. That’s a lot of money, especially when you consider how ground-breaking it seemed in 2011 when the AFL signed its current TV rights deal, the first to break through the billion dollar barrier. When rumours began to swirl earlier this year that the deal could reach $2 billion, they were widely dismissed. It was a great moment for the AFL. The announcement, which quickly drew comparisons to Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper for its set up, featured some of Australia’s most powerful sport, media and business dynasties. Rupert Murdoch was there on behalf of News Corporation (or whatever it’s called now), Kerry Stokes of Channel 7, and whoever is in charge of running Telstra into the ground nowadays was also there. Not to mention the AFL’s newish CEO, Gillon McLachlan, descendent of a prominent South Australian family and Melbourne Uni Law graduate known for his friends in high places. The size of the deal, as well as the presence of what is probably the Australian chapter of the illuminati were emblematic of the AFL’s dominance. Culturally, corporately, and increasingly visibly, the AFL is the behemoth of the Australian sporting landscape, and it is for these reasons that the Grand Final is the jewel in Melbourne’s proverbial sporting crown.

Within the rather large AFL community, the Grand Final is colloquially referred to as the last Saturday in September, which is odd because nowadays it tends to occur in October. Taking place on a Saturday afternoon, it is the culmination of a weeklong festival in Melbourne which consists of the Grand Final parade, the wives and girlfriends parade, the influx of out-of-towners to watch their team play Hawthorn parade and non-stop media saturation. The game invariably lives up to the occasion, with an average margin of more than 35 points over the past five years. But the true value of the Grand Final is measured not by the on-field heroics, but by pre-game entertainment. Rolf Harris wowed us in 1982, and Meat Loaf gave a performance so bad all the seagulls at the MCG died and the AFL had to quell the controversy with an Australian only approach the following year. Mr Loaf later took to twitter to label his Australian

artwork by clare weber

haters “butt smellers” and to deny that he was paid $500,000 to feign a heart attack in front of nearly 5 million viewers, because he was most likely paid more than that. More recent performances by Lionel Richie and Tom Jones – ostensibly to satisfy an older, female fanbase – have helped the AFL restore its credibility. According to the 3AW Rumour File, this year could feature either KISS or AC/DC. Repeated attempts to confirm the AFL is courting Kendrick Lamar have also been denied, so I guess that’s a rumour now too.

The Grand Final is a testament to the AFL’s dominance over its rival football codes and an annual reminder of Melbourne’s ceaseless love affair with sporting events that draw a large crowd. In 2013, the AFL sold 7 million tickets, far exceeding the NRL and the A-League put together. The Grand Final has been sold out for decades, and will regularly have a television audience that peaks around 4.5 million across the country, making it the highest watched Saturday afternoon television event of the year. The NRL Grand Final peaks around 3.9 million. Like a python slowly swallowing a cow, the AFL has wrapped itself around the rest of Australia since the 1980’s.

But Melbourne is still its epicentre and the Grand Final is arguably the city’s proudest sporting tradition. So much so that the Labor party went to last years state election promising to make the Friday before the match a public holiday. Despite a recent consultation process in which 90 per cent of submissions were against the idea and estimations from PricewaterhouseCoopers that it will cost the state $852 million in lost production, Premier Andrews has doggedly pushed ahead with his key electoral promise.

Dissenting voices, such as breakfast TV personality and Port Adelaide Power President David Koch, have spoken out against Melbourne’s stranglehold on the AFL’s marquee event. It’s unfair to the rest of the competition and undermines the league’s equalisation efforts they say, not entirely without reason. But for residents of Melbourne and the broader football community, it’s hard to imagine the Grand Final could be played anywhere else. The current contract between the AFL and the MCC-MCG Trust won’t expire until 2037.

That’s at least three broadcast deal announcements featuring Rupert Murdoch away.

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/ Society

In the Wake of the Earthquake

by Clara ng

I

am writing this in the wake of the earthquake in Nepal. It was deadly: 7.8 on the Richter scale, five countries shaken, death toll of almost ten thousand. But how does one put a number to human suffering, chart a terror still unfolding? It’s hard to find words – like digging for meaning beneath the debris, names of people and places now buried in the rubble.

I’d spent the summer in Kathmandu. I didn’t like how it looked through the lens, or printed in glossy guidebook spreads. A treasure trove of sights, smells and sounds! More like a grim jumble of touristy must-dos. I still took pictures: aim, focus, click. Pause to fiddle with the aperture. They turn out nice enough, but are flat, lacklustre.

Pixels didn’t do it justice – the city was alive. Mornings were hot, and the afternoons simmered. But dusk was a pleasant hour, as the screeching of traffic and the yelling of street-vendors ebbed in the lull of evening. I can see it now: families emerging from neat terrace rows. My host father, Nardev, sitting on the porch step, newspaper in hand. Shila, his wife, clattering about in the kitchen making dhal bhat for dinner – the same dish eaten three times a day. ‘Dhal bhat power, twenty-four hour!’ she says, a reference to the electricity cuts that often plunge the street into darkness.

Half an hour later we’re gathered in the tiny kitchen, ladling hot curry, lentils and rice. Nardev warbles along with the radio.

The kids are bickering in local tongue. I smear some bread with olive oil and salt, a new favourite at the traditional table. Dinner is a simple, messy affair, and the best part of the day. It’s been maybe

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two weeks, but the city seems friendlier. The days acquire a rhythm of their own; a tempo I’m glad to follow. ‘Nepal time!’ locals would shrug, testament to their freedom from the corporate world, where the minutiae of daily life cluster around the opening and closing of shops, the ringing of a telephone, the steady, solid thud of the nineto-five. Here, time is fluid, not pinned to grids on schedules.

But travel isn’t always hippie paradise. Several incidents in Nepal had me cursing my general lack of foresight. Momos (cheap dumplings) on the street? Delicious, but you’d better have the nearest public bathroom marked out. Mysterious road-closures aren’t uncommon. And bus tickets are better booked in advance, lest you end up stranded on a pleasant hill, a day’s drive away.

I found myself speeding through the streets on a friend’s motorbike. “The best way to get around the city,” Raj told me, “if you actually want to see it.” And see it I did. Not just heritage sites and temples, but glimmers of life within. The most luminous moments were the ones unsought. One day I follow the low, distant hum of prayer along the Pashupatinath river. Women in red, elderly and young, are gathered in prayer for the Saraswati festival honouring the goddess of wisdom. Bright orange petals from woven garlands dot the water; I smell fragrant incense and hear the sweet sashay of silk.

Another day I take a shortcut under a bridge and uncover a hidden slum, its pulse feeble under the sprawling metropolis. Two wrinkled women carry water to a makeshift hut, stray dogs nip at my

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ankles, and matted-haired children draw in the dirt with sticks. Men squat by the river, peering at their reflections as they exchange the day’s news. I wonder if their stories would ever be told.

I also saw the problems – the political tremors – that shook the city. Roads were often flooded with chanting crowds, blocking traffic within a five-block radius. National strikes emptied the streets.

Several times, peaceful protests escalated into violence. And now? A different kind of chaos. Anxious families huddle in the cold, the onceregal Kathmandu Durbar crumbling into dust. Already, thousands have lost their homes. Watching shaky video clips panning the rubble, I wonder if earth-shattering is the right word. Is the quake the final blow, or can it spark positive change?

The Nepalese flag is uniquely non-symmetrical – indeed, it reflects social and historical imbalances that are yet to be rectified.

In 1996, Maoist protests broke out into a decade-long civil war and, shortly after, the massacre of the royal family threw the country into political limbo. Since then, poor leadership has divided the people. Corruption remains rampant, and agreement over a new constitution seems unlikely (just months before, parliamentary disputes erupted into a brawl, sparking public outcry).

I’m no expert on the politics of Nepal. But I have walked her streets, spoken to her people, heard some of their hopes and fears.

Despite its abundant resources, the country has been balancing on pillars cracked and straining with its history. These toppled, new ones can be built. With disaster comes devastation, but there is also

illustration by kitty chrystal

the opportunity to start afresh.

Hopefully the quake will prove a unifying force, and not a divisive one. The government has to respond efficiently, of course – local elections would better ground it in popular support. An effective new constitution would also break the political deadlock.

These steps can pave the way towards national stability, where Nepal’s people can stand in solidarity instead of sorrow. The path ahead may be fraught, but I hope that the country will be rebuilt on stronger foundations, and display its prowess in time to come.

Now, it’s been a week, and some semblance of normal life has returned. In the capital, people are packing up their tents, moving indoors and distributing fresh produce again. The worst might be over – but what do we really know of these terrible things? I fidget, open new tabs, check my email. After a delayed, one-sided correspondence, there it was – Raj, frank and familiar as ever. There is sad sort of humour in his words: ‘…I know it’ll be a goddamn two months before you reply so stay well and come back someday.’

Perhaps I will. After all, there are some things that stay the same: a glimpse of the valley at dawn, a cup of Shila’s home-brewed chiyya – with any luck, the sound of laughter at the Pandevs’ dinner table. How is it that the poorest countries have the happiest people?

Though they know they don’t have much, they smile and laugh and never seem to notice. The people, the things around them – these are all that matters. I wonder how it is for them now that they have even less. They still say they’re the lucky ones.

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Surfing the New Age by james henshall

A

fter a lengthy absence from an experience, place or acquaintance, we readily notice changes that have taken hold.

A roller coaster ride, for instance, is more exhilarating than on the occasion of that twenty-first birthday party some years ago.

The garden surroundings of a building are more substantively landscaped. A person’s face shows the pressures of life’s trials, as well as many winters of rigid cold and burning, summer sun. This year, I have returned to study to undertake my Master’s degree. In undertaking this tertiary study compared with my undergraduate years, the last five months have provided daily reminders of significant changes in the nature and use of technology.

In an Orwellian 1984 prescience, computer applications, technological advances and big data are now the big determinants of our lives. Such advances enable the rapid and easy exchange of information, moving imagery, ideas, historical learnings and understandings about our diverse world. Especially noteworthy here are the implications of recently-legislated federal meta data laws and increased surveillance powers.

At this early stage of the 21st Century, electronic devices in the palm of our hands and upon our knees provide us with many benefits. These activities and our enrapture with them, were rightly described by Monica Sestito in an earlier edition of Farrago this year as a ‘silent homage’. To the endearing chimes of the Old Arts clock heralding a new hour, we now work on our electronic devices completing assignments. We touch and swipe our devices, emailing, tweeting, texting and facebooking our whereabouts and sweet nothings to loved ones and friends. We are frequently and easily subject to mind wanderings and neuro-switching between ‘apps’.

The enjoyment gained in the use of our free hours is immediate.

While sitting at table in Union House, for example, a lunchtime email can be sent to a friend in London and received in eight seconds – free of charge. This contrasts astonishingly with 1983, for instance, wherein a letter was written on paper, by hand. It was then folded, sealed, addressed, stamped and deposited by hand into a letter box some 70 metres away – all at a cost today of $3.00. Upon reaching its destination eight days later, the envelope’s contents would inform

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the reader of university life in ‘the land Down Under’. It would also describe the unifying force that helped us out of the economy’s doldrums following our historic win in the America’s Cup yacht race that same year. The Prime Minister at the time would, in the event of absenteeism among staff in the ensuing day of celebrations, preemptively admonish any unforgiving employers as ‘bums’.

Long gone are the clunky, green-screened Disk Operating Systems (DOS), noisy dot matrix printers and 5 inch floppy disks of my formative undergraduate years. Changes wrought by technology have conspicuously changed our habits and communication methods. In this age of instantaneous communication, “they were not contactable” is no longer an easy throwaway line. Forever gone are student households and residential colleges that were equipped with only a landline telephone from which hand-written messages were taken. Scraps of paper were then adhered to bedroom doors or noticeboards. These informed the recipient that ‘Your mum phoned at 8.00’ or ‘We’ll all be at Naughton’s tonite’. Among other messages included: ‘Phone Belinda after 9.30 tonite,’ or ‘Where are you, Mr Unf**king Reliable?’

For today’s students, the search capabilities of online library facilities is more important. Just like the exploration of space, computer IT systems now possess programs that venture to the outer reaches of research and knowledge. In addition, a student can easily access their student portal to ascertain academic requirements. Thanks largely to the invaluable Student Services and Amenities Fee, we can see what our interest groups have recently done or are organising. Alternatively, one can simply listen and watch a Radiohead performance online at anytime.

Through many windows, our lives are now enlightened because of these advances in technology; they broaden our understanding of the diverse and interconnected global community in which we all live. What lies before us are potentially more benefits – presently inconceivable – of technological change.

As for me, I now happily return to South Lawn to submit an assignment – or simply surf the net in that quiet homage. Yes, that roller coaster ride has become more exhilarating.

illustration by jenny yan

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the traveller / The Backwater on the Frontline of Climate Change words and photography by will whiten

I

n many ways Mongolia is a traveller’s paradise. The culture is distinct, the history is colourful and there is more supermarket shelf space devoted to cheap vodka and hazelnut spread than in any other nation. The main drawcard though, is the vast and relatively untouched wilderness. Visitors arrive in their thousands each year to explore the wide, empty expanses from the discomfort of (ironically) overcrowded jeeps. Appearances can be deceiving though – as imperceptible as it might be to a tourist bouncing through postcard scenery, climate change is an inescapable reality in Mongolia. It is a threat that looms large over the landscape and people.

Mongolia itself has little to answer for when the climate change ledger is examined. With the lowest population density of any nation and a quarter of its three million inhabitants living a nomadic existence, Mongolia’s collective footprint is on the lighter side. The same cannot be said of its neighbours, China and Russia, who rank first and fourth respectively on the carbon emission charts.

With neighbours like these and rampant emissions elsewhere, Mongolia is suffering collateral environmental damage. It seems unfair but, owing to little more than its location, Mongolia is on the frontline of climate change… and the mercury is rising rapidly.

Warming at a rate over twice the global average, the country is also experiencing a sharp decrease in rainfall. Scientists have predicted widespread water shortages and the collapse of ecosystems in the coming years, placing the culture and livelihood of the nomadic population in very real danger.

This prognosis is believable if, like most travellers to Mongolia, you arrive in the capital, Ulaanbaatar. A world away from the wilderness threatened by climate change, the city is bleak, congested and polluted – an urban planning nightmare. It is home to half of Mongolia’s population but desperately lacks adequate infrastructure.

Once you are outside the city limits however, Mongolia is largely true to the sort of portrayals you find in travel brochures or nature publications. The Soviet era apartment blocks gradually give way to suburban gers (yurts) and these, in turn, are swallowed by endless rolling hills. The landscapes beyond are as grand as Ulaanbaatar is uninviting: from the vast green carpet of the steppes to the barren expanse of the Gobi Desert, the broad bands of larch and birch to the shifting mountains of sand at Khongoryn Els. Time, distance and natural beauty all collude to make environmental catastrophe seem as far removed as the city itself.

Of all the superlative-inducing landscapes in Mongolia though, Lake Khövsgöl in the far north is perhaps the most important. It is one of the world’s oldest, largest and purest lakes (clean enough to drink from directly). It is also the source of 70 per cent of all fresh water in Mongolia and a generous contributor to its big sister in Russia, Lake Baikal.

Two small towns, 136 km apart – Hatgal and Khank – bookend Khövsgöl, but human contact is rare between these outposts. On the middle and northern shores you’re more likely to cross paths with reindeer or wolverines than people and the dwindling number of nomads who remain are struggling to eke out a subsistence lifestyle from the unforgiving environment.

Lake Khövsgöl is a symbol of Mongolian fertility, but one increasingly at risk from the alarming rise in temperature. Extensive research has been carried out in the region in recent years and the findings make for grim reading. Water is evaporating, soil is drying and permafrost is thawing. Under such conditions, grazing opportunities decrease, vulnerable species die out and pests thrive.

While little, perhaps none, of these effects are immediately evident to international tourists (nor, indeed, to Mongolian tourists), they are devastatingly evident to those who rely on the ecosystem.

Environmental instability is proving too much for many nomadic Mongolians, who have been forced to give up their way of life for the burgeoning confines of Ulaanbaatar.

It’s not all doom and gloom for the lake, the nomads and Mongolia though. The current government has tightened existing environmental laws to slap greater penalties on polluters. They have also implemented an environmental audit schedule and pledged to place 30 per cent of Mongolian territory under protection by 2030.

Moreover, various independent campaigns and movements have been launched calling for increased conservation efforts in Khövsgöl National Park. With the government and sections of the public now echoing the concerns of scientists, Mongolia seems to be taking the threat to the Lake, and to the environment in general, seriously. If other, less committed nations (such as Australia) adopt a similar approach to climate change, vulnerable ecosystems such as Lake Khövsgöl might stand a chance.

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54 / Farragoby2015 photography jaccob / edition mckay seven

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Fundamental/isms

by Kylie Moore-Gilbert

S

he was a spectacular bride. Her corset was a couple of sizes too small, festooned with layers of tulle and miniature diamante bows. Her hair was piled on top of her head, fastened in place with an elaborate system of braids and clips, and her eyes were thickly rimmed with false eyelashes almost camp in their prominence.

Yet, she was beautiful. Her smile was one of giddy anticipation, mixed with an endearing girlish nervousness that softened her sultry appearance. This was Arabia, after all. People donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get around like that every day. She twirled, we clapped. After much air kissing and cries of mabruk we left. Back to the female section of the wedding party, to await her grand entrance.

Latifa, dressed in the long black abaya of a pious Omani woman, motioned us toward the lift. Her makeup was almost as exaggerated as the brideâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, the heavy blush of her cheeks matching the pastel lavender of the tight bandage dress she wore under her robe, also studded with diamantes.

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artwork by aisha trambas

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Startled, she whipped her black hijab over her face, “Some men are coming.” Waif-like, vision obscured, she deftly navigated the hotel’s corridors in full purdah and six inch heels.

*** With relief, I finally glimpsed Egged intercity bus number 325‫ א‬edging toward me along Zevulun street. Each minute’s delay increased the likelihood that I would reach Jerusalem after Shabbat and would have to complete my journey on foot. If we avoid the afternoon traffic I might just be able to make the last connecting bus.

I hauled my overnight bag up the steps and paid the driver, choosing a window seat a couple of rows behind him. Checking the time on my phone, I suddenly became aware of a commotion behind me – a man was standing in the aisle yelling about something. He was religious, dressed in the black and white of the Hassidim. Rather than neatly curled and tucked behind his ears, his peyot stuck limply to his sweaty, unshaven cheeks. Peyot.

Incidentally, like many of the other passengers sitting nearby me. I turned around slowly. Most were visibly orthodox, all were modestly dressed in neutral shades. With alarm, I realised this man was shouting at me.

Ha’khora, ha’khora, to the back, to the back of the bus. He inched closer, spittle catching in his unruly beard.

As an outwardly secular, non-relative female surely he wouldn’t dare touch me, yet he hardly radiated the pious gravity of the other ultra-orthodox I had encountered on the streets of my adopted home of Kiryat Ata. Dishevelled and aggressive, he was screaming at me to get to the back of the bus. Problem was, in order to get there I had to pass him in the aisle.

The bus driver, wearing a velvet kippah, began yelling something incomprehensible, gesturing in the mirror at the man whilst wildly navigating three lanes of traffic with one hand on the wheel. Only then did I notice that most of the women sat at the back of the bus and the front was largely occupied by men in black hats or knitted skullcaps. To my horror, I realised I was wearing shorts. I hadn’t even thought about it.

One of the women approached me and over the din of the man’s ranting she quietly explained that I was required to sit at the back of the bus.

“It is our way. And you should cover your legs.”

“But this is a public bus!” My brain, clouded by shock and scrambling to understand the rapid Hebrew of the many voices screeching and whispering around me, was still preoccupied with the impossibility of getting to the back seats without passing the hysterical Hassid. All I had were my pyjamas. With a mix of defiance and shame, I remained in my seat. Purple, polka-dot flannelette amongst the black, white and grey.

*** “I don’t do that,” he looked at me apologetically. He was a small man, balding slightly, with the sort of trimmed, moustache-less beard seen more frequently in jihadi recruitment videos than on the streets of the Melbourne financial district. His eyes were kind. I decided he was a nice guy and retracted my proffered hand. He bought me a coffee, we chatted. He was a Saudi scholarship student, freshly enrolled. He tolerated my stilted Arabic with a distant smile and slow, measured responses. I spilt my coffee. We both reached for a napkin, fingers brushing. In that split second, everything was electric. *** “I don’t do that.” He looked at me with disdain. Like it should be obvious.

“Sorry,” I muttered, retracting my hand and setting my coffee down opposite him. He was a young rabbi, you could tell that if he shaved his beard he would have a baby face. Shomer negi’ah it’s called. Voluntarily removing yourself from the intimacy of human touch and from all the messages of support, of respect, of camaraderie it conveys. From a young age. He was an incredibly intelligent human being, eloquent, he spoke with conviction.

Perhaps, like a blind man with an acute sense of hearing, this was his compensation. I pitied him.

*** “American imperialism is the biggest terrorist threat to the world. Je ne suis pas Charlie. What they were doing was Islamophobic incitement, can you blame them for reacting to such a provocation? White privilege is everywhere.

This is the only narrative frame through which they are able to assert their identity, Foucault said so. The attacks on Iraq and Afghanistan, everyone knows that was a neo-colonialist attempt to subjugate the Muslim world and take their oil. Like Palestine, but on a much larger scale. There are limits to free speech, this is a matter of human rights.” *** I fell into my seat, already exhausted by the long queue through security and the delay in boarding. Royal Brunei.

Not only was this a dry airline, we also get to listen to the first verse of the Qur’an for three minutes before the plane takes off. Bismillah al-rahman al-rahim, alhamdu lillah rab al-a’lameen… The woman next to me knew every word. She was flying to Lebanon via Dubai she explained, with her teenage son.

“My cousin’s had another baby and the situation’s pretty stable there right now. Inshallah that bastard Assad won’t be around for much longer and all the Syrians will go home.” Her son rolled his eyes and switched on his monitor, flicking between Hollywood movies. “This is my son’s first time in Tripoli,” she explained, “he’s Aussie born and bred.”

“I’ve never been to Lebanon,” I lamented, “but I’ve heard it’s really pretty there. Like the north of Israel, high mountains and pine forests. Excellent food, too.” She raised an eyebrow faintly, readjusting her hijab with her index finger.

“You should come and visit us sometime.” She glanced across at her son, who was watching American Sniper.

“That Bradley Cooper, he’s pretty hot isn’t he?”

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illustration by nini li

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jellyfish

by Cindy Zhou

life in a floating globe sploosh sploosh bioluminescent flower hat learning the ocean roof a loverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s brushstrokes secrets wriggle underfoot squirmish caterpillars twenty-four eyes darting across the sea tank a tidal flow-ebbing boxer muted majesty Medusozoan lion mane watch out for the lightning infused veins a flashlight Kodak salon speckled dancer in a kitschy cabaret brainless nerve net fearing nothing but the turtle

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umbrella street

by James Macaronas

T

he ground frulled.

Alan tried to keep up but it happened too fast, so he allowed gravity to pull him down onto the footpath.

He congratulated himself on wearing his heaviest coat, which had been cushioning his frequent falls. But, that was being drunk for you.

One, long fall.

Alan got to his feet and stumbled toward Burden Place, the squat block of apartments silhouetted against the moonlight.

“Spooooky,” giggled Alan, to nobody in particular.

He heard a skittering behind him – ragtap – on the concrete, gathering speed. He spun around, but his legs couldn’t keep up, and he collapsed onto his backside.

A black umbrella rolled across the street, toward him.

Strange – he couldn’t feel any wind. Then again, he was out of it.

The umbrella twitched and scrabbled.

He picked it up, waving it round as he resumed his stumble.

“Singing in the rain,” he slurred, “I’m singing in the rain!”

In moments he reached the heavy glass doors, decorated with fresh graffiti and fumbled at the keypad before making his way up the stairwell to the third floor.

The umbrella nested deadweight in his grasp.

The lights on the third floor corridor flickered dimly before extinguishing altogether. So much for maintenance.

The door to Apartment 3F was a patch of shadow and after having to dig through his pockets, searching for the key, Alan struggled to find the keyhole.

He felt a tug on his other arm and turned to see what it was.

The umbrella trapjawed outward and Alan didn’t have time to scream.

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illustration by dominic shi jie on

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“Did you leave this thing out here?” called Phil from the front door.

“Thing?” asked Roger.

“Umbrella. Black.”

“Not mine. Must be Alan’s.”

“He’s still not back,” mused Phil, returning to the kitchen bench.

“Probably fell asleep at the bar,” laughed Roger, enjoying the feeling of the soap bubbles playing around his fingers. The breakfast dishes clinked against each other.

“He needs to take more care of himself, I reckon.”

“Yeah?”

“One of these days he’ll get himself killed. Hit by a car, or something.”

Roger thought back to his Uncle Pete and how nobody in his family had been particularly shocked when the news came that Pete had been run over.

“You alright?” asked Phil.

“Yeah, just thinking … what did you do with the umbrella?”

“Chucked it in Alan’s room. Which is funny …”

“Why’s that?”

“There was an out-of-place umbrella down at 3H too,” said Phil.

“And how is Ms. Brovnik?”

“Don’t know – she wasn’t home. And the door was unlocked and this big, old umbrella was just lying in the hallway.”

“Did you lock up when you left?”

“Well – no. I thought she might not have a key, so I closed the door, but left it unlocked. It’s not like there’s much worth taking in there. I left the umbrella up with the groceries though – bit of a hazard just lying on the floor.”

“Maybe she’s looking to clear the apartment a bit?”

“I bet we’d be roped in – have you seen past the hallway? It’s like London after the Blitz.”

Roger laughed. “Perhaps she’s experimenting with that home brew of hers.”

“Oh god,” said Phil, “that stuff should be banned.”

There was a sudden sound from the hallway ¬– a juttering rasp.

“What was that?”

“No idea.”

Another sound – something thrackled venomously.

Phil got up and padded down the hallway.

“It’s coming from Alan’s room.”

“Oh,” answered Roger, not knowing how else to respond.

Phil moved further off into the apartment.

Silence – then, a muffled shout.

“Phil?” called Roger, alarmed.

Nothing.

“Phil? Anything wrong?” The cutlery suspended in the water knocked against his still hands. He stepped back from the sink and went to follow Phil, but Phil was nowhere to be seen.

There was no sound.

“Phil?”

Thrackle. Plap. Twitch.

Heartbeat building, Roger pushed open the door to Alan’s room.

The doors swung open and Marlene hurried into Burden Place. Outside was the kind of cold that clung to your cheekbones. Marlene hated this weather, but then, she hated lots of things – her job, her clothes, her ‘friends’.

Pausing briefly at the letterbox – full of nothing, of course – Marlene stomped up the few stairs to the first floor and resigned herself to another Saturday spent doing nothing. She needed help.

“Help!” ruggle ruggle ruggle Marlene turned to see where the cry had come from. 1C? 1E? “Help!” ruggle ruggle ruggle 1E … Mister … somebody-or-other. But he was old and she could mark it down as her ‘good deed for the day’.

She pulled open the front door and stopped.

Terror held the moment. Scratch.

The old man was on the ground, reaching toward the door. An armchair lay tipped behind him. It was like a fall, an accident, a slight injury … but … no. No. Marlene stared.

An umbrella had seized the man from below the chest, like a snake swallowing a mouse.

It didn’t make sense – the umbrella wasn’t … large enough …

Marlene wanted to scream – Run! Get out! – but her mind was fixed on the question of how exactly the umbrella was … eating. For it was eating. Sprattle. The man writhed helplessly as the umbrella zurved around him like a perverse eel.

Marlene turned to flee, find help, anything – and an umbrella dropped from above the door and spineshackled around her.

“I didn’t mean it!” screamed Cassie.

She could hear them outside, in the apartment – frendle, drash – stents crackling as they wurvelled closer.

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“It was a mistake,” she sobbed, hunched up against the toilet, “and I’m sorry.”

The white tiles on the floor reminded her of the place where it had happened – as cold as the winter morning and white like the sky outside.

Grurl.

“What else was I meant to do?” she called out to them, pleading. “He left and if he ever came back …”

They were dactrylling across the floorboards.

“So, I had to do it. I had to let it go. Didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl, yet. You see? I didn’t wait! Didn’t take any chances!”

As if yelling would do any good.

Wurvel, wurvel, ragtap, wurvel.

She had sinned, like her mother had said and now they had come for her –scratching and spithering through the half-light of the afternoon.

“Leave me alone. I didn’t have a choice.”

She sat and sobbed as they tore away at the hole in the door.

George had shut himself in like the radio had told him.

The room was warm enough, and he had water and food, didn’t he? He hadn’t boarded the windows – he’d put in special glass as soon as he moved into the neighbourhood. What would it do against umbrellas? Wait and see.

He sighed. drit drit.

If Evelyn hadn’t gone and he hadn’t moved to Burden Place… but thinking like that wouldn’t help. Plap. Rawl.

Outside, in the dark, the creatures brewstered. He supposed they must be creatures – they moved of their own accord, didn’t they? They sprattled. They hunted. They ate their fill. ruggle ruggle.

The radio hadn’t said where they were from. Not that he cared.

About an hour had passed when he heard them enter the apartment, ragtapping a checkered stalk, rustling and warbling hollowly.

He wouldn’t fight. Shouldn’t, really.

Que sera, sera.

They moved closer to the study door.

Soon, he would be with Evelyn. That was good, wasn’t it?

Crackle, spither, bloor.

As they burst, frowling, into the room, George realised that he didn’t want to die.

Warren had never had to use the knife before. They gave it to you at the appropriate ceremony – a mark of rank, a symbol … nothing more. But here he was, slashing through undulating ranks of thrackling fabric and zurving metal, looking wildly for an exit.

Ragtap ragtap crackle frowl.

He thought he heard someone call – “Captain!”

Was there anyone left?

The enemy ab-blagged toward him en masse, he gripped the knife tighter. Command should bomb the city – that’d put paid to the blighters.

He felt sharp stents pulling at his legs and something tearing into his arms as he fought off the thing clinging to his face.

This wasn’t happening, he tried to tell himself as he fell to the floor and they lackfluttered over him. Denying the truth of the enemy didn’t lessen any of his agony as they began to feed.

Am I? Am I the last?

I suppose I must be.

I can hear nothing but them.

Ruggle ruggle.

Grurl.

Thrackling outside in the dark.

Scratching greedily toward me. Crott blag rawl.

Maybe I could fight. Spither. But I have nothing to fight them with.

An old shovel against the garbling, juttering, plague.

I should look outside, shouldn’t I? S–spither thrackle–s–see what’s left of the place.

Nothing outside – other than them.

Scuttling umbrellas, heaving, zurving, warbling. Upscuddering they are, brewstering through the shadows …

Sprattling as the world dies around them.

Worming, frowl, wurvel.

Spikescrambling dark-winged toward us. ragtap.

Trapjawing …

Mouths opening –

62 / Farrago 2015 / edition seven

creative /

rhubarb by ellen cregan the pale verdant sheen of speckled innards has outrageous appeal you toe-curling tart, difficult vegetable. splinters rouge the bamboo block as I carve.

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll drown you in batter dampen that acerbic bite

now fit for consumption I relinquished you to a light and fluffy demise.

artwork by emily keppel

farrago 2015 / edition seven / 63

/ Society

for and against / Beyoncé for: laura foo

against: harvey duckett

Q

A

uestion – how does one even begin to describe the perfection that is Beyoncé? In theory, the ‘for’ argument for Beyoncé should be the easiest piece to write in the world. It seems to be an axiom, if you will, that one is ‘for’ Beyoncé. In reality though, I’m having more trouble than I expected.

A not-so-quick YouTube marathon of Yoncé’s entire discography (for ‘research’, of course) seems a good place to start; I mean, I could leave the link to the ‘Crazy in Love’ video right here to prove my point and end it at that. Her extraterrestrial ability to belt out tunes and slay flawless-as-fuck choreography, all while dressed in a fully rhinestoned freakum dress and a two-metre weave is positively unparalleled.

But it’s not just her undeniable vocal and performance talent – Beyoncé can serenade thousands with ‘Halo’ one minute, and launch straight into the grueling ‘Single Ladies’ choreography the next, without so much as a breath in between. No, it’s not even just that a humble girl from Houston grew up to be an independent woman with a net worth of $250 million, and be the #1 most influential celebrity in 2014, according to Forbes. No, that doesn’t even scratch the surface.

Listen, maybe it’s her 20 Grammy wins, or 52 nominations.

Could be her extensive philanthropic work, or the fact that she never seems to age/lose her bootylicious-ness (if you don’t know what that means, you should look it up in the dictionary – it’s there).

Or that time she dropped a full visual album out of nowhere and it rocketed to number one on the Billboard charts, becoming her fifth consecutive number-one album.

I think her icon status extends much further than all of this. She’s a mother, artist, businesswoman, feminist, legendary diva (without the ego) and a fashion icon; elusive and private (see: Vogue’s September 2015 cover sans interview, cue: Anna Wintour having a ‘moment’), yet still strangely familiar. Everyone wants to bey her, or bey with her. She is a glittering beacon of every quality any human being has ever aspired to possess.

In years to come, they will ponder the origins of #flawless and #iwokeuplikedis, and it will be our responsibility as the #BeyGen to point them in the direction of her irreplaceable talent, and her badass, sassy Instagram posts, and tell them to add #surfboard on that selfie. Such is her enduring relevance.

Bow down, bitches. Long live Queen Bey. *crown emoji and bee emoji* xo

64 / Farrago 2015 / edition seven

spectre is haunting Australia, Europe, and indeed, the entire world. Actually, make that a ‘Ghost’ – that being but one of many songs in Beyoncé’s nefarious arsenal, which, over the past decade, has been unrelentingly imposed upon an unsuspecting, unquestioning fan base.

Be warned, Yoncé acolytes: Knowles is the nebulous hegemon of our times. Her barrage of repetitious songs which frankly, are terribly named – ‘Beautiful Liar’, ‘Broken Hearted’, and ‘Upgrade U’ sound more like bylines from a twelve year old’s tear-soaked diary – surely play their part in the pernicious ‘dumbing-down’ of culture that plagues our society.

But that’s not to say that Beyoncé herself is clueless: far from it.

Ever since her explosive departure from Destiny’s Child (a morally reprehensible crime in and of itself) she has been ingratiating herself into all corners of our lives with alarming speed and oh-so-cool, calculated purpose. In 2006, the Oxford English Dictionary reified ‘Bootylicious’; University courses dedicated to studying her and her music have been incepted; and perhaps most menacingly, Elenberg Fraser has conceded her latest architectural venture, Melbourne’s soon-to-be monolithic skyscraper Premier Tower, was directly inspired by the musical megastar’s body/booty. Like the namesake of her child, Knowles has grown expansively around the building blocks of our society, taking root in every corner and crevice. Were he around today, Foucault would be going more schitz than Beyoncé in the ‘Raise the Alarm’ film clip: we are all living in the House of Bey. What’s Knowles’ endgame in all this, you ask? In two words: world domination. Having culturally lobotomised her fans with anaesthetically uninspiring song titles and lyrics, as well as her incessant talk of being ‘blessed’, the songstress has created the perfect preconditions for a total, paradigm-shifting overhaul of the world, with 99 per cent of the populace too docile, too Drunk in Love, to resist such change.

Such is Beyoncé’s contempt for the capacity of her besotted audience to see her true colours, that she has fearlessly peppered her musical oeuvre with clues. ‘***Flawless’? The asterisks are obviously a nod to her desire for total historical and social revisionism. ‘If I Were a Boy’? A forewarning of her move to delegitimise gender. Perhaps her most brazen display of what is to come is in ‘Run the World’. ‘Who run the world? Girls!’ Beyonce hollers, the song’s pretext of feminism belied by the fact that she, and she alone, takes centre stage, gratuitously advancing her own selfinterest as she gyrates ferociously around scenes of conflagration and urban decay – motifs celebrating the inevitable destruction of the world as we know it, should Knowles get what she wants.

I, for one, don’t want to live in a world run by Beyoncé – a world where all children are mandatorily named after primary colours and/or foliage. But it may already be too late. You think this is conspiratorial hodgepodge, an outcome of my inability to think of any legitimate grounds on which to fault Beyoncé? So be it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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Above Water is the annual creative writing anthology published by the Media and Creative Arts departments of the University of Melbourne Student Union.

This year it features writing from Jessica Yu, Merry Hao Li, Will Whiten, Peter Kelly, Benjamin Karwan, Ben Meurs, Emma Hall and Alex Cameron. These creative pieces are accompanied by daring artworks from Dominic Shi Jie On, Nina Cheles and Reimena Yee. Pick up a copy now!

Artwork by Dominic Shi Jie On