WORONI COPING WITH CORONAVIRUS ANU student magazine volume 70, issue 3, 2020
team CONTENT
NEWS
RADIO
Lily Pang
Charlotte Ward
Rishi Dhakshinamoorthy
Rachel Chopping
Elena Couper
Bernadette Callaghan
George Owens
Ronan Skyring
Louis Festa
Ellie Flintoff
Isobel Lavers
Jacinta Chen
Emily Fursa
Genevieve Garner
Tom Stephens
Oscar Dumas
Sasha Personeni
Madalene Watson Bruce
Elliott Merchant
Giselle Laszok
Kensley Crowley
Isabel Richards
Jack Quail
Fergus Sherwood
Aditi Dubey
Sam Neave
Juliette Brown
Elijah Lazarus
Tara Finlay
Bec Donald-Wilson
ART
TV
Eliza Williams
Matthew Donlan
Alice Dunkley
Jasmine Ryan
Emily O’Neill
Krishna Gogineni
Maddy Brown
Christian Reeves
Sian Williams
Vy Tsan
Bonnie Burns
Gautham Venkitaramamoorthy
Abigail Border
Clara Ho Lucy Bruck
SOCIAL MEDIA
Scott Koh
Ben Rowley
Lottie Croghan
Madeleine Pont
Lorena Flawn
admin assistant Hope Dyson
CONTENTS 4 News
22 Creative
50 Discovery
5 Canberra Music Scene in Covid Challenges and Opportunities Elena Couper
23 The Head That Wears the Crown S. Lazarus
51 Politics, Economics and COVID 19 Elliott Merchant
24 Five Days Alone Phoebe Lupton
54 Authoritarianism is the Virus Annabelle Van Raalte
6 Dear Government What The **** is Going On? Charlotte Ward 8 Artwork Izaak Bink
9 CAMPUS 10 Is This 'Normal' Really So New? Janka Reynders 12 Your News Week in a Peek Oscar Dumas
26 The Introvert's Soliloquy Samantha Wong 28 The Poet Indy Shead 30 C. A. Brandenburg Edward Anderson
58 Keep Cooking and Carry On Melissa Woodley
32 Entering Renee You
60 Our Great Test and Our Great Opportunity Campbell Edmonds
35 Culture
14 #IORESTOACASA // #STAY HOME Emily Fursa
36 Watch with Woroni Tara Finlay
16 Introduction to Coronavirus Katelyn Riepon
38 The Meaning of Life... Maybe: Why Everyone Should Read Watchmen Elliott Merchant
18 Icarus Bella Vacaflores 20 Where Are You From? Safia Khan
56 Can Organoids Ease the Blow of Future Pandemics? Isabel Richards
63 In Other News Aditi Dubey
40 Jaws: The Greatest Popcorn Thriller of the Century Elliott Merchant 42 The Con(i)solations of Flanerie Juliette Brown 43 When the World Stops Turning Ane Van Wyk 44 Wholesome Memes for Isolated Teens Jacinta MacGinley 46 Practice Makes Picasso Brianna Hammerschmid 48 Taking Back the Isolated Self Anonymous
COVER ARTWORK: GEORGIE KAMVISSIS
DIVIDER PAGE ARTWORK: ALICE DUNKLEY
editors page When it came to putting together our final edition for semester 1 2020, we knew that we had an opportunity to fulfil our mission as a mouthpiece for the ANU student community by providing a platform to share views, opinions, insights and humour during this crisis. 'Coping with Coronavirus' is filled with all these things and more. While we explore the realities of this experience, we also hope that through this edition, readers can find messages of hope and optimism. I also want to take this opportunity to acknowledge the outgoing members of the print team, Phoebe Lupton and Georgie Kamvissis, who worked on this issue as their last after years of work for Woroni. Without having worked on the board, it's hard to understand the extent of the work the content and art editors put into each edition. All board members carry the pressures and burdens of providing a voice for the students, sometimes with great success, sometimes with great backlash. But despite these challenges, both Georgie and Phoebe have persevered and worked incredibly hard to do their jobs, and have created outstanding work in the process. Woroni will miss them both greatly. With that, I hope you all enjoy this edition, and always remember that we exist to represent the students and that is always our priority. If you have something you want to say, please get in touch at write@woroni.com.au Josie Ganko Deputy Editor-in-Chief
NEWS
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Canberra Music Scene in COVID: Challenges and Opportunities AUTHOR // ELENA COUPER
For artists around the world, COVID-19 is a matter of sitting and waiting. Canberra venues are part of a fragile ecosystem, and for new businesses such as Sideway, shutting down for an indeterminate period projects an uncertain future. Although co-owner Tim Brown, co-owner, is concerned for the “large challenges” ahead, he is also looking to the “silver linings for creatives and supporters alike”. In the absence of live performances, DJs and fans have turned to streaming services, such as Twitch. Sideway has established Club Virtual as a platform for local artists to perform, such as Nick Willenberg, co-founder of Canberra House Social. Although streaming performances at home can’t quite replace the physical aspects of live events, Willenberg argues that they are “keeping people connected to the scene”. Although live streams don’t generate enough revenue to substitute in-house events, platforms such as Club Virtual often sell tickets or accept donations which can help stabilise businesses and artists in the interim. Sideway has found other alternatives for generating some income during lockdown, by running liquor packages and selling vouchers for future events. Canberra House Social still generates some revenue by selling merch on their website, although the current situation has presented a unique opportunity for the DJs to hunt tracks and produce music. Brown has also noticed this current trend in the industry, stating that “the prolonged lockdown gives a chance for artists to further hone their craft and work on new projects”. A break from the party scene has also lent some insight for its frequenters on how to better balance the lifestyle, with Willenberg encouraging people to use the interlude to educate
themselves on party drug safety. Tim is encouraging people who miss the scene to use lockdown as an opportunity to work on “small projects and hobbies that may have been put on the backburner”. For those who are missing live performances, this is a great opportunity to listen to local artists. DJs and venue owners alike are emphasising the importance of supporting local talent by interacting with them on social media, as it’s often underestimated how far a simple like or follow can go. Most importantly, the best thing we can all do to support our local music industry is follow health guidelines and maintain social distancing. As Willenberg put it, “the faster the spread stops, the faster things can open back up”. Once venues do re-open, it will be crucial that the scene feels the immediate support of the community. As international travel restrictions will be in place for the foreseeable future, music events will be largely made up of local artists. Brown sees this as an “interesting opportunity, [as] it gives our scene and local industries the world over a better chance to look inwards at the talent at home”. So, for now – stay at home, keep your distance, educate yourself on party safety, and support your local venues and artists.
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Dear Government, what the **** is going on? AUTHOR // CHARLOTTE WARD Centrelink is the biggest monetary support system for Australians, however it seems as though there is a large disparity between those who are eligible to receive Centrelink and Government benefits, and those who are ineligible for any subsidy. This has become particularly evident in light of COVID-19. The Government has rolled out schemes including JobSeeker and JobKeeper in the hope of supporting Australians that struggle throughout this period, however it has become clear that the government has failed to address the needs of students. Youth Allowance Perhaps the biggest, and most relevant payment for students, is Youth Allowance. This ongoing subsidy provides financial assistance to those whom are students under 24 years, or those aged 21 and under who are looking for work. This payment is dependent on three conditions: 1.
Meet Australian residence rules
2.
Satisfy income tests
3. Be undertakingdoing an approved course or full time Australian Apprenticeship Alongside these conditions, students must be considered ‘independent,’ and must satisfy the income test requirement. If a person is under 21, they have to pass a ‘parental means test,’ and prove that they are supporting themselves through full time work. This test includes an evaluation of the parents' income and assets, which excludes many students from obtaining youth allowance. Furthermore, it precludes many students from accessing the payment purely due to their age and parent’s income.
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Student One: “I am 20 years old and have moved out of home for University. I am paying for everything myself and work two casual jobs. Despite not receiving assistance from my parents, as I am under 21, their income is still taken into consideration. Unfortunately, they do not satisfy the parental income test. To prove that I am independent, I would need to show that I have worked an average of 30 hours a week. As I can pay my rent whilst working around 20 hours, I am not considered independent. This system means that I cannot claim any payments or support from Centrelink.” JobKeeper In response to the sudden and dramatic COVID-19 pandemic and its subsequent financial implications, the Government rolled out the JobKeeper scheme in recognition of the vulnerability of casual employees. According to the ABS, the majority of casual workers are full or part-time students. Despite this significant number of students, the fine-print of JobKeeper has meant that many students have been left with little, if any, financial assistance during this period.
Student Three: “I started working at my current job in my first year of University and have been there for almost one year. The business is eligible for JobKeeper, and has nominated its eligible employees for the payment. I unfortunately do not qualify as I was not employed prior to March 1. However, the business is only giving shifts to those whom are receiving JobKeeper payments, as then, it does not have to pay anything out of its own pocket. I have not had a shift in two weeks.” JobSeeker The JobSeeker Payment is similar to Youth Allowance, however it is for individuals 22 years and older who are seeking employment. Someone who is receiving JobSeeker payments must actively be seeking employment during the period of support.
Student Two:
Student Four:
“I have worked at my occupation for almost five years, yet as my business is an off-set of the government, it is ineligible to receive JobKeeper benefits. This means that as a casual employee, I have no rights and am unable to receive compensation. I am under 21 which means that my parents income is taken into consideration when trying to apply for JobSeeker, and am therefore ineligible. The Government has not provided its own casual employees with any support, despite its responsibility to look after its staff.”
“I have lost my job as a result of COVID-19. My employer informed its staff that it is ineligible to receive JobKeeper, and that I should seek the JobSeeker payment. I am under 22 years old, and supporting myself through my full-time studies at ANU. I am ineligible for Youth Allowance as well, as my parents income comes into consideration. I have had to move back into my family home as without employment, I cannot afford to live by myself. It seems to me that the government has failed to protect its students.” The government and its subsidies have left the student demographic struggling. Despite issues existing ordinarily, these have been increased as a result of COVID-19. The qualifications necessary to receive subsidies and benefits have resulted in a large number of ineligible students, whom should otherwise be considered as eligible. It is the responsibility of the Government to support its people, but is this the best method to do so?
8 // ARTWORK : IZAAK BINK
CAMPUS
IS THIS 'NORMAL' REALLY SO NEW? AUTHOR // JANKA REYNDERS
ARTWORK : SIAN WILLIAMS // 11
CONTENT WARNING: Mental Health, Death It feels as though society has entered an alternate universe. With people stocking up rations, toilet paper causing turf wars and insulation from the outside world, we seem to have landed in the first episode of Season 6 of Black Mirror. It is shocking to consider, however, that the new format of life most of us must become accustomed to is an everyday reality for those who live in Australia's remote and regional communities. Arguably, for the first time we are all experiencing the same social isolation and housebound boredom experienced by those living way past whoop-whoop. In the Australian outback, distance education is the norm. When we go to the shops, we buy enough food to fill the three fridges we have at home. When we get lonely, we feel as though there is no one else in the world (at least to three hours in each direction). Whilst the COVID-19 pandemic has disrupted people's lives across the world, for some nothing has changed, and I think that this time spent in isolation makes Australians more empathetic towards those who face social isolation everyday. When I went home before the borders shut, I knew exactly what to expect. No cafes, no clubs and no friends for months. This is normal in a town with a population of fewer than 900 people, with almost nothing having changed during the COVID-19 crisis. In Australia, approximately 29 per cent of the population live in remote and regional communities. Remote communities are home to one quarter of Australia’s Indigenous population, and thus the challenges faced in remote areas have a disproportionate impact on Indigenous Australians. Youths in regional Australia are less likely to aspire to higher education, with many turned away from acquiring a higher education when their only (expensive) opportunity is to move to city centres. The mental health of young adults in regional communities is another concerning aspect, especially now as much of the population begins to understand the emotional implications of being isolated from personal social interactions. The feeling that you are standing still whilst the world moves on must be common across the globe currently. Our innate fear of missing out programs humans to seek company and interaction, something that's hard to come by whilst we remain bound to our homes. Based on research within Europe, North America, Asia and Australia, the risk of premature death associated with
social isolation is similar to the risk of premature death associated with risk factors such as obesity. Caused by a disconnect from personal, social communities, one in 10 Australians aged 15 and over report lacking social support, with isolation considered a significant health and wellbeing issue disproportionately impacting those in remote communities. Mental health awareness within regional communities has received arguably insufficient attention over the last decades, as their lifestyles are different from the majority of Australians. However, with COVID-19 barring us from the outside world, the work of advocacy groups within regional communities has begun to resonate with the nation in lockdown. Spreading the message of mental health awareness programs, such as the Blue Tree Project, is key to supporting Australians living in isolation. "To reach the top of the tree, you would lift me up on your shoulders and I would try to get the last bit of the tree whilst blue paint was dripping from the brush into your hair." Within my local community and the surrounding shires, I’m soothed by the sight of blue trees aligning the roads. Though each tree is unique, they represent a movement from regional Australians to recognise and tackle poor mental health from social isolation and get the resources our communities need. It was in Mukinbudin, a small Western Australian country town almost four hours east of Perth, that the Blue Tree Project began. Breaking down the stigma around mental health in regional communities, the Blue Tree Project aims to spread paint and the message that it's okay to not be okay. With over 400 tree counts across Australia, and even in the United Kingdom, the United States and New Zealand, programs like the Blue Tree Project get people talking about why there is a lack of resources within regional communities and how this can be rectified to alleviate a national welfare issue. After making its way to NSW and the Eastern states, what started as a country-kid prank has come to represent a voice from the bush asking for help and support. While I'm not advocating for us to ignore the advice of health professionals and the government, I am asking that the time and compassion we cultivate considers the experiences of Australians who are always isolated, and to support local advocacy groups to ensure that all Australians can remain connected.
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your news week in a peek AUTHOR // OSCAR DUMAS Millennials State Conference Success The boomer-remover (also known as coronavirus) is in place: the motion was passed under the name of ‘Lock, Stock and Domestic Lebensraum’. And the production of Quaranteens are moving ahead fast, rocking mattresses and the latex industry. Scott Morrison Bypasses Government Australian Prime Minister, ScoMo, passes legislation by emergency state powers. He has legalised bat soup in Australia in bid to repel Chinese investors from buying national assets. Logic in Play Toilet Paper Hoarders are Viable for CentreLink Under the shiny new Paranoia Clause, CentreLink will entitle people who have hoarded over 50 rolls of toilet paper to an undisclosed sum payment. Our correspondents tell us this may be up to $2,300, or one select piece of furniture from Kirribilli House. More on free money later.
Schmidt: New Campaign on Freedom of Information Apologies, the ANU Vice-Chancellor couldn’t talk about this. George Orwell Turns in Grave, then Left Unfound Local residents of All Saints’ cemetery experienced a ground tremor on Saturday night. Apparently, it is a common event for Mr. Orwell, a worldly writer opposing totalitarianism, to turn in his grave rather violently. On Sunday morning, the tombstone under which he lay was observed upturned and empty. The Orwell Foundation made a statement: “The time has come for tyranny to go back into its embryo! George is going to put an end to the surveillance state once and for all!”
ARTWORK : ABIGAIL BORDER // 13
Science: Hand Sanitiser In Mouth Cures Blabbermouth “Soon, there will be mandatory hand sanitiser squirts in the mouth of politicians as they enter parliament to combat circumlocution and lies,” reports genius. ANU Sport Press Conference Memos At the ANU Sport press conference, a clan of muscleheads hoisted each other onto a stage like limbs of Sisyphus and chanted together: “We will fight this enemy! They’ve invisibility! We will lift till we are strong! Squat till Corona pleads Zedong!” A risky yet honest move by ANU Sport: they will stay open during this pandemic because they banned COVID-19 from their premises, an unpopular prevention method. More on dumb ways to die later. Plain Sight Investigations Your Money: UniLodge Finance Lost the Plot a Bit
duty of the Services in Finance, and that she dealt with the “wholesale acquisition of market products that are green and dank in hybridity.” Whereas Services in Finance told our reporter to “get the good stuff” from Financial Services. Naturally, our reporter went back to Financial Services and asked: "So where did the money actually go?” Mary Jane of Financial Services told us: “Here is my throw of the dice mister. For years we have been making bank, and smoking dank. We have invested in Mother Nature and if that’s illegal, freedom doesn’t exist. Sorry for my bluntness, that’s just how we roll.”
UniLodge has mischief-ed again. The ignoble student housing company is under scrutiny for misconduct in its financial services.
Upon return, our reporter told us that he “wishes he was Spider-Man” because he “wants love with Mary Jane.”
Seven million dollars, approximately 9/10 of Australia’s current GDP, was “slapped into the vending machine,” claimed rather tipsily by Mary Jane of UniLodge Finance.
More on corporate lawlessness and where the seven million dollars went when we’ve found it.
She purported that, as she was of Financial Services, she could not comment further on the financing of the college as that is the
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#IORESTOACASA AUTHOR // EMILY FURSA Si può sentire l’impatto di COVID-19 in tutto il mondo. Ogni giorno, le persone stanno morendo. Ogni giorno, i dottori e le infermiere stanno mettendo le loro vite in pericolo per aiutare i malati di sopravvivere. La vita quotidiana di oggi è incomprensibile per una persona di sei mesi fa. L’Italia è un paese in cui questa differenza si può vedere davvero. Mentre scrivo, ci sono stati più di 156,000 casi di coronavirus in Italia e più di 20,000 persone hanno perso la vita. Quotidianamente, ogni dottore, ogni infermiera ed anche ogni politico deve fare delle scelte impossibili — scelte che potrebbero diventare la causa della morte di tantissime persone. Chi si sceglie di salvare dalla morte, e chi no? Ci sarà mai una scelta davvero giusta? La vita sembra davvero un universo della distopia. La gente si sta accumulando la carta igienica. La gente si sta accumulando anche la pasta, la carne congelata, i fagioli in scatola. Le fosse comuni sono state scavate in alcuni paesi, perché non c’è più spazio negli obitori. Tante persone hanno perso il posto di lavoro. Non posso parlare per tutta la gente di questo mondo, ma ho paura. Ho paura di che cosa succederà domani, di che cosa leggerò nei giornali, della possibilità che forse mi arriverà una telefonata in cui scoprirò che qualcuno della mia famiglia è morto. Ho paura anche perché mi sento come se ho perso il controllo della mia vita. A causa del fatto che ogni giorno arrivano così tante nuove informazioni e regole nuove, questa pandemia mi ha fatto apprezzare il mondo che ho dato per scontato, soprattutto le cose piccole — per esempio, prendere un caffè al bar, andare ad una festa, ed anche solamente il potere di studiare in biblioteca. Però, questo non è un momento da perdersi nel panico e l’ansia. In qualche modo, la vita — con tutte le sue difficoltà — continua sempre. Nel mondo di oggi, dobbiamo per forza mantenere il contatto (virtuale) con i nostri amici e parenti. Condividendo le nostre esperienze, e facendo il nostro meglio di comunicare, potrà aiutare noi tutti a sentirci un po’ meno soli, un po’ meno indifesi. Per tutto quanto che possa sembrare sdolcinato, dobbiamo contare gli uni sugli altri
durante questi tempi, e ricordare che stiamo vivendo questa cosa tutti insieme. Nello spirito di questo, una studentessa Italiana ha dato il suo punto di vista riguarda il COVID-19, e l’impatto sulla sua vita: “Sono Arianna, una studentessa universitaria di 19 anni e vivo nel nord Italia, ad ora una delle zone più colpite dal COVID-19 . Tutta questa situazione per la maggior parte di noi è stata una cosa improvvisa che nessuno si sarebbe immaginato arrivasse a questo punto. Arrivato il virus tutto è cambiato in maniera molto rapida ma con gravi conseguenza economiche e sanitarie, soprattutto per gli ospedali. Dopo aver dichiarato la quarantena non ci è stato possibile uscire di casa se non per esigenze lavorative, alimentari o sanitarie (farmacia). Parlando da studentessa non ci sono stati gravi problemi riguardo alle lezione perché fortunatamente sin da subito le università si sono attrezzate per poterci far seguire le lezioni online. Vivendo in una piccola cittadina non ci sono state grandi complicazioni, i supermercati fortunatamente non sono stati assaltati e abbiamo tutto il necessario per vivere, non posso dire lo stesso per le città più grandi. Personalmente sono abbastanza preoccupata per la situazione, soprattutto per tutte le persone più anziane ma so che la nostra sanità è molto buona e riuscirà a superare anche questa situazione.” — Arianna Bonelli (L’Università di Verona) Questa pandemia ha unito la gente in tutto il mondo come nessun'altra cosa. Abbiamo tutti le stesse esperienze, e tutte le nostre vite sono state completamente cambiate. Per la salute e la sicurezza di tutti noi, dobbiamo stare attenti e fare la nostra parte, e soprattutto dobbiamo rispettare le regole attuali per quanto riguarda il distanziamento sociale. Forse ora non si riesce a capire l’impatto delle proprie azioni, ma ogni cosa che si fa conta davvero tantissimo. Durante i giorni come questi, è molto facile pensare che non si può fare niente per aiutare. Ma c’è una cosa che possiamo fare: restare a casa.
ARTWORK : BONNIE BURNS // 15
#ISTAYHOME AUTHOR // EMILY FURSA The impact of COVID-19 has been felt around the world. Every day, people are dying. Every day, doctors and nurses are putting their lives on the line in an effort to help the ill survive. The realities of today would be incomprehensible for a person six months ago. A country where this is hauntingly evident is Italy. As I write this, there have been over 156,000 cases of COVID-19 in Italy and over 20,000 deaths. On a daily basis, every doctor, every nurse, and every politician are making impossible decisions — decisions that could potentially cause the death of thousands of people. How does one decide who to save? Is there ever a right choice? Life really does seem to feel like a dystopian universe. People are hoarding toilet paper. They are stockpiling pasta, frozen meat and canned beans. Mass graves are being dug in some countries, as morgues are at capacity. People are losing their jobs, en masse. I can’t speak for everybody in this world, but I’m scared. I’m scared for what tomorrow will bring, of what I’ll hear on the news, of getting the dreaded phone-call that someone in my family has died. I’m also scared because it feels like I’ve lost control over my own life. Being inundated with new information and new restrictions every day, this pandemic has caused me to appreciate the world that I took for granted, especially the little things — like going out for a coffee or to a party or just studying in the library. However, we must not give in to feelings of panic and anxiety. After all, life, with all its difficulties, always continues somehow. Right now, it is more important than ever to keep in (virtual) contact with our friends and family around the world. Sharing our experiences, and doing our best to keep communicating, has the potential to help all of us to feel a little less alone, a little less helpless. As cheesy as it sounds, we are all in this together. In the spirit of this, an Italian university student gave a statement on COVID-19, and its effect on her life: “I’m Arianna, a 19 year-old university student from the north of Italy, currently one of the zones that’s been hit the hardest by COVID-19. For the most part, this entire
situation was a sudden thing that nobody could’ve imagined would get to this point. As a result of the virus, everything has changed in a rapid fashion and with dire economic and health consequences, especially within hospitals. After the declaration of the quarantine, it was not possible for us to leave the house except for work, to buy food, or for medical/health needs. Speaking as a student, there have not been major problems regarding classes as fortunately the universities were equipped and ready for us to use online classes. Living in a small town there have not been major issues, the supermarkets are fortunately still operating and we have everything we need to live, but I can’t say the same for the larger cities. Personally, I am quite worried about the situation, especially for all the elderly people in our population, but I know that our health services are very good and will be able to survive even this situation.” — Arianna Bonelli (University of Verona) This pandemic has united people all over the world like nothing else. We are all experiencing similar things, and our lives have changed completely. For the sake of the health and safety of everyone, we must all do our part and uphold the current social distancing regulations. It might not feel like you’re making an impact, but every choice you make counts. In times like these, it’s easy to feel helpless. But there’s one thing that we can do to help: stay home.
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コロナウイルスの紹介 AUTHOR // KATELYN RIEPON
今、 コロナウイルスのせいでいろいろ大変で すね。いつも手を洗わなければなりないこと を忘れずに!今、オーストラリア国立大学に行 けなくなったからこのエッセイを私の部屋で 書きます。 コロナウイルスについて初めて聞 いたのは日本にいた時です。去年の11月か ら、今年の2月まで、金沢と京都で日本語を勉 強していました。 まず、金沢で一ヶ月間のホー ムステイをしました。毎日、 もちろん、お母さん と日本語で話したので、私の日本語が上手に なりました。 しかし、 まだ、 日本語をもっと勉強 しなければなりません! 金沢でホームステイをした後、私は上海に行 きました。その時、私の友達は上海で学んで いましたので、会いたいと思っていました。た くさん美味しい中華料理を食べたり、お寺を 見たりしました。 もちろん、ディズニーランドに も友達と一緒に行きました。その後、私は一人 で韓国に行きました。私はKポップが大好き だから、韓国に行きたかったです。韓国に一人 でクリスマスを過ごしてしまいました。 でも、 韓国はとても面白くて、綺麗な国なので、私は 大丈夫でした。次、 日本へ戻りました。神戸で もう一人友達に会いました。四日間、一緒に神 戸や大阪や奈良を探検しました。素晴らしい 友達がたくさんいるのは幸運です。 つぎには、京都の立命館大学に行って、 日本 語をもっと勉強しました。オーストラリア帰国 の1ヶ月前のことでした。立命館は本当に楽し かったです。たくさん日本語を学んだし、たく さんの日本人友達が出来たし、色々な伝統的 な活動をしました。 帰国3週間ぐらい前に、 コロナウイルスが世界 の話題になっていきました。毎日、だれもが、 いつもコロナウイルスについて話していまし た。先生やオーストラリアの友達や日本の友 達や店員や私の家族です。皆さま!今でも、 も ちろん、全世界は話しています。今、 ちょっと怖
い時期ですね。京都にいた時も、少し怖かっ たです。毎日、マスクを着用しなければなりま せんでした。大学、 コンビニ、寮、 どこへ行って も、マスクを着ました。そして、大学のスタッフ が何回も私達の体温をチェクしました。私は 帰国したとき、 とても安心になりました。私の 両親も、 とても安心しました。 旅行中、私は私について多くのことを学びま した。 まず、一人旅が好きじゃないです。外国 で私は旅行するとき、友達と経験や思い出を 作りたいです。今回の韓国の旅には一人でし た。面白くて、楽しかったが、少し寂しかった です。次の旅、断然友達と一緒に旅行します。 上海と神戸で友達に会ったのはすばらしかっ た。友達と一緒だったからたっぷり楽しめまし た。たくさん素敵な友達がいるのは幸運です。 家族と自分の家がどれだけ大好きかについて も学びました。 コロナウイルスが広がり始め た時、帰国したかったです。 日本が大好きだ が、 コロナウイルスは怖くてまごつくことがあ りました。けれども、京都で皆は気をつけてく れました。それで安心できました。 皆さんが気をつけたら、間もなく世界は大 丈夫になります。皆さん、 よく手を洗って、 「 social distancing 」をしましょう!
ARTWORK : ELIZA WILLIAMS // 17
INTRODUCTION TO CORONAVIRUS AUTHOR // KATELYN RIEPON
Due to coronavirus, the world is a pretty tough place to be right now. As we all know, always remember to wash your hands! I’m currently writing this in my bedroom, as I cannot physically go to university. The first time I heard about coronavirus, I was actually in Japan. I was studying Japanese in Kanazawa and Kyoto from last November to this February. I was lucky enough to get to live with a Japanese family in a homestay in Kanazawa for the first month. Every day, of course, I had to speak to my host mother in Japanese, so my Japanese improved significantly. However, my Japanese is still not amazing, so I need to continue studying! After my homestay in Kanazawa, I went to Shanghai. I wanted to go meet a friend of mine who was studying in Shanghai. We ate a lot of delicious Chinese food and visited some beautiful Chinese temples. We also went to Disneyland together! After Shanghai, I went to Korea by myself. I wanted to go to Korea because I love K-pop. Due to the timing of my trip, I ended up spending Christmas alone in Korea. That sounds a bit depressing, but Korea is an amazing and beautiful country, so I was fine! After Korea, I returned to Japan. I then met another friend in Kobe! We spent four days together, exploring Kobe, Osaka and Nara together. I'm so lucky to have so many fantastic friends. The last place I went to was Kyoto, to study more Japanese for one month at Ritsumeikan University, after which I returned home to Australia. Ritsumeikan was really fun! I learned a lot of Japanese, made so many Japanese friends, and was lucky enough to be able to participate in various traditional activities. About three weeks before I returned home, coronavirus became a global topic. Every day, it was all anyone could talk about. My teachers, Australian friends back home, Japanese friends, my family, and even shop staff. Literally everyone! Even now, the whole world is still talking about it and nothing else. Which, honestly, is a bit terri-
fying. While I was in Kyoto I started to get more and more nervous and scared from all the talk. Every day I had to wear a mask. We wore masks at university, in convenience stores, in the dormitory, everywhere. Also, the university staff checked our body temperature many times, to make sure none of us had fallen sick. Finally, when I returned home, I was unbelievably relieved. My parents, of course, were also quite relieved to have me back in Australia, at home with them. While travelling, I learnt many things about myself. First, it turns out that I don't really like traveling alone. When I’m traveling abroad, I really want to be able to share my amazing experiences and memories with friends. As I mentioned, I was alone in Korea during this trip. Korea, of course, is amazing and fun, but being by myself was a little lonely. The next trip I take, I will definitely travel with friends. Being able to meet my friends in Shanghai and Kobe was amazing. I probably enjoyed those places the most, not only because they were fantastic cities, but because I was with my friends. I’m incredibly lucky to have so many wonderful friends. I also learned how much I love my family and my home. When the coronavirus crisis escalated, I really wanted to return home. Being in a foreign country during the pandemic was scary and confusing, so I just wanted to be safe in my home country. That being said, everyone was so careful in Kyoto to not spread germs, which I found really comforting. In these times, everyone must always wash their hands and do social distancing — if everyone is careful about spreading germs, the world will be okay soon!
ICARUS AUTHOR // BELLA VACAFLORES
ARTWORK : ELIZA WILLIAMS // 19 CONTENT WARNING: Mental Health On 26 March, The Australian National University published the following statement: “If you live on campus and can go home, now is the time to go”. It was a belated acknowledgement of what was fast becoming reality. Our campus is a diaspora. Already, many students had gone back to their geographical homes. Their families awaited them with open arms. For this reward, they had gladly traded in the freedom that comes with moving out for the mundane stability of home. But for others, the decision wasn’t a simple equation. It was a grim calculus; a negative-sum game between one’s own mental health and the wellbeing of the population at large. This rings particularly true for undergraduates such as Zach*. “I grew up in Sydney,” He starts. “My house there is my home, but it isn’t at the same time”. Zach was one of the few people who decided to stay on campus. The decision made him feel “pretty awful”. Going back to Sydney would have been an unsolicited blow to Zach’s mental health. “To that end, I'm not sure if I have a proper place I'd be able to truly call home”, he writes. But in the same vein, stringent – almost oppressive – social distancing measures made living on-campus an equally depressing prospect. There are many reasons why people may have chosen to move to the Australian National University. Although Canberra may be lacking in the type of cosmopolitanism found in Sydney in Melbourne, it presents a certain kind of appeal. Primarily, the university is the most academically dominant in the nation. But on a secondary and equally potent level, it provides a premature opportunity to leave home. Another student I spoke to, Melissa, described this as “liberating”. For this reason, the de facto closure of residential halls was reason enough for many to leave. The mass exodus of students during the period of uncertainty regarding the future of the university speaks for itself. In The Plague, Albert Camus describes the citizens of a pandemic-afflicted town as being swept by a fear, descending “dewlike, from the greyly shining sky”. So too did our students grow troubled as their fate became increasingly clear; an abrupt isolation from everything they had grown to love about Canberra’s own bleak panoramas. Without the sociable environment of campus life, there was nothing. So, they left. Even for self-proclaimed introverts like Melissa, positive social interactions bring about a nonpareil sense of contentment. “I was just getting used to a lot more of a positive
community and support network that’s a real family rather than a draining one”, she wrote. Melissa tried to stay on campus for as long as she could. Like Zach, she did not want to go back to her family because of the negative impact they had on her mental health. In this sense, the home she was being encouraged to go back to was a far unhealthier alternative to the rapidly emptying college she found herself in. To the university’s credit, they have tried to support the wellbeing of their students as best as they can. At all opportunities they have encouraged us to access emotional and financial support. Nevertheless, the ugly truth remains. A large proportion of students have been forced to return to places they were desperately trying to escape. During the interview process, Melissa confides something in me. We barely know each other – we share a few classes but have never spoken. “I’ve had a lot of thoughts that I thought were over”, she writes. This is an all-too familiar feeling. It is scary how insignificant years and years of self-growth can seem in such uncertain times. It took me weeks before I could shake the feeling that I was being tumbled around in rough water, breathless, unsure which way was up. Is a house a home? Our place of belonging could be far away from what we know. We may not even have found it yet; for all we know, our home is a knockdown in a foreign country. Looks won’t matter, it will be loved for its intrinsic value as a sanctuary from the flux around us. A place where we can be truly liberated. Like most of us, Melissa went back to her family home. As she carried the boxes to her family’s car, she could “practically feel the drainage”. I, too, left with a heavy heart and a half-empty bag. I barely packed enough for a week away, let alone a semester. Most of my textbooks are still on my desk and ah! I just remembered, my indoor plant is probably dead by now. I may not be certain about much but there is one thing I know for sure. And that is that every year – without fail – under the wharf at Manly, the same huddle of penguins appears. From under the waves, they emerge. The birds will come back home in May. That much is true. That much is certain.
20 //
where are you from? AUTHOR // SAFIA KHAN Where are you from? What’s the cultural background of your name? If you are a cultural minority in Australia, I’m sure you are familiar with these sorts of questions. The ways that I’ve heard people respond are varied. Some wittily state that they are from their mother’s womb, or sidestep the question and proclaim that they are (and rightly so) Australian. As an Australian with Bangladeshi heritage, my personal experience of this question has highlighted to me, time and time again, that the default perception is that my brownness indicates that I am Indian. In response I find myself, time and time again, explaining that no, while I do similarly wear a sari as my cultural dress and consume spicy ‘curries’, India is not the only country with brown people. To many people of colour, ill-framed questions and assumptions enquiring into ethnicity are frankly quite cringeworthy. Even though these questions and assumptions are not racist per se, what is uncomfortable and alienating is that questions such as ‘Where are you from?’ really mean ‘Why are you different?’ That is, no matter how much our mothers powder us and berate us for getting darker in the sun, South Asians stick out in Caucasian-dominated Australia like sore brown thumbs. On top of that, experiences of being mislabelled as the wrong cultural background further accentuate that those from more ‘obscure’ countries such as Bangladesh are a minority within a minority. Admittedly, being Indian isn’t too different to my Bangladeshi-Australian cultural experience. I did grow up watching Hindi films, wearing salwar kameez to the mosque and eagerly waiting for house guests to leave in order to sneak a gulab jamun or a samosa (or two or three…) from the kitchen.
The South Asian cultural experience resonates for much of the desi (South Asian) diaspora. Our experience of being raised outside of the motherland can be encapsulated through terms such as ‘Australian Born Confused Desi’ (ABCD) and ‘coconut’. From repeating first grade of Saturday Bengali school to my incapability to cook dhal (if I tried, my rotis probably would not be round either), I knew early on that I fulfilled this stereotype of simultaneously being both too white to be brown and too brown to be white. Despite ongoing struggles in cultural identity, moving away from home to attend ANU definitely helped me to become more comfortable in my South Asian identity. After being one of the handful of non-white students in my school grade, my ANU years marked a transition. For the first time, I had the privilege of being surrounded by a diversity of backgrounds, including South Asians. For the first time, I was able to join a South Asian society in the form of Ekta, perform Bollywood dance and feel comfortable enough to wear a sari or salwar kameez at university events and balls. In late 2018, the launch of the Australian Facebook group Subtle Curry Traits served as a reassurance that no matter where we are in the world, all members of the desi community can bond over shared experiences. The power of such communities has been particularly salient in recent times. Memes, videos and gifs that show the intersection between the desi experience and experience of coping through this COVID-19 pandemic have been a way to maintain mental health and to find humour in the seemingly hopeless situation.
ARTWORK : BONNIE BURNS // 21
Over the past years, the increased representation of South Asians in Western media has also been a way for me to maintain a connection to the desi community. While the early 2000s were characterised by largely stereotypical portrayals such as Apu in The Simpsons and the film Slumdog Millionaire, representation has thankfully expanded into more thoughtful and all-rounded repertoire. In 2015, Bollywood actress Priyanka Chopra starred in the American thriller series Quantico, and became the first South Asian to win a People’s Choice Award for the role. Hasan Minhaj released his Netflix stand-up comedy Homecoming King in 2017, which portrayed his experience as an Indian-Muslim in the United States in a painfully honest, but humorous, way. That same year, Pakistani-American Kumail Nanjiani starred in The Big Sick, a film based on his real-life experiences of navigating cross-cultural dating. Closer to home, ANU alumna Zoya Patel released her memoir No Country Woman, which delved into her multiple identities of being Australian, Indian and Fijian.
Becoming more comfortable with my cultural identity over the last few years has definitely caused a shift in my perspective. Even though I spent the first 22 years of my life putting on an exaggerated bogan accent to assert that ‘I am Australian’ in response to inquisitive questions about my cultural heritage, I have recently realised that as a Bangladeshi-Australian I have an integral role as a purveyor of a minority culture. Even if I call myself a ‘coconut’ and ‘white-washed’, if I don’t correct people who think I’m Indian, no one will. If I don’t correct the oversimplifications surrounding South Asia, no one will. So, in response to your assumptions about where I’m from and if I’m Indian: while I am South Asian, I am not Indian. I am in fact Bangladeshi-Australian – Bangladeshi by ethnicity and Australian by birth. I implore you before automatically labelling a brown person as Indian, Hindu and/ or Hindi speaking, take a step back and evaluate any preconceptions and biases you have surrounding South Asians. Before you ask the question, ‘Where are you from?’ think of how you can better phrase this. At the end of the day, attempts to homogenise and marginalise differences in nationality, culture, language, religion and ethnicity are simply flawed and ignorant. After all, we are all unique individuals with different stories to tell.
CREATIVE
ARTWORK : EMILY O'NEILL // 23
THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN AUTHOR // S. LAZARUS
O sweet girl How young you were just yesterday How small and fleeting you seemed to be Tucked away in a little city So much room to breathe Then you fled on the backs of others To places far and near Kissing everything you could
O sweet girl how far you’ve come
Those you’ve touched so feared
Danced at every party under the sun So soon a household name Rolling off the tongue Leaving us in mourning The wake so cruel and long O sweet girl forgive us We really need you gone
24 //
FIVE DAYS ALONE AUTHOR // PHOEBE LUPTON CONTENT WARNING: Allusions to Alcoholism and Climate Change; Depression; Brief Mention of Death Day 1 I am alone, and I’m okay with it. My alarm goes off at 7am. I sit up from my bed. Then I remember that I don’t have anywhere to go today, so I fall back down. I open my blinds and look out the window. It’s a nice, sunny day outside. Maybe I’ll go for a run later. I get up, have a shower, have breakfast and start work at my desk. I work until 5pm with a break for lunch and a run in-between, like I’d normally do if I went into the office. I channel-surf, have a cup of tea, brush my teeth again and go to bed at 10pm.
Day 2 I am alone, and I think I’m going to get used to it. My alarm goes off at 7am. I turn it off and go straight back to sleep. I wake up at 8am. I got a lot of work done yesterday, so I can afford to sleep in for a bit. I get up, have a shower, have breakfast and start work. I get everything done quickly. To kill time, I go on my phone for a bit. Every post is about crisis, sickness, mass panic. My heart flutters. I’m in the midst of it all. We all are. I try to go for a run, but it ends up just being a walk. Today, my muscles seem heavier, my legs seem weaker, my breathing seems faster. Oh well. We all have bad days. I channel-surf and have a glass of wine. I brush my teeth and go to bed at 10pm, but I can’t sleep. My mind creates stories, images, conversations with my family I might never have. By the time I fall asleep, it’s got to be at least midnight.
ARTWORK : ELIZA WILLIAMS // 25 Day 3
Day 5
I am alone, and it doesn’t feel right. I’ve been in isolation for days now, and while I thought I was used to it, I’m getting cabin fever.
I am alone. I didn’t turn my phone off last night, and now it’s making a buzzing sound. I don’t really want to answer it, but I check it anyway. It’s from Mum:
I jump out of bed and walk outside in my pyjamas. I look up at the sky – the clouds are grey, looming, like the end of the world is coming.
I don’t feel like breakfast. I stay lying on my bed, thinking about all the possible things that could happen in the near future. Everyone could die. The human race might perish with the Earth crumbling underneath us, the Sun exploding above us. This kind of thinking isn’t helpful, but I feel helpless. Mum calls me, but my brain is moving so quickly, my mouth can’t keep up. We make small talk for five minutes, then I make an excuse and hang up. I channel-surf again, not paying attention to anything on the screen. All of the images blur together, people’s voices are simultaneously too loud and too quiet, and my brain just won’t stop moving. I give up and have a nap. I have dinner at 6pm, a glass of wine at 7pm and another three glasses of wine by 8pm. I’m in bed by 9pm. I sleep for what seems like the rest of eternity. Day 4 I am alone and I am in bed, even though it’s midday. Everything seems wrong, like I’m looking into a mirror that distorts your reflection, except nothing’s been exaggerated right now. My life, my present, is my reality. And I don’t know what to do. I go about my day on autopilot. I get tunnel vision, and my legs feel like they’re made of steel. I don’t bother turning on the TV. Mum calls, but I don’t bother answering. What would I say, anyway? While yesterday my brain was running at a million miles per hour, today it’s barely moving a muscle. My stomach cries out for me to eat something, so I make two-minute noodles. I eat it, but my tongue doesn’t register the taste. Afterwards, I eat an apple, hoping it’ll up my energy levels, but I still feel like a zombie. I’m in bed by 9pm. All I want to do is sleep.
Hi darling,
I just wanted to check if everything was okay. You didn’t pick up yesterday. I get the sense you might be depressed. You know you can talk to me anytime. I’m only one phone call away. I love you so much,
Mum xx
I am alone. But maybe, I’m not after all. Maybe, there are people I can rely on to get me and them through this mess. I text Mum back: I am depressed. Everything’s so hard right now, but I’m so grateful to have you.Thank you for all you do, and sorry for not picking up yesterday. Maybe we can talk later today?
Love you. I’ll be okay xx
And for the first time in days, I genuinely believe it.
The Introvert’s Soliloquy AUTHOR // SAMANTHA WONG
ARTWORK : MADDY BROWN // 27
As of this very moment, I have never felt more alive, Because each day I wake up with only me, myself and I. Such a cruel irony, all those peasants, their social lives cut short, Now they can’t hang out with friends, they’ve cancelled all team sports. But I believe, all of my life, I’ve prepared for this day to come, Utopic isolation: I knew there’d be a time when I’d have to see no one. It’s such a rush, to be alone, and with my mighty sword, Battle terrible monsters and RSI from spamming my glowing keyboard. Any sunlight burns my skin, inside the air is damp and close. I soldier on, because here in my bed is where I find comfort most. Netflix is my special place, I binged Tiger King in one day. My dances have made me Tik Tok famous, should I audition for Broadway? I love how all my extrovert friends can’t tell if I’m even jokin’ When I say that there’s nothing more satisfying than saying nothing, because your mic on Zoom is ‘broken’. Social distancing saved my life, and to it I am ever grateful, Cause there’s nothing worse than going out to restaurants: UberEats, give me a plateful! All those people going to Bondi, they must be sick in the head. It’s like they have no self-control, do they want this virus to spread? I just can’t believe someone would want to voluntarily go outside! The internet is so freaking cool and if you need, into those DMs you can slide! Sometimes I wonder if I’ll find someone who too loves the silent abyss, Who likes to stay in bed, reads and bakes, who thinks a life at home is bliss. So, if you’re reading now (you know who you are), and you think it’d be a treat, Please isolate with me, it’s not that hard, and you wouldn’t even have to speak. Cause I am just an introvert, but this I know is true, That if I were to be lonely, I’d only want to be lonely with you.
28 //
the poet AUTHOR // INDY SHEAD CONTENT WARNING: Death The poet is slain she lies in vain, wishing, praying, for that sweet refrain. For years she has craved a breath of salvation her pen lies empty, the words are broken trapped temporary relief. She is crying.
ARTWORK : EMILY O'NEILL // 29
The poet dies, the poet cries around and around we go children on a carousel. We think we escape, but never. Never the poet is silenced. She lives in the shadows forced to write without a sound, her own death note. She is empty. The poet is killed, she lives unfulfilled Sylvia tell Emily, I am on my way home Ophelia calls to me, I can hear her, in the daffodils. We are all one you and I we are soldiers, wading in on the tide searching for the light. For when she is fallen – deep within the flowers, the poet sighs She is free.
30 //
C. A. Brandenburg AUTHOR // EDWARD ANDERSON
When he came to Sydney on exchange from the U. of I. at Urbana–Champaign, C.A. Brandenburg started renting an apartment on Gloucester Street. It was, at the time, near the height of fashion. None of us knew where he got the money for it. There he was wedged between St Patrick’s Church and a long row of what used to be warehouses. Down the street from him was the dormitory of the New York University foreign exchange, where all the American undergrad girls stayed. He was with them often, and soon they all loved him. He was himself of Midwestern extraction — a Peoria sand-hiller who liked to tell people he was from Chicago. I visited him under the pretext of heading uptown for mass at St Patrick’s, but really I came solely for him. When knocking on his door I’d often find him with a girl, and he would tell her to go or bid her stick around, and, “Hear this, my little lovely, you gone little girl, Italo’s here, he’s just taken Holy Mass, look at the Dharmakaya light on him, and listen, listen to Italo,” affecting his Chi-town accent, and he’d have me read from my notebook whatever I was working on writing that week. He would hear his name in my voice and his ears would prick up and his face brighten with unserious vanity.
I called our group the Cadets because we frequented the little Glebe bar-café called The Cadet. It was by following me around that C.A. become ingratiated with us, and soon he adopted us as his foremost exhibit. We became accessories to his all-encompassing self. I was the writer, Delco was the artist, et cetera. We each got used to being introduced to people by him. He curated us. He had taught himself the language of counterculture, and with us he finally had a chance to practise it. He also corralled together an inexhaustible series of square, respectable people, whom he’d introduce to our circle, and after a few times we wouldn’t see them again either because they’d grown weary of our navel-gazing — oh don’t worry about them, they’re squares! — or because C.A. had disposed of them for another group – just wait till you see who I’m bringing next week! “Oh they’re all here, come on over and meet the Cadets — yes that’s what they call themselves, isn’t that beat? This is the real crowd here, the people with their fingers on the pulse.” He said this one night in Kaskade Bar with another New Yorker on his arm, along with her entourage and all their boyfriends, who uniformly dressed and drank like business majors.
ARTWORK : MADDY BROWN // 31
“There is Italo Salmoragho, who is set to become a great writer. And next to him is my friend Painter Delco, who paints” (that part delivered deadpan, without a hint of irony) “and here’s Dave Peukert, Scott Bezjak, Germ Bryggen, Mr Princeton, Mr Novik — he’s miserable — Bruno Serero, Phellype, and Liedesow, who’s trying to break into theatre…” Now, the ‘C’ in C.A. Brandenburg stood for Courtney, a family name, and a rare point about which he felt a sense of shame — rare, because in all other things he was as shameless as a naked animal. So, he introduced himself as ‘C.A.’, or ‘Brandenburg’, or sometimes, mysteriously, as ‘Cal’. His father had been a professional soldier — the Gulf, Somalia, Yugoslavia — who was obsessed by old German nobility, particularly the Hohenzollerns, to whom he believed he was distantly related. C.A.’s mother hailed from Trieste. According to C.A., his father came along sometime after Bosnia and swept her off her feet on one of his grand tours. I had to know him a long time before he would tell me anything like that, and who could say whether or not it was true.
It wasn’t long after I heard that story that C.A. disappeared from all our lives. He took off two months before his exchange was set to run out. No goodbyes. He might have gone back to Illinois, but there were a hundred other places he said he dreamed of going to. He might have gone to New York after one of his girlfriends, or Paris on one of his Poundian sprees. None of us knew. And for a good long while after that, whenever we sat for drinks at The Cadet, or Kaskade, or at Picklock’s over on Crown Street, in the back of our minds, we’d be waiting patiently for him to stride in and show us off to his people.
32 //
entering AUTHOR // RENÉE YOU
CONTENT WARNING: Mental Health, Racism
class in Kuala Lumpur! )” Feng holds his daughter’s shoulders with some pressure.
This story is dedicated to my mother, who always encourages me to read and write and trusts in my ability to write well.
“你要来澳洲陪我!(You should come to Australia to keep me company!)” Xue cuddles her mother and cries.
I have finally sat down to write about what has happened to me the past two weeks (January 17 2020 to February 2 2020). I have finally sat down to face the phantom haunting me and recount the fear, anxiety, alienation, isolation and discrimination Chinese people have encountered since the outbreak of COVID-19 . As I am under strict self-quarantine for 14 days and can’t go anywhere, I have a relatively undisturbed environment to write down these unfathomable fragments.
“以后三,现在肯定不行。(Sure, but not now. ) ” Fang’s eyes are red and filled with tears.
Xue Zhao takes a deep breath in as she walks into the departure hall. She checks in at the counter with her parents Fang and Feng. Fang’s hair is mostly black and curly, with some white hairs. When she smiles, her eyes look like two slender crescents. She wants to walk slowly, but she is pushed by the passing of time. The usually busy airport is now almost empty. Everyone’s face is covered with a mask. Everyone stands apart, keeping a safe distance between themselves and others. Xue looks at the boarding time of her flight to Kuala Lumpur, 3:15PM.
Xue finally enters the first class cabin and sits next to a middle-aged Malaysian man. He stares at his phone for a long time before take off. Xue is too exhausted to keep her eyes open. By the time she wakes up in the middle of the flight, the travel ban policy has been widely circulated on WeChat.
Xue and her parents walk to the border force. She gives her father a cuddle. His smile is warm and strong. “你现在到是逃离疫区了!(Now you are escaping the epidemic country!)” Feng says. “ 这并不是我希望的!(But it is not my will!)” Xue pursed her lips. “ 不要忘记去马来西亚升舱!(Don’t forget to upgrade your second flight to the first-
After passing the border force and security check, Xue tries to connect with the airport WiFi but she can’t. She misses the chance to read the news article her classmate Yingying sent her several minutes ago: Australian President Scott Morrison Restricts People of Republic of China Passport Holders from Entering Australia.
Xue huddles up in the corner with a blanket, looking at the changing clouds from the window. The Malaysian uncle right next to her has fallen asleep, tilting his head towards her. There is only an hour left to reach Malaysia. Feng sends Xue an audio message on WeChat about the travel ban, as well as a news article on this new policy. Xue wants to go to the bathroom. She can hear his gentle snoring. She jumps over his crossed knees, waking him up. She smiles awkwardly. After they land at Kuala Lumpur, Xue connects with the airport WiFi and listens to her dad’s audio message on Wechat. He says: “你大孃刚刚在朋友圈发了这篇关于澳 洲禁止中国人如境的新闻。你到了吉隆坡, 给澳洲海关打一个电话,问问他们明天还可
ARTWORK : EMILY O'NEILL // 33
不可以入境,要是不行的话,你也不用再飞 去澳洲,你在吉隆坡买张机票回家吧!(Your auntie just posted this article about the latest Australian travel ban against Chinese on Wechat moments. You must call the Australian border force and ask them whether you can enter Australia tomorrow in Malaysia. If they say no, you must buy your flight back home in Kuala Lumpur so you don’t waste your time flying all the way to Sydney.) ” Xue loses her sense of direction. She stands in the aisle, blocking the Malaysian uncle. “你需要我帮忙拿你的行李吗? (Do you need help taking your luggage out?)” He asks. “Ummm……yes, please!” While Xue is waiting on a sofa in the airport lounge with a cup of fresh coconut water, her classmate Yingying videocalls her. “雪, 不要去悉尼。你去了也是浪费时间。 我在朋友圈已经看见有人被遣返了!(Xue, don’t go to Sydney! You’d be wasting your time and efforts. I have already seen Chinese students sent back to China!)” Yingying says urgently. Xue hesitates. She doesn’t know what to say. “澳洲海关还会罚你的款!(Australian border force will also fine you after you land in Sydney tomorrow morning!)” Yingying continues. “莹莹,我必须去试一下。你不懂。我已经 出门了,已经在路上了,我明天早上必须要 去试一下!(I must give it a go, Yingying. You don’t understand. I have already left home and on my way. I must give it a try tomorrow morning!)” Xue says. “但是如果你被拒绝的话,你相当于在飞机 上浪费了30个小时,而且还需要自己花钱买
机票回来!(But if you are turned down, you would have wasted 30 hours in the plane and paid for another flight to come home! )” Yingying asserts. “我知道但是我不介意。我本来改签已经 花了3000元。我刚刚升舱又花了5000元。 如果我花了8000元,哪儿也没去到,我会是 这个世界上最大的傻瓜!你难道不明白吗? !这是一场赌博!(I know but I don’t care. Changing my flight to today has already cost me 3000 yuan (600 dollars). I have also just paid 5000 yuan (800 dollars) to upgrade the second leg of my flights. If I just go nowhere with paying 8000 yuan (1400 dollars), I’d be the most stupid person in the world! Don’t you understand?! This is a gamble!)” Xue says. “。。。我只是。。。(…I just…)” Yingying trails off. “我知道你担心我。谢谢你告诉我, 我必 须得去。(I know you worry about me. Thanks for telling me. I’ve got to go.)” Xue says finally. She hunches her back and lowered her head. She covers her face with hands and takes a deep breath. Should I really go? “May I sit down?” The Malaysian uncle points to the seat next to her. “…Sure…” Xue says. “I just saw you upgrading your ticket at the counter. I’m still sitting next to you in 2B. If you need to go to the bathroom during the flight, please let me know. I do not mind getting up at all.” “Thanks a lot.” He smiles like Xue’s father, warm and strong. Xue glances at her watch. There are only 10 minutes left before boarding.
34 //
The Malaysian uncle helps Xue with her luggage, without asking her. She settles on the soft leather seat and puts on her eye cover. God, please, let me enter Australia. Or what else can I do except pay for another ticket to go home?! She doesn’t notice the tears leaking from her eyes. In the plane, Xue thinks about what she should do if she is rejected by a border officer. I can argue with the border officer by saying I have never been to Hubei, nor have I met anyone from Hubei. “I can also say I have spent almost all of the time at my home and did not go out much to the Australian border officer!” She gets excited about how strong her argument will be. “They do not care about what you say.” The Malaysian uncle looks at her. “Did you hear my conversation with my friend in the cabin?” Xue asks. “Yes, sorry. I accidentally overheard your video call. I didn’t do it intentionally. I am sorry again.” His brown skin looks darker in the dim light. His eyelashes cast shadows underneath his eyes. “Try not to worry too much. You can only know whether Australian border force will let you in after you land. All you can do now is have a good rest. Otherwise, was changing the flight worth the money?” His voice is deep and calming. “But what if I can't enter? I don’t want to buy another flight back home.” She asks. “Don’t think too much. I will help you when the situation comes up.” Xue is stunned for a moment. “Thank you. You are very kind.” He gives her two gentle pats on the shoulder. She falls asleep and wakes up when the plane lands at Sydney Airport. She lines up with other passengers, waiting to be examined by the border force. She grips her passport and incoming passenger card tightly. She writes down Malaysia in the column of the flight origin instead of China. Xue squeezes a smile to the poker-faced border officer. He frowns at her dark red PRC passport without even opening it.
“Are you a student?” “Yes.” “…… Ma’am, sorry, you cannot enter Australia because the latest travel ban has already been in effect since yesterday.” He opens his hands and holds his palms against each other. He looks at her like a circus show audience looking at a performing elephant. “But I am NOT from Wuhan, nor have I been in contact with anyone in Wuhan.” “I understand. But I cannot do anything except inform you the time and the price of the next flight to Chengdu.” “But it is unfair! I have been studying in Australia for five years and I will graduate this December.” “Ma’am, you have two options, either purchase the 10PM flight back to Chengdu at 800 dollars or I will have to cancel your student visa and quarantine you in Kangaroo Island for two weeks.” Xue’s eyes are wide open. Humming fills her ears. “Ma’am!” “Oh……okay, please get me a flight back home.” Xue’s face is grim. “Please tap when you are ready,” the officer points to the POS machine. “Di.” The POS machine shows a tick and your payment is successful! Surprised, Xue turns back to see the Malaysian uncle standing behind her. “Why?” She asks him. “Hahaha…… didn’t I tell you I would help you when the situation comes up? My daughter could not finish her studies. You remind me of her.” He says gently. She waves goodbye to him as he passes through border force. The same way she waved goodbye to her father.
CULTURE
36 //
watch with woroni AUTHOR // TARA FINLAY
CONTENT WARNING: Brief Mentions of Stalking, Cults, Suicide, Abortion,STIs, Mental Health, Terrorism, Death, Sexual Assault, Homophobia and Transphobia
The OA
It is a trying time for all of us. Feelings of anxiety, anger and sadness are all normal reactions to the current unprecedented situation. We need now more than ever to be kind to ourselves. Finding something to keep ourselves busy and distracted is so vital for our mental health. Watching Netflix shows can be an excellent distraction. To save the time and effort scrolling through the abyss of Netflix shows, I have compiled a list of binge-worthy hidden gems and popular Netflix TV shows.
I have never watched a show that so enthralled me in its mystic. I am not much of a sci-fi fan, but the ending of the first season of this show had my entire body pulsing with excitement. Season one of The OA follows Prairie or ‘OA’ as she returns home after being missing for seven years and is mysteriously no longer blind. When she forms a group with four outcast boys and a schoolteacher, she recounts bizarre tales of angels, near-death-experiences, time travelling, and celestial movements. While the show defies normal narrative logic and may verge on the side of lunacy, I urge you to take the leap.
Unorthodox
Please Like Me
I recently finished watching this four-part mini-series after binging it in just two days. Esther Shapiro (Esty) is only nineteen when she flees her ultra-orthodox Hasidic Satmar community in Brooklyn, New York and travels to Berlin. The show is based on the bestselling autobiographical novel Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots by Deborah Feldman. The large part Feldman played in the show’s production shines through in its authenticity. I was awed by the beautiful, heavily detailed sets and costumes. If you are looking for a show to sweep you up in its emotions and incredible storyline, then Unorthodox is a mustsee.
WARNING: This show includes themes of suicide and abortion.
WARNING: This show includes themes of marital rape, stalking and cults. Lovesick I have re-watched this hysterical series numerous times. The humour is just so British. After testing positive for chlamydia, Dylan, played by Johnny Flynn, must contact each of his sexual partners to inform them of his diagnosis. It may seem like a weird premise for a TV show, but it is an ingenious device that slowly unravels the dynamics of the friendship between the three main characters Dylan, Evie and Luke. Each episode focuses on a different woman from Dylan’s past as we see his multitude of failed attempts at love. If you need a TV show that will make you laugh as well as include the most accurate depiction of friendships on TV out there, then please watch this piece of brilliance.
I started watching this show with my friends at the end of my first year at university. It was the perfect show to unwind post-exams. Set in the suburbs of Melbourne, Please Like Me is written by and stars Josh Thomas. His geekish charm and light-heartedness is so refreshing even though he deals with serious issues like mental health, sexuality and family issues. The show’s script is very millennial. There’s a sense that none of the characters knows what they are doing in life, but weirdly, this is comforting. One delight you get from binge-watching this series is the opening credits song ‘I’ll be Fine’ by Clairy Browne and the Bangin’ Rackettes. Give it a listen to uplift your mood.
ARTWORK : ABIGAIL BORDER // 37
Peaky Blinders This series is a work of art. The acting, script, costumes, hairstyles (notably the famous Peaky Blinder undercut) will transport you to the gangster world of Birmingham in the late 1910s and early 1920s. Thomas Shelby, played by Cillian Murphy, is the brooding, fearless and intellectual leader of the notorious family gang. Cillian’s acting and chiselled jawline will have you enthralled. The rest of the cast is also incredible. If you want to be swept up in a different era, Peaky Blinders is for you. Bodyguard WARNING: This show features a protagonist who experiences PTSD. This three-part mini-series is one of the most addictive shows out there. The stakes are high, and the drama is intense. The show follows David Budd, played by Richard Madden, a war veteran who now finds himself as a Specialist Protection Officer assigned to protect Home Secretary Julie Montague (Keeley Hawes). Budd must deal with terrorist plots, inside jobs and bomb threats. If you want a show with intense twists and turns, then watch Bodyguard. Brooklyn Nine-Nine There is something so wholesome about this police television comedy. The characters are so loveable and funny that their blunders and mishaps never cease to make me smile. Watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine is always a sure way to put me in a good mood. It is no wonder that, when this show was about to be cancelled in 2019, its viewers rallied together to make sure that NBC would renew the series for a seventh series. If you haven’t watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine yet, then what are you doing? Open your laptop now and give it a go.
Elite This show is suspenseful and dramatic – everything a good teen Spanish drama should be. The show is set at Las Encinas, an elite private school where a teenage girl has been murdered. Everyone has secrets, and everybody is a suspect. You will only be relieved of your intrigue in the final episode where the killer is revealed, and my gosh is it shocking. The series continues for another two seasons where the drama just gets bigger. If you want a show packed to the brim with secrets, teen drama, lies and intense characters, then you will enjoy Elite. Unbelievable WARNING: This show includes themes of sexual assault. If you are into watching crime and detective shows and you haven’t watched Unbelievable, please do. This series is based on the real-life police investigation of serial rapist Marc O’Leary. The first episode follows the story of Marie as she reports her rape, enduring the trauma of recounting her story to multiple people, invasive medical examinations and detectives who doubt her truth. The series is an eye-opening look at how police deal with rape and its aggravating tendency to question the victim. If you want a show that demonstrates the unglamorous and arduous police work that goes into convicting a rapist, I highly recommend this show. Queer Eye This new rebooted series of Queer Eye includes five fabulous men who aim to bring positivity and joy to the world. Each episode focuses on a person, nominated by their family or friends to have their life revamped. It examines various aspects of their life, e.g. hairstyle, dress, style, confidence and environment. You cannot walk away from watching an episode of this show without feeling like you haven’t yourself received a pep talk from Jonathan, the fabulous ice-skating hairdresser. If you want a boost of positivity, then watch Queer Eye.
The Meaning of Life...Maybe: Why Everyone Should Read Watchmen
AUTHOR // ELLIOTT MERCHANT
ARTWORK : ELIZA WILLIAMS // 39
I spent most of my one month at university before the coronavirus struck trying to convince one of my friends to read the graphic novel Watchmen. We made a deal that if she watched or read Watchmen I had to watch The Sound of Music (the worst trade deal of all time). I did my part and gave her my copy of the book. However, no matter how much I hyped it up or how highly I spoke of it she couldn’t bring herself to read it. I am still bitter to this day, especially because I read the Harry Potter books at her request (even though I will admit they are pretty great). I’ve spent a lot of time since wondering why she couldn’t do it. I discovered Watchmen during the summer of 2019/2020 and devoured the 400-page graphic novel in just three days. I was in love. Lucky for me, the TV sequel series ended just as I finished the original and I managed to watch it in the following week, making sure to limit myself to one episode a day, not wanting to run out too soon. The story of Watchmen (both the original and the sequel HBO show) is a masterpiece, and all I wanted to do was share it with everyone I knew and force them to love it as much as I did. This was very, very naïve. My friend told me that she couldn’t bring herself to read a graphic novel (or a ‘comic book’ as she called it) about superheroes. Watchmen is not about superheroes. It is about humanity. Watchmen uses the idea of a world in which superheroes exist to tell a story that transcends class, gender, race and creed. After all, superheroes are nothing more than idealised versions of ourselves – people in brilliant costumes with limitless resources, seemingly superhuman abilities and a brilliance unmatched by any real human being. Who among us hasn’t dreamed of fighting crime like Batman, or doing battle like Wonder Woman, or flying high above the clouds like Superman? Watchmen creates a world in which superheroes or ‘masked vigilantes’ exist, and through the course of the story it asks if a utopia for and by human beings can ever really exist. The world it builds and describes should be perfect as it is filled with people who have the power, intelligence and motivation to do good without
any limitations. Instead, ‘saving the day’ is revealed to be bloody, ugly and disturbing and the closest thing we have to God simply doesn’t care enough to act. Watchmen is about humanity’s struggle with itself and asks: if our goal is to create a perfect world and that utopia is revealed to be a fantasy, or an ugly distortion of itself – do we really deserve to exist? The answer is yes, to that and many more questions that dominate the story and its characters. Watchmen is not only great television and a brilliant read but it offers an escape from our current crisis and would distract anyone from news of restaurants closing, governments in crisis to general misery. But more importantly, by the end of the story (all 400 pages and nine hours of it), it makes an impassioned argument for humanity and will inspire even the most cynical, depressed or disillusioned person to believe that deep down we can find solace in ourselves and that our lives are meaningful, because we live them. In the graphic novel a man with godlike powers chose to save the world, not because of any great government or charismatic leader, not for fame or fortune, but because he is reminded that human beings and their relationships, particularly their capacity for love, defy logic. In the HBO series, the most imaginative yet far-fetched and insane conspiracy theories shouldn’t demand an emotional reaction and yet they do because they are grounded by a love story which seems more human than most real relationships. This is why I struggle when I hear that people choose to avoid Watchmen because they think it’s about superheroes or because they don’t like comic books. I accept that ‘masked vigilantes’ (as Watchmen chooses to refer to them) don’t work for everyone. And I know that comic books are not always easy to read or follow. But Watchmen is both more than the medium which presents it and is made richer for it. Everyone should experience this story. Not because it is a brilliant graphic novel, not because of its breadth of imagination, not even because of its characters or the impact it has had on the world. But simply because it offers hope, and in a time like this, when the world turns upside down, hope is more than enough.
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Jaws: The Greatest Popcorn Thriller of the Century AUTHOR // ELLIOTT MERCHANT
There’s a scene about halfway through Jaws, in which all that happens is the fishing line is caught on something and races off from the boat into the sea. The three main characters are on their boat in the middle of the ocean, trying to find the shark that’s been terrorising their perfect little beachside town since the beginning of the film. The sky is pitch blue, the water is a beautiful sapphire colour and the sun is shining bright. There’s no screaming, no blood and no gunshots – the audience doesn’t even see the shark. Yet the tick, tick, tick of the line running off the boat is one of the scariest moments of the movie. The titular evil of the film doesn’t even show his face and yet the tick, tick, tick of the line and the ominous music implies that we don’t need to see him to be scared. The characters, all battle-hardened strong men who know fear, are terrified by the tick, tick, tick of the line. The line snaps and whatever was on the other end swims away, leaving them and the audience terrified. It’s this all-encompassing sense of terror and dread that makes Jaws the greatest popcorn thriller of all time. The film makes weapons of fear and tension to use against the audience, so that terror leaks into every scene. Jaws is spectacular in its simplicity – technically brilliant and emotionally resonant. It is a plain man against nature story as a small town, shell-shocked by a series of violent shark attacks, rushes to kill the beast before it makes the town uninhabitable due to the paralysing fear it inspires. The film is completely over-the-top and its premise is extraordinarily improbable, and yet it feels more real and pressing than the news. It is not only the most entertaining film of the 20th century but it also resonates as a film about political corruption, bravery and sacrifice for the greater good. It will not only make you think that there are killer sharks in your bathtub, but it might also give you hope in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic. One thoroughly dull Saturday, I decided that I could be wasting my time better and looked for a movie on Netflix that would completely take my mind off isolation and the four assessments I hadn’t started yet. After about 10 minutes of flicking through tedious Netflix originals, I found Jaws. I had
heard about it before from my parents, and I remembered my mum telling me she went to see it when she was 10 and didn’t go swimming again until she was 12. I doubted that a movie made when Nixon was president could be that scary. I was very very wrong. The film absolutely terrified me, my knuckles went white in almost every scene as I grabbed a hold of whatever I could. As terrified as I was, I never looked away from the screen. I never paused the film once. I was caught, hook line and sinker, in the terror that hangs over every scene in the film. And yet, it was one of the best experiences I have ever had watching a movie. I envied my parents for being able to have seen it in the cinema 45 years ago. Jaws builds this incredible sense of fear and tension that never dissipates, and it stays with the audience right up until the last 60 seconds of the film. The audience doesn’t even see the shark until the halfway mark, after several people have been devoured in front of them. The shark doesn’t show its face until the third act, and even then it only adds to the tension and terror that has been building since the beginning of the movie. The film’s setting and its characters contribute to the dread it leaves with the audience after they exit the cinema. Jaws is set in the fictional beach-town of ‘Amity Island’, a beautiful, sunny, small little village with a skeleton police force and an eccentric mayor where everyone knows everybody else. Steven Spielberg, the film’s director, (this was only his second film) wanted the audience to believe that what happens in the movie could happen anywhere and made the characters and the setting as ordinary as possible. The brilliant juxtaposition of the ordinary with the supernatural is made all the better by the simple, yet complicated, main characters. Martin Brody, the town’s new police chief, is quiet, cautious and capable but has a fear of water and Captain Quint, seemingly the town’s saviour, is like any small-town crank but is traumatised by a shark attack that left him terrified decades ago. All of this makes Jaws the most entertaining film of the 20th century, and it will make you completely forget about all of your worries and troubles as you become immersed in the world of Amity Island. But, despite its
ARTWORK : SIAN WILLIAMS // 41 technical brilliance and the fear it leaves people with long after they leave the cinema, Jaws is also a brilliant political thriller and ethical drama, modelling the crisis we now face in more ways than one. Made during a time when the American public were increasingly sceptical of the government and their leaders (Jaws was released only a year after the Watergate scandal), some have suggested that the true evil in Jaws is the Mayor of Amity Island and his corruption, not the shark. Even after three people are killed, docks are destroyed and boats are sunk, the mayor refuses to close the beaches despite the obvious threat to public safety. He’s characterised as a mercurial man, with his polished Kennedy-style hair and eccentric suit and tie covered in anchors. He insists that he is serving the interests of his town by keeping the beaches open, as without tourists flocking to the island the town would face economic collapse. This is despite a huge threat to public safety which he is willing to ignore in the interest of ‘summer dollars’, on which the town relies. The beaches remain open and the mayor eventually relents, but only after he has seen the shark with his own eyes. There is more than a little relevance in that to the crisis we face today with COVID-19. In the film, the government refuses to close down a crucial part of its economy in the face of a grave public safety threat. The town remains open, people die and the government only relents after it has been
proven wrong. I can’t help comparing the Mayor and his administration to President Trump and his government, which refused to shut down the United States in the face of a grave threat to public health for fear of economic collapse. Only after the crisis hit and people started dying did the United States government offer a halfway decent response, still insisting that the economy would reopen by Easter. The Mayor of Amity Island, like President Trump, ignored the experts and all the evidence and appeared to be focused more on the survival of his political career than the survival of his citizens. But in the end (of Jaws at least), despite the government’s negligence, a mismatched and disparate group of people come together and slay the beast in one of the greatest endings in cinematic history. If we all do our part, we might yet do the same. Jaws is technically brilliant and masterfully crafted, making thousands terrified of the water 45 years after it was first released. Its ability to shock and frighten means that it grabs hold of the audience and never lets go, making it a fantastic watch for anyone in need of a dazzling distraction. Its parallel to the COVID-19 pandemic, while loose, might inspire a bit of hope as despite all the fear, tension, angst and suffering, the hero slays the beast and saves the town. A film well worth the subsequent aversion to water, Jaws will stand the test of time as a flawless popcorn thriller with lessons about trauma, corruption and bravery lying just beneath the surface.
42 // ARTWORK : SIAN WILLIAMS
The Con(i)solations of Flânerie AUTHOR // JULIETTE BROWN Say what you want about Prime Minister Scott Morrison (ScoMo), but he has managed to implement widespread lockdown laws, whilst safeguarding one of Australia’s most quintessential cultural pursuits – looking hot for summer. A saving grace of social distancing laws has been the ability to go outside for exercise, either alone or in small family groups. One need only wander Canberra’s many lake-fringed or tree-lined paths around dusk to see that everyone is indulging in this exception to its fullest (arguably negating the very concept of ‘social distancing’, but I hypocritically digress). The lush and sun-spangled paths from Turner to Dickson are bustling with solo cyclists, jogging duos and lovey couples strolling hand in hand, getting fit or purely just getting outside for the first time that day. I too have been partaking in my fair share of #hotgirlsofa workouts, but my favourite thing to do during isolation has been to go for a leisurely stroll through the park and along the verdant, suburban streets, breathing in the rustling quiet and the enigmatic appearances of my fellow iso-wanderers (metaphorically, that is. I am most definitely holding my breath as I walk past them.) Maybe it’s because they are the first and only people I will see that day apart from my housemates – who are basically my weird, extra limbs at this point – or maybe it’s because we share a deeply intertwined, but necessarily distanced, human experience. But the diverse and mysterious Canberrans I see during my people-watching expeditions suddenly have a rarefied quality about them. Who are they? What are their stories? What was happening in their lives before they got thrust into lockdown? What existential crises did they have that day? What indulgent, upper-middle-class hobbies have they taken up that they are inevitably shit at? Didn’t I swipe right on them on Bumble? Look at that stride! Why didn’t I message them within the allotted 24-hour period?? With all these pedestrian meditations, I started to feel a bit like a flâneur. The term was coined by Baudelaire in the 19th Century in reference to the high-society men of Paris who would saunter along the cosmopolitan streets, observing and reflecting
on modern urban life. More broadly, the flâneur was a vehicular concept through which thinkers could conceptualise the modernist word. The flâneur was both a product and agent of the shocking novelty of modern cities. Intense change, the ramping up of capitalism and the freedom opened up to all classes to forge intricate, independent and elusive paths called for a curious examination of the psychogeographic landscape by the privileged. Now, when I think of Canberra, ‘shocking novelty’ is not the phrase that comes to mind. Yet, the complete upheaval of peoples’ lives caused by COVID-19 rivals that of modernity, especially in its precipitance. This leads strollers, who are fortunate enough to be healthy at this time, to take in their 1.5 metered subjects a little more keenly, a little more sharply, with a certain anthropological inquisitiveness. Like the flâneur, they seek to distinguish ‘the eternal from the transitory’ – what they can learn about the human experience from each individual’s outfit, expressions, (eavesdropped) anxieties; how far they veer into the bushes when another person walks past them; who’s coughing; and so on. The flâneur similarly looked for the ‘poetic in the historical’: for the strong instincts of a community resisting the apocalyptic pall of alienation, expressed in a smile at a stranger along the path or in the dropping of flyers for mutual aid groups in letterboxes. In line with the rise of capitalism, the flâneur also saw the world through an economic lens, in which we are all commodities, ‘selling ourselves to strangers’. Similarly, I feel myself abruptly turning and fixating on people as they walk past, voyeuristically consuming them because new people are so scarce in my life right now. So, as I open my gate at the end of my walk and re-enter my apartmentalised world of Zoom, Netflix and news announcements, I get to feel a small moment of sunny transcendence ‘temporarily overcoming’ the weariness and overwhelming dislocation felt around the world due to this crisis. The flâneur considered everyone in modern society to be a colourful, confused, wandering ‘refuse’. We are ‘all alone, together’.
ARTWORK : MADDY BROWN // 43
WHEN THE WORLD STOPS TURNING AUTHOR // ANÉ VAN WYK It’s in the depths of chaos and uncertainty where human nature is revealed in its true and naked form. It is then that we can see the extent of our compassion, and desire to help and protect the survival of others. In times of unrest emotions grow and overflow, consuming the mind and spilling into one's words and touches. Changing from a comforting hand to a brutal fist – building up or tearing down. In no clearer picture will the selfless and selfish be revealed, both those who think no further than their own survival and those who know they are not alone in their suffering. You will learn to spot the optimist from the pessimist, the idealist from the realist. Those who thrive when the pressure grows, and those who shatter and fade like dust swept up by the wind. In such uncertainty, there is only so much we can ever do. This is a universe much bigger than ourselves, with a stronger grip on fate than we could ever wish to hold. You can never be more than you are. You will never achieve feats greater than those with your own two hands and feet. But perhaps there is more power in that than most people think. Perhaps, in times of strife, that is the only certainty you need. So, where will you look when it seems like all the light of the world has begun to fade? Will you be consumed by the darkness or will you find the light, never truly gone but merely tucked away? Perhaps we are small, a single drop of water in an ocean or a leaf drifting to a forest floor, but we are also one
of many. Who said that the burden has to be one's own? Who said we can't all shoulder the weight together, that where one falls short another can stand tall? When you realise the power you have as one individual, you can realise the power the world has as one united force. There will always be calamity – forces beyond our control and a fate we can never foresee. But we also have a voice that can offer comfort. When we hear a voice cry out, "I'm scared," we have the power to reply: "I'm scared too." There will come a day when the world realigns and a rhythm forms once more. The sun will set and the sun will rise, and the world will spin on. No season lasts forever, no point in history has ever remained the same. Perhaps it won't look the same as we once knew it to be, but it will heal. Like new life after months of burning, like spring after a winter’s day or a rainbow after a midsummer rain. Until then, smile when you can, stand up when you fall and keep moving forward. Because after all, tomorrow is only a day away, and with it, perhaps something better than before.
ARTWORK: BONNIE BURNS // 45
Wholesome Memes for Isolated Teens AUTHOR // JACINTA MACGINLEY During the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918, the fabric of civil society disintegrated. Misinformation about the virus created a climate of generalised suspicion that eroded community bonds. Sick families starved to death because neighbours were too scared to bring them food. Corpses were left on the footpath, while children bet on who would die next. People lived in fear and isolation. Having closely followed the news of the COVID-19 outbreak and the isolation measures imposed by the Government, I initially wondered whether Australia was destined for a similar fate: a society spiralling into discord and mistrust. Racism prompted by the ‘Chinese Virus’. Health care workers abused on the street. Brawls over toilet paper in Woolworths. However, as a classic Gen Zer who spends approximately 14 hours a day on the internet, I have seen that social distance does not mean social discord. Although some community behaviour has been reprehensible (stop panic buying!), the internet offers a social adhesive: memes. In a time of isolation and uncertainty, memes have brought a significant portion of Australian society together. From videos of people socialising with their plants, to memes about Animal Crossing, binge watching Tiger King and offensive quarantine haircuts, there is comfort in knowing others are adopting the same (maybe slightly unhealthy) coping mechanisms. By framing frustrations with the virus and its ripple effects (like long Centrelink wait times and missing the homies) in a humorous light, we can acknowledge how difficult this pandemic is while remaining positive. Such memes have created a strong sense of community that will persist in the future. Indeed, I am already excited to attend the Facebook
Event ‘Sydney’s Biggest Ever Group Hug’ with 3000 others in October. Meme culture has also encouraged compliance with the Government’s social distancing measures. It is now trendy to watch ‘Quentin Quarantino’ films with friends online, or drink ‘Quarantinis’ via webcam. People compete to have the funniest Zoom backgrounds, party in virtual nightclubs, participate in Instagram challenges and make Tik Toks with family members. ‘Bin Isolation Outing’ is a particularly popular Facebook group where households dress up and film themselves taking out their wheelie bin, given the bins now ‘go out’ more often than their owners. Such trends promote social distancing, with individuals granted access to this vibrant online community only when they create and upload content from home. Unlike during the Spanish flu period, we now have the internet to keep us connected. The outbreak of COVID-19 has seen meme culture evolve from that of trivial humour to a powerful force that facilitates both social distancing and social cohesion. Although COVID-19 news is often bleak, memes allow us to relate to and connect with one another during this unprecedented period. To quote Camus’ The Plague, “What we learn in a time of pestilence [is] that there are more things to admire in men than to despise.” The unwavering human spirit, expressed through memes, is definitely something to admire.
ARTWORK : MADDIE BROWN // 47
practice makes picasso AUTHOR // BRIANNA HAMMERSCHMID Staying at home for an indefinite amount of time is difficult for anyone in a world of constant socialising and stimulation. As we settle in to avoid spreading COVID-19, finding ways to entertain ourselves becomes a challenge. When we’ve run out of Netflix to watch, people to FaceTime and places to clean, we start getting creative. For the naturally artistic people, it’s a walk in the park to produce an aesthetically pleasing piece of art. But what about for the rest of us? What about for those of us who feel like everything we draw or paint looks like it was done by a 10-year-old? Can we ever improve our skills, or is it just a talent with which some are naturally born? Before delving into this topic, I think we should discuss what constitutes ‘art’ (arguably excluding tracing or painting on a predrawn stencil outline). Art requires some form of creation with a degree of originality, either in the inspiration behind the piece or through the artist’s unique style and technique. This is why modern paintings portraying a blank white canvas or merely depicting something as simple as a black dot are considered ‘art’ and displayed in public galleries. Because, yes, even though you could easily paint the same thing, you didn’t come up with the idea. The question of whether artistic ability is something innate or something that can be learnt has been extensively researched by Rebecca Chamberlain, a psychologist from the University of London. In the nature-nurture debate, Chamberlain found that there does appear to be a ‘substantial genetic component’ in drawing ability in the form of personality variables, such as motivation. These play an important role in ‘the development of expertise’ and openness to experience, which was linked to ‘realistic and expressive drawing ability’. So yes, genetics do play a role in drawing and painting proficiency.
But don’t give up hope. Artistic ability comes from personality factors, in conjunction with ‘the quality and quantity of practice’. But before you start practicing drawing or painting for hours on end, it’s important to know that, as Chamberlain says, “Practice alone is not sufficient for the development of expertise unless it is associated with flexible use of various techniques.” It’s important to focus not only on improving your current skills, but on developing different strategies and approaches to your artistic goals. Fortunately for us, this is something that’s currently very easy to do within the confines of our homes. Virtual art classes are being offered for free by institutions such as the National Gallery of Victoria and even the Museum of Modern Art, with topics ranging from drawing the human figure to fashion design. With access to resources like this at your fingertips, plenty of time on your hands and now knowing that practice plays a major role in developing your artistic ability, what’s holding you back? It should only be a matter of time before your isolation space begins to fill with hard-earned masterpieces. Virtual Classes: https://www.moma.org/research-and-learning/classes https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/multimedia/ drop-by-drawing-with-lily-mae-martin/
taking back the isolated self AUTHOR // ANONYMOUS
ARTWORK : ELIZA WILLIAMS // 49
CONTENT WARNING: Mental Health “If you do not first lighten yourself and your soul of the weight of your burdens, moving about will only increase their pressure on you. A ship’s cargo is less troublesome when lashed in place.” – Montaigne, On Solitude. In times of crisis, I always find I return to books that comforted me as I was growing up. Last week, in a state of absolute boredom, I pored over my old and dusty shelves in search of anything that might provide some comfort or reprise from the chaos that has been caused by the recent pandemic. A novel – an Austen, or Lewis, or Tolkien. But what caught my eye was the complete opposite: a book about philosophy. A book on isolation. A book that, instead of providing an escape, forced me to confront my situation very directly. This was Montaigne’s On Solitude, which I have quoted briefly above. It’s not particularly long – the section on being alone spans 20 pages – but it is nonetheless relevant and potent. In a sentence, Montaigne quietly suggests that the calamity and chaos of the outside world isn’t just outside of us, it is something that is brought inside of us and manifests in our anxious mindsets and behaviours. This is not to downplay the severity of the situation – I am one of many who has been put in a difficult situation with rent, income and the like. Rather, Montaigne is asking us to focus on how the world's affairs are affecting us. How is COVID-19 exacerbating our fears – and sometimes our biases – to bring about negativity? We’ve seen horrendous instances of racism, as well as excessive stockpiling of essentials, which has taken away resources from those vulnerable members of our community that can only afford to buy week by week. COVID-19 did not cause this. Our thoughts and beliefs about COVID-19 did – and that is precisely what Montaigne invites us to challenge. When we are alone with ourselves, we are uniquely positioned to interrogate and consider our own thoughts. It is an opportunity for us to remove ourselves from the bustle of everyday life and reflect deeply on how we are internalising and projecting our feelings into the world. In his words, “It is our own self we have to isolate and take back into possession.”
Over the past few weeks, I have tried to take this advice on board. Rather than ruminating in my sadness from having my life disrupted, I have realised that those feelings of hopelessness and despondency are caused by me. They have resulted due to my choice to view my predicament as a disaster rather than an opportunity. Now, I won’t pretend that this realisation made everything better. Far from it. But what I did find is that viewing isolation as an opportunity gave way to a more productive mindset. I’ve decided to see isolation as a gift, a rare chance to make good on all the promises that I made to myself. One of these was to spend my time with my cousin. He has Asperger’s syndrome and often has trouble socialising with people, but one thing he adores is the gym. He loves talking about CrossFit, WWE Wrestling and MMA. I’ve told myself for the longest time that I would work on a fitness project with him, but it never eventuated. Until now. Together, we’ve built a home gym that we use most days. He teaches me bits and pieces about fighting (he’s a brown belt) that I can use if I’m ever in a situation where I need to defend myself (watch out Mooseheads). In return, I’ve taught him how to correct his form for certain exercises in the gym. In its own way, it’s been a blessing and has brought our family closer. As time goes on, there will certainly be ups and downs with isolation and COVID-19. I don’t believe I’ll navigate these perfectly. But what I do believe is that a focus on what I can control rather than what I can’t control will situate me best for whatever happens. “So we must bring her back, haul her back, into our self. That is true solitude. It can be enjoyed in towns and in kings’ courts, but more conveniently, apart.”
DISCOVERY
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Politics, Economics and COVID-19 AUTHOR // ELLIOTT MERCHANT In January, it was fire and smoke. Now, it is silence and emptiness. In February, a month before Australia closed down, the chemist I work in was flooded with people buying masks and hand sanitiser. Every second person would ask for both and leave with thirty masks and five bottles of 70 per cent alcohol solution. We had to scramble to put limits on the amount people could buy and fight to secure stock that might be the next thing people decide they needed to hoard. We had people asking for toilet paper, pasta and things you would never imagine would be sold at a little chemist on the side of Northbourne Avenue. Of the little conversation I had with customers all they talked about was the virus, who was responsible for it, how the government was responding to it and above all, how afraid of it they were. Even then, on the cusp of a nation-wide lockdown, I didn’t believe it would get this bad. I, like many others, assumed that these people were overreacting and that the world had changed and grown so strong that another pandemic like the one in 1919 could be easily and swiftly crushed. But then, one by one, my friends started to go home, my brothers came back from university and people seemed to vanish off the streets of Civic like they were never there. The night shift feels much longer now, and 7pm could be midnight. The people that do come in leave quickly and the front counter is cleaned so many times that it reeks of bleach and alcohol. And despite all this, I am far luckier than most. The contagious, unpredictable and insidious nature of COVID-19 has meant that the only real way to fight the spread of the virus and save lives is for all of us, save some
essential healthcare workers, to isolate in our homes for as long as necessary. This has killed most small businesses. CafÊs, restaurants, bars, clubs, corner-stores and cinemas have all closed down as COVID-19 has taken their customers and their workers away. There is no way to run a restaurant knowing that in a time like this. All it would take would be for one person, chef, waiter or customer to infect the 100 other people who happened to be in that night. This same fear has meant that shopping malls, financial districts and recreational centres have all but shut down. Those that haven’t had skeleton staff have had people working from home. Hours have been cut, benefits slashed and wages reduced, depressing business activity. The COVID-19 has created a vicious economic cycle where businesses, who need trading and finance to operate, are cutting costs due to decreased revenue by laying people off. This in turn decreases the spending power of those workers who also serve the economy as consumers, further depressing revenue and decreasing the amount companies and individuals can pay to the government in tax. Even though the official state of the economy will not be formally announced for some time, we are already seeing signs of the economic free-fall that COVID-19 will bring. The unemployment rate is forecast to reach 11 per cent by June, with some saying it could climb as high as 17 per cent. This is more than five per cent higher than the highest level recorded in Australia in modern times. The American Government has been advised that unemployment in the United States could reach 25 per cent by June, an increase of 22 per cent since February. This would be the highest rate of unemployment the United States has
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ever experienced, outdoing even the Great Depression. The Australian Government has predicted that the economy will shrink by almost 10 per cent by September, and that gross debt will reach $300 billion by the end of the year. The International Monetary Fund has predicted that 2020 will see the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression. The world is past the point of preventing a recession. The only focus of politicians, economists and experts around the world is on stopping another Great Depression, which would take decades to recover from. Recessions can be brief and are generally localised to certain countries or, at worst, certain regions of the world. Those who have lost their jobs during recessions will probably have jobs again during their working lives. Depressions are world-wide, and the scars linger for generations. Most of the people who lose their jobs during a depression will never work again, such is the damage that these economic events do to workers and their families. Since the dawn of the 20th century, the world has faced many crises similar to the one which presents itself to us now. In 1919, just after World War I, the world was plagued by the Spanish Flu, a pandemic similar to COVID-19 which infected over a quarter of the world’s population and froze post-war reconstruction before it began. The 1930s saw the Great Depression, which brought with it 25 per cent global unemployment and the steepest decline in living standards since records began. The world economy shrank by 15 per cent, and international trade halved. The effects of this global economic crash would last up until the start of World War II. Almost 70 years later in 2008, the world faced another economic collapse when the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) hit. Global Gross Domestic Product (GDP) shrank by one per cent, and governments passed unprecedented stimulus measures to bailout the big banks and stop the financial system from collapsing in on itself. The world survived each of these
crises, but its politics and governance were forever changed. Each time the world has overcome an economic crisis like the one we are facing now, a political and ideological realignment has taken place. In the 1930s after the onset of the Great Depression, the United States elected Franklin D. Roosevelt as president on the promise of a ‘New Deal’. This created social security as we know it today, and it led to the vast and unprecedented involvement of the federal government in the economy. The success of Roosevelt’s policies and the economic recovery that he delivered redefined political life in the United States for more than 50 years. Politics became split between those who favoured big government and those who wanted small government. Roosevelt went on to govern for 12 years, and his successors contributed to the expansion of civil rights, Medicare, Medicaid, government housing and the minimum wage. The GFC split global politics on another dividing line. The greed and stupidity of the big banks, responsible for the world’s access to finance and credit, were bailed out by governments around the world from the brink of collapse. In the United States, despite these trillion dollar bailouts, the crisis, compounded by the loss of jobs due to the expansion of international trade, led to a deep recession. People lost their jobs in factories all throughout the industrial Midwest, while rich bankers all down Wall Street kept their jobs and seemed better for the crisis. The resentment towards these institutions and the federal government for protecting them has given birth to the anti-government, anti-elite populism which has taken over our politics. From President Donald Trump and Bernie in the United States, to Pauline Hanson and Prime Minister Scott Morrison at home, politics is now defined by an aversion to big government. The GFC seemed to tell people that the government would bailout billionaires and their banks before they would save ordinary people.
ARTWORK : EMILY O'NEILL // 53
Now, we are faced with a crisis not borne in economic mismanagement or financial greed but in the deterioration of public health. This virus threatens to infect most of the world if we don’t put our lives and our economies on hold. The world will survive, but what will life look like on the other side? Will our politics change? Will our economy recover? This crisis has required fast, efficient and coherent decisions, made by those who we trust on issues of public health, emergency governance and economic recovery. The response of the United States represents a unique failure to provide the leadership that the world and the American people need. The administration has surrendered all its authority to an ill-informed and narcissistic demagogue, who believes that he knows more about the pandemic than the doctors and nurses on the front lines. The president and his advisers are a direct result of the anti-elite populism, which was created in the aftermath of the GFC. By contrast, Australia has allowed its experts to run the response, taking the advice of people who are trained and educated to prepare for an event like this. Australia’s response has been slow and evolving but ultimately effective, and it has no doubt saved lives. Our government has never claimed to know more than the experts and at no point has the prime minister downplayed the threat of this virus, nor the effect that it will have on the economy. The Australian economy will recover. Governments all around the world will move towards heavy intervention, like they did in the 1930s, to stimulate the economy and rebuild the workforce. A shift in our politics towards government and away from universally free markets and populism will see the government take more responsibility for the economy. The key role of the government in the aftermath of this crisis will be job creation, and we might see a return to the goal of full employment for the first time since the 1940s. Getting people back to work will reignite the economy by increasing incomes and creating more disposable
income for consumers, catalysing spending. This could see the government proposing massive infrastructure projects and creating new manufacturing industries to increase employment. A government funded and supported full employment strategy could see people who have lost their jobs due to COVID-19 find new ones without waiting years and having to acquire new qualifications. After this crisis has passed, with any luck (and I realise saying this in 2020 is a bit pointless) our politics and our economies will change for the good. Governments will use the opportunities that this crisis presents to build a better world. One day soon, people will come back to the restaurants, bars, clubs and shops they love and be reunited with their friends and family. People will (finally) stop buying hand sanitiser, we will meet again and 7pm won’t feel like midnight anymore.
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DO AS DEMANDED AND AUTHORISED
Authoritarianism is the Virus AUTHOR // ANNABELLE VAN RAALTE
CONTENT WARNING: Racism I don’t know about you, but I regularly fantasise about being a dictator. While wholeheartedly believing in the values of democracy, I do sometimes think it would be nice if I could click my fingers and make a few things happen. I want to protect the Great Barrier Reef. I want to make genuine amends with First Nations Australians. I want to invest in renewable energy, provide free healthcare for everyone and have a world class national curriculum. And I wish, wish, wish most governments had been quicker and more serious in responding to the outbreak of COVID-19. Democracy is inherently inefficient. A large amount of to-ing and fro-ing usually has to take place before anything gets done. Now that I have so much extra time for social media and internet trolling, I’ve heard a lot of talk about how authoritarian governments have been more successful at dealing with the coronavirus. This stems from the idea that they can crack down on it (and their populations) more harshly. I suppose this prompted my return to fantasies of a utopian dictatorship – with myself at the head. Nevertheless, I contend that it is not actually regime type which defines success in clamping down on COVID-19. Authoritarianism has responded in some very problematic and self-serving ways to the outbreak of the virus. Firstly, authoritarianism is not a necessary factor to successfully contain the virus,
demonstrated by the firm responses of South Korea and Taiwan. Both democratic countries acted promptly with early travel restrictions and began testing and isolating positive cases immediately. The common denominator here is a strong state capacity, which comprises effective systems of bureaucracy, public infrastructure and centralised political power at the national level. Whilst cases in Europe and the United States skyrocket, South Korea and Taiwan at the time of writing have much fewer cases relative to the size of their populations, performed a significantly higher number of tests and suffered relatively fewer deaths. As of today (Tuesday 14 April), Taiwan has had only 393 cases, but performed 47,215 tests. Hence, some democracies have performed exceptionally well, whilst others have failed miserably. Similarly, some authoritarian governments had successes, whilst others performed like a toddler trying to drive a car. Singapore (despite its recent miscalculations) was off to a very effective start, with strict quarantine rules and contact tracing. The global spread of the virus was arguably due to China’s decentralisation of power and incentives for the regional government in Wuhan to cover up the emergency. However, if we believe the statistics that China has been reporting, once they got going, they were incredibly rigorous and aggressive in their containment of the virus, and as a result the daily increase in cases seems unbelievably low. On the other hand, Iran’s president Hassan Rouhani has prioritised economic
ARTWORK : SIAN WILLIAMS // 55
interests, encouraged the reopening of millions of businesses, and relaxed social distancing rules. Their case count is now next to China at 73,303. I would argue that rather than regime type, it is culture and experience that influenced the success of many East Asian states. The previous coronavirus strains of SARS in 2002 and MERS in 2015 were in some ways a dress rehearsal for COVID-19. It was already a norm to wear masks in public, and those populations had experience with periods of staying inside and having civil liberties infringed upon, all of which remain sensitive topics in the West. Furthermore, centralised authority leads to much more efficient decision-making, and after SARS, Taiwan founded a central command centre for epidemics. In Asia there is no stigma attached to wearing masks — you are likely doing a general public service by being cautious, or perhaps you are immuno-compromised and simply taking a precaution in crowded places. Additionally, masks are more widely and immediately available in Asian countries. This is unlike many Western states where people wearing masks have experienced racial discrimination, and shortages have affected those most in need. We have also not had to experience contact tracing before. One only has to look as far as the Bondi beach-goers to find many people who valued their individual rights and freedoms above public health or government mandates. Authoritarianism is inherently more efficient than democracy because it completely cuts out the process of debate. There are aspects of it that would be useful in these chaotic times when our ideals of individual freedom and ‘rights’ could manifest dangerously for our society. Unfortunately authoritarianism is often served with a side of state controlled information and human rights abuse. Democratic governments, in order to effectively contain the virus, were forced to adopt aspects of this. In
South Korea and Taiwan, there were costs to human rights as a result of their harsh containment of the virus. Yet this occurred in China to a far greater extent due to initial efforts to hide what was going on and the disappearances of people daring to criticise the Communist Party of China (CCP). Authoritarian and authoritarian-leaning governments have also exploited current circumstances to strengthen their regimes. Hungary is a notable example. The Prime Minister, Viktor Orbán, can now rule by decree for an indefinite period, and has responded to accusations of restricting freedoms and violating democratic norms by insisting this decision is purely about fighting the coronavirus. We have also seen significant problems caused by misinformation and a lack of transparency typical of authoritarian governments. For example, Alexander Lukashenko, the President of Belarus, stated that no one would die of the coronavirus and that it can be remedied by drinking vodka and going to saunas. The leaders of Turkmenistan and North Korea have insisted that they have zero cases of the virus, despite receiving money from the World Health Organisation to combat it. These responses are likely to have very dangerous implications for the citizens of these countries. Whilst I love the idea of instituting my own utopian dictatorship where we cultivate symbiotic relationships with dolphins (after everyone stays inside and acts responsibly to stop coronavirus), in practice, authoritarianism is not the answer. Despite what some people are saying, coronavirus has not been a shining moment for authoritarianism. Instead, we should be encouraging our leaders to take responsible action for the sake of the health of the global community. It is a time for governments to take firm action and make economic sacrifices, not humanitarian ones.
Can Organoids Ease the Blow of Future Pandemics? AUTHOR // ISABEL RICHARDS
Stem cell therapy is one of the latest technologies equipped to transform medicine. One extremely important application of stem cells are organoids – miniature, simplified organs grown in the lab. The tiny organs are 3D tissue-like structures around one millionth the size of an adult human organ, with profound implications for drug testing and studying diseases like cancer and viral infections. The research goes as far back as 1906, but the methodology for growing organoids has rapidly progressed since the 2010s. Even with massive breakthroughs, organoids were still seen as complements to other forms of testing due to their lack of a nervous system, immune system or vascular structure. But medical researchers have now solved this problem. Scientists from the Wake Forest School Institute for Regenerative Medicine have just created the most sophisticated lab model of the body using microscopic organ replicas, including the liver, heart, lungs, blood vessels, testes and brain. Built from tiny samples of human tissue and stem cells, these organoids last a minimum of 28 days and mimic many functions of their life-sized equivalents. For example, the heart organoid pumps about 60 times per minute just like a regular human heart! This ground-breaking development has so much potential for the medical industry and, I believe, for fighting future pandemics. Here’s how…
Faster, cheaper drugs and vaccines According to a study from the American Journal of Gastroenterology, it costs about $868 million to $1.24 billion USD to develop a drug (which is over $1.4 billion to $2 billion AUD). Many drugs are pulled from shelves because existing testing models, including animal trials, can’t adequately predict toxicity to humans. This makes the price tag even higher. Vaccine development is also a long and complex process, typically lasting 15 to 20 years. Despite this, researchers are hoping to have a vaccine for COVID-19 ready at a global scale in 12 months. This would be an unprecedented achievement, especially since there’s still so much we don’t know. However, the recent organoid innovation can save us the time and money in future virus outbreaks. The tiny organ system contains a realistic mixture and the correct number of cells, making it much more predictive of human biological responses compared to traditional cell cultures. They are grown in 3D and have a blood circulatory system just like ours, providing experts with a more comprehensive understanding of how diseases impact the body and how viruses spread in human cells. Because of these properties, the organoids can determine if a drug is toxic to humans and if the vaccine is effective very early on in their development.
ARTWORK : SIAN WILLIAMS // 57
The end of animal testing We are heavily reliant on animal models for drug and vaccine testing in the lab. As I’ve discussed already, these models are often inaccurate and extend the research process. The organoids, on the other hand, can imitate the human body for clinical trials and skip the animal testing phase altogether. They also provide an unlimited supply of material for study (given their stem cell self-renewal properties) along with ethical benefits. Personalised treatment Viral infections affect each human being differently, as we have seen with the new coronavirus. This makes it difficult to understand virus behaviour and develop appropriate treatments for everyone. But organoids can take tissue directly from a patient to create a better understanding of virus behaviour in that individual. An organoid contains the DNA of its donor, and it carries the personal characteristics of that donor. This allows researchers to study differences between age groups, sexes and genetic make-ups, providing a great visualisation of how viruses spread in different people. This raises fascinating possibilities for personalised medicine and treating patients in future outbreaks. Organ transplants Amid coronavirus transmission fears, organ and blood donations have shrunk. Donated lungs suspected of containing the virus won’t be used. The pandemic has also caused delays for non-critical surgeries and transplants. This increases patients’ time in the hospital, where risk of exposure to the virus is higher compared to a home setting. The ultimate goal of organoid research is to grow working organs for transplant. We are still far away from this, as organs are complex self-organised systems that have evolved over hundreds of millions of years. Nonetheless, the most recent label model
of organoids is a giant step forward and researchers can see a path to get there. When it does happen, we will no longer require donors and enter a new age of medicine. That’s pretty massive. There is no doubt that organoids will act as an important stepping stone to more advanced treatments. Their applications, along with other major scientific developments soon to come, equip us with a revolutionary tool that can transform medicine and the way we handle diseases.
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KEEP COOKING AND CARRY ON AUTHOR // MELISSA WOODLEY
ARTWORK : MADDY BROWN // 59
Being cooped up inside can make the best of us stir-crazy. After isolating for days on end, binge-watching movies and TV shows has most likely lost its appeal. The chances are you’re looking for some at-home entertainment to spice up your day. Well it’s time for you to step into the kitchen and become the MasterChef you’ve always dreamed of being.
Alison Roman’s Salted Butter and Chocolate Chunk Shortbread
It’s highly likely that you got caught up in the crazed supermarket rush. Now your cupboards are stock piled with shelf-stable goods and the freezer is filled with food to last you weeks. However, the last thing you want is to feel bored by the same pantry meals. Take these moments of self-isolation as a gift to spend hours in the kitchen, experimenting with exotic ingredients or testing out new recipes. Not only could you discover your hidden talent for cooking, but it’s a great way to help pass the time.
¼ cup (packed) light brown sugar
Baking has also been proven to be good for our mental health. It helps you forget your worries, as you enter into a world of focus. On top of this, there’s the satisfaction you get from creating something, which greatly lifts your mood and is something you can share with others. There are so many wonderful meals you can make from the kitchen pantry. And if you don’t have certain ingredients, there’s no need to despair: No eggs? Try using mashed bananas, chia or flax seeds, or applesauce. No flour? Try making oat flour by blending up rolled or quick oats. No rice? Try experimenting with freekeh or barley. No breadcrumbs? Try replacing with crushed cornflakes or make your own using stale bread. Whilst it’s a scary and confusing time for all, you and your loved ones still need to eat. It’s important that we continue to nourish our stomachs, minds and hearts. Food may not be able to cure the ailments of today or tomorrow, but stepping into the kitchen is the first step towards looking after yourself! Here’s a cheeky recipe that might help you to do so:
Ingredients 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons cold salted butter, cubed ½ cup granulated sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour ¾ cup dark chocolate, chopped 1 large egg, beaten Flaky sea salt Method Using an electric mixer and a medium bowl, beat butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, and vanilla on medium-high speed until super light and fluffy, 3–5 minutes. Using a spatula, scrape down the sides of the bowl. With mixer on low speed, slowly add flour, followed by chocolate chunks, and beat to blend. Divide dough in half, then place each half on a large piece of plastic wrap. Fold plastic over to cover dough and protect your hands from getting all sticky. Using your hands, form dough into a log shape. Each half should form logs that are 5-6cm in diameter. Chill until firm, about 2 hours. Preheat oven to 180°C. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Brush outside of logs with egg wash. Slice each log into 1.5cm thick rounds. Arrange on prepared baking sheet about 3cm apart. Sprinkle with sea salt. Bake cookies until edges are just beginning to brown, 12– 15 minutes. Let cool slightly before eating them all.
Bon appetit!
Our Great Test and our Great Opportunity AUTHOR // CAMPBELL EDMONDS
“There are decades in which nothing happens, and there are weeks in which decades happen.” That insight can be attributed to Vladimir Lenin, a historical figure who may well be described as the personification of political upheaval. The first months of 2020 may not be in the same ballpark of catastrophe as the Russian Revolution, but Lenin’s aforementioned insight is certainly apt to describe the events of 2020 thus far. Such dramatic interruption to our relatively comfortable way of life in Australia is striking, and almost surreal. A glaring truth has emerged: few of us have lived through anything like this. In Australia, our year began with an historic bushfire season. The last fires in New South Wales were still burning when Australia recorded its first coronavirus death on March 4. Despite a stressful beginning to the year, many remained optimistic that life would otherwise continue as normal. The cataclysm unfolding in Wuhan was far away and seemed like just another distant tragedy. While news reports around the country commended the heroic efforts of our firefighters and criticised the actions of politicians, a greater threat continued to incubate overseas. Few anticipated that the Black Summer would be almost immediately succeeded by the arrival of an incurable pathogen from China. Within weeks, Australians found themselves subject to a near-total civic lockdown. The rapid progression of events over the last two months has certainly come as a shock. The media has spilled much ink con-
veying this drastic change of circumstances. I have noticed a particular idiosyncrasy in news coverage of the Great Lockdown thus far: the inclusion of the word ‘unprecedented’ in what seems like every second or third headline. Though it is true that the COVID-19 crisis is novel in many ways, a brief revisit of modern history will reveal that it is not truly without precedent. So, why is all of this so starkly unfamiliar to us? I would contend that the reason is simple: few alive in 2020 can find a close analogue to the present crisis in their lived experience. Most 21st century Australians will remember recent epidemics, but nothing that can hold a candle to what COVID-19 has already become. H1N1, SARS, and MERS were global problems, but Australia was largely insulated from their worst effects. Nor has Australia suffered a severe financial crisis in recent years, having emerged relatively unscathed from the 2008 Global Financial Crisis (GFC). Even those who remember the recessions of the 1980s and 1990s have not witnessed six million Australians effectively lose their jobs overnight. From a social perspective, that is what makes this coronavirus different for Australians. None of us have lived through a crisis-level pandemic. The 1918 Spanish Flu, the most recent pandemic to devastate Australia, occurred a century ago and much has changed since then, in medicine and in general. This experience is as new to older generations as it is to us, and that is certainly a rare phenomenon. If one examines
ARTWORK : BONNIE BURNS // 61
Google search trends, one might notice a sudden spike in worldwide searches for the terms ‘Spanish Flu’ and ‘pandemic’ beginning in February 2020. By contrast, searches for ‘recession’, ‘GFC’, or ‘global financial crisis’ have risen in recent weeks, but not nearly as explosively. This is observation, not scientific inquiry, but it can reasonably be said to demonstrate if nothing else that public curiosity of the Spanish Flu is greater than that of the GFC. What can we make of this observation? Presumably, people search things on Google to investigate them, even if the extent of that investigation is to half-heartedly skim a Wikipedia article. This escalation in interest is ostensibly a comparison of the current pandemic with a historical analogue. That, in itself, is fascinating – millions have turned not to collective memory, but to history, to better understand the crisis the world currently faces. To refer to history to understand the world around us is to transport ourselves to a distant time with a different context. The world of 1918 was markedly different from ours, but perhaps not to the extent one might expect. It is true that medicine, transport, and information technology have evolved rapidly since then, and that the Spanish Flu is not a perfect comparison to COVID-19. Yet both pandemics share essential characteristics. Although the world in 1918 was a far less connected place than it is now, millions of servicemen and women were travelling all over the world to fight in the First World War and its successor conflicts. A gloomier observation is that many world governments are no more trustworthy in 2020 than they were in 1918. A century ago, governments suppressed the extent of the Spanish Flu to preserve morale among their war-exhausted citizenries. Just as that pandemic was named after neutral Spain by the governments of belligerent countries
in order to disguise its true origins, world leaders have blatantly attributed blame for COVID-19 to other countries. Authoritarian governments have lied to mask their own culpability and incompetence, with detrimental effects on the medical response to the crisis. Thousands have consequently suffered and died. The cascading effects on the world economy will hurt exponentially more. The lucky society of 21st century Australia, which has collectively known little but historic peace and prosperity, is finding itself a victim of rapidly unfolding history. We can expect that the consequences of this pandemic will be mixed at best. Though it now seems that Australia has already seen the worst, cautious voices warn of the risk of a second wave of COVID-19 – just as occurred in the case of the Spanish Flu. Whatever happens, the global death toll will increase but every epidemic has an eventual end. The festering wound that COVID-19 leaves on global society will remain long after the pathogen itself runs its course. The most obvious consequences will be financial. The IMF has predicted that the recession we are now entering will be the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression. If that comes true, we can expect to live through a trying time indeed. For all of its flaws, the world economy as a whole has been remarkably resilient since the Great Depression ended with the adrenaline shock of the Second World War. This is to say nothing of the potential for many unstable nations around the world to implode under economic and political pressure. On the domestic front, our relations with China are entering new territory. A generation of young Australians who have known nothing but peace and prosperity are now contemplating the prospect of a lifetime dealing with the consequences of COVID-19. Predicting the future is tantamount to shooting in the dark in the best of conditions, to say nothing of our present situation. Four-figure
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daily death tolls are not typically seen in headlines in first-world countries. Yet not all is bleak. A fatalistic view of history would suggest that each generation is destined to suffer eventually. As morbid as it sounds, we can expect war, depression, and pandemic every now and then. Tragedy is an inherent feature of history, but does not define it. Australia is well placed to watch history transpire around us from a position of relative strength. As confining as our social quarantine is, our doors are not being welded shut. In all likelihood, our economy will not collapse, and our death toll will not number in the thousands. The challenge we face will probably be not quite as unfortunate as the Spanish Flu or the Great Depression. For all its abruptness, it has not begun with a world war. Ideally, it will not end with one. Instead, we will likely witness a rapid evolution of our society. Crisis shines a powerful blacklight on any system and catalyses change. For better or worse, we have an uninvited opportunity to witness the evolution of the post-coronavirus world. The community response in Australia has already been significant. Everyday people have been moved to evaluate how their everyday actions affect fellow citizens, and all sides of politics have largely cooperated to act for the greater good. It would be presumptive to speculate precisely how COVID-19 may affect our society in the long term, but communal unity and accountability are reassuring foundations to build on. Adaptation is the mechanism of survival, after all. It goes without saying that this is just the beginning of a difficult time. Even in a country as fortunate as Australia, great trials lay ahead. For those of us born in the late 1990s, it will be the first great test of our generation. It will be a defining experience.
With that said, there may be a silver lining to all of this. The opportunity to experience history in first person is one that comes once in a blue moon. Our older generations saw worse, and gained strength. This experience will cost us wealth and comfort, but if we face it with conviction, it will enrich us.
ARTWORK : EMILY O'NEILL // 63
In Other News AUTHOR // ADITI DUBEY CONTENT WARNING: NSW/Victoria Bushfires Let’s be honest, things are quite shit right now. The world has always had problems, but the problems we’re dealing with right now are on a whole different level. Reading the news every morning, which is both a great and terrible habit at the same time, has been giving me a headache. I’m sure I’m not alone. But, contrary to what we (and the news headlines) might think, everything isn’t terrible. There are some positive things happening in the world. I’m not talking about the dozens of quarantine feel-good stories you’ve seen on Facebook. I’m not dismissing them – hearing about balcony concerts and daily clapping sessions for healthcare workers is undoubtedly nice, but they do constantly remind us of the situation we’re in. I wanted to step out of isolation (purely figuratively, please don’t call the cops) and find stories that didn’t have the word ‘virus’ in them. So, in other news… Koalas are going back to their natural habitat. The bushfires that wreaked havoc across the country might have momentarily taken a backseat in peoples’ minds in light of other ongoing disasters (man, what a year) but there has been some recent news that gave me hope. Koalas, who suffered terribly because of the bushfires, are now slowly being returned to the wild. Five koalas were taken back to their home in the mid-northern coast of New South Wales by Port Macquarie Koala hospital, where they had
been sheltered for over five months. The bushland they returned to is not the same, but according to experts at the hospital it has replenished well enough to sustain the koalas. Amongst the five released, one has become known all around the world. Severely burnt, her picture and her sad story has been shared by people all over the Internet. Now, she makes for a much nicer picture as she goes back home, healed and healthy. Scientists are a little closer to understanding black holes. Whether you’re an astronomer or not, any scientific breakthrough is cause to celebrate. Intermediate-mass black holes have for long been considered the ‘missing link’ in understanding black holes, but scientists have now finally found one. While supermassive black holes and smaller black holes have been studied extensively, few midsized black holes have ever been detected. Observed by researchers through the Hubble telescope, it is located 740 million light years away from Earth. Intermediate-mass black holes are hard to spot because they are too small to be supermassive black holes that are located at the heart of large galaxies, but they are also much larger than smaller black holes that are formed by the collapse of stars. Studying these black holes will allow scientists to finally understand how supermassive black holes come to exist.
ARTWORK : EMILY O'NEILL // 66
African black rhinos are now a little further from extinction. The extinction of animals and loss of biodiversity has been one of the foremost challenges of our time, so it’s nice to see some glimmers of hope. African black rhinos have suffered immensely at the hands of illegal poachers, almost reaching the point of extinction. But, over the last six years their numbers have gone up by several hundred. A 2.5 per cent increase may not seem like a lot, but it is a significant number for conservationists whose painstaking efforts might finally be paying off. It’s thanks to a combination of tough law enforcement and several measures to improve rhino survival and breeding rates that has led to these positive results. While there is no space for complacency as black rhinos are still under threat, this recent increase in numbers is definitely a much-needed win for conservation. Greece has its first female president. Like most other things, politics has largely been a highly male-dominated affair. Most countries around the world can boast only a few women in positions of political power. Greece has now taken an important first step by electing its first woman president. Katerina Sakellaropoulou, 63, is a former high court judge who was elected by an overwhelming majority in the Greek parliament. Not only is she the first female president, she is a progressive leader in a country that has seen incredibly divisive politics. As a judge, she has a rare track record of supporting strong, progressive positions on environmental issues and civil rights like same-sex unions and refugee rights. Her appointment is being seen as a powerful symbol of change in Greece. She is determined to bring about a more humanitarian approach, hoping for a Greece that moves towards “A future of prosperity that will have room for us all.” Well, there you have it. Not everything is shit. These little snippets of hope are tiny
compared to the barrage of bad we receive daily, but it’s important to remember good news is out there, no matter how small it seems. The world is still spinning. Spring is coming to half the world, and cherry blossoms are blooming. People are still falling in love, children are still laughing, puppies still exist. There are reasons to smile. I have a tiny note on the board in front of my desk that says ‘everything goes’. It’s the title of a song by one of my favourite artists. Whenever I go through something difficult, I always go back to that song, to those words. There, surrounded by the low, comforting voice of RM, who repeats ‘everything goes’ again and again, I can breathe a little easier. The aim of this piece is not to convince you that things don’t suck – they do, immensely. But I just wanted to give you (and myself) a little bit of hope to get through these trying times. While writing this article, I struggled to find the kind of stories I was looking for. In a moment of desperation, I went on Twitter and asked if anyone had any good news. The first response I got was, “We woke up this morning.” Yes, random Twitter friend, so we did. Thank you for reminding me. Let’s all just keep waking up, morning after morning, yeah?
CONTRIBUTE
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WORDS TO PHOEBE@WORONI.COM.AU ART TO GEORGIE@WORONI.COM.AU
W We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the traditional owners of the land on which Woroni is written, edited and printed. We pay respects to Elders past, present and emerging. We acknowledge that this land – which we benefit from occupying – was stolen, that sovereignty was never ceded and that no acknowledgement will ever bring it back.