Woroni Edition 1 2022 by Woroni

WOR WOR ONI ONI evolution

woroni team

content

Sein Minn Oscar Warren Virginia Plas Liah Naidoo Jacinta Chen Zoe Crowston Arabella Ritchie

radio

Eric Rattray Fergus Sherwood Alex An Scarlett Winter Elijah Lazarus Bec Donald-Wilson Phoebe Barnes Olivia Adams Gabrielle Karov Nat Johnstone Meg Billson Laurie Fletcher

managing George Keleher

Rose Dixon-Campbell Chetha Nawana Sisana Lazarus Sai Campbell Elizabeth Walker Daniel Ray Ashley Davies Sabrina Tse Angus Padley William Vuckovic Sarah Greaves Zak Knight Aleyn Silva

art

Yige Xu Natasha Tareen Eliza Williams Maddy Brown Xuming Du Beth O’Sullivan Navita Wijeratne Jessica Mcleod-Yu

news

Kristine Giam Sasha Personeni Giselle Laszok Fiona Ballentine Alexander Lane Thomas Burnett Sam O’Connor Ronan Skyring

contents NEWS

REFLECTIONS

ANU’s Compliance With ACT Health Questioned

Do We Become Our Parents?

NATCON 2021 Wrapped

Productivity Culture VS. The Art of 6

Nothingness

Class-action Lawsuit Prepared Against Unilodge For Alleged Wage Theft

‘Ventilation’, Travel and Functions Amongst Changes at ANU

Dear Time

Growing

Irresolute

11 CREATIVE

CULTURE

My Childhood Bedroom

The Serious Business (And Subsequent

Who Speaks

Party) of Mullets: A History

How It Begins

The Impact of COVID-19 On Our Mental Health... According to Evolutionary Science Euphoria: A Beautifully Grim Representation of Adolescence

Jean-Michel Basquiat: Darling of

We Deserve Better Than Matt Haigh’s The Midnight Library

COMMENT

Corporate America

An Evolving View of Science

Why We Need Fewer Progressive ACT CAMPUS Un’hinged: The Call of Nature How to Survive First Year - A Guide Sign Me Up

24 26

27 28

Telstra State of Mind

An Insider’s Scoop And Guide to the C(r)apital

Sapiens to Systems

A Road to Nowhere - Part I Another

Interview: How COVID-19 Changed Campus Club Culture

Senate Candidates

Disillusioned Millennial

A Rich Ticket’s World?

Why Isn’t The Panda Extinct?

note from the editor On 28 December 2021, the Sydney Morning Herald published the headline, “From hot vax summer to everyone has COVID.” Attached to the article was a photo of masked 20-somethings sitting woefully outside an inner-city sharehouse. Just a few weeks later, the sharehouse I am writing this from mirrored that very image as the dreaded second line appeared on an overpriced RAT. This summer has been challenging for so many. Our politician’s slogan, “living with the virus”, evolved to have a more literal meaning as tens of thousands of people were infected with COVID-19 every day. Our idea of what this year would look like mutated along with the virus. In Edition One of 2022, we decided to explore the theme of “Evolution”. These past few years have equipped us with a more acute awareness of how our world can unexpectedly and irrevocably evolve. Now, you COVID-weary reader who has just scrolled past numerous articles on case numbers and testing delays, please don’t put this edition down! The following pages contain stories of mullets and pandas, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Zendaya. Poems to escape with and commentary to debate with. These past few years may have just prepared you well to read this edition. The idea of evolution and seismic changes in our world are now familiar experiences for us all. Woroni’s print team, led by our inimitable Content and Art Editors, Karolina Kocimska and Sian Williams, have put together a magazine that thoughtfully captures our student voice during this turbulent time. The musings and doodles of students in college dorms and COVID-infested share houses have been collected just for you. To returning ANU students or those with newly minted U-numbers, if you want to help chronicle our evolving student experience and bring your creativity to Woroni’s magazine page, TV screen or radiofrequency, you can sign up for one of our portfolios today! The new members of Woroni’s Board, including Clara Ho, TV Editor, and Juliette Baxter, News Editor, have a range of exciting ideas for 2022, and will help amplify your voices making them as loud as possible - the way they should be. Editor and Chief Liam Taylor

Saad Khalid Radio Editor

Vy Tsan Deputy Editor in Chief

Liam Taylor Editor in Chief

Karolina Kocimska Content Editor

editors Sian Williams Art Editor Clara Ho TV Editor

Ben Rowley Managing Editor

Juliette Baxter News Editor

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

NEWS

anu’s compliance with ACT health questioned ALEXANDER LANE

When the ACT went into lockdown in early June, the ANU devised a unique set of restrictions for student residences to cater for the high transmissibility of COVID-19 in a student residence. Originally, these restrictions matched the wider ACT restrictions: a person could not leave their room except for grocery shopping, work, medical appointments, and one hour of exercise. However, as the outbreak in the ACT continued, the ANU moved to an Enhanced Stay at Home Order (ESAHO) system. ESAHO was intended to be more liberal than the first few days of lockdown. As the lockdown continued though, it became increasingly restrictive as compared to the rest of the ACT. Many students found ESAHO to be challenging, with the social isolation exacerbating mental health issues and limiting academic performance. Additionally, some students struggled with the cooking schedule in self-catered residences. ESAHO meant ‘bubbles’ had one cooking slot a day which could clash with lectures and was easily missed. Nonetheless, ESAHO was justified as a supposed mandate from ACT Health. In an email sent to all residential students, Professor Tracy Smart, in charge of ANU’s COVID-19 response, stated that “ACT Health and the ANU Covid Response Office have negotiated an enhanced Stay at Home Order requirement for Residences at ANU.” This email implied that the restrictions placed on residences were deemed necessary by the ACT government. However, when requested for comment, ACT Health

claimed “The Enhanced Stay at Home orders was a policy developed and implemented by the ANU. ACT Health did not assess this policy or provide any advice to the ANU about it.” While it is hard to evaluate the efficacy and necessity of the ESAHO system, it is clear that it was not legally required by ACT Health. When requested to explain the discrepancy between the ANU’s and ACT Health’s accounts, the ANU stated that “ANU never claimed the Enhanced Stay at Home Orders were put in place by ACT Health” and that “The University consulted closely with ACT Health about these measures.” This is in contradiction to what ACT Health has claimed. One key ESAHO rule that frustrated many students was the ban on working. This was clearly stricter than the ACT laws which permitted people to leave their home to work. On forums, such as Schmidtposting and Hall-wide Zoom calls, students voiced how the working ban was frustrating because they had to turn down shifts, threatening their eligibility for COVID-19 support payments. Yet, in an email released through a Freedom of Information request, ANU acknowledged that this ban was not legally enforceable. That the ANU acted independently in its COVID-19 restrictions raises questions around ANU’s liability for the negative impacts of ESAHO. On this issue, the ANU argues that “all organisations have a right to put measures in place to ensure the safety of their people and their community.” and that “students were supported during this period to ensure they had adequate access to essential needs.”

JULIETTE BAXTER

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

NATCON 2021 wrapped

In December 2021, the National Union of Students (NUS) held its National Conference (NatCon) over Zoom for the second year in a row. Delegates Zoomed in individually or in state or campus hubs from across the country to passionately discuss motions across climate change, women’s rights, LGBTQIA+ rights, Indigenous rights, unionism, disability rights, amongst other policy issues. NatCon delivered its usual screaming matches, cheers, jeers and much more, chaired by outgoing NUS President and ANU student Zoe Ranganathan. The usual suspects gathered for the conference – Student Unity (SU), National Labor Students (NLS), Socialist Alternative (SAlt), and Grassroots Independents (Grindies) and the Liberals. The ANU’s five delegates this year were: Grindies Luca Corby, Phoenix O’Neill, Christian Flynn, NLS member Sinead Winn, and independent Blake Iafeta. Corby did not attend, but sent a proxy, and Iafeta did not appear to be in attendance.

7. Day One started off shakily with the Zoom link sent out four minutes after the start of the conference. Ultimately, NatCon began by moving a motion to create a National Vocational Educational Officer, in an effort to commit to vocational students’ advocacy. Meanwhile, a motion to create an Environment Officer failed. The position was previously abolished in 2017. Delegates debated numerous motions about unionism and workers’ rights, endorsing motions to define casual work, guarantee jobs for youth and a just transition away from fossil fuels. After a heated debate, NUS voted against welcoming all unions as trade unions, namely police unions. There was also fierce debate about whether NUS should be a lobbying body, the view of NLS, the Grindies and Unity, or a solely activist entity which should be dedicated to marching in the streets, from SAlt’s perspective, who continually promoted their National Days of Action throughout the conference. SAlt also repeatedly expressed its discontent with NUS’s supposed lack of involvement in climate activism, and posed a national day of action. Within the Education Chapter, the union voted for a motion, proposed by Winn, resisting the tracking of students using software like Proctorio, another to improve special consideration, as well as a motion against university restructuring as a reason to cut courses. On day two, the union further discussed motions on education, alongside policies on women, LGBTI/Queer, First Nations, Disability, and International student issues. Notably, the delegates passed motions on free sanitation products at universities, allowing non-binary and trans people into autonomous women’s spaces, and accessibility in university assessments. Subsequent motions on subsidised student accommodation on campus, accessible support for survivors of sexual assault and sexual harassment, and more free psychology services were also carried. The union also voted to embed the aims of its #ChangetheAge campaign earlier this year into its platform, specifically to lower the Age of Independence for Centrelink eligibility to facilitate the financial independence of young people.

SAlt spoke in opposition to many of these motions, suggesting they were directing NUS towards being a service provider rather than an activist organisation. In the final session of day two, NUS voted to stand against the oppression and discrimination of First Nations people and endorsed campaigns condemning police brutality. A significant issue of contention concerned the role of non-First Nations people in First Nations activism, with the Labor factions, SU and NLS, arguing the need to prioritise First Nations voices, which SAlt disagreed with. Additionally, the representatives voted to acknowledge invisible disabilities and diagnosis as a barrier to disabled students and the importance of intersectionality in disability. Within the International Chapter, the union passed motions to increase the fortnightly working limit from 40 to 50 hours and to reform temporary graduate visas to extend from two to three years for all students. The final day of the conference began with the Ethnocultural Chapter. Delegates voted to support refugees and migrants, to not deport them to danger, to say no to war, and to recognise all forms of genocide. A Unity motion expressing solidarity with dispossessed people around the world drew significant debate, with SAlt likening it to the “all lives matter” movement, suggesting it diminished the plight of Palestinians, but nonetheless passed. Within the Small and Regional Chapter, the NUS voted to improve the living standards of regional students. In the following chapter, concerning climate change, the delegates acknowledged the disproportionate impacts of climate change on regional and rural students. Furthermore, union delegates voted for universities to implement a third gender option, to affirm the Darlington Statement on Intersex rights, and to reconnect campus queer officers. A key point of contention throughout the conference was about the effectiveness of the NUS as an advocacy body. Thus, it remains to be seen whether the motions passed at NatCon will indeed lead to tangible change in the lives of Australia’s students.

ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen

class-action lawsuit prepared against unilodge for alleged wage theft KRISTINE LI GIAM

Adero Law is investigating the alleged wage theft of UniLodge student workers in preparation for a potential class-action lawsuit. Previous UniLodge Resident Advisors (RAs) are alleging that they were underpaid for shifts in which they provided after-hours pastoral care.

9. Prior to 2020, RAs at UniLodge held responsibilities similar to what current Duty Senior Residents (SRs) have. This included after-hours pastoral care from letting students who have lost their keys into their rooms to providing emergency care for medical and mental health emergencies. RAs also had to do three security rounds of the hall before 12am. In an interview with the Sydney Morning Herald, ANU Alumni and former Davey Lodge resident, Gabrielle Magyary stated that because “she started before the intake period and worked for two to three months before she got her mental health training,” she “ended up going to mental health crises without any training.” When asked if UniLodge ever responded to Resident Advisors’ dispute of their wages, Magyary explained that UniLodge “made it difficult” for RAs to “ask for compensation for working more than an hour overnight.” Thus, RAs simply resorted to “accepting that they would be paid the same amount every shift no matter how much the workload varied.” For each on-call shift from 5pm to 8am, RAs were only paid for three hours, equivalent to remuneration of $100, Maygary explained. When the RA position at UniLodge was decommissioned in 2020, the responsibilities of RAs were designated to SRs. SRs are not staff members, but instead volunteer staff who are compensated through a scholarship worth 100% of the rent of a single studio apartment. On the other hand, RAs were considered staff who were paid for each shift they completed. Existing SRs possess their own grievances due to their scholarship payment arrangement. A 2021-2022 UniLodge Summer SR contacted Woroni regarding the unfairness of the expectation that SRs complete duty shifts on public holidays without any additional compensation. This is in the place of reception staff who would earn penalty rates in their hourly wages, as opposed to SRs who receive a set scholarship amount regardless of when they work their duty shifts. Unfortunately for SRs, there are limited legal mechanisms for volunteers to access. For example, current SRs cannot take part in the class-action lawsuit due to their position being considered as voluntary, rather than official employment. Former RA Magyary is expected to lead

the class-action as a claimant. Speaking to Woroni, Magyary detailed her role in the class-action as involving several interviews with Adero Law, providing documents such as rosters, correspondence with UniLodge, and employment contracts. As a lead claimant, Magyary is also expected to be the “face” of the case, presenting her story in media coverage. Adero Law, a law firm specialising in class-action suits, plans to file the lawsuit in February. Adero’s case rests upon the belief that UniLodge RAs should have been paid under the Higher Education Award, rather than the Hospitality Award. Moreover, Adero posits that “UniLodge in all the circumstances failed to pay for the actual hours worked by casual employees at their UniLodge sites constituting an underpayment under Australian Minimum Wage Standards,” even where proceedings were lawful. Adero Law is currently seeking registrations of interest for anyone previously or currently employed by UniLodge as a Resident Advisor, Senior Resident Advisor, or Residential Life Manager. An ANU spokesperson confirmed to Woroni that the University is aware of the class-action, but cannot comment on the specifics. They further iterated that “the University would expect all members of this community, including its students, to be paid in accordance with the law.” Dr Lachlan Clohesy, ACT Division Secretary of the National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU), affirmed that the NTEU: “supports these workers standing up for their rights – it’s what union members do everyday.” Clohesy added that, “in addition to pursuing back pay for underpayments, the NTEU can work with members to ensure that pay and conditions are applied properly in the future – as well as negotiating for improvements.” Additionally, Clohesy informed Woroni that UniLodge “has a duty of care which extends beyond paid employees” such as SRs, and that the NTEU “can work with members to ensure a safe workplace.” Those seeking more information on joining the NTEU can email act@nteu.org.au.

10.

ARTWORK: Karolina Kocimska

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

‘ventilation’, travel and functions amongst changes at anu JULIAN BRAZIER The ANU has announced a number of planned changes to University-related travel, events and functions in light of the ACT Government’s planned further relaxation of COVID-19 restrictions on the 12th of November. The University has also announced planned upgrades to on-campus building ventilation to reduce potential COVID-19 transmission over the coming months and into 2022. University-related domestic travel and international travel to Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT) level one and two countries is to recommence from November 1, 2021. All university travel must still comply with the conditions of the ANU Travel Policy, with relevant state and territory health advice and DFAT health advice. Travel to DFAT level three and four countries is still not permitted and further information concerning the approval process will be provided by the end of November.

From the 15th of November, small-scale events recommenced with a 100 person limit for indoor events and a 300 person limit for outdoor events. External guests were permitted to attend events from the 26th of November where the event attendance limit will be raised to 500 people. The ANU plans to upgrade ventilation to all of its buildings on campus to improve air circulation and reduce potential COVID-19 transmission, particularly in high occupancy spaces such as libraries and study spaces. All buildings on campus currently meet standard ventilation requirements and guidelines. Where permanent upgrades to a building or space are not possible, the ANU will implement temporary changes until a permanent solution is found. The Acton campus continues to operate at ‘medium risk’ for the remainder of the year and will aim to downgrade to ‘COVID-normal’ by 2022.

11.

12.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

CULTURE

13.

14.

ARTWORK: Jessica McLeod-Yu

the serious business (and subsequent party) of mullets: a history ELIZABETH WALKER BCE: An evolutionary need to keep vision unobscured while warming the neck and shoulders may mean that sporting a healthy mullet was simply human nature. Reports of this style crop up from prehistoric periods, to Ancient Roman pantheons. The 1970s: The great resurrection. The modern mullet would be nothing without Goblin King and glam rock legend— David Bowie. Blurring the lines of masculinity and femininity, the brassy orange signature of Ziggy Stardust quickly shot the hairstyle into the public eye.

Honourable mentions: shaggy, feathered fringes as seen floating across the foreheads of Jane Fonda, Stevie Nicks, and Siouxsie Soux. Even with bangs covering their eyes, they had true vision - a fashion foresight that was set to last. The 1980s: The golden era of mullets. With the economy booming, business was good. And so was the party. Mullets were being rocked unabashedly, on the heads of athletes, yuppies, rockers, and country singers alike. Mullet stocks were on the rise and rise. No longer just for the bohemian, the bi-length cut became cemented in mainstream vernacular. Rob Lowe and Patrick Swayze set teenage hearts ablaze with shoulder-skimming locks. Down under, a certain Working Class Man fronted the movement for mullets amongst regular Aussie battlers. Jimmy Barnes defied OHS rules as well as traditional short-back-and-sides in his power ballad that came akin to a national anthem. The mullet also found itself rooted in LGBT subcultures, where the style caught on in lesbian communities as a queer-coded fashion statement. Subverting the heteronormative male gaze, an unorthodox hairstyle was a way to subtly signal at one’s alternative identity. The 1990s: The dark ages. The value of stocks and mullets suddenly crashed. The haircut became culturally bankrupt, derided, and maligned. All but Billy Ray Cyrus abandoned the look. Where before, this distinctive haircut marked unironic masculinity, pride, and a devil-may-care rejection of conservative fashions, it now fell on deaf ears. Negative stereotypes of US ‘rednecks’ and Aussie ‘bogans’ crashed their respective pickup trucks and utes right through the hallowed halls of iconic mullet history. With mullets now adorning only the barbershop floor, it seemed the party may be over for good. The 2000s: Radio silence. Beiber bowl cuts and emo swoops hinted at the edge of mullethood, but never quite carried off the same carefree charisma.

15. The 2010s: All quiet on the western front. High-maintenance styles - quiffs, precision undercuts, man buns - were all the rage. Mononymous-named icons Zendaya and Rihanna both debuted mullets on the red carpet during the mid-2010s, to little avail. However, a little further east, rumblings of a resurgence had begun to grow. The style made an occasional appearance in South Korean popular culture, with K-pop idols like Big Bang’s G-Dragon daring to pull off the controversial look. The 2020s: The renaissance. Whether it be a renewed acceptance of fluid gender expression, a 1970s revival via mechanised trend cycles, or the genetic raw sex appeal of the Cyrus bloodline - the mullet is back, baby! Much to our parents’ collective horror, the new wave of high-low hairlines have millennials and Zoomers in a chokehold. Private-school jocks à la Bailey Smith, and tote-bag-TikTok-twenty-somethings; once divided, now alike. There’s a 90% chance either you (or someone you know) has shown a picture of bemulletted Billie Eilish to a hairdresser in the last 12 months. And that’s without acknowledging the big bad unprecedented times that have loomed over our world since early 2020. When you’re stuck in the everrevolving door of the pandemic, giving into shaggier styling seems the sensible thing to do.

Within the ANU community, the return of the mullet could mean many things. For Jackson, it meant: “Looking in the mirror and being confident. It means no more getting sunburnt on my neck, it means I can dress any way I want to, it means getting comments in public and from my friends. It means I may not get that job I’m going for but it also represents my personality perfectly and is a large part of who I am.” Another student, Karolina, expressed that: “Running with the most aerodynamic hairstyle that exists was the greatest joy I have ever experienced.” For me, what started as a way for me to rehabilitate heat-damaged hair, also restored a damaged trust in natural femininity. So now I listen to Greta Van Fleet, and wear shoes a lot less.

For a lot of people, the draw of a mullet was probably a chance to have a bit of a laugh in admittedly dim times. Post-ironic or not, there is something magical about gathering around the kitchen table armed with overgrown hair, kitchen scissors, and a dream.

16.

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

the impact of covid-19 on our mental health…according to evolutionary science ANNA COHEN EDITED BY SAI CAMPBELL

Humans are a social species. In my four years of studying human evolution and cultural ecology, I have come to appreciate just how much humans rely on social interactions and connectedness. Sure, I’ve learned heaps about evolutionary psychology and human behaviour, but I’ve also learned what it was like to be a student. A student in their supposed prime of social interaction, a student who experienced the hustle and bustle of life on campus before the COVID-19 pandemic and the contrasting desolation and loneliness during it. A student whose mental health suffered from it. Immensely. Biological evolution, put simply, refers to the process by which a species develops from earlier forms into organisms better adapted to their environment. This process is spurred by selective pressures which you may sometimes hear referred to as evolutionary drive. This is, in essence, correct. Although I would argue it provides the false idea that evolution is a conscious choice by which animals, including us humans, think “oh no, fast leopard wants to eat me I will grow longer and stronger legs so I can run faster and escape.”

17. Well no, not quite. Evolution instead involves spontaneous mutations to the animal’s genetic code. Those random mutations often result in minute physiological and morphological differences that allow that individual to outcompete, successfully mate, and therefore pass on their genes. That is true of the mutations that are adaptive, at least. In fact, I would wager a guess that the majority of these random mutations either make no difference whatsoever or develop to be maladaptive. Those maladaptive individuals cark it, taking their defective genes with them as they go. Now that I’ve explained that, I have one more thing to clarify. Humans are, of course, still capable of evolving, however, the biological process of changing our entire genetic makeup to adapt to a not-sosatisfactory environment is slow and tedious and, as I’ve already said, seemingly random. Instead, we alter our environment to suit us through culture and technology. If Earth’s average temperature were to suddenly drop 20 degrees, we wouldn’t wait around for thousands of years to develop a thick layer of blubber like the mammals of the arctic. No, we’d just put on a coat. This is why, when studying the evolutionary responses of humans to various stressors including those posed by the COVID-19 pandemic, we shouldn’t look at ourselves today. Instead, we should consider the environment of evolutionary adaptedness (EEA), which is the hypothesised ancestral environment to which a species is adapted. Through considering the EEA, we can predict the selective pressures that shaped human evolution and therefore better understand how we came to look the way we look, act the way we act, and feel the way we feel. Like me, I have felt alone and isolated during this pandemic. Many species of primates will spend hours of their day sitting in each other’s company and picking the bugs out of their hair as a means of forming trust. It is no wonder we crave touch. Chimpanzees, our closest living relatives, have been known to band together to kill outsiders because they are seen as a threat and do not contribute to the subsistence of the group, which parallels our own fears of not fitting in. From archaeological evidence, we can deduce that the EEA for our human ancestors was likely one that relied on group living in order to survive. EEA allowed them to find a mate and pass on their genes, in the same way these primates do. Thus, it is no wonder we crave human interaction. Sociality is so fundamental

to our survival, it is just as important as finding food or shelter. The point I am trying to make is that it is not only completely acceptable to feel lonely, inoperable, and depressed during these times of COVID-19 isolation, but that it is something that can be explained by evolution. Human connectedness is a survival mechanism. We not only crave it, we need it to survive. Studies have shown that social isolation, as well as the self-perception of isolation and loneliness, has terrible consequences for short and long-term physical and cognitive health. It impairs sleep, immunity, energy levels, and increases the risk of dementia by up to 40%. Further studies have linked social exclusion and withdrawal with depression, and prolonged loneliness with mortality. Shockingly, one study revealed that loneliness has such an immense impact on our health and wellbeing that it can increase our risk of death by 45%. Clearly we are not evolved to be alone. So, has human interaction evolved since COVID-19? I would suggest not. The psychological - and in some individuals’ cases, the physiological - toll that the pandemic has taken on all of us was unavoidable. If we consider just how heavily ingrained sociality is in our way of life, it is no wonder we are experiencing health repercussions yearning for the days before isolation. We had freedom before: freedom to see our friends whenever we wanted, to visit our family and loved ones across the globe, and even freedom to have a short conversation with the barista at your favourite coffee shop and not worry if you had stood too close. Perhaps, these were all things we took for granted. Perhaps, these were all elements of the human experience that make us happier, and in turn, healthier. As we slowly emerge from the COVID-19 pandemic and settle into the new normal of living alongside this virus, I imagine we will have a greater appreciation for human connectedness. I look forward to living in a world that appreciates everyday interactions and values authenticity, connection, and kindness. I believe that, through understanding how deeply entrenched sociality was during the time our ancestors evolved, we can have a greater awareness of - and appreciation for - just how valuable human interaction is. Then maybe, we will all take that extra moment to say “hello”.

18.

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

euphoria: a beautifully grim representation of adolescence CHETHA NAWANA

CW: Drug abuse After two years, HBO’s critically acclaimed young adult drama starring Emmy Award winner, Zendaya, is back. Following the lives of struggling drug addict Rue (Zendaya) and her peers at East Highland High School, Euphoria is a refreshing yet unsettling depiction of adolescence. Created and written by Sam Levinson, the series’ controversial subject matter is what allows for such an honest portrayal of individuals struggling with identity, trauma, drugs, love and sex.

19.

20. Despite having been criticised for being too graphic or too blunt in its storytelling, Euphoria redefines the genre of coming-of-age. It explores adolescent vices through candy-coloured cinematography and a glittery beauty aesthetic. It allows for its characters to be vulnerable and flawed, highlighting some of the most accurate relationship dynamics I’ve ever seen on screen. In an interview with Out Magazine, actress Alexa Demie (Maddy), describes the characters as being ‘real’. She explains that events explored in the show are reminiscent of things she’s experienced herself or has witnessed. And though the extent of these parallels may vary, it’s hard to deny their accuracy. Especially when we recognise the toxicity of the Maddy-Nate (Jacob Elordi) dynamic, or the peer pressure received by McKay (Algee Smith) from his male counterparts. These are all very real issues which are often left unseen or sugar-coated in other dramas. While Euphoria highlights just how much teenage culture has changed over the past few years, one thing remains the same - parents will always be either oblivious or shocked when learning the truth behind how teens actually live. Despite being a concerned mother, Leslie (Nika King) will never be able to truly understand her daughter. Rue is adept at pretending to be clean and she knows how to get away with using. From negative drug tests to knowing how to resuscitate herself to avoid an overdose she’s an experienced addict. The mature content in Euphoria has also sparked conversation surrounding who the show is made for. Is it young adults searching for realistic and thoughtful representation on screen? Or parents who wish to intervene before it’s too late? I don’t think it really matters. Either way the show accentuates very real teenage problems through its complicated and diverse characters. We feel sympathy, disgust and frustration towards these ‘people’ who, due to their traumas, are unable to make rational decisions. Their failings are what makes them human. We should be grateful to have a show like Euphoria as we navigate our adolescence. Not because its characters are necessarily good role models, but because they are unfiltered and complex. You can’t point a finger at Maddy and say she’s your typical clichéd ‘mean girl’, nor does Rue’s status as the protagonist elevate her from criticism of her character and actions. This capacity for nuance is what makes Euphoria brilliant. We should appreciate the show’s ability to allow for queerness to blossom on screen, without hyperfixating on ‘coming out’ or

fetishising the process of exploring sexuality. These concepts add depth to each character without being their single defining characteristic. The nonsimplification provides them with the freedom to love and to hurt one another as they learn more about themselves. The characters are not restricted to labels, proving to young adult audiences that sexuality and all that comes with it, is fluid. By showcasing a range of personalities who defy tropes gender norms to be true to who they are, Euphoria allows viewers to identify with characters they may never have seen on screen before. It teaches its audience the different meanings and processes ascribable to ‘growing up’ in a way which is totally unique to what is depicted in other young adult dramas. But it’s not just the complexities of the characters which makes Euphoria addictive, it’s also the sophisticated cinematography. The stylised camera angles and shots emphasise the confusion and anxiety associated with being a teenager and the claustrophobia generated by high school. Levinson and cinematographer Marcell Rév illustrate a world which, though it may seem unrealistic at times, captures the emotionally turbulent experiences of being a teenager. Accompanied by gritty lighting and a stellar soundtrack composed by Labrinth, Euphoria doesn’t miss as a dark coming-of-age classic. In a Rolling Stones piece, Labrinth described adolescence to be “semi-magical but semi-crazy and semipsychotic.” This sentiment is palpable in the dizzyingin-a-good-way score which is just as engaging and informative as the storylines themselves. Viewers can sense tension as soon as Nate Growing Up begins to play. We can relate to Rue’s sense of isolation as Still Don’t Know My Name hums in the background. It is the combination of all these elements which create such a cinematic experience in watching Euphoria. The pace of a weekly episode allows us to digest the content and analyse each character’s actions fully before it is time to consume the next. The audience is invested and personally grapples with each character’s trauma and complications to better understand them. Watching Euphoria is messy and uncomfortable. It’s hard not to wince at Nate’s homophobia or at Rue’s poor decisions. You can often feel the anxiety of characters radiating through the screen. But no other show pays this much attention to detail when exploring the struggles of youth. There’s a reason why Euphoria is worth the hype and why every ugly moment displayed on the screen is beautiful.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

we deserve better than matt haigh’s ‘the midnight library’ DANIEL RAY CW: suicide, depression, mental illness Matt Haigh’s 2020 novel The Midnight Library takes the ‘literary’ out of ‘literary sensation.’ As I have written in a previous Woroni article, The Midnight Library is a “juvenile, flat, self-help” book about depression. Its major message: Don’t Kill Yourself. Rather than a 2020 Guardian review’s claim that “Contrary to the fantastical premise, the novel turns out to be a celebration of the ordinary,” The Midnight Library turns out to be a celebration of the banal. Specifically, the banal phrase: It gets better. Its sophomoric exploration of depression in poorly written narrative form in no way betters the already congested proliferation of mental health discourse we’ve seen in the past few years. We follow Nora, who has even less personality than a depressed Murakami narrator. After the death of her cat, the loss of her job and best friend, she decides to kill herself. But lo! instead of dying, Nora finds herself in the eponymous Midnight

Library, where each book contains a different life she could have led. As the librarian (a one-dimensional repository of exposition) explains: Every time one decision is taken over another, the outcomes differ. An irreversible variation occurs, which in turn leads to further variations. These books are portals to all the lives you could be living. We travel through different iterations of her possible lives as she reads through each book, and… that’s it. That’s the whole novel. It’s much, much less exciting than it sounds. The Guardian writes that this idea of the “many worlds theory” is “a beautiful concept, but Matt Haig doesn’t explain it in any depth.” This multiverse-esque multi-world idea has become something of a cliché in popular culture, and Matt Haigh should in no sense garner any kudos by using it in its unoriginality. It’s a bad sign for a novel when its major draw (literally its selling title) is more complexly explored in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

21.

22. In Haigh’s haste to make Nora the Relatable Depressed Everywoman™, he fails to make her a likeable character – she’s barely a character at all. While Murakami’s depressed, flat, reactionary narrators are often merely the focal point around which an entirely more interesting story is taking place – see, for example, Norwegian Wood and Sputnik Sweetheart – Nora is entirely the focus of The Midnight Library. I found myself flipping through Nora’s various ‘lives,’ wondering time after time, who cares? There is only the slow and inexorable narrative journey to the only possible ending of the book, where Nora Chooses Life (not in the same way as Trainspotting’s Renton). Haigh doesn’t even really delve that deep into the minutiae and daily (and hourly) struggles of depression. There are only a few pages before Nora attempts suicide and ends up in the Library. The novel even begins with the clause, “Nineteen years before she decided to die…” which is anaphorically repeated as we countdown to the inevitable event: “X hours before she decided to die;” “X minutes;” etcetera. This reaffirms that Nora’s entire character and only purpose in the novel is that she decides to kill herself… and then later decides to live. I am certain everyone (even, I think, Matt Haigh) who has experienced depression would agree living with mental illness is much more complex than a single, hinged decision to live. Learning how to live with a mental illness is often a long journey. The search for the right therapist, the right medications, the right support networks; learning to change a variety of damaging behaviours and thoughtpatterns; all of this takes effort and time. Even suicidal ideation usually consists of recurring and frequent thoughts, not simply a single fleeting thought one need only dismiss once to get better; according to Headspace, it is young people with “persistent severe suicidal ideation” (my emphasis) who are at the most risk to die by suicide. My point is that living is hard work – not just a single choice. The Midnight Library simplifies depression into an individualistic decision to become better. And it is precisely this simplification which is what people find comforting about this book and is the explanation for its success. There are remarkable similarities, I find, between The Midnight Library and The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia – Samuel Johnson’s 1759 work on depression and happiness. There are even more differences. Perhaps the largest similarity is the

episodic and not-quite-a-novel structure. Rasselas, after leaving the Happy Valley – a place where every desire is fulfilled – wanders throughout the world searching for true happiness while encountering various characters who are all also searching for happiness. Nora, meanwhile, journeys through her own alternate lives, similarly searching for meaning. But rather than Haigh’s book, which ends with the saccharine lionising of agency and choice, Johnson’s closes with Rasselas deciding to return to the Happy Valley – a satirical ending, where the entire pursuit of happiness – Rasselas’ “choice of life” – is shown to be flawed. The Enlightenment model of social discourse and happiness – where notions of happiness are universalised by a small (privileged) minority – is especially critiqued. But Haigh seems to be returning to a nearuniversal depiction of depression. In The Midnight Library it’s not specific institutions, welfare systems and social structures which are unable to support the mental health (and lives) of people. Nor is it, per Johnson, social norms of what “happiness” and “success” mean which must be rethought. For Haigh, it’s the neoliberal subject – eerily akin to the Enlightened free-thinking and agential human which Johnson satirises – who must (and can) decide her own happiness; make her “choice of life.” A simpler conclusion: Haigh is just another millionaire (or, at least, very rich person) spouting clichéd and meaningless aphorisms. One example is in Haigh’s 2021 publication The Comfort Book: “One day this will be over. And we will be grateful for life in ways we never felt before.” Ugh. Seriously. I haven’t read anything more banal since I read a Rupi Kaur poem, or well, Matt Haigh’s other book, The Midnight Library. If you or someone you know has been affected by themes raised in this article in any way, you can reach out to: Lifeline (13 11 14) A national charity providing all Australians experiencing a personal crisis with access to 24-hour crisis support and suicide prevention services. Call 13 11 13. www.lifeline.org.au/

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

23.

24.

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

un‘hinged’: the call of nature ALEX BEKIER EDITED BY ELIZABETH WALKER Whether it be Tinder, Hinge, Grindr or even Hater, an app that matches you with people based on your mutual dislikes, dating apps are ubiquitous at uni. Despite a veritable cornucopia of people in campus bars and cafés, tutorials and libraries, they are still one of the most frequently used methods of finding a lover. Even if just for a night. But does anyone find anything more than a good story or a passing fling? After some polling of my peers on their experiences with dating apps, within minutes, I had received enough reports to keep myself busy all night. From the classic ‘tall tales’ about one’s height, to the borderline concerning; girls returning from the bathroom, only to find their date going through their cupboards. Or else, seven separate women, all of whom had been asked on a date by the exact same man, and all of whom were all cancelled on, just hours before the respective dates were supposed to take place. Yikes. Given these seemingly universally poor experiences, why are dating apps so pervasive on campus? Is it an effect of the pandemic? At first glance, that seems likely. According to the government’s own statistics, in April of 2020, 70% of young people surveyed said the pandemic had negatively affected their social connectedness. 75% of those also reported negative effects on their mental health. Additionally, The Black Dog Institute reported that 66.4% of their respondents reported fewer social connections on the whole, as a result of the pandemic. So it tracks that more young people may be reaching for greater connections, regardless of what form it may come in. However, research done in 2021 by Dr Jacqueline Coombe, of the University of Melbourne, just isn’t compatible with this conclusion. With dating app usage actually decreasing by 14.8% during lockdown compared to 2019, pandemic-fuelled swiping can’t be the only allure.

So why then are people turning to them?

The answer may lie in an abundance of profiles, with up to 15% of Australians apparently active on Tinder. I’ll be the first to admit it, I find the immediate validation rewarding. Swiping through hundreds of profiles cultivates a sense of godlike power. A 2020 study from the University of Western Sydney’s 2020 study agrees - 40.4% of people who use ‘swipe-based dating apps,’ reported a positive impact on self-esteem. On the other hand, not everyone has a god complex, and behaviour goes both ways. Sexologist Dr. Keely Kolmes admits that for some, dating apps “invite us to depersonalise people...by not looking at the whole person and really just going based on an image.” This is in line with a 2016 study, which found that on average, Tinder users had lower self-esteem and more body image issues than others. If these statistics are disheartening to you, you mightn’t be the only one. Is it possible that sleazy reputations and horror stories marr the truth, and in fact, these apps really can yield results? There is something to be said for the role of ‘swipe-based dating apps’ in circumventing the romantic gatekeeping that is common on university campuses. A survey in 2017 conducted by Relationships Australia, concluded that 15% of people surveyed had found a long-term partner on a dating app. Another by the Australia Talks National Survey from the ABC, reported that 35% of people found their current partner online. However, like any ecosystem, the online dating system has its predators and prey like any other. As many possibilities as there are, there are equally as many motivations. In the midst of all of this, when deciding whether to swipe or not to swipe, you have to ask yourself: Is all this worth it just to end up hiding from your old matches in Chifley Library?

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

how to survive first year - a guide KAROLINA KOCIMSKA You’ve made it to uni. Accepted the enrolment offer and completed the relevant documentation, moved into your college room or figured out how to get to campus from your house in the Canberra ‘burbs. What’s next? Well, from someone who had a bit of a tough time in their first year (I moved back home to take time off afterwards) here is some advice to help you avoid even considering that as an option: Join Something Whether it’s a club, sport, the Literature Society, or Engineering Students Association, these groups are a great way to branch out beyond the friendship group you’ve fallen into at college or know from school. Some of the greatest friends that I’ve made at uni, I’ve gotten to know through ANU Snowsports (shameless plug). Go to Market Day, suss the vibes, and be ready to sign up. Connect with Yourself There is so much going on all the time. Deadlines, college drama, doing your own laundry. Carving out some space to do something for you will be grounding and calming. My ‘me time’ in first year was going to the gym, doing a solo radio show at Woroni, and visiting the pool (sauna) in the late afternoon (when the sunlight streams through the windows). Go to class (where COVID safe) Even though rolling out of bed to go to that 9 am lecture is the least appealing thing anyone could imagine, turning up to class and seeing your lecturer and all the other students studying the same thing has a way of grounding you in the community and the experience of learning. A lecture buddy might turn into a lifelong friend, and your lecturer could be the recommendation you need to score a job later on. It won’t happen unless you turn up. Ask for Help There are so many unexpected challenges that come with being at university, and it’s impossible to navigate them all on your own. Reach out to the people around you: SRs, course reps, ANU Counselling, or the person who looks like they know

where on campus they are. The ANU has a range of resources available for a myriad of situations, so don’t be afraid to make use of them. (Try to) Develop Good Study Habits I feel so boring recommending that you do your weekly reading before class, but that is how you’ll get the most out of the tutorials. Learning is incredibly fulfilling, and if you put in the work now, second, third, and fourth year will be a lot easier. The ANU Semester planner (found online) is a godsend. So is Google Calendar. You can also book appointments with the Academic Skills team who will help you elevate your assessments. Stay in the Know Join ANU Schmidtposting on Facebook, like the ANUSA page (and Woroni page too x), and regularly browse the Canberra events section. I will also plug ANU Crushes here. Keep an eye on your student emails too. Smile and Say Hello Sometimes you just gotta go up to that cutie in Marie Reay and complement their band tee. Or ask the person you always sit next to in tutes if they want to get a coffee. I was at a party and saw a girl I had always seen at the gym, went up to her and said hello, and now we are good friends. Hi Jemma. It’s hard and scary, occasionally you will get rejected. But if you can’t do it at uni, when can you? Accept that things will change University is a time for self-discovery, growth and so many new experiences. Along with that comes change. You may realise the degree you had chosen no longer aligns with where you want to go or that you’ve outgrown your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner from high school. That’s okay. All you can do is be honest with yourself and take each day one at a time. Be open to trying new things, and to admitting that sometimes things are hard. It just takes a moment of vulnerability, and the person next to you is probably going through the same thing. Coming to ANU means you can immerse yourself in the fantastic community. There is space for you here. You’ve got this.

25.

26.

sign me up ANONYMOUS

27.

It’s been a rough year. Lucky for the dubiously liberated ANU Sign, they got to explore wider Australia during a brief respite between COVID-19 waves. Hiking through national parks, swimming at remote beaches and journeying through country backroads, Sign seemed to find a version of themselves out of reach to their Canberran-self; they really grew as a strong, independent fibreglass installation. Though they dabbled in anti-vax antics in a brief stint in Byron Bay, Sign is now proudly double-vaxxed. After fun adventures around Queensland, New South Wales and the ACT, they had a great time relaxing during lockdown and avoiding depression, and are ready to share their vacation snaps with the world. Where will they end up next?

28.

ARTWORK: Jessica McLeod-Yu

interview: how covid-19 changed campus club culture CHETHA NAWANA

The past few years have been unlike any that we’ve seen on campus due to the changes prompted by the COVID-19 pandemic. It became difficult to adapt to a new version of university life – one with an almost non-existent campus culture. We’ll cross our fingers that this academic year will be better. Here’s hoping that we’ll have opportunities to turn strangers into friends and pursue interests with like-minded people. So, as we anticipate fresh O-Week memories and new students on campus, I thought it would be great if we could hear from some club executives who’ve seen it all. Thank you to ANUSA Clubs Officer Phoenix O’Neill (she/they); Woroni (ANU Student Media) Editor-inChief, Liam Taylor (he/him) and ANU Sport Acting CEO, Kitty McCaskie (she/her,) for taking the time to answer a few questions! Whilst the interviewees represent some of the ANU’s clubs, the views expressed here are their own. Woroni: How do you think your club/ organisation has evolved over the past few years? Phoenix: As I spoke to Phoenix on the phone, we had a conversation filled with sincerity. She noted that ANU has a unique club culture due to the strong

residential culture. It was difficult for them to state how much clubs have changed - mostly because the pandemic has slowed things down. The ANUSA Clubs Officer position is a new one and Phoenix is the first to occupy this role. Thanks to Phoenix’s advocacy, there is greater consideration of the clubs system and governance. This has allowed clubs to be prioritised more on campus. Liam: “Woroni strives to be the mouthpiece of the student body, naturally evolving as the ideas, news and topics students are grappling with change. In recent years, we have seen a shift to more multilingual, scientific and intersectional content. This, in addition to content centred around and fuelled by COVID-19, has situated our campus issues in a more nuanced international and environmental context. I think it’s also important to highlight and appreciate some unchanging aspects of Woroni. The commitment to holding those in positions of power accountable, amplifying unheard voices in our community and doing everything with an edge has never changed... And I hope it never does.”

29. Kitty: “There is a natural evolution within any organisation due to the changing demands, expectations and needs of the community. The most notable has been the move to online management and delivery of much of our operations. While our preference remains to provide in-person engagement opportunities, the pandemic has forced us to develop new ways of providing fitness and sporting opportunities to the community. This has had a positive outcome, prompting us to expand our traditional offerings. Thus, we continue to explore innovative ways to deliver sport and fitness safely in person and also through digital platforms.”

engagement. We are committed to continue to provide guidance and support to our community either in-person or remotely.”

W: What impact did COVID-19 and its subsequent lockdowns have on your organisation?

“The whole purpose of clubs is to have fun and meet new people, so I just want it to be more accessible.”

Phoenix: As Phoenix only came into their role in December, she couldn’t really speak on things regarding previous lockdowns. But, as she plans the 2022 O-Week, in the back of her mind, there are lots of contingency plans in place.

Liam: “If the Woroni of the future can accurately reflect the ANU community of the future, we’ll have evolved successfully. Woroni should be a chronicle of our student experience and I hope it always remains true to that experience.”

Part of their job now is to ensure that campus life is vibrant - not just for first years, but for those who have missed out due to the pandemic:

Kitty: “We believe that ANU Sport can play a crucial role in achieving a better university experience. Our aim is to continue to evolve to meet the student demand and ensure our programs support students and the community to build healthy habits that enhance their university experience and achieve their academic goals.”

“It’s going to be a big year for people who feel like their social life is in recovery.” Liam: “Like other organisations, the gruelling but inevitable transition to online work at Woroni allowed an impressive evolution of some facets of our publication and an unavoidable devolution of others. Campus news was no longer just consumed by StuPol diehards, but became a vital source of information for those trapped in their college rooms. I think these challenges have shown us new ways Woroni can engage with the student body more deeply, whilst also revealing how important it is to cherish the physical ways Woroni engages with students.” Kitty: “The impact of the pandemic has had a major impact on our core business. Despite the closures and cancellations, we were able to move some programs online and continue to support the community through fitness and wellbeing posts and videos - free of charge to the entire community. ANU Sport was forced into being agile, shifting our delivery model to accommodate remote

W: What is your organisation’s vision for the future? How do you think it will evolve? Phoenix: Phoenix plans on doing a lot of policy rewriting. She believes the club system has been flawed for a while, but only because people haven’t had the time to fix it. She wants for ANUSA to become more supportive of clubs and to create a system which is responsive to the needs of clubs:

W: Do you have any closing comments? Phoenix: “I hope that everyone enjoys their O-Week… It’s a great time to be making new friends but to also have some downtime because you will get exhausted… and classes start the next week. Take a night off. Rest.” Kitty: “The friendly team at ANU Sport are looking forward to welcoming new and returning students to the campus and those continuing to study remotely. If you have any questions, please come and visit us and we will be happy to assist.”

KAVINA KALAICHELVAM EDITED BY CHETHA NAWANA

ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen

telstra state of mind

30.

They say that Canberra is the New York of Australia. ‘They’ being quite literally nobody, ever. In fact, when Alicia Keys sang Empire State of Mind, I can guarantee you that the last place she was thinking of was our nation’s capital. Bunda Street certainly does not make me feel brand new. There are no bright lights to inspire me. And to call it a concrete jungle would be audacious - something nearer to a cracked-in asphalt bushland would do.

31. Indeed, it is a rite of passage to stand on the uneven cobblestone outside Canberra Centre and think, “is this really the capital city of Australia?” To linger on this question, however, will only inevitably arouse more – is Canberra even a city? Why is it called Civic? Has anyone even played this outdoor game of chess? Is moving around giant chess pieces the peak of entertainment in this town? I typically conclude the fun provided by this bizarre feature of our CBD is second only to the nearby Carousel. The amusement of staring at those eerie horses like you would a corpse – with a morbid curiosity and a threatening sense that they may start moving. With one of the most unique things in Civic being reminiscent of death, it begs the question: is Canberra truly as boring as it seems? One does not need to go far to ascertain the general population’s perception of the village. “I don’t know why you would move to Canberra when you could live in the Most Liveable City in the World,” claims the Melbournian who enjoys frequent getaways to regional Victoria for some peace and quiet. “There’s, like, nothing to do in Canberra,” explains the ANU college student, guilty of posting another ‘casual’ photo dump on Instagram with the caption ‘fun times recently in the C(r)apital.’ “The only people who live in Canberra are public servants and uni students haha,” jokes your friend back home, who has ‘Law Student’ in his Tinder bio. Still, they’re not entirely wrong. It’s true that this city has its fair share of boring. Unlike New York, Canberra is a city that does, indeed, sleep. The full eight hours, ‘lights-out’-before-it’s-dark, school-startstomorrow-type sleep. It’s certainly not a coincidence that it holds the 2021 title of Best City in the World for Sleep. Yet, in spite of all its grandma-like qualities, I am hooked on the strength of Canberra. Coming from Melbourne, I have pretty low standards for big bodies of water – I only have the Yarra to thank for that. I will never not be surprised that Canberra manages to keep its electric scooters on land and neatly parked at that. I will also never stop being surprised at the diligence to tap on MyWays, or rather, the fortitude of bus drivers to not start

driving until you do so. But it is the strength of mutual respect between Canberrans that continually impresses me. When I first walked into Civic, I remember being so surprised that cars stopped in the dead centre of the road to let pedestrians cross. The idea that everyone we walk past has places to be and things to do and yet we never get in the way of each other’s hustle to make a little section of Australia better. Like New York, people do not necessarily come to Canberra to escape something; they come here to find something. To learn more. To find more. To do more. To be more. That is what people come to Canberra for. What and who we find along the way is what makes us stay. We know this to be true because the lack of literally anything entertaining must make it so. It is the strength of a shared understanding that everyone in this city has, at some point, left family and friends to follow pursuits of education, work or personal development. To leave their homes and fight the odds of Canberra’s mundanity to forge a new one. How un-boring it must be to give up everything for nothing. Maybe Alicia Keys was on to something after all. Maybe our humble city of roundabouts and lanyards, where the Telstra Tower quietly pierces the skyline, is also a city where dreams are made of. Dreams that are birthed and pursued and sometimes cashed in for another one. And no matter how close or distant you feel to being who or what you want to be, a single truth remains: here in the nation’s capital, there’s nothin’ you can’t do. Except get dinner past 9pm.

32.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

an insider’s scoop and guide to the c(r)apital SOPHIE MCGREADY AND JENNIFER KERR EDITED BY CHETHA NAWANA

Canberra can best be described in two words: endearingly mediocre. Like us, our mates have lived in Canberra for their whole lives. When we asked them what the best thing about Canberra was, their immediate response was “the airport.” A second response was “its close proximity to the coast and the snow if you are looking for a place to flee via car.” It sounds harsh, but part of Canberra’s charm is the collective agreement that it is a little bit subpar. It is well known that people who live here are drawn to trusty APS jobs, the good Universities and the welcoming environment to raise kids. The unremarkable activities and places to eat in Canberra are typically further down the list.

33.

34.

ARTWORK: Xuming Du It took us some time to come to terms with the fact that Canberra can be summed up as the ‘dorky but loveable cousin.’ When we were kids, we tried to convince ourselves that Canberra was the place to be, since it had lots of buildings of national importance. But school trips to ‘treasures’ such as the Canberra Railway Museum and the National Archives did not actually impress us. In our early teens, we tried to assure ourselves that Canberra was the place to be because of all the ‘cool’ events it hosted. Unfortunately, getting a questionable spray on tattoo at Floriade and paying $15 for a tornado potato at GTM was not enough to get us over the line. In our late teens, we despaired. Intent on moving away as we succumbed to the belief that Canberra could never live up to the glitz and glam of Sydney. Or Melbourne. Or Adelaide. Or even Wagga. However, moving into our early 20s, with a combined age of 43 years old, we have started to appreciate the charms of Canberra. Forget exorbitant Ubers and club entry fees, in the nation’s capital you can experience the whole three nightclubs it has to offer in a single night! Perhaps this new appreciation is a hangover from our collective ‘mid-life crisis,’ but we now see Canberra for what she really is: fun without being stressful, calm without being bland and smart without being a know-it-all. Most importantly, she doesn’t try to be anyone else. She embraces her flaws and like any good Australian, appropriately takes the piss out of them. In the spirit of this, we have compiled a list of 15 very Canberra things to do, ranging from ironically shit to actually fun. Your adventure into the ‘Crapital’ awaits. Food Delights 1. Goodberries Frozen Custard - specifically, the Belconnen one, because Erindale doesn’t have flavour of the week (criminal). Similar to Kingsley’s Chicken (another Canberra institution) - your stomach might hurt afterwards, but that’s all part of the experience. 2. Griffith Vietnamese - it’s definitely worth driving over the bridge for, even just to chat with Mr Tan. 3. The Cheese Aisle at the Ainslie IGA - the unsung hero of a Canberra picnic. 4. The hot chips from Hudson’s Café in Dickson best enjoyed after a dip at Dickson pool. 5. An Egg and Bacon roll from Intra in Campbell - the classy spin on an Aussie classic is very Canberra and very good.

Iconic One-off Activities 1. Catch a big bash game or a game of AFLW (YTG) at Manuka Oval. 2. Watch a movie at Sunset Cinema at the Botanic Gardens - even if you have hay fever, it’s worth it for the ambience. 3. The flying fox swing at John Knight Park - a bit of nostalgic fun in the heart of Belcrompton. 4. Armada Outdoor Bar - we haven’t even been there yet but the vibes by the lake are on. 5. Play a La-De-Da game of tennis in the rose gardens at Old Parliament House. Things To Do When You Need Something To Do 1. The driving range at Narrabundah - ever frustrated about an assignment mark? Take your anger out on some golf balls here. Bonus points if you hit the buggy collecting them. 2. Cross over the border and visit a winery, try Contentious Character or Lark Hill. Mt Majura Vineyard is good too if you’re looking for something closer to home. 3. Mt Ainslie Lookout - whether you want to trek for an hour on foot, or test the horsepower in your 2009 Ford Fiesta, the view from the top is stunning. 4. Have lunch at the Cotter - utilise the free BBQs and bring your swimmers for a post-lunch dip! 5. Attend a Monday trivia night at Edgar’s Inn in Ainslie and have a Mama Dough pizza while you’re there. If you manage to complete this list, congratulations. We hope that if you are new here, these activities will fast-track you beyond the ‘I hate Canberra’ stage and make you proud to call yourself a ‘Ken Behren.’

35.

REFLECTIONS

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

36.

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

do we become our parents? VAISHNAVI RATHINAM EDITED BY CHETHA NAWANA This is a difficult question, especially when you have parents you don’t even speak to anymore. I’ve been estranged from my abusive family for a few years. It’s never an easy process. COVID-19, lockdowns and the constant state of tension that an unprecedented global pandemic has provoked has inevitably tested all of our close relationships. This has made me reflect further on my experiences with my now estranged parents. I live with my partner currently. Since the mayhem of 2020 and COVID-19 began, I’ve experienced long periods where I can’t go to class, my partner can’t go to work, and we’re left to breathe down each other’s necks all day. And then there’s the addition of our cute but often infuriatingly naughty cat. Whilst this hasn’t been easy, I’ve felt that there’s no one else I’d rather be ‘stuck’ with. Being spontaneously confined to the household you are currently in prompts you to consider the relationships you value the most, and the ones that may be causing you harm. You gain a deeper sense of gratitude growing up in a toxic and violent household, when you manage to finally escape. When you are not forced to ‘stay safe, stay home’ in an unsafe place that never did feel like home. Having

narrowly escaped lockdown with my own abusers, I feel even more joy in the relationships in my life that now are loving and nurturing. I’ve spent nights in lockdown building cardboard box obstacle courses for my cat or trying whacky cooking experiments with my partner. During these times, I’ve realised the gift of having a family of choice, where you always feel safe. We get to know ourselves and each other very rapidly during periods of crisis. During the stress of the pandemic, it hasn’t been easy to see that I often reflect the dysfunctional way I was raised, whether that’s with anxiety, fear, anger or shutting down. The circumstances of lockdowns and the pandemic overall have prompted me to work harder to develop better coping mechanisms and responses. A lot of households that have struggled with dysfunctional or abusive dynamics have had these issues brought to a head. Living in much closer emotional proximity to one another, it’s not as easy to avoid the unsaid. Through this period of extreme stress, I’ve often been disappointed or scared when I recognise a similarity to my parents within myself. However, I’m aware of this process now, and the fact that I have agency in it. There are deep and unavoidable links I share with my parents and childhood - appearance, personality traits, my memories. I don’t necessarily want to get rid of all of these. But the more unhelpful traits, I can choose to work on. I think the answer is that yes, we are shaped by where we come from and who raises us, but ultimately, we have the chance every day to wake up and decide who we are.

ARTWORK: Jessica McLeod -Yu

37.

38.

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

productivity culture vs. the art of nothingness LUCY SORENSEN EDITED BY DANIEL RAY For the past month I have dreaded waking up. Sounds depressing, I know. It’s 11:20 am and as I lie here, listening to the nauseating hum of my whirring fan, all I can think is what next? I have absolutely nothing to do. It’s the summer break. I am unemployed and back in my small hometown and the few friends left from this place have all simultaneously caught COVID-19. A few months ago, I was excited to be in this state of nothingness. Amidst the exam block stress, post-lockdown anxiety, and general life burnout, I was more than ready to come home. Counting down the days, I would daydream of lying on the beach, reading something that wasn’t a peer-reviewed article, and basking in the heat of home. I conjured up a fantasy of a relaxing summer filled with sleep and sun. But now, as I lie here with nothing to do, I realise this is hardly peaceful and I feel pathetic. I feel as if I must achieve something every single day. For the days I don’t, I have failed. Irrespective that it is my break, my one fleeting period of ‘nothingness’ amongst the constant chaos of life, I still must be doing something. I cannot stop, sit, slow, rot. But why does every single day need to be brimmed with achievements and productivity? I don’t even mean exponentially large things either, like a summer internship, or a new side-hustle. It’s the little things, the small daily tasks. My mind has become a constant classifier labelling each activity as either productive or useless. Listening to a podcast = productive. Stimulates brain activity! Learning something new. Going for a walk up the beach = productive. Getting my steps up, improves health and mental wellbeing.

Lying on the couch watching Friends reruns = useless. What will this really achieve? If I don’t do enough activities I deem “productive” during my day when I go to do my fun, leisurely, “useless” activities, I feel immense guilt and shame. I become stressed on days like today when I don’t know what to do. This obsession with productivity is exhausting. Success is now so closely associated with busyness that there is constant pressure for our free time to be spent in productive pursuits. In turn, (real) leisure time is becoming scarce and relaxation more demonised. This culture of productivity is unhealthy and dehumanising. It robs us of pleasurable experiences, as we become so focussed on efficiency and moving on to the next task that we forget to bask in the enjoyment of the present. This current cultural hyper-fixation on productivity is influencing individuals like myself to prioritise efficiency over our own well-being. Research shows that reducing leisure can cause drastic decreases in mental health, increasing stress and depression. Leisure time should be perceived as a vital investment to our wellbeing, but instead it is seen as a ‘time waster’. I want to prioritise the pursuit of pleasure, relaxation, fun. More importantly, I want to feel guilt-free whilst doing so. I want to learn how to stop, to indulge, to be still. I want to feel content that it is almost midday and I am lying in bed achieving absolutely nothing. In this current culture that idolises productivity, I want to prioritise the art of doing absolutely nothing. So maybe I’ll continue lying here a little bit longer… What’s the rush?

ARTWORK: Jessica McLeod-Yu

dear time JASIE CHOO EDITED BY CHETHA NAWANA I try my best to sleep at a reasonable hour. Sometimes that’s eleven and sometimes that’s two. I try my best to eat well. Sometimes that’s too much and sometimes that’s not enough. I try my best to resist scorching the grapevines of restlessness away with screens of different sizes. Sometimes I don’t and sometimes I do. Then night is replaced by day and I do it all over again.

39.

40. It’s exhausting to be this way. To want so much. To climb up the mountain in my mind and breathe in the rain clouds, knowing that I could fly if I was only brave enough to risk the fall. This restlessness is irrational. It renders me cruel and selfish. It makes me human. I hate it. In late November, I found out my granddad had become sick with an illness severe enough for his children and grandchildren to hastily pack and board the soonest flight home. The thick ugly rug that I had buried my feet in was yanked by an unseen hand. It didn’t seem to go away though. My toes clenched the fabric so hard that instead of being freed from it, I fell onto it. I cried for his suffering, my mother’s suffering and, I’ll admit, my suffering most of all. Then a stupid ache from within my sternum wondered if this would affect my grades, my plans, or all the songs that I said I would finally get around to making in the summer holidays. I was so enslaved to time and my fear of losing it, that I had begun to demonise it. I escaped the morning by staying up at night and I lived for tomorrows to avoid the seconds that I wasted every today. Somewhere along the way, I unknowingly started to wish for time to pass faster so that I could reach the version of me who wouldn’t waste it. I had to beat it to succeed, but I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I will ever be ready for a battle that I am simply not meant to fight. It goes against the very being of the person I have become. From a shy and wordless child, wary of combat, I have grown into a slightly larger child whose anger beats her very heart and burns her blood into molten gold. I want to fight. It is my duty to fight. There is a seed of immigrant guilt buried under my wrist, and I know that the words flowing out of my trembling fingers are just as good as anyone else’s—only a little bit luckier. There are so many equivalents of me who would give anything to be where I am. And that makes me mad. Am I angry that they are not here with me? Or does it infuriate me that I am here, and that is still not enough? This I do not know. Perhaps it is both all at once. I cannot fight time. Nor should I want to, really. In the final exams of high school, I remember looking at the papers and as deranged as it may sound, saying ‘thank you’ as if they were a friend. I couldn’t bear to be afraid, and besides, I reasoned

that the questions were there to help me. It would be much harder to show what I knew if there was nothing asking me whether I knew it. I think time is the same. I could resent it and cower before it, worrying that it will take everything from me. It will. At some point, what I know and want and love will be snatched from me. But everything I do not want to know and hate will also desert me. Time takes, but it also gives. It can be loving and kind. It has provided me with everything I have. The afternoons in kindergarten when my granddad would pick me up, bring me to restaurants and let me hang out in his office. The clashing of the evening news and Tom & Jerry reruns that lead to battles of trickery over the television remote. The medals and trophies I have won have become bragging rights amongst friends and brothers. It will provide me with everything I need. With time, I am condemned to hurt and to suffer. But with time, I am granted the power to hope and to succeed. So I will allow it to pass at the pace that it chooses. There is joy to be found in the fast times, and the slow times. These days, I seem to have wiggled my toes free of the speciously comforting rug. I have stepped off of it and rolled it up. Placed it in a corner amongst all my other memories and shaken the hand that looks suspiciously like mine. When it storms again, I’ll fly to the mountaintop and watch the rain fall onto the bare Earth below. I might sleep at eleven tonight, or two. Have a good dinner that’s just right, whatever that means. Pluck down the crisp grapes that have started to appear where restlessness is soothed by the steady warmth from my hands. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get to do it all over again tomorrow.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams When I was 4, my grandmother told me, “Be careful when you play, people can see up your skirt.” I didn’t understand why it mattered, but I could hear it in the tone of her voice that she was angry. The next time I climbed up to the monkey bars, I went a bit slower and kept my legs closed. When I was 8, I loved to dance. I loved the way music moved through me. I felt like a conduit of something magical. I felt alive with it. I could feel it rush up through my feet and out the top of my head, and however I moved in response just made sense. When I was 11, red marks started appearing on my hips, my clothes were too tight, and I thought they were marking me permanently. I was horrified that I was gaining weight. My friends talked about how much they weighed, they were all lighter than me, I never said anything about my own. When I finally got my period, I tried to hide it from my mother. When I was 14, I kissed a boy for the first time. I discovered that it was easy to be loved if I looked the right way. If I walked with the right swing of my hips, if I arched my back properly. If I laughed at all the right times and blushed when I was complimented. If I let it happen, I would experience love again. When I was 17, a man catcalled me while I was walking my dog. I ran home, and as I did, I smiled. It was a terrifying compliment to me. I felt like something dirty had happened. I felt shame. Shame that I had taken it so lightly, and shame that it had to happen for me to think I was beautiful.

growing ASHLEY DAVIES EDITED BY SISANA LAZARUS CW: Sexual harrassment When I was 2, I could barely fathom that I had a body. I could climb and run and eat and be loved fully and easily, without pretence. I could be nestled within loving arms and put to sleep with a kiss.

When I was 19, I grew tired, sick, and boneweary. My muscles wilted inside me. I could barely stand up in the shower. Barely walk more than 100 metres. I felt myself fall apart from the inside and out and I didn’t think I would ever recover, I felt warped beyond perception. Now I am 21, my bones ache where they never did before. I am out of breath when I climb a set of stairs. I hate catching a glimpse of myself in a reflection or mirror. But some days I am glad that I can hug my friends, glad that I can walk the long way home. Glad that my body is now my own.

41.

42.

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

irresolute JONATHAN ADAMS EDITED BY SISANA LAZARUS As the New Year comes to fruition, many will turn their minds to their respective New Year’s Resolutions. Notions of disciplined gym routines, vegetarianism, and other lofty ambitions will undoubtedly occupy the coming weeks’ thoughts. I, however, have always struggled to articulate my desire for self-improvement into tangible and achievable goals, and I suspect I am not alone. The prospect of defining an area of the self which requires attention is daunting. Nevertheless, the (almost subconscious) pressure to reclaim the year, to reclaim the self, and to re-embark upon the quest for perpetual selfimprovement means that in the end, I settle for some vague commitment to be nicer to my sister, to do more to help around the house, and to stay on top of my readings. Or something along those lines. Without speaking ill of the staunch resolutions many genuinely hold, it seems as if we are subject to a potentially unhelpful narrative of self-improvement. The pressure to find something to improve, however mundane, seems to detract from the spirit of the New Year’s Resolution. A resolution for resolution’s sake, we begin the new year on a glass-half-empty note, finding ourselves wanting in areas of our lives we would rather not. As January progresses, we find our enthusiasm for our resolutions waning, further contributing to the negative selfesteem with which we began the year. And so begins the vicious cycle. Internal amplification of our minor imperfections, coupled with unrealistically high selfexpectations, lead to disproportionate lows when we inevitably fall short. Everybody misses a training session. Long after the fireworks have graced the sky, the pressure of continual self-improvement remains. Fuelled largely by social media, we are constantly reminded of the seemingly neglected aspects of our personalities and behaviours. What initially appears to be a positive and constructive mindset can have profoundly negative outcomes. Feelings of inadequacy quickly become overwhelming as we see people succeeding where we (often mistakenly) perceive ourselves lacking. Rather than instigating genuine self-improvement, the broader self-

improvement narrative in the New Year’s Resolution can lead to diminished mental and physical wellbeing. For first years and returning students alike, beginning university, or facing the prospect of yet another year of online study is overwhelming enough. Considering the tumultuous year behind us, and the uncertainty of the year we now face, we ought to cut ourselves some slack. The desire for self-improvement is virtuous, but the abnormal circumstances surrounding our return to campus dictate a relaxation of additional pressures, particularly those we place upon ourselves. So, worry not. Commencing the academic year is an achievement in itself. We shall necessarily grow and evolve as the year progresses. Openmindedness is all that is required to facilitate continual improvement. I think that’s my New Year’s Resolution. And if you’re still stuck, you’re more than welcome to share it.

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

CREATIVE

43.

44.

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

my childhood bedroom LUCY SORENSEN

EDITED BY SISANA LAZARUS

The reflection reveals a little girl lounging on a ginormous armchair. She’s pouting straight back at me. But it’s not me. Well, it is me, of course, it’s my reflection. Obviously. But it’s not really me. I look younger here, my hair looks longer tied back in its ponytail, my face more slender, eyebrows thinner, eyes maybe a little bit sadder. This girl looks so young. I start to pull faces at her… at me - pull faces at me. Still, all I see is the sad little girl in the mirror staring back at me.

As I sit down on this disproportionately large, quite regal armchair, I gaze around to see much of the same. Much of the same it’s been for my entire life really. Ah, the bliss of being back in my childhood bedroom. Time stands still. Except for this new humongous beige chair of course. Now that I sit on it, this being the first time as it usually poses as a dirty laundry pile, I realise I like this chair. It has a good vantage point of these four white walls, and who doesn’t like beige? From here I can stare directly at my shelf. Sitting on top is that ugly bright purple UE boom that broke seven or eight years ago. I was so excited when I got that for my birthday, or maybe it was Christmas? Didn’t last too long. This shelf still fills me with unease. You see, half the thing is disconnected from the wall. Growing up I spent countless nights peering up at this long, pearly-white block of wood, half hanging directly above my head, knowing that if it broke off just that little bit more it would be a fatal blow. Probably. Definitely would cause a late-night trip to the ER. My gaze drifts over to my wardrobe, to no doubt sneer at the two floor to ceiling mirrors plastered on the doors. Who needs mirrors that big? No one wants to see that much of themselves in their own room, I can tell you that much.

It’s not her fault she’s so damn sad. She’s stuck in this bloody room with the stupid purple UE boom and the shelf that will probably enact her death. Quickly, the flicker of sadness in the little girl’s eye turns into a wired mania, GET ME OUT Her eyes scream as the little girl leaps to the mirror, clawing the glass doors with her every last mite, GET ME OUT OF THIS ROOM! My vision becomes blurry, and the wardrobe begins to softly bang. See that’s just the thing about coming home, I can never see clearly. Time warps and I am suddenly that little girl again. Did I ever leave this place? Grow up? Move on? Perhaps not. Maybe I should be more grateful for this monstrosity of a chair, as it is the singular thing ajar within these four white walls. Without it, there would be no way to differentiate the time that has passed. Maybe next time I come back I should chuck up a poster or put in a new rug to accompany the chair. Or maybe next time I’ll just stay in my sister’s room…

ARTWORK: Jessica McLeod-Yu

KIERAN KNOX EDITED BY SISANA LAZARUS

In my room, the mirror occupies around a fifth of the space. It does not domineer the space, but nor can you look at the room’s four corners without its reflective shine catching you. On some nights, I choose to sleep with its sliding doors pressed as far away from me as possible. Those nights, I barely sleep. As I lay myself to slumber, the sheets a thin touch upon my skin, I hear the distant sound of dull knocks. A rapping, and a tapping, which only grows in its intensity. It says: rap-tap. Listen to me. It beseeches: rap-tap-tap. Hear me. It pleads: rap-tap-tap-rap. Please, listen to what I have to say. It growls: rap-rap. You have to listen to me. It hisses: rap-rap-tap. You will listen to me. It shouts: rap-rap-tap-tap. Listen now! It shrieks: Rap-rap-rap. Listen to me, mongrel! It roars so angrily: Rap-Rap-Rap. I will make you listen, putrid worm!

who speaks

CW: Negative self talk

45.

46. On and on it goes. Obscene and brutal in its description. A love turned abusive. But today, I’ve had enough. When the morning slides past the crack in my blinds, to cut across my eyelids, and sear me awake, I don’t walk past the mirror. I stand in front of it. In front of him. He has all the same things as me. The features which make me wince. His waistline extends, not by much, but enough that I try to hide its curve. His arms are thin, not too thin, but enough that I cross them close. His jaw is lost in a bowl of loose skin. I cannot change that one. His smile is sincere, and wild. The edges of his mouth twitch, and his teeth appear in little sparks of white. His eyes are too wide, pools of mud which try to swallow me. His hand reaches up, and his knuckles rap the glass which separates us. He says: rap-tap-tap. So, you going to hear what I have to say? I tell him: maybe. He says: rap-tap. There’s no maybe, you need to hear me. I say: fine. what is it? He smiles, impishly, then says: tap. She did you dirty. what. tap-rap-rap. Yeah. You heard me. She fucked you. IRap-rap-tap. Let it happen. things didn’t work out. It happens, we have differences. Tap-rap-tap. That’s true, and funny. Only one issue. what? Rap-rap-rap. You let it happen! You wanted it! I did not want to be hurt! Rap-Rap-rap. No, you wanted her to be happy! is that so bad? Rap-tap-tap. At the cost of my happiness? I wantedRap-Rap-Rap. You didn’t want anything! You didn’t want anything. You have no wants, no desires that aren’t about others! You sit there, and you grovel, waiting for a kiss to slip free from heaven but it won’t. It hasn’t, and it never will! I look at him. His fist is pressed against the glass. Oh, how thin it is. His mouth is a sneer, all fangs without fangs. His eyes. Oh, how lonely they are. The muddy pools draining away down his cheeks. He is angry, furious, wrathful. He is hurt.

I say to him: what did you want? He laughs, and says: thud. What you want; to be loved. I beseech him: but by who? He does not answer. I plead with him: by who? He growls: Rap. By you. By me. I am surprised, and it hisses from me: what? He shouts at me: Tap-Tap. Are you so surprised? That all I desire is your acceptance? I whisper to him: yes. He shouts, so sadly: I only want to be satisfied with who I am. With what I am. Why can’t that be enough for you? How alike sadness and anger are, for, with tears in his eyes he strikes me. His fist rebounding off the glass, his howls so loud, and his eyes so wet. I can only lean forward, and kiss his fist. I wake up. The morning has slid past the crack in my blinds, and traced itself across my eyelids, searing them. I do not know who I am. I do know who I am. I walk to the mirror, and I do not recognize the man in it. He is me. I look at him for a long time. I see two sets of eyes which watch me. One is wide, trying to eat the world in front of it in search of vindication, no matter the cost. The other is downset, hollow, and has given its sight away too many times. I do not recognize them, nor do they recognize me. This is good. A light knock can be heard. No longer angry, polite and inquiring. It asks: tap. Are you angry? I tell it the truth. I am. A small sigh slips past the underside of the mirror. The cool breath tickles my skin. It asks: but don’t you care? I tell it the truth. I do. I can see them, those two pairs of eyes, asking questions. So I say, “It is so hard, isn’t it? To stand tall, and proud. To care for you. To speak when it matters. To let go, and live.” The first words shared aloud. I leave, and wonder if, when I fall asleep, I will wake up again. Whether the next one to open their eyes will be the one with the downcast heart, or the hungry mouth. Maybe I will not recognize the next set of eyes. Perhaps they will have no reflection. It does not matter much. There is always a time, and a place, to change, shift, regress, even… Hah, yes.

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

To make sense Gather the seeds and plant them

SISANA LAZARUS

how it begins

Stems and petals from yesterday Woven together with rose-tinted fingers Where history is clarity And recognition is warmth Not for good or bad But for you to keep Leave the skeleton That brought you here From the womb and up the mountain To the golden valley where I see you now As strong as they were Those bones are too old to hold you Step out of that tiny fortress Into the dazzling tease of tomorrow Thick with elation and desperate unease And open yourself With a love so deep and true To the force you will become

47.

48.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

COMMENT

49.

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

You either die a tortured artist or live long enough to see your work printed on sneakers and phone cases. Unless you are Jean-Michel Basquiat, in which case you’ll do both.

ROSE DIXON-CAMPBELL

jean-michel basquiat: darling of corporate america

50.

More than thirty years after his premature death at the age of 27, the work of Basquiat remains highly visible in our society, particularly through consumable items. Should you wish to purchase an original Basquiat, you may find the $110.5 million price tag too steep. For a cheaper, more commercial equivalent you could turn instead to Casetify, Uniqlo, Urban Outfitters, Converse, Dr Martens, Supreme, Coach, or Yves Saint Laurent amongst others. All of these corporations have in recent times collaborated with the Basquiat estate on merchandise. It is invariably claimed such products demonstrate shared values between the late artist and their own brands. The connections made between brands and Basquiat are tenuous and highly debatable. The narratives spun by marketing executives attempting to justify the appropriation of a highly critical body of work for a tote bag will always be ones which leave a sour taste in the mouth.

51. Tiffany & Co.’s most recent ad campaign, ABOUT LOVE, starring Beyoncé and Jay-Z and featuring Basquiat’s Equals Pi is one such egregious misappropriation of his work. Equals Pi has been owned by private collectors since it was first displayed in 1982. Since then, it has been visible to the public only through magazine covers, where it was used as a prop for the cultural clout of its owners. Tiffany & Co. acquired the piece in August 2021 and then themselves placed it nonchalantly in the background of their ad behind Beyoncé for eight seconds total. Again, using the work as a piece of mise en scene, a mere prop for cultural clout. The most outrageous element of Basquiat’s inclusion in this campaign occurred when the executives claimed the colouring of the painting was an intentional homage to Tiffany & Co. by Basquiat. His assistant Stephen Torton, who mixed the colours for Equals Pi, called this claim “absurd” and noted: “They wouldn’t have let Jean-Michel into a Tiffany’s if he wanted to use the bathroom, or, if he went to buy an engagement ring and pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. We couldn’t even get a cab.” As Torton explained, corporations like Tiffany & Co. “speculate and monetize, commercialize and manipulate every manifestation of this rebellious genius … leave deciphering his message to those who know or leave it alone.” Reader, now I will make it so you are one who knows. In 1978 Basquiat undertook his first organised venture as an artist. SAMO (short for Same Old Shit) was a graffiti moniker he adopted as a late teen with classmate Al Diaz. The duo had something to say and the walls and subway tunnels of Manhattan acted as a megaphone for their provocative and satirical messages. On the project, Diaz said: “[SAMO’s] art was meant in part to be satire on corporations.” “SAMO AS AN ALTERNATIVE TO MASSPRODUCED INDIVIDUALITY” “SAMO AS AN END TO MINDWASH RELIGION, NOWHERE POLITICS AND BOGUS PHILOSOPHY” “SAMO FOR THE SO-CALLED AVANT GARDE”

Following a falling-out between Basquiat and Diaz, in 1980 Basquiat scrawled SAMO IS DEAD across the walls of SoHo. This signalled the death of the partnership and the birth of Basquiat’s solo career. Two years later, following bouts of homelessness, Basquiat would make his first acquaintance with the deep pockets of art dealers and buyers. His first solo art show was hosted by the Annina Nosei Gallery in 1982 and he made $200,000 in one night. His profile and praise in the art world multiplied from this point onwards, however, so too did his critics. No level of success as an artist relieved him of the oppression he faced as a Black man living in America in the 1980s. Systems of inequality had long been his inspiration though, and racism and class inequality featured heavily in his work at all points of his career. Basquiat’s art celebrated Blackness and frequently depicted Black protagonists in a world saturated by white artists and their white subjects. The stories he told centred around the experience of Black people in America, exploring the legacies of the slave trade, Jim Crow laws and police brutality. I highly recommend inspection of pieces such as The Guilt of Gold Teeth, Irony of the Negro Policeman and Untitled (History of the Black People). His novel subject matter led sceptical critics to claim that Basquiat’s success was due to virtue signalling by the art world. In a time-honoured racist tradition, Basquiat’s success was attributed to the kindness of white people, rather than his own talents. According to his critics, Basquiat was not brilliant but rather was fetishised by the liberal-minded elites of a world he had no business being a part of. He was not a great artist, nor a pioneer of neo-expressionism, but someone whose “contribution to art is so miniscule as to be practically nil,” says Hilton Kramer. The allegation of virtue signalling and this dismissal of Basquiat’s merit represents an incomprehensive assessment of his personal history. Basquiat came from a middle-class family and received an extensive education in art and art history, both from his mother and from institutions for gifted children. He spent his childhood in galleries and museums and was keenly aware of the cultural moment that his work was situated in. He took every opportunity afforded to him by SAMO, and his work both as graffiti and on canvas offered sharp political commentaries.

52. He was defined simultaneously as too much of a ne’er-do-well outsider to contribute any meaningful culture to art institutions; and too much of an insider to middle-class privileges to offer any meaningful critique on inequality. His critics diminished the extent of white saturation in art and culture and decreed thus that Basquiat had no licence to be as critical as he was. Both of these characteristics represent a minimisation of the oppression faced by Black Americans in the 1980s. Their absence and exclusion from art institutions only furthered this erasure of the Black experience, a subject featured frequently in Basquiat paintings. The fact that he walked in both worlds, simultaneously as an insider and an outsider to high art institutions, was consistently ignored. Basquiat’s lived experience as a subject of oppression and his knowledge of art and its history made him uniquely situated to pioneer neo-expressionism. He reinvigorated the art world. His pieces were highly referential to both high and low culture, ranging from ancient poets to cartoons, and were always deeply critical. The success of his work represented an important step forward for American society. He pushed the struggles of Black people and the working class in front of the eyes of American cultural elites His audiences could no longer look away from his art or the stories that the canvases told. And yet now it seems we can, and we do. The Guilt of Gold Teeth is a painting which offers the exact critique you would expect from the title. In November 2021 it was sold to a private buyer for $40 million. Troublingly, none of the involved parties seem to appreciate the nauseating irony of such an arrangement. Like Equals Pi, The Guilt of Gold Teeth will sit in someone’s home or personal archive for many years to come. You and I will likely never see either of these paintings in person and their cultural impact, having been hidden away, will be blunted if not entirely nulled. Lucky for us though, corporations have got us covered and there’s a good chance we could buy a t-shirt with Irony of the Negro Policemen printed on. Or we can check out that eight second feature in the Tiffany & Co. ad to see the deferential treatment of a great artist! Perhaps the commercialisation of Basquiat

is the most offensive because of how exclusive his work is in the modern day. The majority of it exists in private collections, where it is inaccessible to the eyes of the public. Only the incredibly wealthy owners of these paintings will get to appreciate their message through the visceral and unfiltered medium of human eyes. His critiques of inequality cannot inspire us from within the walls of white mansions. We have to settle instead for capitalist bastardisations. How does hiding away his work allow us to learn from Basquiat’s genius? How can any piece of cheap merchandise or eight second feature ever honour such a brilliant man? Basquiat grew up wandering the halls of museums and galleries and gazing upon works either made by white artists, or stolen from artists of colour in the violent processes of colonialism. During his lifetime, thanks to the proliferation of reductive narratives about his merit, he did not get to see his art hung up on such prestigious walls. We cannot learn from his work as he learned from the work of others when it is hoarded and hidden by private owners. The use of his work now as a non-contextualised prop or eye-catching print on merchandise, does not do justice to his radical creativity.

an evolving view of science

SAI CAMPBELL

ARTWORK: Jessica McLeod-Yu CW: Racism Science is frequently touted as an apolitical endeavour. It transcends social forces and trends, rising above the emotional and petty squabbling of politics in pursuit of a beautiful and pure object we call the ‘truth.’ At first glance this seems noble enough. Science should operate for the purpose of obtaining knowledge, not serving a political goal. Knowledge that has been acquired for the sake of knowledge has inadvertently made our lives better too. The serendipitous discovery of penicillin is a prime example. Scientific knowledge should not see geographical or political boundaries, it exists on a plane above the vicissitudes of human drama, waiting to be discovered and unravelled. This idealism is perhaps largely a product of privilege. Science has never been apolitical, nor perhaps should it be. As much as we might like it to be a pure, unpolluted thing – science can be used to hurt, especially when we are not trying to. For example, scientists studying Darwinian evolution probably did not consider the implications of some of their work in propelling biological determinism which galvanised the eugenics movement and theories of racial superiority. For them, their work was only logically ‘following the science’ and avoiding these discussions elevated them from accusations of prejudiced thinking. Yet such inaction had consequences. We like to think that science should only be conducted to discover the truth. Perhaps we might want to pause and think about what the consequences of those truths could be. This is not a defence of censorship, but rather an abnegation of the supposed lack of moral responsibility scientists are privileged with. In other words, perhaps scientists must factor the social and ethical implications of their work and

53.

ensure their findings are not used for harm. In the same vein, science might need to consider what it is not looking for and how that, too, can cause harm. Medical research is a field that can be most visibly tied to historical harms to people through supposed a-politicisation. For example, individuals that are from underrepresented ethnic groups, low-socioeconomic status or are women, have repeatedly been the subjects of systemic biases in medicine. Ironically, we could suppose, conscious attempts to be ‘race-blind’ or apolitical have caused considerable harm. These areas are, however, notoriously difficult to navigate. Willful negligence of these factors as important considerations in research do measurably hurt those belonging to these identities in science. The race-blind classification of disease-causing variants in large-scale genetic screens ultimately has major consequences for ethnic minorities and excludes them from potentially lifesaving medical interventions. A putative disease-causing mutation could be erroneously identified as harmless when only examined in a dataset of European individuals. This is due to overlooking the complex interplay of a particular mutation and one’s genetic background which impacts the design of algorithms that are being increasingly used to assess risk for conditions such as heart disease. An apolitical approach would champion being ‘race-blind,’ but this could be more harmful because it demonstrates a willingness to ignore the historic oppression and inequities to which these groups have been subjected. In fairness, it is absurdly difficult for any researcher to consider the almost endless potential consequences of their work. It is critical nonetheless to examine how one’s research could be used to do harm. Overall, we dangerously assume that science must operate within a political vacuum. This, in a way, is a political decision itself.

54.

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen

why we need fewer progressive act senate candidates NORM D PLUM EDITED BY DANIEL RAY

With the usual flurry of policy announcements from both the government and opposition, preparation for the 2022 federal election is well underway. This year’s preparations extend beyond the major and minor parties, with increased numbers of independent candidates declaring they will run for both house and senate seats.

55.

56.

ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen These independents aim to draw on previous successes by the Voices campaigns, running sociallyprogressive and pro-climate campaigns in what are traditionally safe liberal seats. While the likely successes of these candidates are mixed (in the last election only Zali Steggall and Helen Haines were elected) it is clear that there is a growing trend of high-profile independent candidates who want their voices heard. The ACT is no exception.

2. Penny Kyburz (Greens) – 51,780 votes. 3. Nancy Waites (Labor) – 19,780 votes. 4. Anthony Pesec – 15,999 votes. Anthony Pesec (who claimed to be the best chance to challenge Seselja) campaigned on a pro-territory rights and pro-climate change platform and seems the most likely indication of how Professor Rubenstein and Pocock would (collectively) poll. As is apparent, it seems unlikely that they can topple Seselja.

In recent weeks rugby hero turned climate activist David Pocock has announced that he will run for a senate seat in the ACT, joining an already crowded independent field which includes Professor Kim Rubenstein and her campaign: Kim4CBR. Professor Rubenstein, an Honorary Professor at the ANU College of Law and Director of the 50/50 Foundation at the University of Canberra, has expressly stated that her aim is to “topple’’ longstanding ACT-Senator Zed Seseljja. Pocock has similarly targeted Seselja, noting his long-standing opposition to permitting the ACT to debate (and vote on) laws on voluntary assisted dying.

One key difference between Professor Rubenstein’s and Pocock’s campaigns and previously successful independent candidates is that they are running for one of two ACT Senate spots, rather than a lower house seat. This means that rather than dropping the liberal party vote below 50%, they will need to drop it below 33% and secure a very heavy preference flow.

While both independent candidates have publicly stated they believe they can win, does past electoral data support these claims? And would it be better to have fewer progressive candidates running for the ACT Senate? To be elected to the senate a candidate needs to secure a quota, which, in the ACT, reflects 1/3 of the formal votes plus one vote. At the 2019 election the quota was 90,078 votes. As Australian Electoral Commission (AEC) data shows, at the last federal election the Liberal Party secured 87,492 first preference votes (or 0.97 quotas). In contrast, the Greens received 0.53 quotas, and the Labor Party 1.18 quotas. This elected Senator Katy Gallagher on first preferences, before a flurry of counting occurred with Gallagher’s remainder doled out to its next preference and the candidate on the lowest votes eliminated (with their vote then being redistributed and the process repeating). To get the rest of the story, we have to turn to the full AEC preference distribution data. As the data reveals, after 25 counts Seselja was elected with 92,278 votes after the first United Australia Party candidate’s preferences were distributed. At the time of that last count the remaining candidates (by order of count at that time) were: 1. Zed Seselja (Liberal) – 92,278 votes.

For an independent in the ACT, this seems an unenviable task – and one that would be more likely to be achieved by a strong Greens candidate (in cohort with a centre-right independent member). While both Professor Rubenstein and Pocock have existing platforms to draw on, it does not seem that either candidate will be attracting many traditionally conservative voters. The more likely scenario is that they will pull votes that would have otherwise flowed to Labor or the Greens, dividing the primary vote and increasing the likelihood of Seselja’s re-election. While time will tell, on a preliminary view, those that wish for a new second ACT Senator (one perhaps more in favour of supporting territory rights and climate change action) may well be better served by fewer candidates. In the case of Professor Rubenstein and Pocock, one might also fairly ask that if they genuinely wished to be elected, why are they not running for a lower house seat with a comparatively easier pathway into Parliament?

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

57.

58.

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

sapiens to systems ALEXANDER LANE EDITED BY ELIZABETH WALKER

Evolution occurs when animals adapt to better live in their environment. Climate change and the Anthropocene are changes to our environment. However, because they are happening so fast, we cannot evolve through our usual means of mutation. To survive, and, in many ways, to thrive, in a new era, we will have to evolve deliberately and collectively. Often, when we talk about our Anthropocenic future, we speak with cynicism. We talk about how doomed we are, about how much we and the planet will lose. The signposts of our times seem to point in only two directions: what needs to be done by 2050, and the hellscape that awaits us afterwards. Fundamentally, a good portion of us seem to have lost a lot of hope. This is understandable. In many ways, it is a logical viewpoint. We are one of the most individualistic societies to ever exist, having to confront a problem caused by our collective actions and which can only be solved by our collective actions. If we were not living it, it would be fantastically ironic.

59. Increasingly though, people are understanding that this fatalism and odd schadenfreude is what hamstrings us. Proposals like the Green New Deal are solutions-orientated, but, in their wholesale view and in their intersectionality, they give us a better vision of the future. They give a third way of looking forward. The debate now is moving away from questions of needing to evolve, to the question of how do we evolve? What traits do we need to better suit the coming century? In a word, systems. In two words, systems thinking. Just as individualism plagues us, so too does an obsession with taking ecological and economic cycles and processes and trying to make a graph out of them. The four lines required to make a supply and demand diagram are some of the most damaging you can draw. Not because they are inaccurate, but because of how much they leave out. If we’re trapped in Plato’s cave, then these bivariate models are the shadows on the wall. The fire is approaching the market as embedded in a broader social and environmental context. Oxford economist, Kate Ratworth, has attempted to create another way of visualising a single market: wherein the market is taken as a system, with supply and demand being feedback loops, not linear processes. This market also has a clear limit - environmental sustainability. What we should evolve into is an understanding of our world as composed of systems. These systems have multiple components which replace the traditional independent variable, but each component is a keystone – if removed, the system teeters dangerously. The classic example we’d be familiar with is an ecosystem. Remove a producer organism, like plants, and the system crumbles, but remove also apex predators and herbivore populations explode unsustainably. When we attempt to break down the world into phenomenon Y as a cause of X, we stress the dependence of Y on X, but in doing so, we lose the interdependence of these two variables within a broader system. When we reduce the world into models, choices are made about what to exclude and include. We exclude what we deem irrelevant which, as history warns us, is a dangerous game to play. Climate change challenges economics because it pushes and prods for putting the environment front and centre of these models. Otherwise, reality and economics will flee into the distance growing further and further apart, a phenomenon seen today in the celebration

of economic growth built off future environmental collapse. Systems thinking doesn’t stop with the economy. Just as we fail to embed the economy into other systems like the environment and society, so too do we fail to view ourselves as agents in a larger, broader system. This is not simply a criticism of the neoliberal “There are individual men and women and there are families…” It is about reworking the conception of humans as distinct from their natural environment. The West has long sat on this principle of othering; creating binaries and hierarchies of value. Race, gender and sexuality have all been catalogued and reduced to the accepted ‘status quo’ and the rejected other, to either be feared, patronised, or forced out. We do the same thing with the environment. We erect picket fences to distinguish between where we and our lawns end, and where the ‘wild’ begins. But we cannot be separated from our ecosystem; the idea of a human is meaningless without the global and local environment in which they live. Understanding this irrevocable connection is one of the most crucial steps in evolving into the Anthropocene and the reality of climate change. Much of this is nothing new. It is the West that struggles with this. Many other cultures incorporate eco-centrism into their views, especially First Nations people and other Indigenous cultures around the world. For once, the West needs to take a backseat. Successful climate action will be paired with justice and sovereignty for Indigenous peoples. One of the most dangerous myths of climate change is that we have no choices left. Whatever happens in the next two decades, it will be a series of decisions made by our society. Some will be undemocratic, made by elites in backrooms, while others may not even be presented as choices, only as unfortunate necessities. But with every step, through action or inaction, we will be choosing what we evolve into, we will force ourselves to adapt to the new landscape. To paraphrase Chomsky, it is better to choose optimism over despair, to choose through the ballot, but also to choose by approaching life as complex and vulnerable systems, needing to be comprehensively understood, with no factor excluded. By evolving towards a system outlook, we take a step to evolving into not just the new era, but into something better.

60.

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

a road to nowhere - part i another disillusioned millennial ANOTHER DISILLUSIONED MILLENNIAL EDITED BY DANIEL RAY In 1853, one of the more flamboyant Prime Ministers of the United Kingdom, Benjamin Disraeli, described the ideal university as a place of “light, liberty and learning.” Commenting on the legacy of this quote more than one hundred years later, Disraeli’s biographer remarked that “it has not become such a truism that we can afford to forget it a century later.” Looking at the state of tertiary education in Australia today, I would say we forgot those words a very long time ago. Today, tertiary education resembles little more than any of the other flashy little shops which decorate Northbourne Avenue. We are programmed rather than taught, manufactured rather than inspired and pushed into a competitive and toxic world with little more than a participation ribbon. Many of us are saddled with debt which we will carry with us well into adulthood. Some of us are even bankrupted.

61. And for what? A degree is no longer the ticket to employment it once was for our parents. It does not even guarantee an interview. The ugly reality of our time is that it is now what the student is born into rather than what they create which determines their future. Our universities make the mistake of assuming that every student has access to the same resources and that they will succeed or fail on the basis of their academic performance. But even if academic performance is the great equaliser, how are these abilities tested? Through useless lectures and unimaginative tutorials? By writing dull essay after dull essay about a topic nobody cares about? By learning how to perfect the mediocre arts of copying, memorising and reciting the same thing over and over and over again? Our universities are no longer just insufficient or unsuitable, they are punishing and reductive. They turn enthusiasm into boredom and discriminate against imagination in favour of mediocrity. All in the name of “efficiency,” “productivity” and “learning.” I did not always believe this. I, like many of you I guess, came to university full of hope and excitement. Finally, I thought, I can learn about stuff I really care about and I can study the things which I’m actually interested in. Due to my interest in government, I thought a Law/Politics, Philosophy and Economics (PPE) degree would be perfect. What could be better than a degree which combines law with politics, philosophy and economics? How wonderful! … I thought. Almost four years on, after I realised what PPE really is, after I realised how much of the law is really broken, and after I realised that HIRAC (Heading, Issue, Rule, Application, Conclusion) and not imagination was the key to HDs, my enthusiasm was no more. I can only speak from my own experience. But I hope by sharing some of it, you might see where my disillusion began and why this system needs to change. I thought that my degree would give me the freedom and the passion to make a contribution to my community. I’ve always tried to be conscious of my privilege and rather than just doing what I thought the world expected me to do, I thought that a degree would give me the tools to help others. Naïve I know. Fanciful even. Maybe just stupid. I probably should have known that I was entering an institution which had more in common with Waystar/ Royco from Succession than the library of Alexandria. There were two moments when I seriously considered changing my degree and doing something else.

One pre-pandemic and one during the second ACT lockdown. I told myself that I stuck with it in the hope it would get better. But if I’m honest with myself it was probably because I didn’t know what the ‘something else’ was. Should I change degrees? Should I change courses? Should I drop out? I had no idea. My first flirtation with disillusion was in one of the early PPE integration courses. It was so worthless I genuinely cannot remember anything else we learnt except one particular topic. The course (I think?) focused on the politics side of the degree. One day we were presented with the ‘voting equation’ a mathematical formula which was supposedly designed to determine if and how someone would vote. I was paralysed by a mix of shock and incredulity. I thought to myself, what the fuck? Does any voter anywhere in the world sit down at the voting booths and work this shit out? Is this what Antony Green programs into his computer every election night? For fuck’s sake! At this point, I realised that PPE was not a convenient and elegant combination of three crucial disciplines into one, but was instead its own ideology, and not one I found interesting, useful or factual. But, I told myself, there is still hope for the law. Even if PPE is just a solution in search of a problem, or an extended TEDtalk in search of an audience, all change starts and ends with the law. Surely, I told myself, studying the law must also include evaluating the law, learning if and how it works, by what principles and importantly, for whom. Of course, I was wrong. Throughout my entire law degree, I have done two subjects which fit that description. Every other course has been either interesting content taught by dull people, dull content taught by dull people, or amoral content taught by interesting people. There was one course where I had another what the fuck moment. Generally I thought Equity and Trusts was taught well, but the law itself made me sick. There was one case I will always remember – Re Diplock. The children of a deceased man sued a hospital for refurbishing its children’s ward with their father’s trust money. A children’s ward. I thought to myself, is this what I’ll be doing in 10 years’ time? Helping dickheads sue a children’s hospital? And yet, during the entire course, no one ever asked if the law was just. Not once.

62.

ARTWORK: Navita Wijerante

a rich ticket’s world? ALEXANDER LANE EDITED BY JULIETTE BAXTER

The ANUSA Probity Team recently released their report on the 2022 student election. It summarises any contentious issues in the election, such as Grassroots’ announcement of their ticket in violation of ANUSA election rules and the controversy around Divorced Dads for ANUSA. However, the probity report also details each ticket’s finances, and it reveals a clear correlation between ticket success and the amount of money they spent. In summary, Grassroots ANUSA spent significantly more than any other ticket, with their actual expenditure being $1,048, followed distantly by Blake Iafeta who spent $330. Grassroots ANUSA went on to win nearly all positions for which they put up candidates, and they now quite firmly control ANUSA’s executive, along with a substantial number of General Representatives. Blake Iafeta failed in his bid for the presidency, but ultimately won a General Representative slot. Though other tickets spent money on their campaigns, it was substantially less than Grassroots, yet closer to Iafeta, as the graph above shows. This is not to say that more money spent on campaigns must cause a better electoral result; it could be that tickets which are more committed contribute more money, but such commitment is evident to, and supported by, the student population. However, ticket expenditure likely plays some role in eventual success, especially when tickets dedicate most of their money towards Facebook advertisements. The graph below shows that tickets that allocated the most towards advertising

performed significantly better in the election. This is not new in student elections, and using Facebook ads has been a common tactic for several years. Nonetheless, it could suggest that finance is playing a large role in ANUSA elections, as opposed to policy debate. Additionally, a majority of these funds come from the candidates themselves. The highest contributors were Christian Flynn - the 2022 President - and Blake Iafeta, who budgeted $335 and $330 respectively. Each of Grassroots ANUSA’s candidates for executive positions injected $65, and Chido Nyakuengama, the 2022 Vice President, contributed $200. In fact, the only ticket not to use candidate funds was Get Going for ANUSA, which relied entirely on funding from the ANU Liberal Club. This raises concerns around the accessibility of ANUSA elections: are wealthier students who are able to put more money in the ones more likely to win? Some students have echoed this concern: the General Secretary for 2022, Ben Yates, reported worries amongst polled students about how “advertising created equity issues…” in the election. Yates’ report also revealed how a major complaint from students during the election was the “...sheer quantity of campaign material.” While the election is open to all, some students are not interested and where once they could avoid campaigners on Kambri or candidate debates, sponsored ads on Facebook are far more pernicious, and for some, far more frustrating.

It made me wonder - how on earth did evolution fashion one of the most extinction-able animals possible? The evolutionary biologist, Stephen J Gould, was thinking the same thing. He probably wasn’t watching Youtube in the 1980s but his book, The Panda’s Thumb, was inspired by boyhood trips to the zoo. Gould observed that pandas were capable of deftly stripping the leaves from bamboo stalks with the assistance of an apparently ‘flexible thumb’. This puzzled the young Gould who had learned in school that a supposed hallmark of primate superiority was the development of an opposable thumb. With this, chimps and the like could hold onto things to make the tools that differentiated them from other animals.

WRITTEN AND EDITED BY SAI CAMPBELL

If you search ‘pandas’ on Youtube, you will find hundreds of videos with titles such as AWW SO CUTE!!! BABY PANDAS Playing with Zookeeper or Panda Funny Moment Videos Compilation. Instead of attending to my growing pile of uni work, I like to watch these adorable creatures cause havoc, tumble and roll around, and menace their keepers. They struggle to walk around without tripping on flat grass, are frightened by their own farts, and always inexplicably find a way to fall off literally anything. It’s like they’re trying to go extinct.

why isn’t the panda extinct?

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

63.

64. Yet the panda wields a seemingly identical structure. Upon closer inspection, the panda’s thumb isn’t actually a thumb at all. When you look at its paw, you would see that it actually has six digits, not five. So did the panda develop an extra finger? Not quite. The panda’s ‘thumb’ is actually an extension of a bone that we also find in humans, namely the radial sesamoid. This pseudo-thumb is also pretty terrible at its job. It is clumsy and characterised by a painfully limited range of movement. A first-year engineering student could have done a better job of designing an alternative. Yet there are numerous examples of ‘poorly’ designed structures in nature. Gould argues in his book, however, that these embarrassing feats of biological engineering are more compelling evidence for evolution than the perfectly suited structures that are typically used in your biology textbook. Briefly, evolution, as put forward in Charles Darwin’s seminal work The Origin of the Species, is a process of adaptation by natural selection. In other words, an organism featuring traits that are favourable for its environment is more likely to survive, have many offspring, and pass on its genes. A common misunderstanding, however, is that an animal chooses to survive better. A cheetah cannot choose to have faster offspring. More accurately, a mutation, or several, that allow for stronger muscles arises spontaneously in one cub of a litter. That fast, young cheetah is more likely to catch prey and, in turn, more likely to produce offspring which will inherit this mutation and be fast little cheetahs and so on. Organisms, thus, adapt to their environment through almost a process of iterative testing to allow for a specific trait to dominate a population and eventually become a primary characteristic of that species. Yet within this paradigm we still see so many supposedly poor examples of adaptation. How can we reconcile the panda’s simple pseudo-thumb with the almost divine excellence of the evolutionary process? We might actually observe that the panda’s pathetic excuse of a thumb fits neatly into Darwin’s theory. A marvellous thumb does not arise spontaneously. Natural selection has to work with what it’s got. In a way it’s in the name - nature selects traits that are already in a population. At

some point in the panda’s ancestry, a hypertrophic radial sesamoid in a random panda turned out to just get the job done and there was no real need for a structure with extra bells and whistles. We can see examples of poor adaptations in ourselves too. Before we dive into these, it’s first important to understand that evolution is characterised by a never-ending struggle between organism and environment. As the environment changes, the organism tries to catch up. Sometimes there’s a bit of a lag which has led to a number of distinctly modern ailments as humans change their environment with incredible momentum. A clue to these organism-environment mismatches can be seen in conditions whose prevalence is growing with astonishing speed. As an example, autoimmune conditions such as inflammatory bowel disease, lupus, and arthritis are thought to be increasing in prevalence by a dizzying 3–9% a year. With no obvious changes in our genetic makeup within the past few decades, the culprit seems to be a change in our environment. In this case it might be linked to the consumption of fast-food. This stark jump in the evolutionary timeline from fibre-rich whole foods to burgers containing more sugar than protein is thought to have altered our gut microbiome which might trigger autoimmune diseases. This is just one of a number of examples where the human body and our modern lifestyles appear to be mismatched. Perhaps our view of the panda’s supposed evolutionary inferiority is conceited. Why would they need an opposable thumb when their little stump will do? Why do they need to drive cars or run around really quickly when they can just look cute and let us bring the food to them? The most convincing argument for evolution is perhaps not the existence of the perfect animal, but rather the many examples of imperfections as a result of working with what they’ve got. Just like that uni assignment you’re supposed to be working on right now, nature sometimes realises that a mediocre job is still a finished job. As they definitely don’t say - while the panda works hard to go extinct, natural selection works harder.

ART art@woroni.com.au CONTENT write@woroni.com.au

TV television@woroni.com.au

O RADI om.au i.c n o r o w radio@

JOIN WORONI

W W We would like to acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the traditional custodians of the land on which Woroni is created. We pay respects to Elders past, present and emerging. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.

Woroni Edition 1 2022

Articles inside

Disillusioned Millennial

A Rich Ticket’s World?

Sapiens to Systems A Road to Nowhere - Part I Another

Senate Candidates

Jean-Michel Basquiat: Darling of Corporate America

An Evolving View of Science Why We Need Fewer Progressive ACT

How It Begins

Who Speaks

My Childhood Bedroom

Irresolute

Telstra State of Mind

Dear Time

Do We Become Our Parents?

An Insider’s Scoop And Guide to the C(r)apital

Productivity Culture VS. The Art of Nothingness

Growing

Club Culture

Sign Me Up Interview: How COVID-19 Changed Campus

Unilodge For Alleged Wage Theft ‘Ventilation’, Travel and Functions Amongst

ANU’s Compliance With ACT Health Questioned

The Serious Business (And Subsequent Party) of Mullets: A History The Impact of COVID-19 On Our Mental Health... According to Evolutionary Science Euphoria: A Beautifully Grim Representation

We Deserve Better Than Matt Haigh’s The Midnight Library

Un’hinged: The Call of Nature

of Adolescence

Changes at ANU

NATCON 2021 Wrapped Class-action Lawsuit Prepared Against