Woroni Edition 4 2021 by Woroni

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WORONI

WORONI TEAM

content

Carys Fisher Clara Ho Elinor Johnston-Leek Jacinta Chen Jasper Morse Liah Naidoo Oscar Warren Virginia Plas

radio

Elijah Lazarus Bec Donald-Wilson Fergus Sherwood Rucha Tathavadkar Davis Evans Olivia Adams Gabrielle Karov Alex An Phoebe Barnes Eric Rattray

managing George Keleher

Aditi Dubey Queenie Ung-Lam Aleyn Silva Andy Yin Ashley Davies Katie Sproule Rose Dixon-Campbell Sabrina Tse Saskia O’George Tilda Njoo

art

Yige Xu Natasha Tareen Eliza Williams Maddy Brown Xuming Du Madelene Watson Beth O’Sullivan Navita Wijeratne

news

Ronan Skyring Giselle Laszok Sasha Personeni Juliette Baxter Daniel Crane Kristine Giam Fiona Ballentine

CONTENTS NEWS

Memory Exchange

Comment: “Dangerous High Workloads

A Letter to my Mother

and Stress Caused Since ANU Sacked 10%

The Bread is my Body Eat, Eat Me

of Staff

Mechanical Bull

30 33 34

Australia G7 Attendees to Quarantine at ANU Davey Lodge

Insight: Course Cuts at ANU Worse than Anticipated

MULTILINGUAL (English) Perhaps (Hindi) Perhaps

40 41

(English) A Funeral for all the COMMENT

Shame we’ve ever felt

Patriarchy - 1: Promiscous Girls - 0 Tinder is a Tool of Misery

Buddhism and Big Mouth on Pandemic Grief

SOUR Power

The Lorde has Returned

Measured Filling Gaps

che Abbiamo mai provato (English) Sign of the Times

(Chinese) Sign of the Times

(Chinese) Cheers to the Great American Dream

22 DISCOVERY

CREATIVE Youth

(Italian) Un Funerale per tutta la Vergogna

Cheers to the Great American Dream

Proving Without Knowing - The 2021 Abel Prizes in Mathematics

Lured into becoming a Foreign Spy

Lessons from my ‘No Buy Year’

26 27

Security

Broken

56 60

Alternative Stem: Fighting Australia’s Education Inequity Sex:The Dilema

62 65

NOTE FROM THE EDITOR Here we have edition 4 of Woroni for 2021 - “Temptation”. In this edition you will find stories and opinions from our peers as we move from the depths of the Canberra winter towards the bright, and hot, spring and summer days. Temptation is different for different people in different context. Is it mean a cheeky snack when we shouldn’t? A hunger nagging but unable to be satiated by our current situation? Or an online purchase which, on reflection, we really didn’t need. No matter your definition, the following 60 pages explore these concepts from all angles. From promiscuity to money the authors and artists allow us to understand and examine temptation to its extreme. These stories from students are vital. These stories stretch through from negative and positive. We hope you enjoy this lenses into our community as we transition from our cold winter nights through to brisk spring mornings. Ben Rowley Managing Editor

Saad Khalid Radio Editor

Vy Tsan Deputy Editor in Chief

Matthew Donlan Editor in Chief

EDITORS Lily Pang Content Editor

Sian Williams Art Editor Liam Taylor TV Editor

Ben Rowley Managing Editor

Charlotte Ward News Editor

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

comment: “dangerously high workloads and stress caused since anu sacked 10% of staff” JULIETTE BAXTER After the release of the ANU Recovery Plan in October last year in response to the financial deficit caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, scores of jobs have been cut across the University. These cuts have coincided with the disestablishment of 529 courses in the past year. According to the University Recovery Plan website, 273 staff have taken voluntary separations. However, this does not include casual staff. As explained by an ANU spokesperson, “Casual staff numbers cannot be determined as contracts can cease at any time from either party.” Additionally, the University has disestablished a number of staffing positions, both academic and professional, across its colleges.

6. The largest college at the University, the College of Science, has experienced significant cuts. 75 staff have taken voluntary separations. Despite introducing several new positions, the University has disestablished staff across multiple schools. In the Research School of Chemistry, four academic and four professional roles have been disestablished, while in the Research School of Earth Sciences five academic and twelve professional positions have been cut. Similarly, at the Research School of Biology, there has been a reduction of seven professional staff. Likewise, the Recovery Plan sees five academic staff lost and a further net loss of thirteen professional staff in the Research School of Physics, and one academic and three net professional positions in the Research School of Astronomy and Astrology. The Centre for Public Awareness of Science and the Centre for Advanced Microscopy have lost 1 academic and 1.5 professional staff, respectively. Similarly deep cuts have been seen in the College of Arts and Social Sciences, centred around the School of Art and Design (SOA&D) and the Arabic program. Across the College, thirtyfive staff have accepted voluntary separations. Two workshops within the SOA&D have been disestablished, the Furniture workshop and the Jewellery and Object Workshop, along with the Animation and Video program. However, teaching for the latter two workshops will continue for students already enrolled in the program.The Ceramics and Glass workshops remain separate workshops but with a combined teaching team. In addition, a single team will carry out the administration for the School of Art and Design and the School of Music. The Arabic program has been cut from three full-time staff to one full-time academic staff member. The ANU justifies this with declining student numbers in the last two years. The College of Health and Medicine is also being overhauled. Despite threats to cut the Eccles Institute of Neuroscience entirely, the College will instead be reorganised into three schools: the John Curtin School of Medical Research, the National Centre for Epidemiology and Population Health, and the School of Medicine, Psychology and Health Leadership. Furthermore, up to five academic positions and ten professional staff positions will be disestablished. An additional eighteen staff have taken voluntary separations.

In the College of Engineering and Computer Science, there has been a restructure of the academic organisational units, to cut down from seven units to three. In addition, eleven academic staff positions and five professional staff positions have been disestablished. Seventeen staff have taken a voluntary separation. No college has gone unscathed. Within the College of Asia and the Pacific, 27 staff took voluntary separations, 13 of which were teaching staff. Nine voluntary separations have also been taken within the College of Law. And, at the College of Business and Economics, there was a net reduction of six positions. The National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) has criticised these extensive cuts. NTEU President Simon Copland argues that, “The cuts to higher education funding for the past 20 years … show a desire by our government to polarise access to tertiary education and complete the transformation into a for-profit industry.” Copland also contends, “the actions by ANU over the past 12 months show a similar trajectory, with appalling cuts to staff and courses which maximise profit and prestige at the expense of staff mental health and the student learning experience.” In the months ahead, NTEU members will continue to organise across the campus advocating for better pay and conditions. The NTEU is particularly concerned about “dangerously high workloads and stress caused since ANU sacked 10% of staff, the lack of genuine consultation in decision making, and the epidemic of wage theft via casualisation” and also “condemn the related course cuts.” The Union hopes to engage with the entire ANU community including students about these changes.

australian g7 attendees to quarantine at anu davey lodge KRISTINE LI GIAM

A group of Australian G7 Summit attendees are set to quarantine at ANU Davey Lodge upon return.

An ANU spokesperson stated that “ANU has already safely operated on-campus quarantine. We stand ready to do so again.”

Currently empty, Davey Lodge will host 30 of the Prime Minister Morrison’s staff, journalists, and other officials of the Australian G7 delegation. This is due to the regular hotel used for quarantine has returned to providing normal service. Another 10 members of staff will quarantine in their homes. PM Morrison is currently quarantining at The Lodge, the PM’s main official residence, situated in Deakin.

Previously, ACT Health considered Davey Lodge unsuitable as a quarantine premises for international students, citing its lack of cooking and balcony facilities.

An ACT Health spokesperson told Woroni that “the Commonwealth Government informed the ACT Government that they had contacted the ANU directly to arrange this accommodation around 10 days ago.” In his recent blog, Vice Chancellor Schmidt stated that he is “very pleased the University can play our part to help return travellers safely to Australia”.

Regarding this, an ACT Health spokesperson stated “the ACT Government is happy to share feedback and findings from this quarantine period to the Commonwealth Government to inform National Cabinet decisions about the return of international students to Australia.”

insight: course cuts at anu worse than anticipated JULIETTE BAXTER When students went to enrol in courses this semester, many were faced with fewer options than years before, noticing that courses run in previous years had vanished. These concerns were amplified by a post in Schmidtposting claiming that 322 courses offered last year were not available this year. Woroni has obtained exclusive data from the University on the extent of the cuts, which reveal the situation is even more dire than previously anticipated. As the result of an FOI request for information from the University, since the start of 2020, a total of 529 courses have been disestablished across the ANU. Of these 529 courses, 88 were taught in 2020, 50 had never been taught at all previously, 160 had been taught prior to 2016, and the rest had last been taught at an unspecified time between 20162019. The College of Arts and Social Sciences (CASS) and the College of Law (CoL) had the most courses cut overall, with 126 courses disestablished from each college. Of these, only 28 were last taught in 2020 for CASS and 16 in 2020 for CoL. Another 139 courses were cut ‘ANU Wide’. A University spokesperson clarified that this includes “courses taught by external third-party providers, courses for high school students under ANU extension, global exchange and some graduate and undergraduate non-award and cross-institutional arrangements.”

In addition, the College of Asia-Pacific (CAP), College of Science (CoS) and College of Business and Economics (CBE) felt significant cuts to their course offerings. Fifty-four courses were cut from CAP, forty-eight from CoS and another thirty-six from the CBE. Meanwhile, the College of Engineering and Computer Sciences (CECS) has been entirely unscathed, with no courses disestablished and even four new courses added in the past year. In the past year, 109 new courses were introduced across the University, but this does not diminish the significance of the total courses cut. Even with these new courses, there was a difference of 410 courses between semester one this year and the same time last year. Of the 109 new courses, 50 were within CASS, 28 in CoS, 14 in CAP, and 4 each in CECS and CBE. Thus, comparing cuts balanced against new courses, the College of Law appears to have taken the hardest hit. These course cuts are reflective of the University’s broader financial concerns, with a financial deficit of $162.4 million announced in May, and ongoing staffing cuts. Though the exact number of jobs lost is unknown, cuts have been felt throughout the University. Reflective of the impact of course cuts, job cuts have been felt profoundly in CASS, CAP and the CoS. College Breakdown of Courses Cut Over the Years

ARTWORK: Yige Xu 9.

10.

patriarchy 1: promiscuous girls 0 BY AVAN DARUWALLA

CW: SASH, Sexism Is casual sex liberated sex? Modern discourse condemns you as a bad feminist or slut-shamer for not thinking so. The idea that promiscuity and women’s empowerment are oppositional is not new. Unfortunately, this view has often been interweaved (by older feminists) with blatant slut-shaming, victim-blaming, and other ‘Mmum you can’t say that’ worthy content. ‘Angry Feminists’ of past waves feel entitled to spreading such vitriol on the basis that they fought for an end to the constant sexualisation and objectification of women. So, when their daughters’ generation began to embrace their sexuality (an attempt to reverse sexual repression) a debate emerged as to whether sexual promiscuity is truly empowering for all women. For both generations, liberation looks like freedom from an oppressive misogynistic culture and patriarchal framework. Women and gender diverse people just want equality, safety and respect. We also often want good friends, good food, and good sex – just like everyone else. So, let’s talk liberated sex. Expressions of sexuality are particularly important for those (often gender-oppressed people) looking to deconstruct internalised disempowerment, subjugation, and powerlessness. Freedom to express and explore one’s sexuality is inherently fluid and personal. It would be retrogressive to suggest that a woman can only empower herself within set confines or by following a specific recipe for liberation soup. However, I do think it’s fair to say

that for every person, liberated sex often involves the following: enthusiastic consent, desire, pleasure, safety, and connection (to self or others). The patriarchy’s promotion of heterosexual casual sex is largely inapplicable to the queer community. The heterosexual matrix (as conceptualised by Judith Butler) is deeply imbedded in liberal feminism, meaning that the sexual empowerment of queer people is not of vested interest to the patriarchy. Men care about women’s sexuality when the sex in question benefits them. They couldn’t care less how much sex people are having if it isn’t with them (though the patriarchy actively oppress queer people in a billion other ways). Further, the promotion of casual sex is an inherently Western concept, as are most mainstream portrayals of liberal feminism. Most of the world is pretty divested from a feminist focus on sexual empowerment. The ‘Sexual Advice Double Standard’ is applied more globally – encouraging (heterosexual) men and discouraging women from casual sex, based on perceived risk, stigma and patriarchal values. In recent history (within a cis-het, Western framework), casual sex has been regarded as a means to undermine restrictive sexist values and achieve sexual liberation. Unfortunately, casual sex is not the ‘blanket’ solution contemporary feminists had hoped for. In investigating “the bubblegum misogyny of 2000s pop culture”, Constance Grady highlights vicious media betrayals of women (i.e. Paris Hilton, Janet Jackson), punished and hypersexualised by the patriarchy for sex crimes committed against them.

ARTWORK: Eliza Williams More recent mainstream content like the ‘Call Her Daddy’ podcast (over 2M downloads) respond to this misogyny by promoting toxic, manipulative behaviour as a means of gendered retribution. Call Her Daddy frames sexual empowerment as women embodying toxicallymasculine behaviours (i.e. gaslighting, ranking women, apathy in sexual relationships). The podcast exemplifies the dangers of patriarchally-sanctioned iterations of feminism. The idea of ‘sexual availability’ reinforces violent, gendered constructs entitling men to women’s bodies. It frames casual sex as an act of feminist revolution, whilst inherently benefiting men. Further, the actual physical acts involved in casual sex (often violent and degrading) prioritise the pleasure of men and demean women. The idea that casual sex is liberating for women is endorsed by the patriarchy. Tiktokker @professionalghoster said it best: “they made us think that sexual freedom could be reached by doing something that was what they had always wanted from us”. Other content on the platform has also demonstrated that there is perhaps a disconnect between perceived sexual empowerment and truly consensual, desirable experiences. Casual sex does not frame sex around women’s desire nor their pleasure. Yes, the thrill of spontaneity and adventure can feel good, but casual sexual encounters can come at a cost to those who have been sold the narrative that it is empowering. This is not to say that promiscuity is bad, nor that casual sex is bad. What I am saying is that the outcomes of liberated sex (if thought of as enthusiastic consent, desire, pleasure, safety and connection) are often not attainable to women through casual sex. If you are having liberating casual sex then that is incredible; but in reality, this just isn’t accessible to all women. There really appears to be no winning here; if you aren’t being slut-shamed then you are being exposed to a culture that tells you that feminism requires sexual empowerment, conveniently on men’s terms. Tiktokker @cottagecorecowboy ironically attacks young women; “if you don’t live to feed men’s violent sexual appetites” then maybe you’re “vanilla”. Rich with aggressive sarcasm, she tells her audience that they “aren’t real feminists unless [they] enjoy violent and degrading sex”.

Andrew Sullivan’s commentary on the #MeToo Movement demonstrated troubling mainstream values prioritising male ‘biological realities’ and pleasure. Women’s suffering is treated as the cost of men’s pleasure (both sexually and socially). By normalising casual sex in the way that we have, rather than sexual liberation as promised, we have instead fortified the sexual objectification of women. TikTok is notably relevant to this discourse given the way that the sharing platform has made radical feminist cultural criticism accessible to the masses. I’ll admit that the algorithm is probably showing me a lot more radfem content than most, but the average TikTok user would be familiar with trends like ‘girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep’. This trend satirised and criticised pop-feminist #girlboss culture (over 1.3B TikTok views) by likening it to other buzzword toxic behaviours. Moreover, TikTok has opened my eyes to the way that casual sex culture has increased the sexualisation and grooming of young women. Tiktokker @ryantheejonesy thinks ‘the concept of preteen is dead’, where zoomers ‘skip preteen phase… and replicate the culture of older teens’. Young girls are being conditioned to glorify the glamour and wealth associated with SW and OnlyFans. By the point at which young women reach maturity they have no incentive to question who is actually benefiting from their sexuality. Fourth-wave feminism did not account for the seductive power of patriarchally-aligned liberation. Questioning the frameworks around our feminism sometimes exposes fatal flaws. The patriarchy is insidious and dangerous. We have to think critically because a culture of misogyny will always prefer that your empowerment exists in a way that meets its needs more than your own. For some people sexual liberation is tied to their relationship to their body, self-esteem, confidence, beauty, music, romance or intelligence. To you it may look or feel like something completely different. The important factor is that you find a way to liberate yourself that feels right for you. Whether that involves no sex at all, a great deal of casual sex or anything in between: there is no wrong answer. It’s your body, your choice and your liberation at stake.

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ARTWORK: Rose Dixon-Campbell

tinder is a tool of misery BY ROSE DIXON-CAMPBELL

When I imagine the apps on my phone as tangible real-life phenomena, dating apps always appear in my mind’s eye as the digital Wild West. I get more dick pics on Instagram (please stop) and more spammers and scammers in my emails and yet dating apps, specifically Tinder, seem like the final frontier for civility and etiquette. There is something animalistic and mindless about the endless swiping. After some time on that app, it comes to feel less like a social platform where you can interact with other humans in a very specific context, and more like a game wherein the pictures you see are merely avatars to be rated with either a × or a . It was this mechanic which made Tinder so popular in the first place. You only know when someone likes you, not when they don’t. On Tinder you do not have to directly live through rejection as you would in real life, nor do you have to reject people to their faces and deal with their disappointment thereafter. The messiness of face to face interaction, the adrenaline, the awkwardness, and the giddy flirtation has all been sanitised in this swiping mechanic.

13. In this way dating apps have divorced us from the very basic and instinctual feeling of attraction. Tinder has distilled our biological impulses and desires into a swiping game within an app which is perfectly calibrated to maximise the misery of its users and thus the profits of its owners. On Tinder and other such dating apps you become alienated from that intuitive sense of connection you feel to someone who seems like a suitable mate. While the majority of dating app users report that what they are most looking for is a longterm relationship, Tinder users specifically desire hookups and casual/short-term dating. The trend, therefore, is wanting an offline connection. The unfortunate reality of our wants in this case is that more than half of dating app users have not had a one night stand out of their swiping. Dating apps are increasingly being used for procrastination and confidence boosting. The procrastination element is obvious: switch off your brain, tap through pictures and at the end make a simple yes/no choice with no immediate consequences. This ‘confidence boosting’ however requires some further examination, particularly in an article in which I am alleging widespread misery. We have always known that it is validating anda boost to one’s self-esteem to go home with someone who you think is hot (“If I can get them to come to bed with me, I must be good looking myself”). Since Tinder shows you who has matched with you, theoretically who finds you attractive, you can bypass that pesky middle step of actually hooking up with the person, and skip right to the shallow self-validation we’re all secretly desperate for (“I’m hot enough that I could sleep with them if I wanted to”). On its face this doesn’t seem too bad. We can all get a casual self-esteem boost without exposing ourselves to possible wounds to the ego or the anxiety of ordinary social interaction. However, building people’s confidence and boosting the self-esteem of users doesn’t pay the bills for millionaire dating app executives. They line their pockets with your misery and desperation. Why else would you pay for a subscription to Tinder Gold if you were not already insecure about the quantity/ quality of your matches? Why else would you pay to ‘boost’ your profile, or survey people who

already ‘like’ you if you weren’t feeling some sort of desperation to meet people who can validate you? The unfortunate reality is that paying your way in these primarily heterosexual dating apps will never overcome the massive gender imbalances which create toxic experiences for women and isolate men. In locations such as the UK, men outnumber women 9:1 on Tinder, and even apps preferred by female users (such as Bumble) can never attract a consistent 1:1 ratio of men to women. All online dating communities are a sausage fest wherein women are subjected to an inundation of messages, often sexual harassment. This is done on the basis of shallow and materialistic evaluations of their pictures only (male Tinder users report pictures as the most decisive feature of a profile, whereas female users prefer the biography section). Meanwhile, the majority of the male user base faces radio silence which drives desperate and miserable men to equally desperate and miserable conclusions about themselves, society, and their entitlement to women. I’m not saying Tinder is the root of evil for all societal ills. Being rejected on Tinder is definitely not the only social failing which drives people to become incels and femcels - the digital space it has created for dating is not entirely new in Australia. In the early 19th century Australian women were outnumbered by men 2:1 in metropolitan areas and even more so out in the bush. As a result, they enjoyed their pick of the lot. They had ‘better’ marriage prospects than their British counterparts, got married younger and with more urgency. The online dating space is not that comparable to colonial Australia, however, and we are certainly not seeing Tinder users being more likely to settle down in sustainable relationships. Maybe this is because men and women have greater prospects these days and thus don’t have to marry ASAP in order to be considered successful. Or maybe it’s because if you’re sad, single, and desperate for validation you’re more likely to pay for an app which was never designed to work for you. What’s the alternative? Go outside. Touch grass. Breathe fresh air. Participate in life and meet people the old fashioned way. Yes, it’s scary but that’s what makes it worth it.

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ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen

buddhism and big mouth on pandemic grief BY WILL SALKELD There was a post floating around the Instagram story-sphere during the sad boy hours of the first lockdown which talked about the invisible grief young people faced during the pandemic. It was one of those Tumblr-like text posts which said something along the lines of: …The trip abroad during uni break, our graduations, 21st birthdays and all rites of passages have disappeared overnight. We have lost them, and we are grieving. We are unable to verbalise this grief because it seems insignificant in the scale of suffering we’re seeing in the world. Fuck. The post made perfect sense and expressed how myself and my friends were feeling at the time. A pandemic stripping away the privileges of adventures and moments that define your youth does have a way of getting you down. With this grief laid down on the table you have to pick your next move.

15. The easy and enticing option is to enter a validation circle of despair and pessimism. Why not send that video of that European festival that you and your friends had bought tickets for to the group chat and watch the wallowing unfold? It feels nice to know others are feeling the same despair you are. But this nihilistic validation is like a drug. Even if it provides a short-term fix, it eventually becomes the source of your suffering.

deal with a personified cast of hormone monsters and anxiety mosquitoes. Its humour makes Chris Lilley seem prudish, whether it be a giant tampon soaking up an entire lake, or a 12-year-old helping his best friend give birth to a summer’s worth of shit. Yet amongst the depravity we meet the Gratitoad, a southern-twanged Toad who advises Jesse to navigate her depression and anxiety by expressing gratitude.

As the lockdown months wore on, I felt weirdly… happy. Content. Yes, of course it was nice to spend time with family, but I had done that for eighteen years of my life without the sense of clarity and ease I was now experiencing during lockdown. What had changed? I credit two main sources for my contentment: Buddhist philosophy and Big Mouth. Let’s start with the former.

Anyone who has spent time meandering through the ‘positive psychology’ wormhole of TedTalks would have come across the benefits of expressing gratitude for your headspace. It is not a new idea, yet it is one rarely engaged in by our generation. We tend to focus on what we are missing in our lives – which is a great survival mechanism – but is arbitrary in a world where most of our basic needs are (generally) met.

Siddhartha Gautama, known by his street name The Buddha, came to the realisation that we are all bound to suffer. This is known as one of his Four Noble Truths. Another one of these truthbombs is that suffering is caused by impermanence. When we crave and desire experiences and material possessions that are impermanent, we will suffer. This suffering mirrors the unspoken grief the Instagram post was talking about. We have desired and craved the backpacking journeys, epic road trips and freedom of youth since we were trading fruit roll-ups in primary school. The pandemic shoved in our faces the impermanence of world order and the ‘normality’ of youth. We cannot rely on the external world to meet our expectations. As soon as borders closed and homemade sourdough production soared, we were bound for suffering. Here is where Buddhist philosophy becomes less nihilistic. Once we accept why we are suffering – because we are craving things that are impermanent – we can begin to erase our grief. There are ways to do this – Buddhist and nonBuddhist. The sheer number of Headspace hours I clocked up during the lockdown period shows what method I chose. Yet meditating isn’t for everyone, and I believe there is a far more convincing source of wisdom than the Buddha: the ‘Gratitoad’ from Big Mouth Season 4. Big Mouth is like a fever dream of a sex-ed documentary where pubescent middle-schoolers

Gratitude forces us to cringe. Whenever I used to get asked to state “three things I’m grateful for”, I would react as if I had just been asked to tattoo “live, love, laugh” on my forehead. Yet I found that gratitude can be a simple tool to navigate the chaotic world around us. Just because it is simple does not mean it is easy. We post dank memes, nihilism and disillusionment become the norm, and social media becomes an echo chamber of grief, leaving little room for gratitude in our online worlds. So, I would wake up and think about what I was grateful for. My gratitude ranged from big picture stuff like my health and my family to the mundanity of the smell of my morning freeze-dried coffee. When I was expressing gratitude, it was hard to feel grief for my situation during the height of the pandemic. I am grateful for that. The lesson we can learn from the grief many of us are still going through is that nothing in this world is permanent. We can never know what to expect and relying on the chaos around us to produce our precise desires won’t do us any good. That is okay. We don’t need to study the Buddha to figure this out. Our gratefulness and source of contentment can come from anywhere, including a talking toad from an adult-rated animation.

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

SOUR power AURORA MUIR In an Instagram post marking 13 years since the release of 7 Things, Miley Cyrus reposted a tweet proclaiming Olivia Rodrigo’s good 4 u to be the 2021 Disney equivalent of Miley’s breakout single. It’s a fair comparison: both tracks feature breakneck pop-punk choruses and bitter reflections on breakups at the hands of another Disney starlet. 7 Things is the lead single off Miley’s first album independent from her Disney character and successfully cemented her as an artist in her own right. Recently we have seen the same for 18-yearold Rodrigo with the immense success of her three singles and debut album SOUR, released May 21, 2021. We can view Olivia not just on the pipeline from Disney kid to mainstream pop girl, but also as an up-and-coming Taylor Swift prodigy. Aged three upon the release of Swift’s debut album, Rodrigo has barely known the world without the impact of Taylor Swift. Taylor’s song writing influence shines clear in SOUR, a glittering album articulating the

emotions behind a public relationship. Swift, too, has her own Disney Channel connections, including a cameo appearance in Hannah Montana: The Movie, linking all players deeper into the Disney star-making factory. Apart from her song writing influence, we have already seen the impact of Swift’s place in the music industry on young Olivia. She says Taylor’s fight to gain ownership of her master recordings has inspired her to ensure she retains control of hers. Fans have also suggested that perhaps the starlet’s next project will take on the Swiftian form of a sister album entitled ‘Sweet’ (inspired by ‘folklore’/’evermore’). Someone so embedded in the lore of Taylor Swift might be more likely to take similar industry risks earlier in her career, though we should remember the level of success Swift had before making these moves. This line could be interesting for Olivia to walk as she continues to find her feet in the industry.

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18. Another similarity is her collaboration with writer/producer Dan Nigro. Perhaps we are seeing the rise of another writer/producer duo, à la Taylor Swift and Jack Antonoff in Olivia Rodrigo and Dan Nigro. The 39-year-old Nigro is a former member of small 2000s indie rock band As Tall As Lions, and has been writing and producing with bigger artists since 2011. He could foreseeably serve as Antonoff for a younger crowd, having seen success with not only Olivia but also in YouTuber turned singersongwriter, Conan Gray. I find it hard to grasp what it is about these younger women/older man writer/ producer partnerships, but somehow, they prove to be working. SOUR front to back feels like riding a wave, repeatedly building listeners up with poprock guitar-driven anthems like brutal and jealousy, jealousy only to crash down to often sparse, interspersed ballads such as favourite crime and 1 step forward, 3 steps back. This rollercoaster reflects the mood swings, drama and romance tied to teenage-girlhood while keeping us interested in the album-long exploration of a single storyline. All but three of the 11 tracks (appear to) directly address the breakdown and aftermath of her relationship with High School Musical: The Musical: The Series co-star Joshua Basset. As fans understand it, Josh and Olivia dated before he broke up with her and began dating actress/singer Sabrina Carpenter. The lyrics are free from pretence, coming across as honest and vulnerable. Olivia admits, “I wore makeup when we dated ‘cause I thought you’d like me more,” in enough for you, and on favourite crime, lists the heartbreaking sacrifices she made to be with her ex. Her description of a relationship as criminal feels particularly Swiftian: “And I watched as you fled the scene Doe-eyed as you buried me One heart broke, four hands bloody.” Her graceful treatment of the breakup is another strength, as Olivia markedly avoids tearing down her ex’s new partner on happier: “But she’s beautiful/she’s kind./ She probably gives you butterflies.” It’s a refreshing, feminist take on a trope that would traditionally position women as adversaries.

1 step forward, 3 steps back is another highlight as Oliva interpolates the piano sequence of Swift’s ‘New Year’s Day ’. It’s a savvy move that only an engaged fan would make. By interpolating the track rather than sampling it directly, Swift and Antonoff alone are paid songwriting credits, rather than the private-equity company that owns the original recording of New Year’s Day’ It contrasts Taylor’s original use of the lilting piano. New Year’s Day paints a sparkly picture of moments with a lover, while Oliva details the rollercoaster of her ex’s unpredictable behaviour: “And maybe in some masochistic way I kinda find it all exciting Like, which lover will I get today? Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin’?” The closing track, hope ur ok, differs from the album’s primary subject matter and lets down a largely strong work. A younger audience might find solace in Olivia’s well wishes to a young gay boy faced with homophobia and a girl living in an unsupportive family. However, the attempt at endearing storytelling falls short of inspiring in the face of my personal early-20s cynicism. “But, God, I hope that you’re happier today/’Cause I love you/ And I hope that you’re okay”. Despite the arguably cringey lyrics, the bridge and production gleam with the sophistication of early Lorde,proving Oliva is still a hugely capable singer/songwriter. Olivia has absorbed the work of female pop stars before her and is putting these lessons to good use. She is reaching success far and beyond that of the Disney trailblazers a generation before her and has proved to be more than a one-hit viral phenomenon. Upon release, SOUR peaked at number one in ten international charts and has received high ratings from major music publications, with Michael Gragg of the Guardian calling it “the perfect soundtrack to a first breakup”. It’s unique for an artist to debut at such high levels of acclaim and I am so excited to see where the rest of her career takes her.

ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

proving without knowing — the 2021 abel prizes in mathematics Andy Yin

A major prize was awarded on March 17 — the Abel Prize. It’s sometimes called the ‘Nobel Prize of maths’, because, cruelly, there is no Nobel for maths — Alfred Nobel was, apparently, more interested in rewarding practical discoveries than theory.

Discrete maths is concerned with ‘discrete’ objects — consisting of distinct parts — as opposed to ‘continuous’ objects like curves and functions. One of the major objects of study in discrete maths are graphs — collections of points connected by edges.

What makes a mathematician’s work worthy of elevation by an award like the Abel? Many are elevated for finding connections between different areas of maths, exposing similarities between the seemingly different. Mathematicians prize these connections because they can turn difficult problems in one mathematical ‘language’ into approachable problems in another.

It’s easy to see how these might be relevant to computer science, as models of networks or even the components of a computer, but graph theory has much older origins. One of the oldest and most famous problems in graph theory, originally posed in 1852, is the four-colouring of a map.

This year’s laureates — László Lovász of Hungary, and Avi Wigderson of Israel — were chosen for their lifetime achievements in linking two major theoretical disciplines: theoretical computer science and discrete mathematics.

Can every map be coloured with up to four colours such that no two adjacent regions share a colour? In other words — how many colours of ink does a cartographer need to have in stock? It seems like a daunting task.

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20. But the key, as is common in maths, is to forget about the extraneous details. To determine if a region can be coloured red, all that matters is whether the regions it shares borders with are coloured red or not. The size or shape of any region is irrelevant. Therefore, a map can be replaced by an abstract model — a graph. Each region is represented by a single dot. To indicate that two regions are adjacent, a line is drawn between their dots. This graph tells you all you need to know about a map, without excess. Now, this is just the beginning — rephrasing the question in an abstract way. The answer to the question turned out to be yes, but the correct proof (first found in 1976) was so monstrous it needed the aid of a computer. That’s often the case with problems in graph theory and discrete mathematics — easy to understand in lay terms, extraordinarily challenging to solve. Lovász: Easier Said Than Done For many people, that’s what makes discrete maths so appealing. That was the case for László Lovász. As a high school student at Budapest’s elite Fazekas, his class would be frequently visited by one Paul Erdős, a Hungarian mathematician who would bring the students deceptively tricky puzzles. Erdős deserves a paragraph. His reputation is singular among modern mathematicians. Unlike many academics who look for stable employment, Erdős preferred to wander, moving from university to university, living at other mathematicians’ homes and collaborating on a few papers before moving on. The number of papers he published (more than 1500) far exceeds that of any other mathematician in history. Erdős challenged Lovász with unsolved problems in graph theory, and, in Lovász’s words: “so started my lifelong commitment to graph theory.” In fact, Lovász gained more than that from Erdős. He picked up his mentor’s love for travel and collaboration. Moreover, he picked up an appreciation for one of Erdős’s favourite maths techniques: randomness. Among his many accomplishments, Paul Erdős

pioneered the probabilistic method. The idea is that many questions in graph theory, like the fourcolouring problem, boil down to “is there a way to _”. Explicitly finding a way is not always easy. If I had to colour the states of Australia with four colours, I wouldn’t break a sweat, but if I had to colour the countries of Africa or Europe, I’d have more trouble. How do you prove a theorem like the four-colour theorem without manually working out a way to colour every possible map? After all, there are infinitely many. Erdős’s answer might be: do it randomly. You can certainly generate a random colouring of a graph by randomly picking one of four colours for each point. If you do this, you’ll almost certainly paint two neighbouring regions the same colour and hence fail the four-colouring problem. But you don’t need this technique to succeed every time — you just need to know that it’s possible for it to succeed. One of the accomplishments that Lovász was awarded his Abel Prize for is the Lovász local lemma — a lemma (small theorem) that gives a way to estimate the success probability of a technique like this. This method wasn’t actually used to prove the four-colour theorem, but it has been used to prove many things. And it should be surprising! Unlike a theory of nature, which can be overturned by new evidence, a mathematical proof is definite, a logical certainty. So it seems unusual that random generation can be a part of it. But to Lovász, randomness is a natural part of a mathematician’s toolbox — as natural as calculus or basic algebra. Wigderson: Knowing Nothing Except That I Am Right If the probabilistic method is surprising, then Avi Wigderson’s — Lovász’s co-laureate — revelations about the nature of proof are even more so. One of Wigderson’s areas of expertise is the concept of zero-knowledge proofs.

21. The name is spooky, but it’s actually something that’s pretty realistic. Let’s say you are registering a patent for an ingenious new map-colouring machine. You want to be able to demonstrate to the patent examiner that your invention does indeed do what you say it does. But you don’t want them to know how it works — maybe they’re crooked and will use your designs to put a machine of their own on the market. How can you convince someone that something works without showing them how? Say you have a map with you, and you claim that your machine can colour it with just three colours (which isn’t possible for every map). But, to protect your work, you can’t convince them by showing them the coloured map. You can do something subtle: colour the map with your machine, but hide the colours by putting an opaque sticker over each region. The examiner won’t believe at first that you’ve succeeded, so you invite them to peel off the stickers on two bordering regions. The examiner will see that they have different colours. “Okay,” they say, “But how do I know that you haven’t messed up somewhere else in the map and coloured two adjacent countries the same?” They ask, “Can I peel off another two stickers?” Every sticker they peel off increases their confidence that you have coloured the map correctly, without using the same colour for any two bordering countries. But, the more stickers they peel, the more of the map they see — peel off enough, and they might be able to steal your work. The trick is this: each time they peel off two stickers, you take the map away and recolour it. A map that’s coloured with red, blue, and yellow can always be recoloured in blue, yellow, and red, or red, yellow, and blue, and so on. Then you put the stickers back on and invite the examiner to peel off another two. The examiner gets to see, every time, that you have not coloured two bordering countries the same. Moreover, they don’t learn anything about your method, because you’re not showing them a single colouring — you’re showing them bits of different colourings.

This method won’t convince the examiner 100% like showing them the full colouring of the map would. But, the more stickers they peel, the more confident they are that you are correct — all the while they are gaining no knowledge whatsoever about how you actually solved the problem. What is remarkable is that a huge class of mathematical problems — called NP problems — can be proved by ‘zero-knowledge proofs of this kind’. These problems include every problem that a computer can solve efficiently. That means zero-knowledge proofs are exceptionally useful in, among other things, security — it goes without saying that the designers of security systems want people to have confidence in them without knowing how they work. Wigderson and his collaborators proved this fact in 1991 – it is one of the main reasons for his Abel Prize. He acknowledges it seems counterintuitive — it seems impossible that you can change someone’s mind without giving them information. “We somehow associate conviction with information transfer,” he says. More to Come This year’s Abel Prizes are special because discrete mathematics is an area where the questions can be understood even by non-experts, although the answers can stump non-experts and experts alike. Keep in mind — none of what I’ve written about are new discoveries! But, thanks to the connection of maths and computer science, the work of Lovász and Wigderson continues to have practical applications today, including but not limited to Lovász’s work in graph theory and Wigderson’s work on zero-knowledge proofs. If you’re interested in groundbreaking present-day maths — keep an eye out for the Fields Medal, the other ‘Nobel of maths’, which is due to be awarded in 2022.

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ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

the lorde has returned ARABELLA RITCHIE

23. Returning from her four-year hiatus, on Friday the 10th of June, New Zealand singersongwriter Lorde released a new song and accompanying music video called Solar Power. The opening lyric states that she “can’t stand the cold!” Lorde is not alone in that sentiment, as many south of the equator begrudgingly don layer upon layer as temperatures plummet. The timing of the release of this summer bop seems unconventional for the New Zealand native. However, spending most of her time in New York last summer, recording her third studio album, Lorde is well acclimatised to the northernhemisphere seasons. Along with ‘Solar Power’, Lorde announced an album with the same title in her newsletter, describing “her” (the album) as “sexy, playful, feral and free.” The album is said to be a “celebration of the natural world.” With a release date of 20 August 2021, Solar Power was declared to the world as Lorde’s third album. Not having posted on Instagram since 2018, many fans weren’t hopeful for new music anytime soon. However, some kept the faith, most notable being the Twitter account @DidLorde that tweeted every day updating their followers on if Lorde had released an album. When the cover art for Solar Power dropped three days prior to the song release, the internet went crazy. Without even having heard the album, fans had a feeling this would be unlike Lorde’s previous work. The bright yellow hues of Lorde’s outfit contrasting with her sun-kissed skin and the deep blue sky is a big development from her previous albums, the cover art of which both share sombre colour palettes. It seems her fans were right. Lorde is departing from the moody atmosphere of her most recent album Melodrama. Solar Power is an ode to summer, refusal of winter and all the negative things that seem to bundle together with the cold weather. With Phoebe Bridgers and Clairo providing the backing vocals and Jack Antonoff’s influence in producing and writing, Solar Power is a playful track that compels us southern-hemisphere folk to be excited for the summertime. Lorde describes it best in her newsletter, “It’s about that infectious, flirtatious summer energy that takes hold of us all.” This summer, Lorde wants us all “vibrating at the highest level.” She sees “acid green, aquamarine”, the colours of the ocean, gemstones, and others’ envy towards her. Lorde’s “kinda like a prettier

Jesus” this summer, manifesting the best version of herself while also making fun of how similar her stage name is to the Lord Jesus’. Solar Power doesn’t fit with her previous work. Lorde has abandoned the themes of heartbreak and escapism in exchange for bliss and harmony. In her newsletter, Lorde described the album as an “attempt at immortalising the deep, transcendent feelings” she experiences when outdoors. Quite the contrast from her sophomore album ‘Melodrama’, a concept album that documents the emotions that ensue from a house party and pays homage to the instability and emotion-fuelled experiences that comes with being in your early 20s. ‘Solar Power’ shows the next stage of Lorde’s life as she seeks balance, security and ultimately contentment. Lorde’s relationship to the seasons and their effect on her mood is recognised throughout her discography. In Hard Feelings, the sixth track on ‘Melodrama’, Lorde pins her failed relationship on the cold weather, “I guess this is the winter”, “winds of regret and mistrust”, “leave us right here in the cold”. Summer counteracts these gloomy moods, with warm weather bringing “cheeks in high colour” and “girls dancing in the sand”. Lorde attributes this to that “solar-olar-olar power”! Solar Power officially marks the beginning of Lorde’s comeback, a refreshing new era of selfworth, carelessness and bliss. Even though we cannot yet blast this track from speakers on the beach, listening from earbuds makes a wintery commute considerably more bearable. Warmer days are ahead and Lorde’s got us covered with the perfect summer soundtrack.

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ARTWORK: Yige Xu

ARTWORK: Rose Dixon-Campbell

youth, the ‘best days of your life’. but what if your youth was not sneaking out friendships school camps and parties. what if your youth was hospital waiting lists screaming matches over spaghetti serves child locks on car doors and being institutionalised for Christmases, birthdays, farewells and New Years.

youth Monique White

CW: mental health, eating disorder

what if your priorities were not accreditations casual work and relationships but rather what has the least grams of sugar the size of the gap between your thighs and body mass index. it feels painful to comprehend that time slows for no one, and i followed a different trajectory. and what if, i turned twenty, and still, never had a youth. Twenty

MONIQUE WHITE

CW: MENTAL HEALTH, EATING DISORDER

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

measured

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I refuse to spend another day amounting to A body mass index A weight A number of meals skipped A number of steps A room number A medical reference number A length of stay A grade point average A bank balance Numbers are something tangible defined simple. The challenging thing is to measure a being without numbers. But perhaps I don’t need to be measured Maybe I just am Maybe I am fluid Evolving Changing Not something that can be Measured

ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan 27.

i no longer relate to the other patients I do not lack knowledge of ‘regular eating’ and ‘urge surfing’ nor do I lack evidence a single meal won’t make you gain 500 grams or eating ‘fun food’ won’t make you swell instantaneously... rather I lack willingness and courage. characteristics not found on a handout i do not share the ache to return to my life. no vivid memories of friendships adventures and dreams rather my existence has been reduced to calculating and planning avoiding meals or increasing the number of steps cutting corners and worrying that i will be caught an existence that is unsubstantial and meaningless. MONIQUE WHITE it seems that CW: MENTAL HEALTH, EATING DISORDER a group program cannot fill my gaps but perhaps neither can my illness Filling gaps

filling gaps

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ARTWORK: Maddy Watson

security MONIQUE WHITE

CW: MENTAL HEALTH, EATING DISORDER

i do not remember what it was like to not feel inadequate. to feel valued and secure. security for me is found in skipping meals and avoidance. but now I seek to find value outside the illness. but it is oh so tempting to retreat back to the place I had found refuge before. even if it was only temporary. security

ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

broken MONIQUE WHITE

CW: MENTAL HEALTH, EATING DISORDER i no longer know whether I am a reflection of a broken person or a broken system broken - 29/4/2020

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ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan

memory exchange TILDA NJOO

7:56pm. Four minutes too early.

Judith sat in her car, hands folded across her lap. Her watch face was turned upwards. She waited. The evening’s pattern began at sundown. This was the only inconsistent part of Judith’s routine. The sun was fickle, setting later and later into the night as winter disappeared. It curved over the edge of the horizon and reflected in the car’s mirrors. Tonight, by the time she had turned her keys to silence the radio, she could no longer find the sun out of her windscreen.

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7:58pm. The door clicked open.

Judith’s uniform shifted on her shoulders as she pulled herself out of the car and swiped her key card at the gate. The top buttons of her shirt were undone, consciously so, as they were every year during the warmer seasons. Judith liked her uniform, liked the feeling of being identifiable. She could look in the mirror at her otherwise weightless and shadowy body, and not see straight through herself. Her uniform reminded her of being a schoolgirl, of watching her mother in the mirror as she tugged at her hair with a brush. Of seeing dust fall to be collected on the floor amongst the feathers.

8:00pm. She lifted her keys.

Animals called out of their cages as she stepped through the gate, belt laden with keys. The evening lay suspended before her. Time ticked back on itself, like a second hand stuck in limbo. Memories of her mother emerged routinely, as if scheduled. Judith tugged them out of her consciousness, careful not to distract herself from her patterns. She stepped onto the pathway. The animals’ calls heightened, and sound came to the forefront of her senses. Time began again, and Judith set about her routine. It began with the birds. Their enclosure sat metres from the entrance, a conscious placement of the chattiest of the animals nearest to the cafes and ticket centres. During the day, the birds maintained the zoo’s vitality, encouraging a childlike enthusiasm in even the oldest of visitors. It was a marketing tactic, Judith supposed. Now, the birds’ calls were muffled by the night. They sat amongst each other, in glum anticipation of one day ending and another beginning. Judith didn’t like the birds much. They seemed resentful, as if she was the one that had halted them mid-flight and brought them to a city zoo. She tended to hurry through this part of the routine; reducing a thirty three minute task to one that took twenty seven. It had never suited her to become a zookeeper. She preferred the inanimate to the animate, believing that animals belonged in storybooks and picture frames. Her mother used to keep wild animals in the house, rescued from

one illegal breeder or another. Monkeys and tiger cubs and snakes in baskets were Judith’s entire childhood. She would step over them on the way to her bedroom, mildly resentful of their ability to capture her mother’s attention. Leaving home, she closed the door on their claws and tails, until she became desperate for employment only a few years later. Half-completed degrees and failed career attempts had led Judith back to the animals. Life tended to assert its control over her, leading her forever towards her past. Stepping out of the cage after filling their trays with seed, Judith moved further into the zoo. Her routine ran like clockwork, or perhaps not machinery too was unreliable. Her routine ran like the seasons, like the inevitable. It led her next to the alligators. She counted the twenty three steps between the enclosures, stepping on each crack in a subconscious attempt to make her body known to the zoo. Arriving outside, Judith’s torchlight hit leering eyes as they rested above the water’s surface. The alligators were uncomplicated. She was a part of their routine, and they a part of hers. All they wanted of her was their feed. After unlocking the gate into the freezer room and pulling chunks of frozen cow onto the trolley, Judith circled the enclosure on the wooden walkway above the pond. There were seventeen footsteps to the other side of the enclosure. She liked to wait until the very last step to feed them. At first, it began as a game with the alligators, but then it became so embedded in her routine that it became an agreement; a silent game of power. In the dark, she could become dictator over her creatures; could hold their attention in her hands. She became the master of more than just her patterns. Judith lifted up the food bucket.

10:07pm. The alligators snapped.

In the bear cage, Judith avoided the animals’ stares. She could feel them watching behind her as she swept up the leaves and debris on the cage floor. Her eyes shifted through night light, quickening their pace each time the minute hand ticked over. She saw her hands, her feet, the cage floor, a white feather. Her breath stopped and time escaped her and -

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5:34am. Memory flared.

Thirteen years old. The patterns had started to form, and they sat neatly behind the girl’s eyes. She was curled up on the floor, her door blocking out her mother’s animal acquisitions. From this angle, she could look left and upwards towards her window. She watched the driveway, which lay empty of her mother’s car. Feeling the day sliding into night, she climbed to her feet, heavy book in hand, and opened the door. Perhaps there had been an accident on the way home, she thought. Perhaps her mother hadn’t disappeared again. Tracing her fingers on the wallpaper, she stepped towards the living room phone. The last time this happened, the police told her to call after six hours. Today, it was seven. But her intuition had been trained against birds and bats and rabbits and snakes. They tended to run away from conversation and confrontation, and so the girl had learned to run as well. Halfway along the corridor, her fingers stopped, turning instead towards the front of the house. The door lay open, allowing the evening into the house. Her mother had left in a hurry, forgetting that she hoarded animals who craved the outdoors. From her bedroom floor, the girl had watched all afternoon as the ducks walked out on a trail, followed by the rest of her mother’s poorly domesticated wildlife. Now, thinking all the animals were gone, the girl dropped the book. It seemed a meagre weapon, but her mother had never bought her any cricket bats or toy trucks with which to defend herself. Still watching the front door for any sign of her mother, the girl counted the steps between her and the phone, mulling the number over in her head until her fear settled. The prospect of conversation made her stomach harden with each step she took toward the phone, but without the animals scratching at her senses, the girl felt safe for the first time. She even felt brave. Six steps in, and a feather floated in front of her eyes. The girl’s eyes widened. Fear took its place again in her breath. A pelican stood possessively between the girl and the phone. It dominated the doorframe, watching as the girl backed herself against the wall. Her vision blurred. Two weeks ago, her mother had brought the bird home from the ocean, claiming to have found it with plastic wrapped around its throat. She always seemed hungry to fill her life up with more animals; to wrap herself around each of them and

become their saviour. This pelican was particularly hostile towards its captor. The girl supposed that it had stayed behind just to taunt her. Trembling, she reached towards the floor, where her book lay. The bird’s eyes were blank, distant, unreachable across the room. It reared its head, and charged. Twitching, Judith pulled herself out of her past. Images of her mother weeping over bloodied feathers dissipated into the night. The lens of the present slid itself over her eyes, and Judith could feel her uniform against her shoulders...and could hear the birds across the zoo. Biting her tongue against the memory, Judith swept the pelican feather away.

5:36am. Memory retracted.

Judith slotted herself back into her routine, conscious of being a few steps behind.

5:38am. Six minutes late.

Closing up for the night, Judith turned her keys in the cage door, and stepped out before the emerging morning. Her watch was heavy with the lack of punctuality. Judith quickened her pace, her mind tracking through the zoo towards the exit sign. The birds were screaming now, signalling the dawn. Their sound reverberated off the zoo’s cages, falling short of Judith, whose eyes were too trained towards her watch to hear them. Morning light dimmed her vision, and she was two steps too close before she saw it. A pelican sat in the middle of the path, halfway between the monkeys and the alligators. Time locked itself. Judith stood still. Flight patterns ingrained in the sky fell at the feet of this bird. It sat kilometres away from the nearest body of water. It opened its beak. Judith watched expectantly. As if second guessing itself, the pelican closed its mouth. Breaking eye contact, it looked skyward and flew. Judith watched it until she lost it to the sky.

ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen 33.

You named me After an ancient set of rules and sounds With a hope To connect me to a part of something Much more, a higher order of a kind

BY SATARA UTHAYAKUMARAN

a letter to my mother

In my name, yours thus appears Prefacing and guiding the syllables of a face unknown Yet this is why saltwater graces the stage When I realise that everything changes With this single confession Of myself, whom I love, who I yearn for A physical pain builds As a world folds within itself, desecrated Or even worse, builds a barrier to my body and mind And I cannot sit with you as I once did My oath is thus I promise I have not changed Though someone unexpected may sit beside me when I see you next She is the same as me, she is the same as he would have been My plea is thus Greet us both as you would have greeted me alone I will be as I always am, yet this cannot be a one-sided contract If that is what it can be called I love you Even if it what was once smooth for you Is now undulating, disjunct, unsure I always will

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ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

the bread is my body, eat. eat me BY MAHALIA CRAWSHAW

the body is weak my body is weak and the red on my lips spells temptation and it blows a kiss to the girl in the mirror she smirks she knows she unbuttons her blouse and pulls up her skirt her lust is showing and still the man at the dais he yells he spits he gets red in the face because these girls young girls are owning their bodies and yet can we really when we wear our heels like armour and learn to run in them because it’s dark at night and his mind is dark his needs, his wants, his desires even more so

35. our desires are not his because his are twisted and sharp and harsh and his breath smells like chaos and hot it’s hot on our necks on our tails as we walk home run home in the dark i will not let that stop me i will not let him stop me no matter how hard he tries no matter how hard he gets hard hardheaded hardhead frollo’s fire burning for us hellfire burning us but not before he’s done with us mouth-watering over our shoulders, our knees our naked necks because those men running under the guise of family values value this value girls under the guise of mission, of rescue, of getting off behind closed doors open the fucking door

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and we are gypsies let us be free the devil tempts me i do not think my faith is strong enough to stop me from flirting, from undressing from fucking the pretty girl in the club bathroom when her red lips taste like this taste like release and heat and strawberry and peach she is sweet and the alcohol is making me tipsy the gin is making me horny the wine is lowering my inhibitions and they were low to begin with and i do love a show come and see my exhibition its skin and wet and tongues and cum and hungry hands hungry mouths i like it when he cums inside me dripping or when she shudders on top of me moaning let me moan loud louder louder oh god god please tempt me *sigh* again

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

mechanical bull MARGARET W. There is something of my body that says welcome stranger Says put up your aching legs, rest your head along me There is something of my body that says saloon door Open for business Now serving fresh meals, hot and ready

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38. The gap between my thighs is a vacancy sign In the damp and dark, blinking, pulsing red You take the room reserved The jut of my hip is a banister we both hold tight Stumbling now 11 drinks deep Written on my ribs, a specials board Prime cuts for one night only If not devoured by tomorrow they will rot The expiry date scrawled across my chest clearer to read come the morning light There is something of my body that says mechanical bull Line up for a turn to ride Two fingers fumble, slip a sweaty coin in the slot Jump on its back Stick your spurs into grooves worn deep and raw It moans robotic, a predictable performance pre-programmed If you look into Its painted face you see brown eyes that look almost like mine You almost consider It human You almost see me gazing back It is beast of burden, grazing in The Uncanny Valley Disquieting puppet, a moving corpse Sentience, now 100% man-made There is something of my body that says sacrificial lamb The way of carnivore and prey is righteous The church of apex predator, eat my body, drink my blood We give thanks to the cow, for the calf is good Good cow Sacred cow Good dog Good girl How many bodies steamrolled flat did it take to build a boys’ club like mine? How many of our bones ground up in the china Led to slaughter, the sticky entrails forgotten under foundations Bovine skins carpet beer-soaked floors Every last scrap of us haunts those rooms, none of the animal gone to waste We can no longer wail with our tongues cut out It is cattle mutilation It is soft tissue surgically severed The aggressor alien in their act of dissection As I lie on my side my body is silent in the dying grass Rotted and gutted I am mechanical bull, scrap metal The bedsheets pool around a carcass unnamed

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

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ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan

(english) perhaps MAMTA SACHAN KUMAR Due to COVID-19, we international students are unable to enter Australia. For fear of return being impossible, students in Australia are unable to leave. My story reads in kind and the following poem, translated loosely from the original text in Hindi as ‘Perhaps’, expresses my feelings of late. Perhaps, this difficult time will soon come to pass and perhaps we learn something through this life lesson. -Stranded in Singapore, Mamta

Perhaps if I’d been there, why then I wouldn’t be here. Oh, to be lost in the embrace of the skies! Liberation, on a home-departing flight. Breaths gathered into bags, ready at the door, Desire isn’t freed by dreams wrapped in mere thought. It took ten years to arrive at the start, To taste the height of mountains, And glance at the peak, All on my own, from fear draw courage, To finally stand, on my own two feet.

Such it was when I had climbed, That truth appeared instantly: It was but me who blinded my view, And only me from whom support was due. Why then, has life come to such a standstill, When my luck had finally turned, That sweet taste of the summit Bitter now, as tears that burn. I am but here, so how could I be there, Protected no less than I could have been there. My patience tried, my mind unsettled, Perhaps to lie waiting, is to be charged with mettle.

घूम के दुख भरे पन्ने, कड़वे आँ सू के िकनारे।

हम मगर यहाँ, तो वहाँ कब होते,

41.

सुरिक्षत इस तरह, उस जगह नहीं होते।

धीर में िमलावट, मन की अशांित चढ़ी,

बरसों बाद, मौके की वकालत हमारे बस में बनी।

(hindi) शायद COVID-19 के कारण, हम अंतरार्ष्ट्रीय छात्र ऑस्ट्रेिलया में प्रवेश नहीं कर सकते हैं। वापसी की असंभवता के डर से जो छात्र ऑस्ट्रेिलया में हैं, वे बाहर नहीं जा सकते। मेरी कहानी भी कुछ ऐसी ही है और यह किवता, ‘शायद’, मेरी भावनाओं को व्यक्त

करती है। शायद, यह किठन समय जल्द समाप्त हो और शायद इस दौरान हम जीवन के इस पाठ से कुछ सीखे।

हम अगर वहाँ, तो यहाँ नहीं होते।

घर छोड़े उड़ान, तो आसमान में समा तभी होते।

साँस को समेट, सामान दरवाज़े के द्वार रख,

सपने सोच में लपेट, चाह से आज़ाद नहीं होते।

दस साल लगे शुरुआत तक पहुंचने की,

पवर्तों की उँ चाई को चख,

िशखर की झलक,

अकेले, डर से बहादुरी महसूस करने की।

चढ़ गये थे हम जब उस वक्त,

के झट से िनकला सच

िक बस हम ही थे बोझ बने अपने ओर,

और खुद हम ही अपना सहारा सक्त।

िफर क्यों आई िज़न्दगी इस मोड़ पर रुख,

जब खुल गये थे आिखर भाग्य हमारे,

पहाड़ की चोटी का जो था वह मीठा स्वाद,

घूम के दुख भरे पन्ने, कड़वे आँ सू के िकनारे।

हम मगर यहाँ, तो वहाँ कब होते,

सुरिक्षत इस तरह, उस जगह नहीं होते।

धीर में िमलावट, मन की अशांित चढ़ी,

बरसों बाद, मौके की वकालत हमारे बस में बनी।

(hindi) शायद

-िसं गापुर में फंसी, ममता

42.

ARTWORK: Maddy Watson & Xuming Du

eat me.

or don’t.

love me.

or don’t.

43.

(english) a funeral for all the shame we’ve ever felt MARGHERITA DALL’OCCO

I watch as my father’s language is rudely corrected by strangers whilst my mother watches the pixelated faces through the screen. I put my name through a meat grinder to make it more palatable. “Is your family safe?” I get asked.

their home countries, immigrants all over Australia form ties between the world and this country. Ties that through travel, through phone calls and zooms keep getting stronger.

At this point, the shame seems to die out.

I don’t know, I hope so.

In most moments, Australia seems to forget about the immigrants – those who shift from place to place, hoping they’ve landed in the right basket. It seems as if maybe – there is no right basket and maybe, there never will be. Living here often feels like constantly trying to catch up. With so many different cultural traditions, norms and words to start getting used to, being undermined is only the first of a rollercoaster of emotions felt in the process of integrating. While conforming, a floor-length list of traits began to be abandoned. My parents struggled to have my siblings and I practice our mother tongues, and I felt odd having friends at the dinner table. My closest friends became immigrants, families of immigrants, and my trust was sparsely shared, mostly with other foreigners. It’s a push and pull – constantly feeling the pride, the richness of culture, whilst simultaneously feeling out of place. This continued and often still does until one has a revelation. A revelation that reveals a strong cultural tradition or an overwhelming sense of a missing piece. In many ways, the revelation allows us to embrace the good and less scary parts of Australian culture. Although I’ll never say “mate” seriously in my life, I will enjoy any element of Bunnings and embrace the series of different acronyms. The missing piece is where one begins to explore their own culture. For most immigrants the answer lies in looking back to their nation. In connecting to

When COVID-19 happened the shame felt amplified, almost because the ties began to weaken. Although Australia has been fortunate throughout the COVID era, the loss and despair felt by immigrant families is unmeasurable. Telephone birthdays, Christmases and announcements over the phone have never been a new thing for families living far away. The added stress of death was an unwelcome addition. In talking to Australians who are doing so well in keeping the nation safe, it felt as if we’d forgotten about the outside world and how it was in shambles. When talking about travel, many accepted their fate, understanding that their next roundthe-world trip wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. For disconnected families, it continues to be a heavy burden to bear and will always be. When Australians speak of interconnectedness, of all being the same, it’s hard to forget the lack of support, the loneliness, the isolation and the shame that comes with being an immigrant. So, I held a funeral. A funeral for all the shame I’ve ever felt, for all the feelings of being less than and for all the embarrassment I’ve held on behalf of my family. In saying this, I still insist that shame is often ignored. With politicians undermining the sadness of being disconnected, it feels like even those elected are neglecting that families all over Australia are isolated indefinitely, for now. What needs to happen is empathy and without it, the funeral will never properly finish.

44.

(italian) un funerale per tutta la vergogna che abbiamo mai provato AUTRICE: MARGHERITA DALL’OCCO

45. Osservo come la lingua di mio padre viene corretta sgarbatamente da estranei, come mia madre guarda le facce pixelate attraverso lo schermo, e come metto il mio nome in un tritacarne, per renderlo più appetibile.

“La tua famiglia è al sicuro?” Mi chiedono.

Non lo so, lo spero.

Nella maggior parte dei momenti, l’Australia sembra di dimenticarsi degli immigrati - quelli che si spostano da un posto all’altro, sperando di finire nel cesto giusto. Sembra che non c’è un cesto giusto, e forse, non ci sarà mai. Vivendo qui, mi sento come sto costantemente cercando di recuperare il tempo perduto. Con così tante tradizioni culturali, norme e parole diverse a cui iniziare ad abituarsi, essere sottovalutati è solo la prima delle montagne di emozioni che si provano nel processo d’integrazione. Nel conformarsi, una lunga lista di caratteristiche inizia a essere abbandonata - i miei genitori hanno lottato per far praticare a me e ai miei fratelli la nostra lingua madre e io mi sentivo strana ad avere amici a tavola. È un tira e molla - sentire costantemente l’orgoglio, la ricchezza della cultura, e allo stesso tempo sentirsi fuori posto. I miei amici più stretti sono diventati immigrati, famiglie di immigrati, e la mia fiducia era poco condivisa, soprattutto con altri stranieri. Questo è continuato, e spesso continua, fino a quando si ha una rivelazione. Una rivelazione che rivela una forte tradizione culturale, o un senso opprimente di un pezzo mancante. In molti modi, la rivelazione ci permette di abbracciare le parti buone della cultura australiana, quelle meno spaventose. Anche se non dirò mai seriamente ‘mate’ nella mia vita, mi godrò qualsiasi elemento di Bunnings e abbraccerò la serie di acronimi diversi. Il pezzo mancante è dove si comincia a esplorare la propria cultura e, per la maggior parte degli immigrati la risposta sta nel guardare indietro alla propria nazione. Collegandosi ai loro paesi d’origine, gli immigrati di tutta l’Australia sono i legami tra il mondo e questo paese. Legami che attraverso i viaggi, le telefonate e gli zoom, continuano a diventare più forti.

A questo punto, la vergogna sembra di sparire. Quando è successo il COVID-19, la vergogna si è sentita amplificata, quasi perché i legami hanno cominciato a indebolirsi. Anche se l’Australia è stata fortunata durante l’era COVID - la perdita e la disperazione provata dalle famiglie immigrate è incommensurabile. I compleanni telefonici, i Natali e gli annunci per telefono non sono mai stati una novità per le famiglie che sono separati, ma l’aggiunta dello stress della morte è stata una cosa sgradita. Parlando con gli australiani, che stanno facendo così bene nel mantenere la nazione al sicuro, sembrava che ci fossimo dimenticati del mondo esterno e di come fosse in disordine. Parlando di viaggi, molti hanno accettato il loro destino, comprendendo che il loro prossimo viaggio intorno al mondo non sarebbe avvenuto tanto presto. Per le famiglie disconnesse era un pesante fardello da sopportare e continua ad esserlo, e lo sarà sempre. Quando gli australiani parlano d’interconnessione, di essere tutti uguali, è difficile dimenticare la mancanza di sostegno, la solitudine, l’isolamento e la vergogna che deriva dall’essere un immigrato. Così ho organizzato un funerale. Un funerale per tutta la vergogna che ho provato, per tutti i sentimenti di essere inferiore, e per tutto l’imbarazzo che ho tenuto per conto della mia famiglia. Nel dire questo, insisto ancora sul fatto che la vergogna è spesso ignorata. Con i politici che sminuiscono la tristezza di essere disconnessi, sembra che anche gli eletti stiano trascurando che le famiglie di tutta l’Australia sono isolate... indefinitamente per ora. Ciò che deve accadere è l’empatia, e senza di essa, il funerale non finirà mai.

45.

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

(english) sign of the times HEBE REN

CW: MENTAL HEALTH, RESTRICTED EATING

‘Can you picture it, the life we could have lived?’ Before I accepted my offer at ANU, I could have chosen an excellent college in Germany. I can’t remember why I gave up that offer , but here I am, stuck in this in-between moment. I see no way forward, yet I cannot possibly go back. Despite being a brutal truth, most people are tired of constantly hearing how miserable an international students’ life is, and describing this misery itself is actually rather painful. I have mental meltdowns every time I have to tell people how I feel as a remote student on zoom. I know that there are countless adjectives: disconnected, isolated,

unhappy, helpless, lonely, miserable. But now for the first time in my life, I have truly experienced those words in my reality. However, I’ve decided to write about something different in this article. I deferred last year, but throughout the whole of 2020, and among all those people alongside me last year, no one was as miserable as I was. Most people around me seem to be perfectly happy with this online situation. I was, and still am, constantly filled with bitterness and negativity. I have been trying to figure out why I feel this way and I have come up with three possible explanations for this misery of mine.

I was always a popular girl growing up, yet there are only five to six-people I can truly call my ‘friends’. I do know a lot of people, but I only think of them for specific needs, which should never be counted as friendship. People that I define as friends are those who I will think about at the most random of intervals. I was talking to my mum the other day, saying how lonely I feel from time to time. I realised, almost inevitably, that I could never get to be as close as I used to be with all of my old friends at this point in time, as we move on and embrace new challenges as college students, as adults. Those five to six friends I have— none of them are around. They are living their new lives in New York, Hong Kong, Beijing, Chicago and Sydney. We still talk to each other regularly online, and quite frankly those one to two hours each week are always my own way of temporarily escaping my reality. Talking to them is healing. Still, nothing fills the emptiness within me of not being able to see them personally, even just once a year. All I have now is one hour of piano-playing, two hours of exercising, countless hours of sleeping, and even writing this article right now — all of them are escapes. The truth is, however, I rely on these inconsistent sources of pleasure to sustain my presence and it almost feels like an addiction. Every time I am forced back into reality, it only hurts 100 times more. I can barely feel my existence, all I can think about is surviving.

My old friends are all busy with their new exciting campus lives, so I feel like it is time for me to get to know people at ANU and start making new friends. With my somewhat talent for friend-making, I am blessed to meet many amazing people throughout my first semester online. We had lots of fun on our phones. The problem is almost a cliché: all of this is online. At the end of day, when I shut down all of my electronic devices, it’s me, and only me, the whole time. I haven’t met anyone new in real life since 2019. I fall for people, even though I have never met them in real life. How absurd is that? What’s even more ridiculous is that I am almost obsessed with my online relationships. This Internet veil somehow works for me, I cannot help sharing my life with complete strangers and get upset because they obviously

46. are unable to do the same thing. They have an actual life going on! All the connections I’ve made, all the people I’ve met, and all those plans we’ve made are perhaps the core reason for my suffering. I cannot help thinking about the future whereas I seem to be forever stuck in the present. I want to see the boy I like in real-life, I want to meet all of my internet friends, I truly want to live the life I deserve. I have put my best efforts into schoolwork this semester. I have joined two societies as representatives, and I am also working with the school focusing on designing events here in China. I’ve tried my best to prove my existence. However, as time goes by, after missing out on all these amazing opportunities that could impact my future career, and seeing all these exciting campus lives, I still struggle to balance my headspace. The more engaged I am, the more connected I am with ANU, the more miserable I tend to be. I am not settled within this virtual presence; I want to be on campus. I would fit in so well, if only I were actually on campus. People like me, we are outsiders of the society here. We never belonged here. Our values, morals and everything we believe in, are never accepted in this society. We struggle to identify ourselves. We know, we clearly know, that our future is never here. I never see my future here in China. And quite honestly, I don’t know where my heart belongs. I struggle deeply with my identity. I always believe the priority of my twenties is to figure out where I am destined to be. When we finally have the chance to escape and explore where our heart truly is, people like me will get out almost without any hesitation. That explains why my friends went abroad despite severe COVID circumstances, whilst the majority of my acquaintances stayed in China and continue living their luxurious life. After all, we just want different things. I feel the urge to escape on an almost daily basis. I feel like everything here in China is almost repulsive. Yet I can’t, so I feel deeply depressed.

48. Surprisingly, I am living in the most open family I’ve ever known here in China. My mum is an English professor and without any doubt, is the coolest parent I’ve ever met. My dad had loads of international experiences when he was in his twenties. They raised me in a ‘world citizen’ way. They never interfered with any of my important life decisions, and they gave me complete freedom. I remember they used to send me to different countries alone when I was young. I am forever thankful to them for this, as these trips allowed me to see different parts of the world, experience different cultures and learn from them. I would never be who I am if I wasn’t provided these international exposures. However, when I finally grew up into that westernised, well-cultured, independent world citizen they expected me to be, I found out that they had changed. They no longer want me to be like that anymore. They live in regret. They are becoming increasingly conservative as they grow older, and now they have decided they want me to be that kind of typical Chinese girl who finds a decent guy to marry, has kids, and lives that decent life forevermore. They’ve started intervening in my life, taking away my freedoms, and trying to control me. Sadly, like any other typical Asian parents, they refuse to talk about feelings. They see my expressions of how I truly feel as a challenge to their authority. I cannot breathe at home. I cannot eat as much as I want because they will go non-stop about becoming ‘fat’. I cannot wear the clothes I want because if I do, they will keep nagging about how imperfect my butt or back is and I should always cover them. I have to escape to different relatives’ houses throughout the semester. I find it suffocating here. The only thing I know is, I would fit in so well in Australia and I could shine freely there. What’s the purpose of life if the most free three to four years are going to be this in-between moment? I can’t be with people I like, I can’t explore my possibilities, and most importantly, I don’t feel any sense of belonging here. I was 17 and now I’m 19, I may still be here when I’m 20.

Everyone’s life is moving forwards, no

one here understands why I am so miserable. Everyone keeps telling me that I should think about the bigger picture. ‘You are going to be there eventually!’ they say. I’ve waited long enough. What terrifies me the most is that I cannot see what is ahead. I don’t know how long I still have to wait. I am losing hope day by day. Two years, three years is too much for a young person like me. When you’re in your thirties or forties, your life is likely going to be in a static mode. Nothing changes much for these two years three years, you can hardly feel them. But for young people like me, whose lives are changing so fast and full of unknowns, even two or three months can be life changing. I want to celebrate youth, I want to love, I want to enjoy life. I knew very clearly, almost at the beginning of this chaos, that I am going to be stuck here for a while. That is my destiny, my unchangeable destiny in a time like this. However, I’ve tried everything I can possibly think about during the past year to fight against it. Then I realised, there’s nothing I can do about it. For the first time in my life, my own fate is in the hands of several individuals, who clearly will never care about someone as ordinary as I am. I am a nobody. There’s nothing I can do to get me into Australia. I have big dreams. But now I can’t even make plans. I have known that clearly this whole time, yet even today I refuse to surrender to this brutal truth.

I think I never will.

I know I am just one of those people whose life will be cruelly affected by this time of ours.

I will fight it till the end.

I will be hurt, heart-broken and be full of bruises, but I couldn’t care less.

I will fight it till the end.

“Just stop your crying, it’s a sign of the times. Just stop your crying, it will be alright. They told me that the end is near. We gotta get away from here. We gotta get away from here. We gotta get away from here.”

49.

(Chinese) ෸դጱਾ޸

෸ᳵᬦ஑፥ள‫̶ޠ‬ ጮḤᬦᵐᳵ҅౯ᤩࢯࣁᄳय़‫ڥ‬Եहक़૪ᕪ510ॠԧ̶ ౯ଙ᫷ጱኞ޸ޫ҅ճ֡ࣁ݄ଙԫ์Ӟ‫ݩ‬੪ᤩೲӥԧฮ؊Ძғ౯ٚԞ፡ӧ‫ک‬ਙࣁ‫ڹ‬ᬰ̶ᥝெԍ໏ൈᬿᬯ໏ ӞᐿఽᥧޫҘय़༷੪ฎ֦҅‫ྯࣁํݝ‬Ӟଙጱኞ෭౲ᘏṛᘍ෭ጱ෸‫ྯ҅ײ‬୮ᦕ஡ᅩ޾ӤӞଙ᯿‫ݳ‬෸҅಍տ ሕᆐ‫ݎ‬ሿғ߶ܻ҅๶Ӟଙ੪݈ᬯ໏҅ྺ෫ደᭃࣈᬦ݄ԧ̶ ளԔฎᎨฮጱ҅ӧ҅ฎ᎖௳ጱ——౯অ‫؟‬૪ᕪӧᦕ஑ጱӤӻ౯፥ྋளԔጱ෸‫ڰ‬ԧ̶౯‫ݒ‬஑ฃை̵‫ݒ‬஑᫫ ୧̵‫ݒ‬஑ӧٚฎܻ๶ጱᛔ૩̶ஂ෸ጱቘమ҅Ԟ‫ق‬᮱᮷൚ᗝധԧ̶ ᮎӞଙ᯾҅౯ྯॠ᮷ᤩ‫ޞ‬Ꭳ̵ଚӬᡱᆐ‫כ‬೮஽ወٖ֕ஞႮ॒ᬮฎᭌೠፘ‫҅מ‬Ԫఘտ᩼๶᩼অ̶ሿࣁ፡๶ ฎӧտԧ҅ᛗ੝ࣁ౯᫝Ӥ҅࿞ᬱӧտԧ̶ ၚ፳҅ᝌ୊ྜࡃ፳̶ “౯ॡዳᝒԧ̶ ዳᝒ‫҅ک‬ᬯེ҅౯ᛔ૩᮷᧔ӧႴ౯‫ک‬ବԅ֜ዳᝒԧ̶ ‫ق‬᮱ጱӞ‫ڔ‬᮷ࣁᛔ౯Ἃጀ̶ ձ֜Ԫఘ᮷ᚆਖ਼౯ེٚ‫”̶ׯڋ‬ ՗ఓ‫ۂ‬໑რጱᮎӞ‫ڮ‬ᮎ୏ত҅‫ݢ‬ᚆӞፗ‫ݸ๋ک‬ጱᮎӞ‫҅ڰ‬౯‫׎‬Ꭳ᭲౯ਖ਼ӧٚᚆఽᥧ‫ک‬౯ᬯ໏ጱՈኞಅٍ ॓ጱ఺Ԏ̶ ݄ଙӞଙ౯ᭌೠԧջ਍҅ࢩԅզԅࢵኴտஉள੪୏̶ᮎӞଙ҅౯ᜰԧ‫پ‬Ԓಅํጱ෸ᳵ݄௏ᘍՈኞ޾ᛔ૩ ਂࣁጱ఺Ԏ̶ ๋‫҅ݸ‬Ӟፗ‫ک‬ሿࣁ҅᮷ဌᚆইౄ̶ “౯Քॠጱզ݊ᬯӞଙጱૄმ՗๶ӧฎࢩԅ౯๋ᕣᬮฎᥝӤᗑ᧞ԧٌ҅ਫࣁ٥٥ԏӾ౯૪ᕪᶼఽ‫ک‬෫ᦞ ౯ெԍॳ‫ݍێ‬ಯ᮷տᬨ๶ᬯ໏ጱᕮੴ̶ ౯ૄმฎࢩԅ҅’กଙ‫ݢ‬զ݄Ӥ਍’҅ᬯӻ౯޾ᘌॠᩚጱੴֵ҅౯ᆪਠᬯӞෆଙ҅ᬯӻဌํ఺Ԏጱዳᝒጱ Ӟଙጱᔜᐟੀಓ̶ੱᓕӧᏟਧ҅֕ࣁ๋Ⴎ॒҅౯ᬮฎ‫כ‬೮૶๕̶ӞེӞེጱۖ൴҅૶๕०๕૶๕ᕷ๕෫ ᴴ஗ሾ҅ࣁ‫ڟ‬಍ᮎӞ‫஁ڰ‬ବૄभ̶ Ջԍ᮷ӧ‫ۃ‬ԧ̶ ౯ૄმฎࢩԅ҅ԅՋԍ؇؇ฎ౯҅ԅՋԍ؇؇੪‫ํݝ‬౯ᄳၖኸ਍ኞ҅ԅՋԍ؇؇ฎ๋‫ݻ‬ஃᮎᇆॠᑮԞฎ ๋ᭇ‫ݳ‬ᮎ໏ጱኞၚጱ౯Ҙ” ౯᷷‫૶ތ‬๕҅०݄૶๕҅᯿೬૶๕҅஁ବ०๕҅ଘᤍӨ०ᤍ҅‫ޮޮ॔॔ݍݍ‬᫨᫨෫හࢧ̶ Ԟฎঅ‫؟‬՗ᮎӞ‫୏ڰ‬ত҅౯ࣁሿਫኞၚ᯾ٚԞဌํ᭬‫ک‬ӞӻෛጱՈ̶౯ጱಅํጱӞ‫ڔ‬Իၞ᮷ฎᡦ೙ጱ̵ ᕚӤጱ҅౯Ӟ෸ᳵ‫ړ‬ӧႴ፥ਫᡦଝ҅නӥಋ๢҅Ӟ‫ڔ‬᮷ฎᡦ෫̶

50. ౯ٚԞࢧӧ‫ک‬ᬯӻଙᕉԧ̶౯ฎग़ԍ஑మᩳ᭭Ӯኴ݄᭬҅ᥠ୵୵ᜋᜋጱՈ݄֛҅ḵኞၚ——݄፥ྋࣈၚ ፳̶ࠡ Քଙ୏ত҅౯೪ੱԧੱ‫݄ێق‬ᶎ੒ᗑ᧞य़਍݄҅ԩ‫݄҅ݐ‬మ‫ې‬ဩᦏ‫ڦ‬Ոᦕ֘౯ጱ‫̶֕ਁݷ‬౯ளᥝࣙ೮ӧ ӥ݄ԧ҅Ӟᅩᅩጱ૶๕᮷ဌํ҅Ӟଙ݈Ӟଙ҅ٚԞ፡ӧ‫ک‬१ԧ̶ ౯᫝ᬟय़᮱‫ړ‬๏‫݋‬౲ᘏፘᦩԞ᮷ฎᤩᬯ࣋ዖఘ୽ߥ๋Ⴎኸ਍ኞ̶֕‫ܩ‬অ‫؟‬Ԟ‫ํݝ‬౯҅ၚጱᬯԍዳᝒ̶ ࣁਹ᯾ᤩᆿྮՅՈᆙᶶ҅ဃၺԭܻ๶ጱᐒԻࢻ᯾҅ྯॠጱᗑ᧞य़਍ՐՐ੪ฎԅԧᮎӞୟ෈‫——ڂ‬य़ग़හ Ոঅ‫؟‬ᥧ஑ᬯ໏ጱኞၚ“ꂁঅ”̶ ౯Ԟ้ᕪ೜ํᭌೠ҅ྲইӞ୏তইຎ౯ᭌೠԧ݄஛ࢵኸ਍ᘒӧฎᄳय़‫ڥ‬Ե҅ྲই݄ଙዖఘնতԏ෸౯ဌ ํᶲ՗ᆿྮጱᴥೝᘒฎӞ఺਋ᤈࣈ݄ԧးࢵӾ᫨҅ಪ౲ٚইຎ҅ࣁᬯᄓᳩᒵஇጱ᭔Ӿ҅౯ဌํࣙ೮֘҅ ᭌೠԧන୒᫨਍Ӿࢵጱṛ໊……ইᝑ୮‫ڡ‬؉ԧӞӻӧ‫ݶ‬ᭌೠ҅౯ጱՈኞਖ਼࿞ᬱ᮷ӧտฎՔ෭ᬯᛱཛྷ໏̶ ᘒ౯ժጱՈኞ҅ӧ੪ฎኧᬯӞӻ݈Ӟӻ፡֒ྺ෫‫ى‬ᘶጱᭌೠᕟ౮ጱ‫ހ‬ҘӞӻᭌೠ୚ᶾ፳౯ժᩳ‫ݻ‬ӥӞӻ ᭌೠ҅ሾሾፘಕ҅ፗᛗᩳ‫ݻ‬ᮎӻಅ᧲ጱᕣᅩ̶ ํӞ‫ᦾݙ‬౯Ӟፗፘ‫מ‬ғ“all these seemingly mistakes or blind alleys, were actually a straight line to whom you are meant to be.” ౯ጱਹՈ҅՜ժਜ਼᯿౯ጱӞ‫ڔ‬ᭌೠ҅՜ժᛔতᛗᕣ᮷ᦏ౯ᛔ૩ᭌೠ——֕ฎ՜ժ՗๶ဌํቘᥴ౯ጱᭌ ೠ̶՜ժӧ౜౯ԅ֜ӧྊԭਞ᭥҅ᥝ᪜᩼य़၇ஂધ݄᥶݊ᮎӻ᭸ӧ‫݊ݢ‬ጱ๚๶Ҕ՜ժӧԧᥴԅ֜ᕪܲԧ ᬯԍग़ዳᝒ̵ஞᏦӨ፲ဴԏ‫҅ݸ‬౯ᬮࣙਧࣈᒵஇ፳ᮎశ๶శཛྷᔡጱӞ‫̶ڰ‬ ౯Ԟమԧஉԋஉԋ҅ԅ֜‫ํݝ‬౯ᬯԍዳᝒ̶‫ݝ‬ᚆᬯ໏᧔ғ౯ᬯ໏ጱՈ҅౯ጱ๚๶҅ဳਧӧࣁᬯᇆࢿࣈ Ӥ̶౯ӧંԭᬯ᯾҅ᘌਫ᧔౯ԞӧᎣปᛔ૩ંԭߺ᯾̶౯‫ݝ‬Ꭳ᭲҅ᮎᇆࢿࣈտᦏ౯ᖔන҅ᦏ౯ྺ෫ᶶண ࣈන‫ط‬᜜̶ ౯ӧ‫ݸ‬ఄ౯ጱձ֜ᭌೠ҅౲ᘏ᧔‫ݸ‬ఄ૪ᕪဌํձ֜఺Ԏԧ̶੒ԭ݄ᄳय़‫ڥ‬ԵᬯӞᅩӤ҅౯ᛔতᛗᕣ෫ྲ Ꮯ‫҅מ‬ᘒᬯԞय़༷ฎ౯ዳᝒጱ໑რғ౯ጱ๚๶ӧࣁᬯ᯾҅ࢩྌᬯӞଙग़ጱᒵஇ಍տইྌᝒӧऩ᥺̶ ౯ጱ޸ᬩ҅ᤩᬯӻ෸դጱӞᇆᅍ‫ݒ‬౮ጱय़ઊܴ‫ف‬ӡӢႮႵ҅ฎᬯӻՈᔄܲ‫ݥ‬᫨ರᅩᤩ୽ߥ‫ک‬ጱ๋ଘ‫๋ٿ‬ ӧଛ๋ዳᝒጱӞӻᖽ୽̶ ౯‫ݻ‬ஃጱ҅౯ጱப‫҅ݻ‬౯ጱ໼మ҅౯ࣙਝጱಲ୒ጱዳ௭ጱ҅౯ᬮ๚ᷢᗼ੪ᤩ၁ԧၫᏜᯢጱᗸᚺ҅Ӟ‫ڔ‬ጱ Ӟ‫҅ڔ‬ᬯӞଙग़զ๶޸ᬩ෱૪ᕪӧࣁ౯ጱಋӾԧ̶ ෫ᦞ౯ই֜ॳ‫ێ‬೾ಎ҅ই֜೪޸ಯԩ҅౯ՋԍԞ෫ဩද‫——ݒ‬ՈኞᒫӞེ҅౯ጱ޸ᬩ‫ݝ‬ഩൎࣁӻ‫ڦ‬Ոಋ Ӿ̶ ‫ݢ‬ఠဌํՈ౜҅ဌํՈ̶

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

cheers to the great american dream Asya Lu Han Oh my, through the flowing river of historical affairs, from the start of the 20th century till postmodernity – where on earth does one even begin to depict one of the greatest products and phenomena of our modern world, the Great American Dream?! Where does one even begin to grasp such a concept that combines all qualities in life that mankind desires? Freedom, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, the door leading up to endless prosperities and opportunities which open wide to all who had done hard work and aspired to achieve?

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52. Building on the very fact that every individual has their own interpretation of the meaning and significance of the American Dream, this text is not to provide definitions that we all know. Rather, it provides a glimpse at its bestowments and implications onto the developing world, which serves as an entry ticket offer for people to dream. With desperate yet aspiring stories stirred up in global media sensationalism, children of the developing world began to stretch their fingers afar to a lighthouse that monumentally stands across dark waters of the seven seas. Such monument’s values weave into an intricate web that encompasses all great things. Like the advancements and glories which the Western civilization had laid its foundations on, proudly enduring through history to enlighten future paths. However, the problem prevails – in what miraculous circumstances and joyous days are poor dreamers bestowed upon the honour to redeem their deserving fruits after dreadfully endless longings and hard work? One of the most fundamental values of the American Dream is that those who possess virtues of diligent work and strive for excellence are destined to be rewarded accordingly. They would be gifted with wide-open paths of opportunities, wealth and all other pleasant things. In a ‘Land of Liberty’ cultural lighthouse of our century has sent out its olive branch, with the most vibrant free-market economy and prosperous liberal democracy. These curious wonders, or rather not wonders, instead, merely temporal daydreams are mainly sold with targets set towards the specific demographics of many children including myself. Our unfortunate birthrights lay in the Second or Third World, pathetically trampled on by the cruelty of international geopolitical games. Such places of barrenness and despair are commonly characterized by centuries of poverty, pain, and regressive development growth. Abandoned at the turning points of historical paths, stuck in hopeless and God-less shapes. During the roaring, dancing 2000s that even the Global Financial Crisis could not obstruct, near sight to the global world were peaceful international corporations and rapid economic recoveries. Cultural exports and diplomacy embedded in the American way of life had spread affluence, great quality of life and other fantastical dreams. Thus, so were cosmopolitan fashion icons published onto

global teen magazine cover pages. Meanwhile, sitcoms and sharp commentaries were broadcasted worldwide through one universal American tongue, about sweet stories like honey or bright future days like the sun over Boston pier. Through the global village, from the thick Siberian woods to the Special Economic Zones of South-east China’s Open Market Reform, we looked up towards Washington. In such a brilliantly dazzling modern world, the cultural and political lighthouse sat mightily on the Statue of Liberty and Hollywood Hills. Astounded by the great American accomplishments and remarks, travellers across the seas exclaimed – what glorious advancements, what progressions and innovations, what treasures of humanity such a brave nation beheld! It is of course not universalthat the qualities of a near-perfect liberal-democratic American life had cast such powerful impacts onto all children of the less privileged worlds. I only speak from my own knowledge of the conflicting and poignant emotions experienced amongst my fellow young comrades; students who proudly attended the only American-affiliated foreign language school in the poverty-stricken geopolitical tragedy of Chinese Manchuria. Surrounding our lives were the ashes and ruins of a thing called ‘socialism’ that made us all laugh. Our neighbouring post-Soviet states had their futures hazed in fifty years of perpetual economic stagnations that haunted their horizons across the bleak Siberian snow. Yet how on earth would such circumstances pose troubles to children who held the greatest endearment to Romanticist dreams of bright future paths? Wine glasses were raised to the idyllically wonderful American life. It became reflected everywhere before our eyes: in globalized media and praises of international voices, from wildly popular teen fiction books to Nobel Peace Award speeches, then to Disney Channel screens. Nothing stood in the way of strong wills and hardworking resolves. Even thick curtains of the falling Siberian snow would not do so. We had pledged our dreams and souls to timeless literature that entailed two thousand years of noble traditions and advancements of the great Western world.

53. In the warm sunlight of democracy and fresh Santa Monica breezes of liberty, any child of unfortunate Second World births would forget the unrelenting reality where we all sat. Amongst the fractures of a so-called heroic Socialist dream, consuming nothing other than the poverty, despair, and pain which it induced. On the grounds of nothingness, amongst shattered decays and rustbelts of last-century icons, painfully stood the corroded skeletons of once-remarkably mighty industrial factory sites from Five-Year Plans. Born and raised out of smokes and dust of eternal economic inefficiencies, the geopolitics of the developing world had written for us – no way out, and neither could we look back to the dissolved histories of heroes’ Leningrad and a Warsaw Pact built on tragically spilt blood. Amongst us, many spoke the American tongue with contradictions, of great longings towards its promises of a prosperous life. Yet hindered with accents of poverty inherited from our languages of the developing world. Many also frequently conversed in Eurasian continental affairs with family members who passionately served in a glorious Party that we both resented and loved. Yet during the fantasies and dreams of our youths, on our own separate will, we had found closure and contentment. The course of history was to forget. To forget how once with wide teary eyes our brave tovarishchi and devushki (Russian: comrades) stood up after ten years of dirt and blood under trenches of the Northeast-Asian Front. Before their sight spiralled upwards, newly developed cities with hard steel of Lenin and victories of Zhukov. Meanwhile, radiant lights of hammer and sickle and the Kremlin red star trimmed the edges of industrial towns. In the end, as children who saluted to the same valiant flag that was raised gloriously onto 1945’s devilish Berlin, had we not at all – during news segments anchored in our ethnic tongues by Party secretaries, regarding the devils who grew faces of America and the West – contemplated about certain politics that undeservingly evoked too much blood and pain? Had we also not, through the veil of burning fires in Yugoslavia’s Balkan soils and ancient ruins of Iraq, shed tears upon the shattered window glass and gunshots that pierced through the abundance of our endearing lands? In the once majestic Soviet Hero Cities of Crimea and Donetsk? Had we not prayed in loss and sorrow as

being plunged towards an unknown future in our countries’ fates? Oh prosti nas gosputi (Russian: God forgive us), as for such tragic agonies many nations of victimhood did not ask for, nor deserve? As a challenged student of contemporary politics, the one key principle about our world I understand for sure is that the international political arena indeed does play a cruel game. In its brutal reality, our dream is merely a dream, our longings and imaginations are merely fantasies. Our dreams swirl under the sugarcoats of mint chocolate ice cream and stacks of green dollar bills, not the sunshine of freedom on the West Coast’s summer days. In this case, as for the faraway Land of Liberty and fantastical Utopian worlds crafted by the West, coming from centuries worth of bleak poverty and third-worldly discontents I can say – it shall be in our own hard work, determinations, and strong resolve, that towards the pleasant and abundant American life we dream. Whereas the lights which we reached towards and often became abandoned by are no false saviour to be worshipped, and neither will voluntarily rid us of desperation or pain. After all, it makes sense, as the fundamental basis of the Great American Dream, vests in the power of selfdetermination and self-liberation granted to all.

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(chinese）向美国梦举杯我在许多年以后的梦境⾥，⼜极不真切地重⻅⼀些模糊⼜泛⻩的景象，它们跨过时代进展拐⻆处模糊的迷雾，使我看得⻅⾼纬度的花叶盛开，永恒的蓝天之下，冰凌花⼉破冰蔓延在溪流与草原。

——那⼀年的夏天，⾃治旗⾥的那达慕正紧随GFC后的全球经济回暖，东北边境线上有熙攘的跨国贸易往来，从收⾳机⾥奥巴⻢的演讲到迪⼠尼频道的⻘春电视剧集，美利坚⻄海岸的⾃由主义⽂化灯塔就普照于甚⾄第⼆世界的⻆落。念美语学校的孩⼦们怀揣着各⾃烂漫的梦想，想着从巴黎和⽶兰到基辅和莫斯科，都狂欢在地球村的⽂化往来交融最盛之时。有模拟联合国的活动巡回⾄省城，这些信奉浪漫主义与全球⻛尚潮流的年轻的学⽣，就⽤熟练的美语掷地有声地辩议有关世界⼤同与四海⽣平。在我们眼前展开描绘着交融与和平与共致发展的蓝图，欧亚美洲多么宽⼴⼜美好。

灯塔⽂化⺠主的清新空⽓扩散在发展中世界的⻆落，⾃由的灼热阳光照耀在边境线上⾜以融化雪原，此时我们会忘记⾃⼰⼏⼗年没有进展地坐在社会主义的废墟上，眼前坍塌着“⼀五计划”时苏联援建的旧⼚房。社会现实主义⻛格的赫鲁晓夫楼屹⽴在城区与天际的交界点，穿透动荡时代的泪⽔谁都看不⻅未来茫茫的天命与国运。第⼆世界的历史⾥不承认英雄的故事，我们重复地活过来再死去再继续挣扎，重⼯业⼚区灰暗的天空上永恒地游荡着苦难与贫穷的阴云。也就只不过是偶尔酒醒梦迟的时候，不⼩⼼翻到烙印着旧时代⻣⾎却依旧滚烫的近代历史书⻚，站在党旗之下敬少先队礼的我们⼜依稀地看到了，⼀九四五年红军骑兵连的英雄们如何俯⾸阔步地游览柏林，战后是满城鲜花和红旗的海洋，历史前尘事都痛苦⼜鲜活地再度流转⼀样。这时连从⻄伯利亚平原过境的暴⻛雪都是静默的，定格于漫⻓⼀瞬间的恍然。

其实并没有⼈再刻意去探讨之后的情节，美利坚和北约伸出和平的橄榄枝，在迷雾的尽头实现美好的期许，告诉所有⼈去摒弃红⾊的沙皇、撕烂曾被招展的红旗所庇佑的旧联盟——上帝保佑，我们终于看⻅了美式⽣活⼀样发展发达的市场经济和⺠主⾃由，当年信仰活该死去在新纪元的历史河流⾥。受够了⼏个世纪贫苦与动乱的⼈们⼀致地向⻄⽅点头，未来的道路真是平坦⼜光明！谁去在意呢——在⼤国博弈的棋局上什么是政治什么是笑话？是什么使当年英雄城市的上空回绕克⾥⽶亚的枪声和顿巴斯禁区的眼泪？是什么把烟雾弹投在巴尔⼲的地平线、让我们闭上眼睛不去看战乱的⾎流漂杵？我们做错了什么？他们⼜做错了什么？你可想弄明⽩这⼀切的起源因果？也就全不过是虚妄和向往。

从历史⾛下来到如今，曾经诚挚地写过⼊共⻘团申请书也曾经做过⻄海岸美式⻘春梦的孩⼦们，看起来似乎可以抛弃过往的悲剧和纠葛⽽往⽣去，其实却只不过⼀直在第⼆世界出身的原地踏步周转，覆盖过未来的道路是⼚房倒塌的残骸，雪原的尽头仍然是看不⻅地平线的雪原。

ARTWORK: Yige Xu 55.

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ARTWORK: Xuming Du

What makes you betray your own country? Whilst it’s no secret that spies operate worldwide, there are many spies that often act as double agents, betraying their own country for another. Such spies share valuable information and documents that often end up costing the careers and lives of their fellow agents. According to Keith Melton, an intelligence historian, such double agents typically don’t last “more than 5 years”. Upon being discovered, they face heavy charges and penalties, both themselves and their families are usually endangered, and they are often executed. In light of such high costs, what makes spies defect?

lured into becoming a foreign spy AUTHOR: ISHA SINGHAL

CW: THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS A BRIEF REFERENCE TO CHILD PORNOGRAPHY

57. According to spy literature there are four main factors intelligence agencies consider when recruiting a foreign spy. That is, there are 4 characteristics that they look for in an agent, so they can assess their likelihood to betray their country. These 4 characteristics are acronymised as MICE. The M in MICE stands for money. Money is often described as the root of all evil, and money as a temptation needs no introduction. With agent salaries capped and accorded as per government guidelines, some with a desire for a more extravagant lifestyle, concerning family debt or other obligations readily offer their services in exchange for money. One such spy was Aldrich Ames. Ames was an American spy turned KGB double agent, who at the time of his arrest had compromised more highly classified CIA assets than any other officer in history. Ames fell in love with Rosario, a Colombian diplomat. However, Ames, who was paying divorce settlements to his first wife, knew that he would be unable to afford the lifestyle she wanted, and thus began making contacts with the Soviet Embassy. Ames successfully informed the Russians of many American spies, many of whom were then executed. In his assessment it was concluded that Ames believed there was “as much money as [he] could ever use” in betraying these intelligence assets, but also that their elimination would help ensure that his own betrayal wasn’t discovered. Ames was clever, having passed two polygraph tests during his term. He was, upon being discovered, greatly detested by his colleagues, with fellow CIA Officer Sandra Grimes commenting that he knew exactly what was going to happen to those agents, yet that never stopped him. Ideology, known as the ‘I’ in MICE, is another powerful tool. Some spies simply disagree with what their government’s goals are. This was especially true during the Cold War, when communism versus capitalism was rife in different parts of the world. An example of this is Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, two New Yorkers who joined the Young Communist Party as teenagers and were the first of many American and British youth to feed secrets to the KGB. Ideology can also relate to nationalism or religion. People’s beliefs can act as their moral compass, and sometimes it becomes what you believe over what your superiors or leader believes. This was especially true in politically unstable nations, where spies wouldn’t support a new leader in power, and consequently may have assisted a foreign country in invading it by providing intelligence.

Compromise is the other, and perhaps more obvious motivation. In addition to compromise, the C could also stand for coercion, where spies are either blackmailed or threatened into betraying their country. “Sexpionage”, or sexual espionage, also plays an important role here. In some cases, diplomats or agents are photographed in sexually comprimising positions by a country’s agency, either relating to specific individuals, minors, or in homosexual relationships. They then have deeds extorted out of them based on those photos. Mathilde Carre of the French Resistance was captured by the Nazis and threatened with torture unless she turned on them. Sometimes the family of the agent is also threatened, as was in the case of Svetlana Tumanova, who was told by the KGB that her family in the Soviet Union would be harmed if she didn’t help them. Compromise typically arises from fear of some sort. A famous example of this is the Petrov Affair. The Petrov Affair involved Vladimir Petrov, a Secretary of the Soviety Embassy in Canberra who defected to Australia after fearing that he would be executed in Soviet Russia following a change in leadership there. In exchange for political asylum, he agreed to share cases of Soviet espionage with the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO). The final, and perhaps less obvious is ego. While the E can also refer to excitement, it has typically been used to refer to ego. Sometimes people want to feel more important as was in the Hanssen case. It gives them a sense of pride. David Charney, a psychiatrist and US Intelligence Consult on the mind of the Insider Spy, said that it is worth noting that 90% of these traitor spies are men. Perhaps there is something about male pride and ego that makes agents feel the need to gain a more important role, even if it means betraying their own country, and endangering themselves. In addition to MICE, love can be an important factor. However, with the boundaries of love hard to define, and its reality probably rarer than as depicted in movies, MICE remained the important mnemonic both to identify potential defectors and understand the motives of previous defectors. Why an individual spy might be tempted to take these steps is definitely an individual decision, but broadly, these are the reasons that convince spies to act against their own. Temptations often appear to offer us a short-term reward, however we shouldn’t forget the long-term costs that they may bring.

58.

ARTWORK: Maddy Watson 59.

60.

ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

lessons from my ‘no buy year’ ANONYMOUS

This year, I embarked on a journey to reduce my non-essential spending. I have plans to move out alone next year and need money to fund that desire. I really only have three options— make more money, cut back on spending, or both. My ‘No Buy Year’ is an attempt to overhaul my spending habits. Caught up in consumerism, COVID-anxiety and homesickness, I indulged in a few too many online shopping sprees last year. I went from owning two sweatshirts pre-COVID, to being the owner of nine sweatshirts post-COVID. From items of clothing to workout equipment to a bright red Dutch oven, your girl spared no expense treating herself during the gruesome year that was 2020. I could only afford to be so fiscally irresponsible for so long, as I was tapping into my savings without fully considering the impact that would have on my future.

61. A ‘No Buy Year’ is essentially a twelvemonth spending plan that only permits you to spend on necessary items. You choose what you deem to be ‘necessary’, and the point is to stop spending superfluous purchases that are holding you back from your financial goals. For me, my list of necessary items included: rent, bills, $100 per week on groceries and fuel, $50 per week on eating out, and replacement items. Replacement items are things I currently own that I replace when it runs out or breaks, for example a facial cream or earphones. I am also allowed to buy presents for other people, and flights to get home during the break. My rationale behind this is that the spending plan is to discipline myself, not punish other people in the meantime. I am now six months into this spending plan, and here are my key takeaways so far: 1.

It is a lot less scary than it seems

When you first hear ‘No Buy Year’, it sounds so daunting and authoritarian. However, being able to replace what you already own allows you to maintain your lifestyle to a certain extent without being excessive. I used to take ‘retail therapy’ a little too literally and buy new things as a way to comfort myself. After not buying anything new for the past six months, I don’t feel that I am sacrificing my happiness to save money, rather I have learnt that I actually already have a lot of shit that I don’t need. Nowadays I get a thrill out of discovering new things I already own or finally getting through the four bottles of lotion I had as ‘backup’. I don’t feel deprived with my ‘No Buy Year’, rather I feel I can truly understand the saying ‘less is more’. 2.

You appreciate what you have

As I was only allowed to buy replacement items when they ran out or broke down, I could no longer throw things out just because I ‘didn’t like it anymore’. I used to get new skincare and makeup based on YouTuber reviews just to ‘try it out’, where I ended up amassing so many random products I forgot about most of them. I can make do with what I already have, and things actually don’t break as easily as you think. Even a shirt that gets snagged with a hole can be easily stitched up with thread and still has quite a bit of life in it until it becomes totally unwearable.

3. The dining out budget is hard, especially when you have a partner I bulk cook every couple of days to make sure I have lunch I can bring to work and uni. Even though I don’t have a habit of getting lunch when I’m out or ordering Ubereats for dinner, I still find the self-imposed $50 eating out budget quite challenging. My partner and I plan a date every week, where we alternate payment by taking turns covering the bill for us both. Date nights usually involve an activity and a meal, and $50 is just enough to cover dinner for two, which blows my entire weekly eating out budget. On weeks I am not paying for dinner, I can get takeaway coffee and have lunch with a friend, but spontaneous eating out will be out of the question. 4.

If you do slip up , you will learn from it

Three months into my ‘No Buy Year’ I saw this adorable shearling bucket hat at COS and technically I couldn’t buy it as I didn’t have a hat to replace. I caved and bought the bucket hat but have worn it a total about five times since I bought it. At the time I was so convinced I needed a shearling hat but now looking back, I really didn’t need it. Every time I see the hat I am reminded of how ridiculous and wasteful impulse purchases can be. I’m glad I didn’t give up on my ‘No Buy Year’ as soon as I slipped up as I continue to reduce my non-essential spending. Although I only have six months of my ‘No Buy Year’ remaining, there are certain habits I have picked up that I will continue to implement beyond this year. I have greatly lessened my tendency to spend money just to cheer myself up, and I am much more intentional with my purchases. For me, a ‘No Buy Year’ has provided much needed clarity on my spending habits and enabled me to make better decisions to secure my financial future.

62.

ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen

alternative stem: fighting australia’s education inequity SASKIA O’GEORGE

By age 15, children from the lowest socioeconomic households are on average almost three years behind in school than children from the highest socioeconomic households. I learnt this fact when I became a student at ANU, and from there I began to dive further into the systemic problems within our education system. As a woman working in the Cyber and IT field, I have felt strongly about greater representation of females in these areas and it was shocking to discover how young Australians are suffering from a shortage in quality teachers in STEM. Australia’s future is deeply rooted in innovation, technology, medicine and science, but I can’t help but wonder how we expect to achieve this when youth outside of urban areas aren’t able to access these fields. I received the opportunity to interview Dr. Jennifer Pritchard, an ANU undergraduate and PhD alum, about her story, how she entered into STEM, and why she became a teacher. Q: What prompted you to study a STEM focused degree, and why at ANU?

A: I did earth science in years 11 and 12 at school in Canberra and I just loved it. I loved the field trips outdoors and I found it quite challenging which was definitely what I wanted. I actually started in environment and sustainability but I took an introductory geology course and just loved what it was about. At ANU, especially during my PhD, I had so many opportunities to do amazing things, like I got to visit Hawaii and look at all the volcanoes and see where all my samples had come from, so that was really cool. Q: As a woman, were you apprehensive about undertaking your studies in STEM? A: Initially not really because there were so many women in the undergraduate courses, but probably towards the end of my degree when career options started to be at the forefront of my mind and a lot of people started going into the mining industry. I felt at that time that the mining industry probably wasn’t somewhere where I would fit in or identify with, and I think that is to do with it being a male dominated industry.

63. Q: Is that what led you to embark on a career in teaching?

Q: What steps did it take to become a Science teacher?

A: It’s [teaching] probably the pathway that sparked the most excitement and joy for me, and I did a lot of tutoring during university which was the aspect of my PhD that I enjoyed the most. It was just the interactions, being able to help people to understand really complex and challenging things, and that satisfaction knowing you’re helping someone in their education, helping them get them to where they want to be.

A: So, after I completed my PhD I went into a Masters of Teaching (high school) through the non-for-profit organisation ‘Teach for Australia’. The program runs for two years and you begin teaching in the classroom almost straight away and so I graduated from that last year and am now working full time at the same school I was placed in.

Q: Coming from a PhD, how did you feel when you made the decision to become a teacher; was there any backlash from your community? A: I personally felt really positive about it. It was an area I knew I could be really good at, I could make a real difference in, and have a real sense of purpose and meaning in my life, so, you know, what more could you ask for? A lot of people definitely questioned my decision like, ‘you’ve got a PhD, what are you doing in teaching?’. I’ve definitely had those comments from friends and family and even colleagues within the teaching community – people are just quite shocked. For me, teaching is so complex with the content matter as well as the curriculum work, for example right now we’re restructuring the whole curriculum which gives me a lot to think about. It gets me really excited to think ‘what’s the best way to give these students the best education I can?’ So, in terms of the complexity and challenge, I definitely don’t think I’ve lost anything there by going into teaching. Q: What have been the highlights of this career path for you? A: At my school I’ve had the opportunity to work with some of the more disadvantaged kids in the state of Victoria. I was appointed the head of the science department after only teaching for two years, which has been an amazing and highly engaging leadership opportunity and I think just coming into school and being in such a dynamic and bustling environment has just been so much fun. I feel like the research side of things was a lot more isolating, spending time on your own, and not necessarily in those really dynamic environments.

Q: What did that program provide for you that was better than studying a masters independently? A: I would say if you can do it the Teach for Australia way, do it, because you get a lot of your master’s degree on scholarship, as well as being able to get into the classroom straight away. There’s the time saving aspect as well as the money saving aspect, as well as I think you get really amazing guidance and tuition from the mentors in the classroom with you giving you personalised assistance and feedback. I definitely feel really strongly about education inequality in Australia and so Teach for Australia’s mission really aligned with that for me and is probably what caught my attention initially. I think I saw the program and thought, this is what I want to achieve in my career. Q: Finally, where do you see yourself heading from here? A: I would love to stay in teaching and continue in leadership and developing professionally, or maybe even just working in the education space with disadvantaged kids. I definitely want to stay in education, and probably in the school system as well. I would like to thank Dr Jennifer Pritchard for sharing her unique experience and story, and I hope that voices like hers prompt growth and change in the STEM education gap around Australia.

64.

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

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Woroni Edition 4 2021

Articles inside

Lessons from my ‘No Buy Year’

Lured into becoming a Foreign Spy

The Bread is my Body Eat, Eat Me

Alternative Stem: Fighting Australia’s Education Inequity

Cheers to the Great American Dream

(Italian) Un Funerale per tutta la Vergogna che Abbiamo mai provato English) Sign of the Times

Shame we’ve ever felt

English) Perhaps

Hindi) Perhaps (English) A Funeral for all the

A Letter to my Mother

Memory Exchange

Mechanical Bull

Broken

SOUR Power

Filling Gaps

The Lorde has Returned

Youth

Tinder is a Tool of Misery Buddhism and Big Mouth on Pandemic

Grief

Australia G7 Attendees to Quarantine at ANU Davey Lodge

Proving Without Knowing - The 2021 Abel Prizes in Mathematics

of Staff