Woroni Edition 3 2021 by Woroni

on the brink on

WORONI

WORONI TEAM

CONTENT

Liam Taylor Jack Nicoll Clara Ho Gautham Venkitaramamoorthy Jasper Morse Elinor Johnston-Leek Liah Naidoo Rocky Kim Carys Fisser Oscar Warren Virginia Plas Jacinta Chen

RADIO

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

Aditi Dubey Queenie Ung-Lam Aleyn Silva Andy Yin Ashley Davies Fatema Mansuri Katie Sproule Kevin Zhu 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 Isobel Lavers Giselle Laszok Sasha Personeni Juliette Baxter Daniel Crane Kristine Giam Fiona Ballentine

CONTENTS NEWS

Name Exhibition Review

Students Left Behind in 2021 Budget

Minari: Asian Representation in the Age

Of Anti-Asian Racism

ANU Chooses Not to Opt into CRS/CRN System

Nomadland: An American Elegy

Spoilers Ahead

ANU Reports Total Deficit of $162.4M Loss in 2020

COMMENT Living in the Pandemic in

Clubs Council Rejects Affiliating Controversial Pro-Life Club

New Delhi

What Balance

The Irony of the PPE Degree CREATIVE

HECS-HELL(P)

The Nature of a Brink Sunflower

2021 Wandervision

ANU Backs Financial Reliance on Fossil Fuels

Up Next: The Rest of Forever

Libido, Onlyoneof and

You Took Everything I Could Live Without

Representation in K-Pop

SOMETHING

INTERVIEW EXCLUSIVE

Little Children

An Interview with Yvette Berry MLA,

Collapsing Morass of Moments Starting Over Hungry

20 22

REVIEWS

An Interview with Nicole Lawder MLA, Shadow Minister for Women DISCOVERY

Science, Scholars & Sex: A Review of Arcadia

Minister for Women

New Faces and Old Spaces: Know My

Cracking Muon G-2

Using Mimicry to Solve Nature’s Problems

A Note From The Editor At the beginning of the year, I sat in the Woroni offices with my ball of yarn telling everyone that by Winter I would have made a cardigan. This short-lived project started around the same time as when our first magazine was released. Winter is here now, and I have no knitwear to show but we have managed to get to our third edition of the year. Winter in Canberra is always the same. It is a period where we have to seek solace in the little things: cups of tea, that trip home to a home-cooked dinner during semester break or how well heated Chifley library is. However, it is also a period where we live a little slower, spend more time in doors, and sit at our windows looking at the things out there with a little more perspective. ‘On The Brink’ celebrates the thresholds that we have to cross as the seasons past us. The works in this edition are written from a place of reflection and recuperation as we prepare ourselves for what is over the edge. Lastly, I would like to wish our dear Editor-in-Chief, Rachel Chopping, and Radio Editor, Bernie Callaghan, all the best as they depart from the nest. Vy Tsan Deputy Editor-in-Chief

WORONI EDITORS BERNIE CALLAGHAN RADIO EDITOR

CHARLOTTE WARD NEWS EDITOR MATTHEW DONLAN TV EDITOR

RACHEL CHOPPING EDITOR IN CHIEF BEN ROWLEY MANAGING EDITOR

VY TSAN DEPUTY EDITOR IN CHIEF

SIAN WILLIAMS ART EDITOR LILY PANG CONTENT EDITOR

WORONI EDITORS

ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan

NEWS

STUDENTS LEFT BEHIND IN 2021 BUDGET Juliette Baxter

In response to the 2021-22 Federal Budget released on 11 May, many have commented that a lack of funding allocated to students has left them behind. Woroni spoke to National Union of Students (NUS) President Zoe Ranganathan, current ANU student and former ANUSA Disabilities Officer, about the NUS’ response to the budget. Ranganathan stressed that the only real win for students was the announcement that the 40 hour fortnightly limit on international students working in hospitality and tourism has been scrapped. Similar changes are forecast for international students working in aged care, agriculture and health. Ranganathan described this as a “good start” but flagged that it “does not address institutional mistreatment of international students in the workforce” particularly in regards to rampant issues of “wage theft, underemployment and cash-in-hand payment.” Further impacting international students, the budget suggested that Australia’s international borders will not open until mid-2022. The Government did propose that it would introduce small, phased programs to bring international students back to Australia, but Ranganathan argued that these are “not well-thought out logistically,” particularly given no announcements had been made regarding funding of alternatives to hotel quarantine. Ranganathan questioned how many students would be able to return and whether this would create a “two-tiered system” that would only allow the wealthiest students back. Instead, Ranganathan advocates for “a plan to communicate with anxious, concerned students” on when “they can return to their communities here in Australia.” Ranganathan believes that the vaccine rollout in Australia may assist in the return of international students, pointing out that young people are last

in line for vaccination in many countries, but this is unlikely to change without Australian government cooperation with governments overseas. Another major announcement was the $53 million stimulus package to private institutions to facilitate their move to online teaching delivery. Ranganathan stated that the NUS is against this decision, as it neglects universities and TAFE institutions. With no concrete plans to bring international students back to Australia, she claims that this stimulus only perpetuates the use of international students as “cash cows” to maintain education as Australia’s fourth largest export. Ranganathan suggested that it is decisions like these that prompt international students to go “elsewhere, like the US, Canada and the UK; [as] there is no incentive for them to stay” with Australian institutions. The Government also announced that from early 2022, new residents would be required to wait four years to access most welfare payments. Ranganathan believes this will impact “whether students stay in Australia or come here in the first place” and demonstrates “a lack of care” from the government, and could lead to students heading to New Zealand or Canada instead. ANU Vice Chancellor Brian Schmidt echoed many of these concerns in an op-ed published online in The Guardian today. Schmidt declared that “it’s absolutely imperative we open our national border and return our international students as soon as we safely can.” Additionally, Schmidt expressed that “[it’s hard] to understand … why the university sector has been left to bleed, given what most might expect to be its pivotal role in the future growth of the Australian economy,” concluding that “there is no shortcut to expertise.”

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

ANU CHOOSES NOT TO OPT INTO CRS/CRN SYSTEM Fiona Ballentine

On Saturday 5th May, Woroni reported that the ANU’s former COVID-19 flexible grading system, in which students could opt-in to change grades to ‘Course Requirements Satisfied’ (CRS) or ‘Course Requirements Not Satisfied’ (CRN), will not be extended into 2021 because, according to an ANU spokesperson, the University did not have the same “special dispensation” to continue with these grading options. However, the relevant regulatory body, Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency (TEQSA) has told Woroni that it “has not imposed any restrictions on ANU in regard to grading, nor would it be able to”. When approached by Woroni regarding the University’s decision to discontinue its flexible grading option until all COVID-19-induced disruptions cease, an ANU spokesperson responded that the University received special dispensation by the relevant regulatory body [TEQSA] to use CRS and CRN grading options for 2020, but “has not received similar special dispensation” to use these grading options in 2021. To “not receive” special dispensation, implies the University applied for, or requested for its CRS and CRN grading options to continue into Semester 1 2021, but were denied the right to do so. According to TEQSA, it is only permitted to pursue “regulatory action” against the ANU, if it established that the University is not adhering to the

Higher Education Framework (HES Framework). This is because concerns of ANU’s academic assessment and discernment are outside of TEQSA’s scope of responsibility, and are the duty of the University itself, so long as the ANU observes the “proper approval” procedures. When approached for comment in regards to this revelation, an ANU spokesperson responded that the University’s Academic Board “decided to not continue to offer the opt in” CRS and CRN grades that were offered to ANU students in 2020 for 2021 onwards. The spokesperson continued that this is in accordance with the HES Framework that says, “grades awarded reflect the level of student attainment”. At the time of this decision making, this was decided on in agreement with the ANU’s student representatives in the Academic Board. As it currently stands, Monash University remains to be the only Go8 University that has made flexible grade adjustments available in 2021. TEQSA advised that students concerned with the ANU’s decision to discontinue CRS and CRN grading options should take it up directly with the University, via its proper internal channels.

ARTWORK: Yige Xu

ANU BACKS FINANCIAL RELIANCE ON FOSSIL FUELS Ronan Skyring

Vice Chancellor Professor Brian Schmidt faced tough questions at the student forum on 28 of April regarding the ANU’s investment policies. Criticism arose surrounding the University’s continued reliance on the fossil fuel industry in its long-term investment portfolios. In response to calls to divest from all fossil fuels immediately the Vice-Chancellor stated that such action would make the portfolios too volatile. To immediately and completely divest, he continued, would also likely subvert the University’s fiduciary responsibility, and highlighted that the fund is used to pay the superannuation of past employees. While the Vice-Chancellor insisted the University remains committed to going carbon negative in the “shortest possible time”, he gave no specific timeline as to when this would occur. He further commented that it is often difficult to avoid fossil fuel investments in the Australian stock market as the ASX is overrepresented with such companies. ANU’s Chief Operating Officer Paul Duldig highlighted the difficulty in such a divestment process. “There’s no clear way of doing this” he said, “investment and divestment is based on

the [University] policy”. He commented that the ANU has taken a strong stance on climate change and is setting the pace in the area, stating that the University’s position sent a strong message to companies which continue to profit from fossil fuels. During the forum Mr Duldig also revealed the 2020 report on the social responsibility of the University’s investments is currently being reviewed by the ANU council. He commented that the report would be made available to students in the next few weeks, and was a ‘very good one’ that reflected well on the University. While he highlighted the fact that the ‘carbon intensity’ of University’s investment portfolios was 39% lower than the set benchmark, the specifics of the entire report remain unknown. Students also raised concerns regarding the transparency of the University’s investments, highlighting the fact that a list of investments within the portfolio had not been made available to students since 2019. The Vice-Chancellor commented that this was not a conscious decision on the part of the University and that the list would be made available to students soon. He also remarked that the list was merely a snapshot, and that the portfolio’s investments would change dayto-day.

ANU REPORTS TOTAL DEFICIT OF $162.4M LOSS IN 2020 Sasha Personeni The ANU has released its annual financial results for the 2020 financial year, reporting a total deficit of $162.4m after taking extreme cost cutting measures. The result is a significant improvement on the forecasted deficit of $219m reported early last year. In an email to staff and students, Vice-Chancellor Brian Schmidt stated that the improvement may be attributed to a ‘better-than-expected’ retention of students and a significant number of research grants, representing sums of $22.7m and $27m respectively. In response to the improvement, Schmidt stated that “this does not mean we have $57m more than we thought we had. It simply means we have a smaller deficit” (see Figure 1). Figure 1 The University’s reported accounting deficit is $17.7m, which can be attributed to a $91m insurance payout for flood and hail damages, $61m of investment returns, $3.8m of accounting adjustments and $11.5m of deferred superannuation expenses (see Figure 2).

Figure 2 Overall, the ANU saw a $172m reduction in investment revenue, including $81m in losses from international tuition fees, and $23m in losses from lower levels of commercial activity on campus. In a media briefing on Thursday, the ANU explained that over 3000 remote students remain enrolled in courses, only a small decline in numbers from the previous year. In 2019, there were 8,816 full-time international students and 10,974 full-time domestic students. In 2020, 7,020 full-time international students were enrolled and 10,402 domestic students were enrolled. The ANU highlighted that several key changes have been made in daily operations in accordance with the Recovery Plan. This includes reductions of staff, a more minimal approach to capital plans, and a reduction in travel allowances for staff. According to the Plan, there will be 467 projected staff cuts over a two-year period, bringing current staff numbers back to similar levels as seen in 2018. In his statement, Schmidt highlighted that the ‘sacrifices you [the ANU community] have made in the past year have gone a long way towards reducing our deficit and future-proofing the University from further financial shocks.”

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

CLUBS COUNCIL REJECTS AFFILIATING CONTROVERSIAL PRO-LIFE CLUB Kristine Li Giam

At the second Clubs Council Meeting of the year, executives from ANU clubs and societies voted to reject anti-choice club, Life Choice, from obtaining recognition as an official club at the University.

presented submissions objecting to the motion, both emphasising their support for bodily autonomy and the guarantee of a safe campus. They stated that “actions of affiliation would be sexist [and] homophobic”.

The motion received five votes in support with the remaining voting clubs either abstaining or rejecting the affiliation proposal.

A Debating-Club executive also provided dissent, asserting that the club presents the “problematic view” that “abortion is not healthcare”.

Representatives of the ANU Life Choice chapter stated their aim was to “provide support to those on campus who are looking for support if faced with an unplanned pregnancy” and to “open up a respectful, informed dialogue about the dignity of life”. They pushed for Clubs Council affiliation to obtain SSAF funds for resources and “support [for] local organisations that assist mothers” at ANU. Life Choice ANU assured the Clubs Council Meeting that they are not “misogynistic monsters” and that they “hold [their] members to the highest standard and do not tolerate disrespect” for those with different views to theirs. Additionally, they do not want students to feel as if abortion is the “only option”. The motion for affiliation of the club was seconded by an executive of the ANU Catholic Society and garnered much debate. Current ANU Women’s Officer and Deputy Queer* Officer both

The Chinese Student and Scholars Association (CSSA) was also unsuccessful in seeking affiliation. If you or someone you know has been affected by this piece, please reach out to one of the below support services. ANU Crisis Line 1300 050 327 ANU Counselling 02 6125 2442 Crisis Assessment and Treatment Team 6205 1065 Lifeline 13 11 14

10.

ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan

creative

ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

The Nature of a Brink Kieran Knox

A brink has a variety of meanings, all generally connecting to the idea of a surface abruptly ending or having some arbitrary boundary which one could cross. It’s like being in your grandmother’s garden: Keram Crescent Geelong, 2004

The balcony was man’s answer to safety “Look, how dangerous it is! For all our tyranny across this world Still, I bare my body to the malcontent nature Which my boot squeezes fromst life.” But its function is double as throne and gibbet “My sins do catch and drag

Ain’t old enough to know that Grandy’s rose garden ain’t no place

In chains me to kneel

for young dogs to play Never asked nor wanted

before that which I squander.” From highest tower to lowest mud

to see her garden from her side It was beauteous danger

can sovereigns cast themselves should they stand upon that brink

Red-blood-wine stuck in winter bloom Grandy’s barbs on every stem hangin’ o’erhead too

“Please! See me!

Guillotine reprimand But pretty things just aren’t the same from far away Young dogs play at garden edges aching to bumble into bramble brink. Or it isn’t.

Upon this edifice of hubris! That I did think myself better for dint of my place! Please! Forgive me! As I cast myself from the brink

Because with your grandmother, she’ll forgive you. Roses can be replanted, but it’s nothing compared to the cry of a child stuck in the thorn bush. So, a brink is something else. Or rather, its nature is more than just that. It’s a drop: Dharmawangsa Apartments Jakarta, 2017

of this balcony!” But it isn’t. A brink can be scaled again, with effort. It can be seen in the distant past, a shallow you trudge through to gaze upon from higher peaks. So, a brink is something else. Or rather, its nature is still more.

11.

12. It’s like a lie: Why lie to me To them? They say it always empty words on progress How they are shocked appalled

Well, no. It can be truth. Its truth being that awful and giddy feeling. One names it the call of some void, another labels it the moment of epiphany. It’s a kind of love: Sitting here with myself we play a game of drowning portents which one of us

those responsible will be held accountable Long ago,

Will choke on his sea-green love?

they shackled the breeze and like our other-halfs

He begins to drown. I see his eyes pass

entrapped it in cloth bent beneath glass

from their wood brown

in a world I cannot know When those hollow bodies masquerading As lead light or sunshine speak The breeze wisps free for a moment The lie is always the same that we move that the breeze comes and goes as it pleases

to the tinted murk of sea-foam He laughs, “I walk closer to the sea-bed, the sand-brink to Her.” Now I am in the water feet sinking and rising in ocean breaths Seeking to drown too He laughs again saltwater chuckling at his teeth to pour down his throat

lie. words only a fish could understand We care for their safety leaking out lie. A moment for all to celebrate lie. A beacon of progress

to fight the tide’s tune “Afraid, yes? to sink, to swim to lose balance again.” Now I am drowning

lie. water tainting my throat with wind as words the sea salt licks and strokes blowing across dimpled skin the flesh from lips to lungs it feels like steps and steps but the distance is always the same the wind blowing so elegantly from Kingly Hills So, a brink is a lie?

until we myself and I

walk on floors of sand and shit hair a-wave oil slick seaweed sewn to our heads Ahead a black depth nightmares and children’s fears writhing in its edge He turns to me so proud so cocky his skin is scale

Ba-bum. Ba-bum.” When the shower runs dry and I unfold a skinny skeleton of pale paper stretching over paddle-pop bones He circles away down the drain ever laughing his smile stitched to a fish’s head I drowned he didn’t. He couldn’t I chose to. My heart now lies

his fingers fish in the embrace of some his eyes are pearls wrapped in seaweed drifting forth from lidless lips and his teeth

sea-borne abyss My head now follows gingerly stepping into cold ocean tides

are charms of bone with Her name on each “How fare your breath? so far below?

to walk those drowning steps and stand before the scarecrow of indecision

is this any place for a man such as you?” He stands there grotesque

the brink of choice For when heart beats

in his nature

it is true

For it’s all he’ll be

like fish swimming across you And

can be He stands and stagnates skin peeling

when head thinks it is true

flesh floating leaving nothing

like stepping from a shower

just the seaborne scarecrow of a man a person

all wrapped in conviction But

behind I fall, unbidden, into that black depth. I cannot breathe.

when both agree

Cannot see. Cannot hear.

no edge nor brink

it is Real

just an endless sea Nothing but the pounding of a boat above its engine thrumming to that familiar tune “Ba-bum. Ba-bum.

green and deep and beautiful a love of salt and water without His bubbling cackle.

13.

14.

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

Sunflower Ashley Davies It was bright. Too bright. Everything felt unusually warm and brown, heavy and thick, the grass swayed and the trees bent. She could see her hiding beneath the branches of a eucalyptus tree. The bark littering the ground swallowed up her legs in jagged lines, the grass was sticking to the bottom of my shoes as I approached. I wanted to flash forward to another day. Any day other than this. Maybe one in the future. I could see yards of taffeta, lace and silk, sunflowers snuck into a delicate bouquet. I wondered what I would give to see that day when it came. How sad it would make me feel to miss it. Because I know now what I wouldn’t give to see it. The ground crunched under our feet as she moved to the shade of a seat covered in peeling blue paint. I could see the wood, raw and broken beneath it. I picked away it desperately, trying to find the centre, some part untouched by weathering as she spoke. “You hurt me when you…” It reached me from a distance, as if she had yelled it from far away. The sunlight beat down harder on the back of my neck, it burned desperately, pressing me deeper into the earth. “I’m sorry,” I whispered half-heartedly, my mind now off somewhere else. I was gathering together fistfuls of moments to throw back in her face. I could remember tasting woodfire smoke in the back of

my throat as I cowered under the covers, waiting. I could remember trembling behind the wheel of a car, as cold sea air brushed over my face. I could almost hear my stomach audibly drop as she mentioned his name as we rushed down the dark road. All these moments washed like cold water down my spine. I shivered, but she noticed none of this. I wanted to scream at her, but instead she started to cry. All the air was sucked out of me, no heat, no cold, only sadness as I grabbed onto her, my life raft in a raging sea. “I’ve been a terrible friend…” it was only a whisper. Her voice swallowed up against my shoulder. What could I say in this moment? I felt I was standing on the edge of a precipice looking down at a life without her. I knew that I had to jump into it, but I wanted to hold on, just a little longer. I had some hope left, something that told me she’d hold onto me too. That she wouldn’t let me go so easily, without a fight, without trying everything she could. But as she pulled away, her face turned down. “I think it’ll be too hard…” I swallowed back the lump of fear. I could see the awkwardness in the set of her shoulders as her feet shuffled in the dirt. I didn’t have to hear anymore. The wind felt sticky and thick. I didn’t want to hear anymore. She had let me go already.

Artwork: Yige Xu

You took everything I could live without Anonymous PART I I want to shrink away I can feel myself becoming emaciated Fading to a fainter, paler translucent woman Whisper of myself I will shrink all of it for you Body, mind and spirit Until there is nothing left For you to love or neglect or defile PART II Finally alone In the room which has seen too much of us Lying on the floor which held me before you did When I was full The bed still smells of you by the way The linens have held on to your scent and the mattress your shape Much like I did Your presence is resilient to your absence The sheets will be laundered tomorrow The museum cleared out The gallery emptied The sheets will smell of bleach tomorrow PART III I undress in the dark Naked before my mirror’s eyes His gaze illuminated gently by sparse streetlights I see your gaze through mine constantly With your eyes I see the object of your lust: A silhouette

Empty, vague, and barely defined – shape alone In darkness I can see all the parts you wanted He will devour her shape and form The silhouette is all She would give him more if he were hungry still His appetite is sated by the silhouette PART IV The object is left then Without her shape and form Her bed, his Her skin, his The silhouette has become familiar And the object has nothing left of worth to captivate him The body has been consumed She can keep everything else Other objects too Gifted you their silhouettes And you devoured them as well As if you’d never been fed before PART V You told me your appetite was sated That my shape was sufficient My body fulfilling That I was enough – a nice girl My silhouette and its contents were not enough There is less of me now than before you My body is an exhibit in your museum Forever subject to your male gaze

15.

16.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

The Pregnancy Journal George Owens I don’t think I can take care of a child and a chocolate labrador at the same time. My labrador is beautiful but sheds everywhere. She has fine haunches and a thick chest, and a broad, good-natured face. She is also dumb and does not respond to me, especially when she is playing with other dogs. She is loud and clumsy and pushes those she is playing with. I always try to feed her well, or at least as well as the food packet tells me to. But sometimes when I fall asleep on the couch before dinner, I don’t feed her until I wake up, which may be as late as the early hours of the morning, and by then it is almost time for her breakfast. Once, after I stayed with a friend across the city, I did not feed her dinner or breakfast the next day, and she spent the entire day inside. But I tell myself that I would not, could not do this with a child. There is a pot of geraniums on the window sill that I also try to feed well. I keep them in a spot where they get good light and water them once a week, and even though I feel like I have satisfied its two only, simple demands, the flowers are edged with brown, and some of the leaves are speckled with ugly-looking spots. Sometimes I wonder if this is because I don’t truly care about the plant. Other than feeding it water, I never think about the plant and its needs, nor ever even imagine it needing. But surely I would care about a child, and I certainly know that a child has needs, even if I don’t know all of those needs right now. I care about my personal possessions and try to keep them from harm, like I would do with a child. With books, for example, I do not curl the pages, or dog-ear them, and when I’m reading I open the book only partially, and do not stretch the spine. I try to keep food and drinks away from them, and if any crumbs fall in I brush them out. I am even

more careful with older books that already have damaged spines and pages falling out. I handle them with infinite care, I hold each page reverently between my thumb and my forefinger when turning them. But I know that despite my best precautions, many of my books have small rips, and covers with white nicks around their edges. Some have had drinks spilt on them, and have wrinkled pages and light brown stains. Some even have large creases where I have dropped them. I worry about dropping my child, about leaving a permanent crease. I am only slightly mollified by the idea that a body can heal but a book cannot. I also wonder how I can take care of a child when I struggle to take care of myself. I am often messy and unkempt. Some mornings I forget to do my teeth. Some days I do not shower. When I’m hungry I eat, but the meals I make for myself are often not very tasty, and sometimes even make me feel slightly sick. When I’m tired I sleep, but then sometimes I am still tired when I wake up, and sometimes I feel drained at midmorning, and sometimes I feel tired in the very early evening but do not go to bed because it is not late enough. Sometimes I’m tired and cannot sleep, though I try. I worry about my skin. It is very pale and in the mirror often looks speckled or pallid. There are wrinkles under my eyes, permanent bags. I worry that I do not get enough vitamin D. I worry that I do not exercise enough. Sometimes I feel a pain or a sadness in my body and I don’t know where it came from or, even, where it is affecting. When I feel this way I think, if I, who knows my own body better than anyone else, cannot care for myself, how can I identify the causes of pain or sadness in a child? How can I care for a child? These thoughts and more have been running through my head since I took the test last Thursday.

By Sisana Lazarus

Little Children

ARTWORK: Xuming Du

Standing on the crescent edge Peering into salty water We are all the same Longing for the gifts we need Hear me Fear me Revere me The day waits on no one Be they strong Or beautiful A clock ticks over and over Final trains in Final trains out The fire fades behind us This cliff is sharp Not fatal The calling loud Not deafening To be the little children With our feet in the dirt Is the biggest leap we make

17.

18.

ARTWORK: Maddy Watson

A Collapsing Morass of Moments Ridley Smith

The air was cold, and my skin stood up on end as I stared ahead at the row of blocks, and the water beyond them. Even though the wind chilled me through to the bone, I could still feel the sun beating down from above. It was supposed to be cold this morning … all day, even. That’s what I’d seen this morning, and what someone … who? Someone told me … who was it? I don’t know … I couldn’t focus properly. It felt like the world around me was getting louder and louder, time concentrating into one instant, more and more people coming and going and animals and electronics and clickers and timers and a ringing phone, a single white-hot point of noise in the middle of my skull.

A noise cut through all the rest. “Hey. Hey! You alright?” “Yeah, … Yeah. I’m okay. Just nerves.” “That’s good. Don’t worry about it. You’ll crush it today, right?” “Yeah. I will.”

From there, it alleviated. Somewhat. We were going to start soon. I saw some of my friends standing by the side, dipping their feet into the cool water. I waved to them and smiled. They noticed me

and waved back. Small moments. I stepped up to the block. Stepped onto it. Then, again, like a cacophony of noise inside my head. I couldn’t hear anything! I could feel my whole body shaking. I was sweating. I kneeled forward and fell. And with the crack of hitting the water, the sound was already muffled. I could hear again. I could think. I sunk further and further. The noise was more and more distant. It was almost silent. It felt peaceful. Time frozen to a moment in motion, as the light from above was fading. It was getting dimmer under the water. I looked around and all I could see in every direction was an ever-darkening indigo, a billion shining gems of lapis lazuli pulling me further and further in. Darker, and finally silent. I spun and twirled and opened my mouth to yell, but nothing came. I saw, felt, little spots of light swirling around my eyes and below my feet, schools of fish glowing iridescent, stars in the night above. They came and lifted me,

19. schools of jellyfish with tendrils descending like Jacob’s ladder in reverse, illuminating the water around with electric clarity. I rose up in the water, and shut my eyes tight, seeing only spots and streaks of the light of a million million swirling animals never seen before. I couldn’t breathe. The water felt heavy and viscous, like I was pushing through a syrup. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t anymore. All the streaks and spots of flashing colour had left, just to be replaced by a single yellow glow. The yellow light grew larger and larger through my eyelids. My head broke above the water. I violently gasped for air. I finally opened my eyes and the halogen glow of an incandescent bulb sat above me. I fell back, feeling cold porcelain under my skin and surveying the rest of the room. A lightbulb, flush with the ceiling, a sink, a mirror, and a towel neatly arranged on a wall-mounted rack. The whole place appeared as if no one had ever used it before. Set out completely for its first use. I wanted to get up but I couldn’t. My limbs felt heavy and as if my legs might have just buckled the moment I put any weight on them. I looked around. The place was completely still. There was no noise at all. Nothing from the room outside, seemingly entire worlds between myself and the door on the other side of the room. Even further beyond lay something on the other side of the door, outside this universe of a run bath and a towel. One day the world outside would collapse in on itself and this would remain forever the same, a static instant frozen in time. The water was completely flat. If I moved, the water did not move with me. No ripple, no noise, it didn’t even appear to move at all, just spontaneously filled the gaps left when I moved. Level, completely. The taps affixed to the foot of the bath simply did not work. This was the only water that would ever be here. It wouldn’t leave either. The tiled walls shone with a brilliant polished lustre, and the towel seemed impossibly bright. The whole room was perfect. I felt as if I had some semblance of my strength back now. I stood up in the bath, took a deep breath, and stepped out. I wasn’t wet. All the water had indeed stayed in the bath. Perfectly level, untouched, nary a wayward ripple blemishing its perfect surface. I stepped in front of the sink and mirror. The sink also didn’t work. The mirror was

blank, but this wasn’t alarming. It sat there, a portal into some parallel world, not a reflection of our own. I felt at peace here. I stepped towards the door. Whatever worlds had existed between the bath and the door were only metres now. On the other side, though? That was another question entirely. It felt completely alien. The door turned easily. It was a hallway, carpeted, red. The wall was some blandly inoffensive cream pattern. It stretched out forever in either direction. I couldn’t see the end. Immediately after surveying both ends of the hall, I was filled with an enormous sense of dread. Something was wrong here. It was not perfect in the same way the still water and shining tiles were. I stepped backwards into the bathroom. I fell back onto a deep snowfall. It was cold. I got up again, in shock. There was nothing around me. No four walls, no ceiling, not even a ground visible under the impossibly thick layer of dense snow. The snowy ground spread off, surrounding me with a dense layer of trees all the way down to the far-off bottom of the mountain. Above me stood only the top. I couldn’t tell the distance to the top. It was a long way. The sky was lit by a brilliant orange, tinted grey and black by thick plumes of smoke. Embers swirled around, swirling in a violent dance up to the sky, floating back down and scattering themselves amongst the greens and browns and whites of the forest floor. The scintillating light spread and spread, consuming the forest in an ever-larger and more ferocious blaze, consuming its precious fuel with gusto. Even as it spread amongst the lower forest, the top of the forest felt like a frozen crystalline gem, perfect on the inside and out, untouched internally by the machinations of man or nature, reflecting all in itself. It would not reach me here, not even if it had wanted to. The world – the universe – moved around this mountaintop, which remained tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow while everything around was consumed by time, dripping in molten instants in its ceaseless march towards its own conclusion.

I shut my eyes Take your marks

I breathe

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ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

Anonymous

Starting Over

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I - End Too tired of pretending, Of acting so well that I lose myself Behind a mask, façade, of smiling Polite shyness but always Fine. Correct. Articulate. Some Semblance of normalcy but I am tired. Tired of forcing words out of my Leaden mouth. Words that Serve a shallow function, that placate, That calm, that soothe, that are the oil In the gears of what we call society but

I am tired. Tired of these endless games, of questions With no meaning. Not that I can see. Of smiles and stories it all goes over My head, yet I see through it and Find it hard to believe that other people Aren’t pretending. I try to leap over the chasm but I am tired. Tired of trying to build a bridge from One side, of slipping, falling, floundering, Running. Run away child, I cannot Swim much longer here. ‘Tis but rarely that Someone (you) comes along and I can take The mask off and breathe. Are you acting too? Do you know who You are? II - Beginning When the sky’s so blue you could fall into it Drown in it And the music is so loud and normally you would be In pain But you want it to be louder, to surround you Drown you like the infinitely Deep Sky Sun through the leaves twinkling Too bright for words Piercing Darts from the endless sky And you’re walking but your feet don’t seem To quite touch the ground And you’re living but the world around you Shimmers, slips away And everything is far too real yet isn’t real enough All is glowing, merging until All that remains Is the everlasting Painfully Yearningly Blue Sky.

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ARTWORK: Natasha Sian Williams Tareen

Monique White

Hungry

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I am told People with anorexia are hungry yes. hungry. and I can attest, i am in fact hungry for meaning starving for acceptance ravenous for belonging yearning for hope and insatiable for purpose

hungry 18/11/2019 -mw

ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan

REVIEWS

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ARTWORK: Sian Williams

Science, Scholars & Sex: A Review of Arcadia By Rose Dixon-Campbell Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia is a scholastic behemoth of a play and, as director Caelan Kaluder acknowledges, a mighty undertaking. The story follows two sets of characters: one rooted in the modern day and the other in the 19th century; both separated by time but joined by their affinity for and occupation of Sidley Park, Derbyshire. The 19th century ensemble live their lives of more or less ‘blissful’ aristocratic frivolity while those residing in the present day, a collection of academics, attempt to document those fateful histories to varying degrees of accuracy.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams This is not director Kaluder’s first rodeo and his expertise, along with an adoration for his cast, composed of members from the National University Theatre Society (NUTS) shines throughout the play. Kaluder’s vision for a blend of chaos and comedy with order and tragedy was realised, which is a testament to the cast’s versatility and commitment to their characters. The comedic and absurdist scenes, particularly those featuring Jacob Church and Nicholas Bermingham, were notably stronger than their ordered counterparts, although the compelling performances of Alana Grimley and Alastair Anderberg shone regardless of their context. Some inspired performances made this iteration of Arcadia a unique one. Lily McCarthy turned Lady Croom, a dictatorial matriarch, into a dictatorial matriarch who always draws a laugh from the audience and who is believably soft for Mischa Rippon’s Septimus Hodge, himself a more suave, flirty playboy than other renditions of the play have ever given him credit for. Difficult characters with few lines made way for memorable performances, such as that of Jamie Boyd as the silent Gus Coverly and Roz Hall as Jellaby (Hall also lent her expertise to set design/construction). The charming performance of Charlotte Raftesath brought precocious teenager Thomasina Coverly to life, although her relationship with Septimus Hodge, as well as Hannah Jarvis’ relationship with ‘fiancée’ Valentine Coverly, both needed some further character work. While these central actors (Raftesath, Rippon, Grimley and Anderberg respectively) certainly had complete visions of their characters as individuals, there was more to be done to fully realise and define their complicated and highly sensitive relationships. The cast proved stronger as a united ensemble than divided duos, as scenes featuring only two actors seem to lose momentum and the audience’s attention. Perhaps the chemistry between actors was lacking, perhaps the cast was not properly supported by such modest set, lighting and sound design, or perhaps these were scenes predestined by Stoppard to lull. Certain artistic choices were strokes of genius, such as the use of candles as lighting and the utilisation of pianist Lucinda Antcliff. But there was more to be done to fully bring Sidley Park to life on stage and the humble set, a permanent fixture throughout, left much to be desired. The set design team did, however, make brilliant use of windows and sourced an elegant dining table and chairs, although I am

sure the cast has a greater appreciation for this as a trip hazard than anything else. Furthermore, while the female characters of the 19th century were dressed beautifully and in period-appropriate attire, the costuming amongst the male characters of the same era was a mixed bag. The characters of Hannah Jarvis, Bernard Nightingale, Valentine Coverly and Gus Coverly were well represented in their costumes. The costume team should be applauded for their colour palette choices for the characters of Thomasina Coverly, Lady Croom, Ezra Chater and Ms Noakes. The lighting choices were realistic if not unambitious, although on those rare occasions when the play leaned into the absurdism and the lighting choices reflected and supported this, the comedic payoff was its own congratulations for such direction. The technical production of the play was modest and understated, and whilst there was room for Kaluder and his team to further stylise this and add their own flair beyond realism; the set, lighting and sound design were serviceable at least. Spoilers ahead. On the whole, though I have besmirched the ‘tragic’ elements of Kaluder’s vision, it was indeed a touching story. By the play’s close, I did not mourn Thomasina (although her final scene was very well executed), however I did find myself concerned for Valentine Coverly and his insecurities, both professionally and romantically. What this goes to show is that those plot lines which were built up over the course of the two acts, though perhaps more mundane, were much more impactful than their extraordinary counterparts. The “chaos and comedy” was as well done as it could be – continuous laughter from the audience can attest to that. However, conveying “order and tragedy” simultaneously was a tall order and one which was not always fulfilled, despite the obvious best efforts of all involved. The show was fundamentally enjoyable and heartfelt. The enthusiastic dedication of all the cast and crew to the story and its characters was evident. Kaluder should be applauded for tackling such an academic beast of a play with a stubborn determination and drive. The story was complex and this was compounded by the constant jumping between timelines. However Kaluder’s direction was neat, clear, and sincere and the final production is an achievement he and his cast and crew should be proud of.

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ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

New Faces and Old Spaces: Know My Name Exhibition Review Isabella Vacaflores Nearly thirty years ago, The Guerrilla Girls quipped that the advantages of being a woman artist included “working without the pressure of success”.This criticism struck at the hypocrisy of museums and galleries who were willing to display females as subjects whilst simultaneously refusing to recognise them as artists in their own right. Significant advances in gender equality have been made since then, but this has barely translated to the art world. Curators at the National Gallery of Australia discovered this themselves upon observing that the number of pieces by living women in their collection had shrunk over the past four decades, despite the increasing prominence of female artists worldwide. Acting as a mea culpa is the newly opened Know My Name: Australian Women Artists 1900 to Now. The exhibition features over 400 works by 170 female-identifying individuals, with household names like Grace Cossington-Smith, Fiona Hall, and Tracey Moffatt displayed alongside lesser-known but equally skilled female artists. By showing new faces in old spaces, the exhibition presents an assault on the canon that artistic establishments operate under. Ultimately, it is a triumphant and thoughtful representation of women, their work, and their experiences, through the prism of art.

A hanging of nearly 50 portraits at the entrance of Know My Name causes a double take. From Brenda Croft’s stunning monochrome photos of a First Nations elder in Matilda (Ngambri/ Ngunnawal) (2019) to Joy Hester’s amorphous acrylic Woman With Rose (1956) and Kate Beynon’s acutely millennial self-portrait (2012), women dominate a historically patriarchal space. The sheer number of females on show implicitly sets the exhibition up to offer a pluralised understanding of the artists displayed, recognising that no two individuals are the same. The curatorial choice of thematically grouping artworks instead of organising them in conventionally teleological displays supports this. In Remembering the soft textures of Kathy Temin’s Pavilion Garden (2012) offers a different perspective to the drama of Rosemary Laing’s photographs of falling brides in Flight Research (1999) and the grungy desolation of eX de Medici’s watercolour tableau The Wreckers (2018-19). By setting aside traditional cultural and chronological boundaries, the exhibition rejects potentially exclusionary essentialist narratives of women’s experiences and highlights the intangible relationships between artists and their works.

Know My Name further frustrates artistic establishments by challenging the canonical understandings which underpin them. Throughout art history, females have been largely portrayed as passive subjects. This serves as the inspiration for Julie Rrap’s haunting Persona and Shadow (1984) series, which shows the artist photographically inserted into the works of Edvard Munch. The bodily distortions created as she attempts to fill the spaces occupied by the subjects of the original paintings illustrate the limitations women face in the artistic canon. Styling herself as a sister, a virgin, a siren, and more, the artist relates this issue to dominant narratives of femininity perpetuated through culture and society. The exhibition allows audiences to experience a counterfactual reality where these expectations do not exist. In this world, women are simultaneously fragile and strong, soft and hard, complicit and rebellious, and so on. From Narelle Jubelin’s delicate weaponisation of petit point as a tool of decolonisation in A fallen monarch (1987) to Freda Robertshaw’s powerful body language juxtaposed with her naked vulnerability in her self-portrait Standing Nude (1914), canonical representations of females as mere objects of the male gaze are ultimately called into question. Other important work is done in Know My Name to spotlight First Nations artists. A headline piece of the exhibition is Kungkarangkalpa (2020) by the Tjanpi Desert Weavers. Using traditional fibre-weaving methods in novel ways, a community of Aboriginal Australian women worked together to create this installation which features life-size sculptures of seven sisters. The artwork tells two stories: one from the Dreaming, and another of the creation of the work itself, highlighting the processes of collaboration and knowledge sharing that are so crucial to First Nations culture. Nevertheless, the exhibition contains glaring omissions. Beyond First Nations women, there are only a couple of racially diverse artists on the walls. This is particularly disappointing given Australia’s large migrant populations and generally multicultural values. Any discussion about women artists must recognise that their experiences are informed by not just gender but race, sexuality, religion, class, and a myriad of other socio-cultural factors. Without adequately representing these

intersectional features of identity, the efficacy of the exhibition to expand the canon in any meaningful way is called into question. Even if a more substantively diverse group of female artists was represented, affirmative action does not guarantee permanent institutional reform. Art historian Griselda Pollock notes that “cosmetic inclusions of women cannot bring about real change because the issue is not a matter of ‘getting a bit better’”. Although Know My Name has been executed alongside a Gender Parity Plan to avoid such charges of tokenisation, these commitments can be quite superficial in practice. Businesses and organisations often satisfy quotas by filling lowranking positions with minority groups, thereby mitigating many of the benefits such policies bring. What is to say that artistic establishments – haunted as they are by deeply entrenched canonical understandings – would act any different? One simply needs to walk a hundred metres across from the (free) exhibition to the sold-out Botticelli to Van Gogh show and count the number of female artists on display there to realise the complexity of the gender problem in artistic establishments. Although the exhibition is not without its faults, it represents a welcome and important first step towards a more equitable future. Will Know My Name single-handedly change artistic establishments and canons for good? Almost definitely not. But will it leave audiences with a greater appreciation of the contribution of Australian women to our nation’s art? Almost definitely, yes. With the former being made possible only by the latter, one is inclined to hope that the exhibition may – in the fullness of time – achieve everything it set out to do and more. The Know My Name exhibition is held in two parts in the National Gallery of Australia. Part One is on 14 November 2020 to 9 May 2021. Part Two of the exhibition is on 12 June 2021 to 26 January 2022.

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ARTWORK: Xuming Du

Minari: Asian Representation in the Age of Anti-Asian Racism By Samantha Wong I look on in despair as headlines of antiAsian hate crimes come out of the US. Of the eight people shot in Atlanta on March 16, six of them were Asian women. And like all things, people deemed it a controversial matter – he didn’t shoot them because of their ethnicity, it was a sex addiction! While attacks against Asian-Americans have increased over 150 percent in the past year, the truth is, anti-Asian racism has long plagued the West and continues to do so in horrifying and violent ways. And even if Asians aren’t being actively abused, casual racism still pervades their everyday experiences. Just the other day I saw neo-Nazi material plastered to ANU signs, reading: ‘Australia for the White Man.’ Even here in the Canberra bubble there are still some people stuck in the dark ages. In this overwhelming climate, it’s easy to feel at a loss, angry, downtrodden. People are dying of COVID-19 because of some people’s selfishbehaviour, and yet those same selfish people look to blame an entire continent’s worth of people and local diaspora for their problems. It astounds me that in this globalised world where information is

a Google Search away, people are still so ignorant and hateful. That’s why I was so moved and thrilled watching the movie Minari, the story of a Korean family who moves to an Arkansas farm in pursuit of the ‘American Dream’. The movie is written and directed by Korean-American director Lee Isaac Chung and features an all-star cast of both Korean and Korean-American actors. Aside from the amazing cinematography, brilliant score and incredible acting, the film intimately portrays the dynamics of a young family struggling to make ends meet against a harsh rural landscape. It depicts the sweet friendship between a young boy and his halmeoni (grandma); and the tenuous love between a husband and wife who both want the best for their family but just can’t agree on the right way to go about it. Asian representation in Hollywood films has always been so important to me. I think growing up, I’d project myself onto characters in movies, either because I felt understood by them or because I aspired to be like them.

I even remember watching Crazy Rich Asians in cinemas and tearing up because I’d never seen Asians depicted in such an exceptional and multidimensional way before. None of my white friends quite understood, but it was about more than patriotism or an in-group bias. It was the way the characters in the film brought dignity and humanity to Asians in a way that was universally accessible to anyone of any race. Similarly, Minari conveys the authentic, lived experiences of so many immigrant families, whether they migrated over in the 1970s or in the 2020s. In contrast to the exhausting ‘they’re here to steal our jobs’ narrative, the film captures the timeless story of a family that just wants a better life for their children, even if it means starting anew with next to nothing. This was my Mum’s story, and my Dad’s story too. The grandma in the movie reminded me of my Por Por (my Mum’s mother), with her competitive gaming habits and cheeky sense of humour. I saw my Mum in the older sister who was always looking out for her little brother, and who had to put up with blatant racism from other kids just because she

looked different. I understood how it felt when the family tried to find a sense of community in a very white, American church but could not help but stick out like a sore thumb. I even aggressively nudged my friend next to me when the little boy lay down on his Mum’s lap so she could dig his ear out with an earpick because, I said, ‘That’s what my Mum does to me too!’ With an impressive six Oscar-nominations, Minari serves as a timely reminder that storytelling that articulates diverse and authentic human experiences must continue to be told. In reality, not everyone will make an effort or even come into contact with People of Colour due to limited social circles or even pure geography. But luckily, movies are almost too accessible nowadays. There just needs to be storytellers ready to put their work out there, producers and companies eager to give them a platform, and an audience ready to hear their stories with open-hearts and minds.

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ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

Nomadland: An American Elegy By Joshua Khoury

Chloe Zhao’s Oscar-winning third feature, Nomadland, is the story of a sixty-year-old widower, Fern (Frances McDormand), whose town falls victim to the GFC and is forced to close down. She is forced out, rendered not homeless, but “houseless”, as she says. She begins living in an RV, and meets and befriends other nomads for whom conventional society was unviable.

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne There is no antagonist. A love story presents itself to Fern, but she has it stay strictly hypothetical, and the plot is sparse. Some may find it slow, but I think it’s more just unconventional narrativewise. This is lyrical, deeply elegant cinema, set to a minimal piano score. A movie of second-to-last breaths, of senescence. The characters it depicts are seniors, and multiple are also dealing with grim prognosis. These are people who have been left out to dry by the country they’ve worked for their entire lives. Zhao’s portrayal of America is one that explores late stage capitalism and its synonymous decay. The American Dream’s white picket fence is fundamentally anti-nomadic, and so Nomadland feels politically timely, but remains apartisan, in a way I found truly refreshing in the current climate of ubiquitous hyper politicisation.

Other than the fact that she optioned the rights to the book, the answer is surely because she is Frances McDormand –– she will draw crowds and money (and Oscars). Zhao’s audience knows who she is, because Nomadland is more arthouse than blockbuster, and because McDormand has the most best actor/actress Oscars of anyone living. Regardless of the extent to which the real nomads were or weren’t playing themselves, their unrecognizability lends them, and the film, a simplistic but important sense of truthfulness. Zhao asks us to perform doublethink insofar as we must be drawn to the cinema knowing McDormand stars and then instantly forget this as soon as we fade in. But it worked. Nomadland was made for more than Zhao’s two other pictures’ (combined) net grosses, and collected three Oscars of its own.

The sense of decomposition that dominates the film literally and symbolically, finds its perfect complement in the infinity of the landscapes. Joshua James Richards’ digital cinematography is gorgeous, and more than most movies, I really don’t think it would feel right shot on film. I must dissent slightly and say I felt it borrowed too much from the documentarian. Zhao’s cinema, though, is predominantly observational, but for me the resulting objectivity created a slight distance between the camera and its subject. Despite this, other than a couple of cheesy Shakespeare quotes, the film’s naturalism is convincing and its worldbuilding is utterly absorbing.

I wonder if cinema can ever really criticise capitalism? Probably, but Hollywood cinema? Hollywood cinema made by a major studio (Fox Searchlight), directed by the daughter of an industrialist billionaire (Zhao Yuji)? What are the ethics of McDormand (worth $30 million) pretending to be homeless –– or houseless –– alongside people who really are? I don’t know. Zhao observes more than she (explicitly) criticises but it is at least ironic that the film was so lauded by an awards ceremony which, with its self-congratulatory statuettes, embodies much of what it criticises –– and that it’s available for streaming on Disney+.

This ties into my main gripe with Nomadland –– the unclear status it gives truth. The film is based upon Jessica Bruder’s Nomadland: Surviving American in the Twenty-First Century, a non-fiction book. Much of Fern’s backstory is lifted from historical fact, and many, if not most of the film’s characters are played by their real-life counterparts. Their performances are convincing and natural. And then, in the middle, is McDormand. She won an Oscar for her performance and she certainly deserved it; McDormand blends seamlessly and believably into the non-professional cast, but this is problematic. She is fantastic, but if her performance is so remarkable for its naturalness (and it is), we must wonder why she’s in the film at all, and why the role didn’t go to another nonprofessional real-life nomad.

I love McDormand, but if she had the restraint to stay a producer and not play the lead too I wonder if, despite garnering less “buzz” and financial success, Nomadland would be able to stand up better down the line, when the importance of such things has dissipated. But can we blame such a fantastic but underworked actor for leaping at the chance to play such an interesting character? Maybe she will dominate the minds of most viewers less than she did mine. Some people will see her presence as a non-issue, and fair enough. Nonetheless, it is an incredible performance in a gorgeous, moving film; just one whose paradoxes run deeper than its title’s oxymoron.

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ARTWORK: Maddy Watson & Yige Xu

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

2021 WANDERVISION SPOILERS AHEAD Sabrina Tse The Blockbuster Machine that is Marvel Studios has dominated the superhero franchise in the film industry since the inception of the first Iron Man movie. With an army of 23 films and 12 TVshows, it’s hard to imagine the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) expanding its collection even further. I will admit, over the past year I have really felt the superhero fatigue starting to kick in. I mean, more spin offs increases the risk of oversaturating the MCU with too-complex-to-keep-up-with crossovers, inconsistent character storylines and more loose ends. However, the latest release of WandaVision has banished previous doubts about Marvel’s ability to create something fresh and relevant. The miniseries, stylised in a classic 50’s sitcom format, gives a humorous and creative insight into the characterisation of Wanda Maximoff

(Elizabeth Olsen). She made her first appearance in Avengers: Age of Ultron alongside her twin brother Pietro (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). Her tragic origin story, telekinetic powers and cornerstone romance with Vision (Paul Bettany) has made her mutant status all the more alluring. Whilst the series has been praised for its boldness and emotional complexity, I was more impressed by the style and tone of the first half of the series. Having– mostly– kept up to date with the chronology of the MCU films, I’ve familiarised myself with the Stan Lee cameos and constant interjections of comic ease, the latter clearly being a backbone of American humour. With the MCU entering its Fifth Phase, Marvel has undoubtedly maintained a consistent and recognisable style with each new release. But ironically, I think it’s WandaVision’s divergence from the conventional Marvel formula that has earned its accolade and praise.

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34. WandaVision introduces the two main protagonists, Wanda and Vision, as they lead an American suburban life. Moving chronologically, the first four episodes are set against a different decade backdrop from the 20th Century. Cleverly, WandaVision plays on the nostalgia pendulum, giving us a modern spin on old-time classics. The show’s ability to mix together moments of dramatic irony, suspense and horror is a testament to their mastery of tonal shift as achieved by the show’s production and its actors. The nosy neighbour Agnes (Kathryn Hahn), later revealed as Agatha, embodies this double-lined personality extremely well. The sudden tonal genre shifts throughout the series is what builds suspense and creates moments of fear and anticipation. Following repeated scenes of comic relief, the moments in which the lighthearted sitcom would morph into a psychological thriller are my favourite moments because they are entirely unexpected and challenge our perspectives of our misperceived heroes. The detail and skill it takes to seamlessly transition between interplays of sub-genres demonstrates Marvel’s capacity to adapt from the MCU legacy and create something refreshingly un-MarvelTM for once. With each new episode, the director Matt Shakman plays on the classic television tropes of that specific era. The first episode is set in a 4:3 aspect ratio, paying tribute to the 50’s and 60’s black-and-white sitcom. Particularly with reference to the 60’s Dick Van Dyke Show, the authenticity of the costume and set designs were remarkable! But now let me bring your attention to the challenge of costume design; the issue of styling for black and white scenes is often evaded without much afterthought, particularly as film noir is becoming a rarer medium in mainstream film. Colour sensitivity was a huge factor that had to be accounted for in the design and filming of costumes. Especially given the black and white film stock, the colour of Vision’s head was painted blue, as opposed to red in the first two episodes, because the shade looked more desirable on the greyscale. This same meticulosity was also applied to hair and makeup with Marvel designers drawing on the work of Edith Head, a legacy of the Hollywood film industry. This authenticity and construction of restorative nostalgia throughout the mini-series was furthered by the decision to have a live studio audience on set. Discovering that the laugh tracks were, in their own right ‘original’, presented a whole new level of appreciation for the show’s production and

execution. Without too much historical revisionism, WandaVision is a homage to the latter half of the 20th Century. But whilst WandaVision was an intricate and cleverly planned out miniseries, it also had its modern flaws. Clearly, the theme of grief laid the foundation of the existence of Westview. It dominates the paralleling storylines of the two female leads, Wanda and Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) who are both faced with loss and denial. What I can appreciate is the consistency of the script and the way in which the theme is threaded into the character arches, as well as the plotline itself. However, in an effort to humanise Wanda as a multi-faceted and flawed ‘superhero’, the directors also overplay the core theme of grief. Don’t get me wrong though, the acting and characteral tonal shifts speak to the amazing efforts of the cast and their artistic skills. In one sense, tying Monica’s origin story to the premiere of WandaVision might be viewed as a clever and also convenient cross-over. But my fawning over the show had to do with its digression from the traditions of Marvel storytelling. In a way, it felt like the miniseries was just a cover for Monica’s pilot episode, laying easter eggs for the newest superhero’s debut and relation to the MCU. I think if the producers were to have taken advantage of how divergent the show was to its Marvel predecessors, they may have excelled at sub-textualising grief in a less overt fashion. But as a Marvel show aimed at Marvel maniacs, I guess the interweaving of two female heroes intrinsically linked by trauma and acceptance were strong and vivid enough emotional responses that resonated with audiences. In the words of our favourite synthezoid: “what is grief, if not love persevering?” I think the show peaked in its initiation because it promised something undone and artistically cinematic. But the flaw of WandaVision is its inability to extend itself further as a “big swing” production indifferent to anything else from the MCU. Whilst it held promises of non-conformity and resourcefulness, it did in the end fall through as another innately stylised Marvel production. I doubt the MCU vs. ‘real’ cinema debate will ever stop being raised because it begs the ever-more relevant question of how mediocrity sells and the ways in which big media stifles artistic risk and originality in all mediums.

ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan

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COMMENT

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ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

Living the pandemic in New Delhi Isha Singhal CW: This article discusses COVID-19 and related circumstances including resource shortages and death. “I can’t wait to see you soon” These were the words of my friend, as I hugged her goodbye at her birthday. “Soon, as long as these rising cases don’t become an issue”, I said, although I didn’t really mean it.

People desperately needed oxygen, ICU beds, essential medicines, medical services and much more. Alas, there was a shortage everywhere. I can remember including the entire country and by extension the entire world, in my prayers. The number of my friends who tested positive for the virus increased to five, and then more, and more until it grew to numbers beyond which I could count.

COVID-19 was here to stay and we just had to live with it. As long as we wore masks and maintained our distance, we would be fine.

I knew I had to do something. I began assisting people who needed resources by contacting hospitals and collating resource documents. People would message me their needs and I would help amplify them and source them.

I was wrong, I underestimated the wrath of COVID. We all like to think COVID has affected us and pushed us in some ways, but I’ve learnt it’s really naïve to think we’ve been pushed to the maximum.

bed.

I was able to get a friend’s dad a hospital

hope.

That, right there, was my first symbol of

On Sunday the 18th of April, I woke up to the news that my home football field was being shut due to the recent rise in cases. I was devastated. The place I had spent three hours every day for almost seven years was being closed. Lots of thoughts crossed my mind - when would I be able to meet friends, would I be able to kick around again, or would I, just like last year, become a lazier version of myself sitting at home? I was naïve, naïve to think that this was the most devastating effect the pandemic had to offer. That evening, three of my friends tested positive for the virus. This was when the virus really started to hit close to home. The next day, all my social media went dark. I couldn’t see anything on people’s Instagram stories, except cries for help written in white text on the black background.

However in doing so, one day, I found myself asking the question I would never let anyone ask themselves. By helping someone find a resource, was I taking this resource away from someone else? Perhaps from a poorer individual, who may not be able to mobilise resources as well? I shuddered and brushed those thoughts away. Yet they still plague me at the back of my mind. However, nothing really pushes you to the brink than seeing the world around you crumble. I found it hard to sleep some nights, as I kept hearing ambulance sirens run up and down the street. At least that means someone’s getting help, I would think.

Having a positive mindset is the best way to keep oneself well. The next day, I learnt that my former camp roommate, the daughter of a single mother, lost her mum. She would have to move, manage her finances and her entire life by herself now. It’s amazing how fast your life can change. It was the fourth death to hit me this week. Then, two friends from my debating team at school lost their granddad, and my six-year-old neighbour who used to sit behind me on the bus lost his father. You see before this, death was just a statistic. But when it happens to people you know, death is everything. It is a state of emptiness and a defining point in your life - both at once. All I wanted to do that day was hug my mother. I knew I couldn’t, as she was still at the hospital, where she works as a doctor. When she finally came home, adorned head to toe in PPE, I pestered her to shower quickly. Afterwards, as I hugged her tight, I suddenly broke into tears. “Why is all of this happening?” I asked her, looking at her with the pleading eyes of a young child. She tries to reassure me. I realise how much death she must have seen in her life.

What would make this situation better? Almost immediately, vaccines pop into my head. If more and more people were vaccinated they would be safe. But unfortunately, if developed nations like Australia are struggling to get vaccines, how would a country like India, which needs to vaccinate far more people to reach a safe level, get enough? The patent surrounding the COVID-19 vaccine has been in the news a lot. India and South Africa recently wrote to the WTO about removing the vaccine patent. However, some of the more developed nations such as the USA, the UK, the EU, Australia and Japan remain opposed to the bid. As a science student, I appreciate the amount of research and development that has gone into the creation of the vaccine. Yet when is a global health crisis, is it justifiable to put profits over lives?

How do doctors do it? I thought to myself.

Perhaps they become numb over time. Numbness, that’s a state I can reach, I told myself. Was that a good thing? Another thought I shook away. “If you don’t separate your emotions from things, you’ll never be able to do anything”, said my mother as she looked me in the eye. “If the soldiers are down, they cannot take care of their country”.

I think about those who cannot afford to pay exorbitant amounts for essential resources. I think of those limited by age, income and disability, and consequently cannot afford to socially distance from others. Are their deaths more than the deaths of the greater privileged, like me? I think back to my mother’s words. The sad truth is that they probably are. But what can we do about it? Focus on the solution rather than the problem.

These words stuck with me.

All these realisations become even more fascinating when you think about them in a global and social context. We all read about how death is universal, it affects everyone, but is death really equal? I think about those that live in rural areas where access to infrastructure is restricted.

The government of India finally opened vaccination to all people above the age of 18, but I can’t help but wonder if I get vaccinated, am I taking the vaccine from a more vulnerable person that might need it? I’m blessed with no pre-existing health condition and am quite young in age. Is it right of me to take the shot when people are dying because of acute shortages?

What this situation has taught me, is that when you’re truly on the brink of things, you’re faced with difficult decisions and difficult questions, with no easy answers. It is an unfamiliar space, where suddenly everything is called into perspective and the meaning of everything changes. You learn a lot about yourself too. Sometimes, you may think you are on the brink of things, but often you are stronger than you think you are.

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ARTWORK: Maddy Watson

ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

What Balance? Alexander Lane I have what is called performance anxiety, or what my dad once referred to as ‘overwhelming narcissism’. As far as mental health conditions go, I’d personally say it ranks very low, probably next to my fear of birds, in terms of how much it affects me. But I have opened with this for a reason. It is because a thought that has bounced around my normally quite empty skull for some time is that we, as a society, suffer from performance anxiety. To me, I would define performance anxiety as evaluating oneself in terms of external factors. I’m sure there is a proper, medical definition somewhere, but I can’t be bothered to find it right now. No, for me performance anxiety is about thinking of yourself almost purely in terms of your achievements, of craving the validation that comes with standing out, with being, as our parents call us, perfect. When I say that our society suffers from performance anxiety, I mean to say that we have become too obsessed with our external indicators. We care too much about having a distinguished job, or a nice car, or appearing as if we have the ideal life. For us university students, this performance anxiety manifests as a pressure to stand out academically, and through our extra-curriculars. The particular bone that I have to pick today is with these extra-curriculars. Not, of course, with their existence itself. How could I? I am, after all,

writing an essay for the student paper. My bone, more specifically, is on the pressure that we face to participate in extra-curriculars, not because we enjoy ANU Snowsports beach benders (paradoxical, right?), but so that we remain competitive potential employees. Even writing that phrase feels slightly soul-killing. When did university become so focused on jobs? However wankish or naff, I rather like the idea that university should be first about learning, second about contributing to the bank of human knowledge, and third about perfecting our eye roll for law students. Instead, the pressure to land a graduate gig in our desired field has trickled down into pressure on first years like me to achieve HD’s and to put their hand up for every role anywhere they can, if only so that they can add another page onto their CV. This is not me accusing anyone else, by the way. I am not throwing down some metaphorical, roundabout gauntlet. This is, if anything, me projecting myself onto everyone else. Overwhelming narcissism doesn’t sound so farfetched now, does it?

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40. Yet, I do think it is undeniable that students face an incredible amount of pressure to standout. And it is undeniable that we only have two options for this: excellent grades, and these extracurricular activities. I believe that while the vast majority of people are motivated by a desire for simple pleasure, and that for them, extracurriculars are fun. But I do also think a lot of us are motivated by the employability that extracurricular roles bring with them. It may be a repressed motivation, but it is still there. And, I think it equally important that we begin to accept and discuss this. We cannot blame ourselves for how we have been conditioned by society. But we can try to overcome that conditioning, and that will only ever begin with admitting that this exists. Maybe, we could get a circle of chairs as well, and each of us could take turns introducing ourselves and saying how long it’s been since we did something for future employment. This pressure is problematic, it leads to burnout. It leads to a worry that you’re not doing enough. That by not doing something, you’ve already set up your future life, and closed one career opportunity because someone else will have something more impressive. It sounds irrational, I know. But that is the problem with anxiety, individual or on a community level. It is irrational. None of us need to get HDs to get our degree, nor does it say anything about anyone if they do things (or not) outside of university. No one should have to work themselves into the ground simply for a graduate position at some firm. While we all know this, it doesn’t help. Because the problem doesn’t begin with us. We may, inadvertently, put pressure on ourselves and on others. But the problem itself stems from society, and from aspects of Anglo culture. Not to mention the nature of capitalism. Ah, hold on, I think I just heard SAlt knock on my door. While there are all sorts of immediate consequences to this employability anxiety, there is one long term consequence that worries me. That it never ends. We are, I would hazard, the first generation to be raised wholly in this atmosphere that drums ‘employability’ into our heads non-stop, followed shortly thereafter by ‘You’ll likely have 6-7 jobs in your lifetime’. And what if, once we graduate, it simply becomes the loop that we’re stuck in? That to stand out, to retain that unreachable, unknowable employability, we work ourselves from the cradle to

the grave. We are, to some extent, already seeing it. The younger workforce, only a few years ahead of us, are working increasingly irregular hours, despite holding professional jobs. All my life I have watched my parents work more and more on weekends and nominal holidays- a phenomenon shared by many other professionals, and one which has only been exacerbated by COVID-19. Not only are we working more hours, we also work longer, with more people opting to retire later; as more money is needed to support oneself over a longer retirement period than ever before. The workforce participation rate for those of retirement age in Australia has increased by 22 percent since 2000. Higher costs of living and waning social welfare have given many people much anxiety over their financial future. This wouldn’t exist if we didn’t insist on pushing everyone to work more and more. That is what seems to be at the heart of this. Despite all our advancements in productivity and technology, we insist that people should be working more, not less. And this comes at a time when we ought to seek to work less. What is the point of society if not to, through collective cooperation, provide more leisure for each person than they could hope to achieve alone. Utopian as it may sound, if we don’t aim for anywhere, we won’t get anywhere, and we’ll simply continue to dawdle along this overworked, overstressed path that we’ve put ourselves on. This brings us back to university. The nature of our workforce today bears down onto us as students, even if we don’t always make the link consciously. We know that finding a job is only getting more and more competitive, which leads to anxiety over remaining a good potential employee. I don’t have a well-thought out solution to this. I think it’s much more helpful instead to write about the problem and then sit back feeling accomplished. The only thing I can offer is collective therapy. We ought to discuss this more, not just the overworking but the unnatural competition we form between ourselves and the idea that our purpose is to work. They’re big questions and questions with a century or so of literature discussing them. But as the future leaders of Australia (that’s another dry-heave inducing phrase) we should fashion our own solution to the problem, unique to the context in which it occurs. The next question thenis: Who will pay for the very big couch that we can lie head to toe on for this collective therapy? therapising?

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

The Irony of the PPE degree Anonymous In O-Week of 2019, days into my first semester studying a Bachelor of Politics, Philosophy and Economics (PPE), I met a third year PPE student outside of Mooseheads who had only one piece of advice for me - “Drop it.” Like many other students at the ANU, I was dazzled by the prospect of studying a degree modelled from the famous programs offered at Cambridge and Oxford University. The programs page promised me that at the end of my degree, I’ll have “gained a passport to some of the world’s most promising careers.” Now, entering my third year of the program, I can say that the sparkle of PPE has dulled.

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42. PPE is quite unique in that it is one of the least-flexible degrees offered at ANU. There are 10 mandatory courses, of which six are first year courses. Expect to learn about rational choice theory, game theory, and homo economicus in literally every single mandatory course you’ll take. Maybe if you’re lucky, your lecturers will have found a replacement for ‘lighthouses’ when giving examples of what public goods are. There are also three limited course lists from which students have to pick two courses from respectively to tick off the politics, economics and philosophy components. These lists are lacklustre; there are 16 courses to pick from in the political science list, and having a look through the offerings gives me little hope: EURO2000 doesn’t exist, it didn’t exist when I started in 2019, and it’s still listed on the course page today. The same goes with POLS3034. POLS3039 has never run, neither has POLS2120. POLS2126 hasn’t been offered since 2020, and only ran once before that in 2019. POLS3029 hasn’t been offered since 2020 either. POLS3031 won’t be offered to students until 2022. The Washington D.C. Internship, a course that was marketed aggressively to me as a prospective student is extremely competitive, few students are admitted, and with COVID-19 it doesn’t seem like it’ll be running any time soon. Half of the courses from the politics list doesn’t run. Of the courses that do run, two are part of the mandatory game theory course list, so that effectively leaves you with 6 courses to choose from. Considering few of the remaining courses being run in semester one, you have to hope that your degree plan lets you even have a choice in picking a course that interests you, rather than having to enrol in the course because it is the only one running. What’s so frustrating though, is that so many more political science courses exist across the ANU; looking through the Bachelor of Political Science and Bachelor of Public Policy pages, over ten more courses are offered to students enrolled in those degrees. Why isn’t this an option for PPE students? The economics list isn’t that much better either. If you’re a student who’s concurrently enrolled in a Commerce or Economics degree, you won’t be able to count almost a third of the courses towards your PPE degree. ECHI3008 hasn’t ever been run, ECHI3019 hasn’t been offered since 2019. The only list that seems to have been kept relatively up-todate is the philosophy list, but even that’s not amaz-

ing. PHIL2016 has never run, neither has PHIl2113, PHIL2124 or PHIL2101. If you’re a prospective student, you won’t have any idea how enrolments or future offerings work. You’ll look at these lists and be really excited to have the opportunity to get to study a wide range of subjects. Once you get to university though, you’ll be bitterly disappointed that your choices are much more restricted than you originally thought. The courses that do run are often very rigorous and difficult, and frankly PPE students will generally not be equipped to take them. For example, ECON2125 - Optimisation for Economics and Financial Economics is offered to PPE students, but take a look at the prerequisites are you’ll see that you’ll have had to study ECON1101, and either ECON2015 (was never offered to PPE students, and doesn’t exist anymore), or EMET1001 (no longer a mandatory course for PPE students), or MATH1013, or MATH1113, or MATH1115. It’s not the fault of lecturers that their courses no longer run, and it’s not their fault that course cuts will mean that more of these subjects will probably never run again in the future. It’s disappointing to see that one of ANU’s flagship degrees still has outdated information on the course page today, and that it’s marketed as a flexible multi-disciplinary degree when in reality it offers you little choice, disappointing outcomes and at least $30,000 in HECS debt.

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

HECS-HELL(P) Saskia O’George

Last week I discovered that I would be paying off a portion of my HECS debt at the conclusion of this financial year. I am 20 years old, in my third year (of four-and-a-half) at ANU, and I support myself entirely financially. It was shocking to discover that I had reached the threshold – how, at 20 years of age, and whilst studying full-time? I couldn’t believe it. Sure, I work pretty hard, but I haven’t even finished my degree yet. As a result of this harrowing discovery, I began to undertake some research to find the answers to this unforeseen cost before me - and let me tell you, what I found was even more shocking. In 2017, the repayment threshold was at $56,000 (before tax). In 2018, the coalition government under former Prime Minister Malcom Turnbull, lowered the threshold to $52,000 (before tax). In 2019, under Prime Minister Scott Morrison, the threshold was lowered to $45,881 (before tax). This was an 11% drop -- the largest percentage fall in over 20 years, coined as a ‘budget-saving measure’. How on earth could a ‘budget-saving measure’ be justifiably put in place against the most financially strained age demographic? this.

Our system is broken, there’s no denying

I could not be more grateful that I was born in a country teeming with wide opportunities, particularly in the field of education, as I know so many young, bright individuals across the globe, as well as international students at Australian universities, who are not so lucky. Yet I can’t seem to understand why our system is pushing out the minds and bodies of less privileged Australians, by forcing HECS repayments at inconceivably low thresholds. Simultaneously, the cost of specific degrees has been raised astronomically – which is another issue in its entirety. The cost of university courses is tiered, or at least has historically been tiered, against the

salary we can expect upon graduating with our degree. So how can a 20-year-old, self-supporting young woman, working at Bunnings Warehouse and a summer internship expect a salary that warrants the presumed salary from my degree, before I even complete it? I hate to break it to you, but it gets worse. We’re always told ‘our HECS debt is the best loan we’ll ever receive’. Don’t get me wrong, there are ruthless loans in our economic environment that undeniably hold higher interest rates than our HECS debt. But wait, our HECS debt shouldn’t have interest rates, right? Well, it doesn’t, per say. Our HECS debt increases each financial year at a rate of approximately 1.5-2.5%, relative to the Consumer Price Index (CPI), commonly referred to as inflation. Yet, this 1-2% rise is not in fact relative to inflation at all. The RBA set the 2020 inflation rate at 0.87%. Therefore, under this theory, your HECS debt should have only increased by 0.87%. What a shock, it didn’t. In 2020, the HECS debt indexation rate was set to 1.8%. So, if I were to make between $46,620* and $53,827 (before tax) this financial year, I would pay 1% towards my HECS debt. This would mean that I am only paying off a portion of the indexation rate, coincidentally leaving .8% added to my HECS debt, similarly reflecting the rate of inflation. This is good news, but it’s pretty appalling news to know that I have to make compulsory payments to my HECS debt this financial year, which will in fact not decrease my HECS debt whatsoever. I think it’s time Australia invested fairly into its future, and I think it’s damn time our government stops using us as a ‘budget-saving measure’.

* the threshold was raised to $46,620 in the 2020-21 financial year subject to the CPI (Consumer Price index).

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ARTWORK: Yige Xu

Up Next: The Rest of Forever Anonymous CW: this article contains strong language, brief mention of mental health and brief mention of sexual assault. Three weeks left of life at ANU. I’m on the brink of graduating. Supposedly, I’m at the culmination point of a three (and a half) year degree. Graduating from university with a bachelor’s degree was always supposed to be such a moment, the hat, the robe and a nice, fresh slip of paper. However, this ‘brink’ that I’m on, feels considerably less significant. I’m a semester overdue and I feel like I’ve already checked out. I feel as though I’ve gotten as much out of ANU as I desired, kicked the goals, had the fun, and ground out a degree in the highlypractical ‘International Relations’. What is this brink? Will graduation be a single, satisfying moment of achievement and celebration, or will it just be a formality, hardly a blip on the radar, of what matters to me?

First year was wild. I learned more about myself in the space of a few short moments than the whole collation of my prior life experiences before stepping through the doors into college. I met such a variety of new and exciting people, had adventures, made memories and chased moments for the sake of a good story. I came in with a bang and I poured my energies into socialising and learning about the people of our campus. Second year rolled around and I sacrificed the party life for community involvement, growing my skills in organisation, team work, expanding contacts and got a taste for how shit gets done in the ‘real world’. I had a different kind of fun, the fun that comes with responsibility, dedication, results and watching your work come together to create something for others. Second year was when I learned what ‘politics’ actually means. Funny isn’t it? A whole degree focused on studying political science, but only truly understanding it when I was faced with it. Politics is a game of competition, with winners and losers. It can be cunning, malicious, distracting and, at times, seemingly important. It’s not about completing a job at hand, it’s about who completes the job. Some people get involved because they have a capacity to lend a hand and are interested and passionate in doing so. I applaud them if they can fend off the political bullshit with one hand while getting shit done with the other. There are also people who are there for the game and stay for the game. They play with both hands, and they usually win. At the end of second year, I chose not to play. Third year was a change, I moved off campus, found a girl worth fighting for, and got promptly hit with COVID. Semester One flew by in a blur, Semester Two was drawn out and cold, getting close to the end, but still half a year off. Ultimately, 2020 was a blur. This year, I couldn’t give a hoot about social anything. I actively avoid gatherings, I have a personal project, I’m breezing through three subjects, I have a plan as soon as I graduate, and I’m three weeks away. A month or two ago someone asked if I was counting down the days and assignments left. It made me realise that I’m not excited about graduating uni, I’m excited for what comes next.

I’m excited for my future of freedom, for not having deadlines in the forthcomings days or weeks or months, for getting out of this wonderful city (I love this place, but I’m very ready to explore somewhere new). I think it’s the difference between looking forward and looking back. ANU has changed me, changed my life, helped me find my niche, introduced me to wonderful people and provided a safe place to explore who I am, and who I want to become. In short, my time at uni hasn’t been about the degree. I grew more through learning about myself, others, and the world around me than I ever could have reading about IR theory. In third year, I think ANU ran out of growth in the areas I was interested in, and I began looking elsewhere. Hence, for me, graduation isn’t the biggest moment -- it’s hardly a moment at all really. The big moments was things like learning about mental health, understanding the prevalence of sexual assault, learning about gender, sexuality, politics, socialism (thanks for the constant harassment SAlt) and so many other things that are integral to understanding ourselves before we can properly see the world outside of the ANU bubble. Graduating isn’t about closing the uni chapter, it’s about stepping out of the campus safety net and truly tackling what life has to offer! Or is it...? Fucked if I know aye.

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ARTWORK: Natasha Tareen

LibidO, Onlyoneof and representation in K-pop By Ashley Davies Some of you are probably looking at this title quite confused. What do all of these words have to do with each other, you wonder? So let me explain a couple things firsts. “libidO” is the name of the recently released track from South Korean boy group, Onlyoneof. The song was released in midApril and after the music video dropped, the group garnered a lot of new attention. Along with this attention there was a lot more backlash with some people even calling for subsequent performances and promotions to be cancelled entirely. But why is that? And what does it have to do with representation? Let’s talk about it.

47. “LibidO” is an electronic pop song, complete with breathy, distorted vocals and extensive use of low synth and bass. The song’s lyrics have heavy sexual undertones and explore themes of sexual experimentation, human desire and acceptance of it. The music video expands on those themes, utilising a muted colour palette to strip down the visuals and centre on the group members. This draws our attention immediately to the song’s themes, and the shots and dance routine immediately double down on them. The video features choreography that incorporates bondage, intimacy and often involves more touching between members than is normally seen within K-pop. Often throughout the video shots are interspersed with longing looks and moments of physical affection between the members, as well as using natural imagery. Not only do these all create a sense of aesthetic appeal, but also carries its own message about normalising and accepting desire. The song’s themes, lyrics, music video and choreography have all generated a fair amount of controversy in South Korea and have sparked a larger international conversation into depictions of homosexuality and sexual themes in art. For western audiences, a music video or song concept like this isn’t exactly new. Meaningful art that positively depicts homosexuality and sexual experimentation, although unfortunately lacking in the past, has slowly started to increase in numbers, especially in the West. This is not the case for South Korea and much of the debate is wrapped up not only in their more conservative culture but also the culture that surrounds K-pop and fandoms. In essence, it boils down to the fact that Korean entertainment companies are not selling the music, they are selling their idols and the fantasy surrounding them. Often very restrictive measures are placed on K-pop groups including dating bans, dietary restrictions, restrictions on where members can live

and a constant filming schedule. These are all put into place to sell the image that you could date the idols, that you know them intimately and as friends, that you could support them through buying their albums and merchandise. There is also often an element of fetishisation of homosexuality within boy group fandoms, that is often encouraged implicitly in order to generate more interest in a group and their dynamics. This creates even more restrictions on members as they are often not allowed to engage in conversation that would be deemed controversial, go Korean social values or could in any way upset the image or brand that has been given to them, as it would hurt the entertainment company’s reputation. This obviously negatively effects the creation of art that celebrates and normalises diverse voices and viewpoints and denies idols their own identities. When we think of what Onlyoneof has done with “libidO” in this context, it’s definitely what I would consider a bold move. Even after the criticism they received they continued promoting and even released a guilty pleasure version of their music video which showcases the full choreography of the song with more revealing outfits. Not only have they embraced and performed art that represents a very underrepresented group in K-media, but they have also expressed an opinion with it. Which again is incredibly rare within the K-pop industry. Overall, I think “libidO” by Onlyoneof is incredibly innovative in its message and its given context. It was quite artfully executed even if it was quite explicit in its message at certain points. I have a lot of respect for the group especially for standing by their concept in the face of criticism. I also think it leaves us with some interesting questions going forward about how K-media and K-pop will change after this point. Ultimately: will we see more LGBTQ+ representation within it?

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ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

ARTWORK: Maddy Brown

An Interview with Yvette Berry MLA, Minister for Women Rose Dixon-Campbell CW: Discussions of Sexual Assault Yvette Berry has sat in the ACT Legislative Assembly since 2012 representing the electorate of Ginninderra. Woroni sat down to discuss the ACT Government’s agenda to empower women and girls in the ACT. Woroni: If tomorrow you became a benevolent dictator of the ACT and we did away with democracy, what single initiative would you pass instantly to empower women and girls in the ACT?

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50. First of all, I don’t know if I’d be a dictator, I don’t know that that’s the way I’d work things. I would probably want to immediately—oh gee if I could do anything around making early childhood education more affordable and that those wages were paid, that they were paid better wages. And that whole sector could then provide for women’s participation at work which is great, but also the workforce that allows for that to be properly remunerated. If there were something I could do in this jurisdiction to fix that I would, but I will continue to lobby the federal government in that space. W: You have said that “we are now at a momentous time in our history to be able to take action [against sexual assault and discrimination] in a holistic way” and the government is improving support services, treatments, and prevention, but you have also said that it’s the community’s responsibility to take action. I am wondering what action we should be taking as a community. I think we need to call it out when we see it – that’s one thing – and how we do that in a safe way needs to be understood because sometimes you can put yourself in a situation that means you yourself might not be safe. We need to listen to victim survivors most importantly and believe their stories. That is what we are all learning more about in this sexual assault space because it is generally a fairly private matter that is not disclosed often on the day or the day after, but sometimes many years after the incident has occurred because of all the shame and guilt, or questions that a survivor might feel around that. So, making it clear to everyone who is a victim survivor that we will listen and that we will believe them, and then support them. I think that is the message for the community, understanding what sexual assault is about and what it means to people. So I guess that is our job as leaders: to keep this on the media and keep the conversation going so that people are starting to change their perceptions and learn more about how we can support each other as a community around sexual assault. W: The federal government in their budget just released the ‘women’s budget’ which purports

to rectify these types of things, and there has been a lot of criticism for it because it essentially equates to about $6.90 per woman. Can we really expect these systemic issues to be solved with basically pocket money? No, no, but it needs to be more than just money thrown at these kinds of issues because they are pervasive, they have been happening for many, many, many years. So turning around our community’s attitudes towards women and gender equality is going to take more than just throwing money at something and making a big announcement at a moment in time. It needs careful consideration, and that it why we are working with the sector and victim survivors in the ACT to find out actually what we need to do to make change. What is it that we need to do as a government with our community partners, within our education systems, within our justice system? It all needs to work together to prevent and support people who have experienced sexual assault and family violence even. In the gender equality space, you actually need to start doing things rather than just throwing money around. So, we’ve got some examples of how we’ve done that in the ACT and made change. The ACT Government asked all of our sports organisations to have at least 40 percent representation of women on their boards, where previously that wasn’t the case at all. Sometimes there were no women! It’s the sports space so it’s generally a male dominated area, particularly in those high roles, those board roles. When we talked with the sports organisations the general feedback to us was “we can’t find the women”, “they don’t have the expertise to do this work”, and you look around and there are all the women doing the accounts, in the canteen, doing the uniforms or volunteering. They all have all the skills and the clubs say “we won’t be able to do it” or “it will all fall apart and the world will end”. Well they did it, the world didn’t end, and there are now all these amazing women who are represented on those sports boards. So when you actually do it, it makes a difference and it works. You are just cutting out 50 percent of the community by not involving them and giving them the same opportunities as men. I just went on a bit of a rant then (laughs) anyway…

W: The federal government (again) just merged the family court and the federal court. Obviously, this move has been criticised a lot by family law experts – do you have any comment on it? Yes, and that is what I have been hearing as well. So I wrote to Marise Payne about that and got a fairly lacklustre letter back about how the federal government thought it was going to improve things, but all of the advice that we are hearing from the experts who are on the ground is that it will not and it is going to mean that you take that expertise away from the family court and merge it into a generalist court system. It will actually lead to worse outcomes for families who are going through particularly challenging times around children, divorce, sexual assault, family and domestic violence. I can’t see from the advice and the conversations that I have had that [the merger] is going to lead to better outcomes for people. So it’s a disappointing approach from the Federal Government in that space and we will just have to keep lobbying for a change of heart on that yeah. W: Well, on that change I read about a case in the ACT where a man attacked or threatened his wife with an axe and he was sentenced to 4 months in gaol. Shane Rattenbury said that he had asked the Justice and Community Safety Directorate to develop a legislative response immediately. Do you know anything about what that response will entail? I haven’t seen where that work is up to. I think with these things it is easy to report on and implement a justice response to these things, but it needs more than that. These are often complex issues that need more than just a change to the legislation. Sometimes it is looking at what our legislation and laws are doing right now and whether they are being implemented to the best that they possibly can be, and that is certainly the advice that I am hearing from legal services like Legal Aid and Women’s Legal in the ACT —that our laws are actually okay, it’s just whether they are being implemented appropriately. They are not perfect and they can be improved, but the law is just one part of the approach and it needs to be much more holistic than that.

What you will often see when the media

reports on this is “you need to change the law” or you need to do this, or you need to do that as a justice response, but when we talk to victim survivors of sexual assault or domestic and family violence, in fact the justice approach isn’t necessarily the path they want to go on. In domestic and family violence they want the violence to stop and in the sexual assault space well we need to change attitudes towards women. A law is not going to do that – we need to do that as a community. W: As Minister for Women have you begun any legislative work on this? I have set up the Sexual Assault Response and Prevention group. That is a steering group, and then three work groups to consider those three different areas around how we approach sexual assault. It needs a multifaceted approach, so we have a prevention approach, a response approach and a justice approach. So having working groups to actually consider all of those different areas and then reporting back to a steering group regularly about what then needs to happen as opposed to just doing bits and pieces at a time. So actually, coordinating that approach in a much more considered way. W: When I spoke to Nicole Lawder she brought up the ACT Liberals introducing legislation against stealthing. Will ACT Labor be supporting that? Of course we will. I am not opposed to any legislative change, but that on its own is not going to solve this. We need a much more comprehensive approach lead by the sector who are experts in this space, and by listening to victim survivors and their experiences and what they are seeing as gaps in the system. I don’t think an outcome which is just being led by responding to media, or an idea that you can quickly fix this stuff, will work, and that is not the advice that I am hearing from the sector. I pay very close attention to what the experts tell me. I definitely support any legislative change that is going to make a difference, but as part of a holistic approach. W: So in that vein, your women’s caucus – what is that designed to address in the legislative assembly?

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52. So, there are three groups that have been set up since the election so I will go through those. Because we have a majority of women in the assembly but also in the Government, the women’s caucus is made up of government members of the Assembly – so that is Labor and Green members. The caucus is to discuss this work we are doing on sexual assault but also work on the implementation of the women’s plan in the ACT and any other issues that might arise as a result of just women in parliament and supporting each other in that space. The second group that has been set up is the parliamentary women’s group – it doesn’t have a name really – and that is for all women of the Legislative Assembly to come together to discuss these things and form better relationships with each other and just a bit of a networking, kind of ‘what’s happening in these areas’ and ‘how we can support each other better as women parliamentarians’. The third group that I have set up through the staff is a staff network. We had talked about that before Christmas and then all the Brittany Higgins issues arose and so that has been really important for us to set that group up. That group is set up separate to ministers so that staff feel that they have somebody, or a group, or a network, that they can talk to who does not have any kind of power imbalance. If they don’t have to feel uncomfortable going to a minister or a chief of staff about something, they can talk with each other and be supported and be put on to support services if they need it, should an issue arise. So those three groups were set up pretty easily and pretty quickly while the federal government was still denying anything had happened. [Our initiatives] happened really fast and then I guess the fourth thing that I have done is this tripartisan approach to how we are going to deal with all of this from the ACT Government’s perspective. Having the Liberal party, the Greens party and the Labor party working together on this; understanding that at the end of the day the Government will make these decisions through our conversations with the sector. We are making sure we include all political parties on the approach that we are wanting to take based on the advice of the sector and victim survivors.

So that is what we have done in a very short period of time actually and we are just getting on with the job of doing the work. W: Final question: I am sure you can imagine that many women would see what has happened with Brittany Higgins and other instances – and of course you just mentioned you set up the staffer support system – what would you say to a woman who is looking at the news and feeling really discouraged to get into politics? (Laughs) I can relate to that. Look, I guess this has been the time where there has been a lot of change and because there has been a lot of focus on these environments and workplaces for women, and in lots of different places they have not been good workplaces for women. Because of the political nature of it – as unacceptable as it is – these things have been allowed to occur. I think what we have done in the ACT is show that you can actually make change in a really good and meaningful way to give people supports and that by doing that will lead hopefully to change across a whole range of different governments across the country. What we need is more women, so we are going to break down our responsibility in the ACT to make sure our environment here is not a toxic environment for women, for anyone, but particularly for women. So we have set up everything to make sure that that is not the case but I just don’t think this should be something that should put women off entering politics. The more women we have in this place, the more change we can make. That is the same in the Federal Parliament or any Parliament across the country.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

ARTWORK: Sian Williams

An Interview with Nicole Lawder MLA, Shadow Minister for Women Rose Dixon-Campbell

CW: Discussions of Sexual Assault Nicole Lawder has sat in the ACT Legislative Assembly since 2013 representing the electorate of Brindabella. Woroni sat down to discuss the ACT Liberals agenda to empower women and girls in the ACT. Woroni: The theme for our upcoming issue of Woroni is ‘On the Brink’. I was wondering if, in the wake of Brittany Higgins and other parliamentary sex scandals, do you believe we are on the brink of enduring structural change to address this?

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54. Look, I’m hopeful that we are. I think a lot of people have wanted those big changes for a long time but I think now public opinion has caught up with people working in the sector and you know you’ve got that rare moment of—where everything comes together. So I am really hopeful that it will mean positive structural change for the future because quite frankly this is something I have been talking about for a long time, since I was a young woman. We just haven’t been able to get that breakthrough change. There have been lots of little improvements which are great to celebrate, but not enough. W: I’ve done some research on you and I know you are quite vocal about workplace sexual harassment and I am wondering if this is something that women in the Legislative Assembly face as well? Look, I don’t think so – certainly not as an MLA I haven’t experienced any. Potentially that is also related to my age. You’re probably far less likely to harass someone who is nearly 60 than you might a young woman. On the same note I wouldn’t stand for it now, whereas when I was younger and less certain I might have not protested, thinking ‘what do I do? Did I do something to encourage that?’ you know all the things that now I wouldn’t think those things I would just be bam that’s inappropriate. So I think we are quite a progressive workplace in the Legislative Assembly itself but even to some degree I think the ACT may be a bit ahead of some jurisdictions. For example, we have had a female majority parliament – this parliament and also the one before. What does that tell you about how progressive the ACT is? W: On that note, I did a bit of reading on the Women’s Caucus, founded by the Government. I was wondering why the Liberal Party was not invited to join that caucus? We asked the same question. We have ideas and suggestions and experiences to share so in a way I wonder why they weren’t caucusing beforehand you know they already have quite a few women in Cabinet and their front bench Ministry – the majority of them are women as well. I think in the Greens it is equal men and women but I think Labor and Liberal are both majority female in their party rooms so it is nothing they could not have been doing before and I think if they had captured

a broader voice – because obviously there are quite a few female Liberals elected. So we have the faith and the views and the input of all the women that we represent who deserve to be heard as well. W: What advice would you have for a woman who feels discouraged right now to enter politics? Politics is not the only way to make change in your community but it is one of the best ways to do it. I have always felt – it may be a bit of a clichéd term but, you have got to be inside the tent to help make change. There are lots of people who complain and they have every right to complain, but you’ve got to be prepared to do your bit to make change happen as well. I strongly believe that and through a range of ways you can do that but politics is certainly one of the strong ways that you can achieve real lasting change through legislation and then education campaigns and community initiatives. I think [politics] is a really good way to make change. I do hear a bit about young women becoming discouraged from entering politics and I already spoke about being inside the tent but also there is never a better time than now if you think about it. There will never be a better time in someone’s life. There are always other competing priorities. So if you are the least bit interested in public and political life then just grab it with both hands rather than looking back in ten or twenty years thinking ‘oh I wish I’d given that a go’. Be part of the solution absolutely. W: If you were to become a benevolent dictator of the ACT tomorrow, what is the initiative you would pass instantaneously to empower women and girls? Partly fuelled by recent discussion, I would like to see a bit more work done around consent both legislatively but also in terms of community education campaigns. Some of them hit the mark and some of them don’t quite hit the mark. On the other hand, everyone learns in different ways so you can’t have a ‘one size fits all’, there will be some that really strike a chord with some people while other people just think ‘what the hell is that?’ and vice versa. So in the current climate about consent I think that is really important because it is going to take a while.

We have to start with young people especially and see that through and that has really made me think a lot more about my relationship with my grandchildren. You know you have that expectation that they will give you a kiss and a hug whether they really want to or not (laughs) and that is one of the first steps towards that autonomy over your own body and your own wishes. So I just really started re-evaluating some of those things in my own life. W: You mentioned consent training and I guess something that has been really topical was the government’s milkshake consent ad, which they of course have revoked. Do you have any comment on that video? Do you agree with any of the criticisms? I didn’t actually see it. I only heard about it, so I haven’t actually viewed the adverts themselves. From what I’ve read they weren’t very clear in their messaging – the milkshake one especially. I can’t give you a first-person critique because I did not see them but a lot of people have said that they did miss the mark. Whereas there is another that I have seen which would be a couple of years old now about offering someone a cup of tea. Have you seen that one?

W: No, I don’t think I have.

To paraphrase, it was along the lines of if I offer you a cup of tea and you say no I shouldn’t force a cup of tea down your throat. If you’re too drunk to say yes or no, then you don’t force a cup of tea down your throat – that sort of messaging. It is still using an analogy but it was quite simple and easy to understand.

W: So you favour analogies?

Yeah, it’s probably difficult to accurately show a physical relationship consent advert depending on exactly what you are doing. W: My last question is about the Federal Government’s bill to merge the Family Court with the Federal Court. Again, it is something that has been criticised by a lot of people and I am wondering what comment you have to make on that as Shadow Minister for Women?

Hmm. I haven’t given that a lot of analysis either because we have got a lot going on in our own jurisdiction with the recent sexual assault prevention and response task force etc that we are looking at. My colleague Elizabeth Lee has introduced a stealthing bill into the assembly so I guess my focus has been largely on what is happening in the local jurisdiction but it is a space that we will continue to look at. At this point it is not necessarily useful for me to comment on Federal Legislation. W: Okay. Is there anything else you’d like to say regarding the ACT Liberals plan to empower women and girls in the ACT? I think we have a lot of ideas. There are still more coming up that you will see us present in the Assembly. We are also playing a part to a lesser or greater degree in this sexual assault prevention and response task group, which has been very much touted as a tripartisan approach. I think there are improvements in what can be done to ensure that we have a voice and it is not just paying lip service to a tripartisan approach. We are really happy to give our support to that because it is so important to ensure that we have the right response to sexual assault and sexual violence, both in terms of community behaviour and expectation, in terms of the response of service providers and professionals in the field (including police) and also the right legislative response. We are absolutely supportive of that but I just hope that the government will continue to keep us involved and that they didn’t perhaps just use us to tout tripartisan support for it. A final note from Nicole Lawder MLA: Amanda Vanstone is a previous Liberal Minister and I went to a conference that she spoke at several years ago and someone said to her “all these things about more women in politics, when will it be enough?” and she said “I’ll tell you when it’s enough, it’s when there are more useless women in positions of power as we currently have useless men” (laughs) and I have always remembered that and thought ‘yep that’s great’.

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ARTWORK: Beth O’Sullivan

discovery

ARTWORK: Eliza Williams

Cracking Muon g-2 Andy Yin

The date is February 25 of this year. 170 physicists gather in a Zoom call and intently watch two of their number rip open an envelope. Both of them hold up a sheet of paper to the screen. Each has the same number written on it a number that has been kept secret for three years. Someone else types it into a formula in Python, and a single graph appears on the screen. There are just four points on it - it seems like too little to get excited over - but the call erupts into applause in an instant. What these physicists were waiting to see is a quantity called the muon g-2. Their anticipation is well justified - their efforts to measure it have been nine years in the making, and the last time it was measured was 20 years ago. These physicists are members of the muon g-2 collaboration at Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory, better known as Fermilab, in Illinois. On April 8, the world learned what they found, and shared in their excitement: their measurements conflicted with theoretical expectations. It strengthens the possibility of a gap in the Standard Model (SM) of particle physics - our best current model of the fundamental particles

of reality - and hints at the existence of hitherto undescribed particles. The star of the story is the muon - it’s a fundamental particle, meaning it isn’t divided into any smaller objects - sometimes called the heavier cousin of the electron. Muons have the same negative electric charge as the electron, but have about 207 times the mass. The reason that electrons are found in atoms, and muons are not, is that their mass makes them unstable - they quickly decay into lighter subatomic particles. As a consequence, experiments on muons are a lot more challenging, because it’s difficult to get hold of a large number of them before they decay. The quantity measured at Fermilab is the muon’s g-factor. This is a number that describes how a particle behaves in a magnetic field. As an analogy, swap out the magnetic field for a field that we experience constantly: the gravitational field. Swap the muon for a spinning top. If you spin a top, it will spin around its point, but if you tilt the top first, the direction of tilt will also spin. This rotation is called precession. Anything that spins around an axis, if that axis isn’t perfectly vertical, will experience this.

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58. Spinning things in a magnetic field behave the same way. The curious difference is that a fundamental particle - such a muon - has a quantity called spin which makes it behave in a way that would be expected of a rotating object, without rotating at all. A particle with spin has an axis of spin - an imaginary line through the particle - and it behaves like a tiny bar magnet. For example, if a charged particle is placed in a magnetic field, and its axis of spin is tilted away from the direction of the field, then the direction of tilt will precess just as it would for a top. In other words, the spin axis itself spins! How fast it processes depends on a quantity called the g-factor of the particle (Think of ‘g’ as in ‘gyroscopic’).

The celebrated Dirac equation predicts that both the electron and the muon have a g-factor of 2. In practice, this turns out to be wrong. That’s because the Dirac equation essentially assumes that the magnetic field affects the muon like this: The effect of the magnetic field is represented by a photon - a particle of electromagnetic radiation - colliding with the muon. The arrows represent the trajectory of the muon, and the squiggly line represents the photon. But the muon doesn’t just interact with the magnetic field. Even if it’s in a vacuum, it will interact with other particles, because - astonishingly - energetic particles can spontaneously appear from empty space.

We think of the energy in the universe as an eternal constant, something that can’t be created or destroyed. But quantum mechanics tells us that the physical properties of things cannot be exactly determined. That means, for just a small period of time, the amount of energy in the universe is uncertain, and an energetic particle can pop into existence. That means that a muon or electron in a magnetic field really behaves like this: A virtual particle such as a photon (the horizontal squiggly line) is spontaneously emitted from the muon or electron and later reabsorbed - giving it just a little kick, changing its motion. It contributes to the muon or electron’s g-factor deviating a bit from 2.

However, as the electron has the same charge as a muon but is a lot lighter, it feels the electromagnetic force more strongly, so most virtual particles don’t give it much of a kick. Except for photons, physicists ignored most of them in their calculations, and they estimated values of g that matched up extremely well with experimental measurements - the electron g-factor is said to be one of the best-determined quantities in physics.

The muon is where theory and experiment diverge. The muon g-factor is so hard to calculate because, unlike the lighter electron, many different types of virtual particles have an appreciable effect on it. In 2001, researchers at Brookhaven National Laboratory on Long Island, New York, measured the muon g-2 and found it to be 2.0023318416 (in other words, g-2 = 0.0023318416). That didn’t agree with the number predicted by theory, which was 2.0023318362 (in other words, g-2 = 0.0023318362). Because the experimental and theoretical values of g-2 were both accurate to 0.7 parts per million, this seemingly tiny difference was actually quite sizable. Using statistical terminology, the difference between is 2.7σ, where σ stands for the uncertainty. Physicists use statistics to test whether a disparity between prediction and reality is large enough to mean the prediction is wrong, or small enough that it could have happened by random chance. 2.7σ means that the chance this disparity was just down to chance would be about 0.35%. Using statistical terminology, the difference between them is 2.7σ. This translates to a 0.35% chance that a disparity of this size could have been caused by random error.

So, either the measurement disparity was an unlikely fluke, or something is missing from the theory of the muon. As unlikely as 0.35% is, the physics community did not jump to the second conclusion. In physics, the standard for rejecting a theory set high at the 5σ level, which translates to a 1 in a million chance of a fluke. This is a guard against false discoveries, and encourages experimental repetition and review. But, even if 2.7σ doesn’t constitute a discovery of new science, it’s a good hint of it. The muon g-factor is different from 2 because of virtual particles, and, in calculating g, theorists have accounted for every type of particle in the Standard Model. If the value they predicted was wrong, then it could mean that there exist exciting particles yet to be described, outside the Standard Model. Spurred by the prospect of new science, over the past twenty years, theorists and experimentalists each worked to sharpen the precision of their respective values of g-2. In other words, they were working to shrink the uncertainty σ. As σ shrinks, the gap becomes a bigger multiple of σ, growing towards the tantalising 5σ.

60. The muon g-2 experiment at Fermilab is the experimentalists’ side of the deal. Efforts lay dormant for some time after the experiment at Brookhaven ended in 2001. In 2012, physicists at Fermilab proposed reviving the experiment. The idea was to retool Fermilab’s particle accelerator complex, previously used to generate antimatter, to generate larger quantities of muons than were possible at Brookhaven. Quantity is crucial, because of how fast muons decay. The other piece of the puzzle is an enormous ring-shaped muon container with a powerful magnetic field inside - 1.45 tesla, about 30,000 times the strength of our planet’s magnetic field. The ring already existed - it had been built for the experiments at Brookhaven. You can’t move an accelerator so easily, but you can move a huge magnet. So, the ring, weighing more than 600 tonnes and 7 metres in radius, was transported by barge and truck from Brookhaven in Illinois to Fermilab in New York over 35 days in 2013. After arrival, the muon g-2 team spent four years calibrating the magnet. To make their experiment exceed the precision of Brookhaven’s, and bring down σ as much as they could, they made the ring’s magnetic field as uniform as possible. If you used a magnetometer to measure the magnetic field inside the ring, you would find that it is almost exactly the same everywhere, to within a few parts in a million. The Fermilab accelerator was hooked up to the Brookhaven muon ring, producing a stream of muons. Subjected to a strong magnetic field, the muons circle the chamber. At the same time, each muon’s spin-axis is precessing, at a rate determined by g. A muon whose spin axis is pointing away from its direction of movement tends to emit lower-energy positrons than a muon whose spin axis is aligned with its direction of movement. By comparing the positron energies recorded at different points along the ring, it’s possible to work out the frequency at which the muons’ spin axes precess. Once you know that, you can calculate g.

There’s one catch - the measurement apparatus at Fermilab did not measure frequency in hertz or any other known unit of frequency. The apparatus’s internal clock was set to a unit of time that was decided randomly, and known to just two Fermilab physicists, neither of whom were part of the muon g-2 team. This ‘blinding’ measure was a precaution against unconscious bias. The muon g-2 experiment might have corroborated the Brookhaven result or reveal it was just a fluke. Whatever the team at Fermilab hoped for or expected, they didn’t want it to cloud their judgement. If the experimentalists knew the frequencies they measured as they finetuned the equipment, perhaps they would have unconsciously calibrated the magnet to bias the results towards what they expected to see. Instead, the team collected data and calculated numbers that would mean nothing to them until the secret unit of time was revealed. Three years after the experiment, with all the data collected and processed, all that was left to do was plug the secret number into a formula. “This was our Mars rover moment,” said Chris Polly, co-spokesperson for the muon g-2 project, at a public seminar. “Ten years, thousands of people, years of effort, suddenly in one moment being revealed to the collaboration.” The team revealed their measurement of g: 2.0023318408 (that is, g-2 = 0.0023318408). This number is close enough to agree with the Brookhaven number, and once again differs starkly from what theory tells us to expect. With two measurements averaged together, σ becomes low enough for the gap to be 4.2σ - close, but still not quite there. The team knew that it would take multiple measurements to raise their certainty to meet the 5σ bar, so the muon g-2 project is still ongoing. The number that was publicly revealed on 8 April was only the result of their first run. The results and analysis of two more runs can be expected to release within a year, and a fourth run is ongoing as of May 2021. So, if things go smoothly, this won’t be the last of the interesting news out of Fermilab.

ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne

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ARTWORK: Xuming Du

Using Mimicry to Solve Nature’s Problems Brody Hannan From the Archives

Biomimicry - the idea of drawing inspiration from nature to influence the design of materials, structures and systems. Biomimicry influences virtually every component of modern design – the shape of our buildings, the aerodynamic designs of a fighter jet and bullet trains, the way computer networks communicate with each other, and the hydrophobic material of Olympic swimsuits. These are big problems, but can biomimicry solve the greatest challenge of the 21st Century – climate change? Evolution and Trial and Error A key principle of the design process is trial and error. In drug design, chemists simply try different chemicals at (calculated) random until they find a drug with the desired effect. If you’ve ever had to code, you’d know that a good way of finding a solution (albeit, not necessarily the best one) is running through countless iterations of a program until you find one that works. And just like a computer program, the faster and the longer you can try an iteration of a problem, the more solutions you can try, and the likelihood of finding a ‘better’ solution grows. Could we tap into the greatest trial and error process on Earth – evolution? It’s been running for 4 billion years, as long as there has been life on Earth! And this is where biomimicry can be useful – the Earth’s climate and environment has been ever changing for billions of years, and life on Earth has already experienced five mass extinction events in its history. Knowing how species and ecosystems have survived through these aeons of change could hold the answer to how humans can adapt to climate changes, as well as mitigate against further effects and stop a sixth. Biomimicry and the Fight Against Climate Change According to a paper put out last year at the International Conference on Applied Energy, biomimicry can mitigate against the effects of climate change through several key ways: Energy Effectiveness and Energy Efficiency Many things in modern engineering are high consumers of energy and major emitters of greenhouse gas emissions – mainly a result of

inefficiencies in cooling and insulation. Improving energy efficiency in these parts of our lives is not only an important step in addressing climate change but also an immediate one, too. By emulating the effectiveness of living organisms and systems in how they use materials and energy – we can become less resource intensive and thereby improve our energy efficiency. For example, Harare’s Eastgate Centre, the largest office and shopping complex in Zimbabwe, uses the structure of southern Africa termites to provide a stable temperature inside the shopping centre, with minimal mechanical cooling – thereby reducing GHG emissions. By cooling, heating and ventilating by almost entirely natural means, the Eastgate centre is consuming 90% less energy than a conventionally climate-controlled building of the same size. At Cornell University in the US, they are making what they’ve termed a ‘synthetic tree’. Instead of using transpiration and the capillary action of roots and leaves in trees to pull water upwards, they are creating a wallpaper that they hope to put on the inside of buildings so that it will move water up without pumps. When the average person uses over 60 litres of water every time they shower, you can imagine how much water would need to be transported up a residential high rise building which can reach over 100m tall, full of many hundreds of people. You could use the energy from pumping that water 100m for your shower to instead run your laptop for a full 1 hour lecture. That’s a lot of energy. Energy Generation While it’s important we reduce the energy lost to consumption inefficiencies, fighting climate change will also require significant innovations in the way we generate energy. Drawing inspiration from kelp – a type of seaweed found in shallow, clear ocean waters – Australian scientists developed a new type of tidal energy production in 2006, one that uses a series of buoyant floats (blades) able to pivot on the seafloor with the rise and fall of the sea. The movement of the blades drives hydraulic cylinders which then generate electricity.

64. With the help of biomimicry, engineers and scientists are improving traditional methods of renewable energy. By using the shape of the hydrodynamic edges of Humpback Whale’s flippers – wind turbines turn in much slower wind speeds and generate more electricity thanks to the more aerodynamic design. For example, the whale-inspired turbines generate the same amount of power at wind speeds of 16km per hour that conventional turbines generate at 27km per hour. Carbon Capture and Storage While the methods and designs listed above are great at reducing future environmental damage; biomimicry can also help fix the problems that we have already created. The environmental principle copied here is carbon sequestration – capturing carbon from the atmosphere (or capturing it before it gets there in the first place) and storing it in a less-harmful way – usually underground. Traditionally, carbon storage centred around ‘sweeping it under the rug and forgetting about it’. Biomimicry can, however, help carbon sequestration be much more productive and useful. For instance, the Rocky Mountain Institute in the US is working on developing an alternative material to concrete which emulates the ability of marine snails to grow crack resistant shells that are harder than any artificial ceramic. Marine snails do this through a process

known as biomineralisation, where they turn carbon into more useful carbonates. This technology turns concrete production – once a heavy source of carbon emissions – into a way of storing carbon safely and usefully. Another example of biomimicry used in carbon capture is ‘Treepods’ – large artificial treelike structures drawing inspiration from the Dragon Tree. Found in the semi-deserted areas of Africa, the Dragon Tree has a complex network of branches supporting a wide stretching canopy. The design allows Treepods to fix solar panels on its ‘canopy’ which in turn powers an air cleaning system fixed along its ‘branches’ that remove carbon from the air. Biomimicry is obviously very useful in tackling environmental problems, but it doesn’t solve the cause of these problems – our unsustainable way of life. Even if we mitigate future environmental problems using biomimicry, we will still need to deal with the current impacts of climate and environmental change. It’s going to take a lot more than some clever science and a keen eye for nature to solve this global issue. And perhaps, the principle, of ‘fixing it’ is wrong. A solution solves an existing problem; medicine cures the sick. We are gambling with our species survival, a game where the world needs to get better every time. Ingenuity must outstrip greed, or everything is over. Perhaps, not playing is the smarter idea.

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Woroni Edition 3 2021

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