2017 Edition 7

SOUP | MARXISM | CHER

FARRAGO EDITION 7 2017

MERVIN THE MOOSE BY SAM NELSON

CONTENTS COLLECTIVE 02 03

COMMENTARY

contributors editorial

19 20 22 24 25 26 28 29 30 32 33 34 36 38 40 44

CAMPUS 04 05 06 07 08 09 09 10 12 12 13 16 17 8

news nuggets october calendar home system the umsu election wrap-up lodging complaints pro(sh)gress out of time safer communities welcome, alex jumping hurdles OB reports destination unimelb breaking (the) news

a question of respect the death of cinema? life in parkville red lags sick sad world a marxist commentary on chicken run pupils gender is burning is my sexuality made of memory? on the origins of strangeness model politicians exorcism and the church tales of anxious women the yazidi genocide my friend mickey waldon lessons in minimalism

31 32 CREATIVE 46 47 48 50 51 54 56 58 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67

ARTWORK BY ELOYSE MCCALL 03

apiary anxiety pollen the world is fucked pt. 7 cher radio haunted beauty breaker family feud colours of deira recollections mushroom geisha lady of the night chroma for and against: soup the sun robot

COLLECTIVE

CONTRIBUTORS EDITORS Alexandra Alvaro Amie Green James Macaronas Mary Ntalianis

SUBEDITORS Elizabeth Adams James Agathos Lucy Andrews Kergen Angel Harry Baker CONTRIBUTORS Amy Bartholomeusz Kate Ashton Amelia Bensley Kye-Lee Cheong Daniel Beratis Chelsea Cucinotta Sue-Ann Chan Conor Day Esther Crowley Martin Ditmann Noni Cole Sebastian Dodds Esther Le Couteur Katie Doherty Conor Day Elizabeth Haigh Sebastian Dodds Maya Inoue Katie Doherty Dominik Lukas Kirsten-Parsch Alessia Di Paolo Caitlin Kloppenborg Simone Eckardt Claire Krelitz Victoria Emerson Wing Kuang Esmé James Jack Langan Annie Jiang Esther Le Couteur Celine Lau Eponine Le Galliot Vicky Lee Luke Macaronas Maggy Liu Claudia Mackojc Caitlin McGregor Victoria Madamba Sinead Medew-Ewen Tess Milner Ellen Muller Maki Mori Jeremy Nadel Fergus Neal Jesse Paris-Jourdan Sam Nelson Ellie Patton Alain Nguyen Sarah Peters Sarah Peters Ed Pitt Elena Piakis Lara Porczak Clara Pietrek Jefrey Pullin Ed Pitt Claudia Seers Poorniima Shanmugam Alf Simpson Ella Shi Felicity Sleeman Karolina Surawski Morgan-Lee Snell Greer Sutherland Reilly Sullivan Caleb Triscari Peter Tzimos Ben Volchok Matt Wojczys Charlotte Wallin Alice Zeng Lucy William Stephanie Zhang

GRAPHICS Charlotte Bird-Weber Ella Hope Broadbent Edie Bush Leung Chin Ching Ewan Clarke-McIntyre Cornelius Darrell Anwyn Elise Veronica Fernando James Goh Minahil Munir Hamdani Ilsa Harun Darus Noel Howard Kyaw Min Htin Carolyn Huane Lauren Hunter Winnie Jiao Clara Cruz Jose Esther Le Couteur Sarah Leong Sarah Fang-Ning Lin Lisa Linton Hanna Liu Eloyse McCall Lilly McLean Rachel Morley Amani Nasarudin Sam Nelson Alain Nguyen Wasinee Phornnarit (Gwen) Elena Piakis Ruth Simone Rathjen-Dufton Amelia Saward Nellie Seale Morgan-Lee Snell Sophie Sun Selena Tan Jasmine Velkovski Reimena Yee

WEB Jenny Huynh Jack Kaloger Cathy Weng

ARTWORK BY ELENA PIAKIS 04

COLUMNISTS Madeline Bailey Anwyn Elise Alex Epstein (Radio Fodder blog) Ilsa Harun James Hazeldine Carolyn Huane Claire Longhouse (Radio Fodder blog) Tessa Marshall Harry McLean Matilda Morley (Radio Fodder blog) Monique O’Raferty (online) Ed Pitt Danielle Scrimshaw Katherine Scott (Radio Fodder blog) Claudia Seers (online) Benjamin Smart (Radio Fodder blog) Linus Tolliday SOCIAL MEDIA Elizabeth Haigh Ilsa Harun Annie Liew Monique O’Raferty Acacia Pip Ramone Taanya Rohira Mega Saira Maddie Spencer Richard Hinman COVER Morgan-Lee Snell Farrago is the student magazine of the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU), produced by the Media Department. Farrago is published by the General Secretary of UMSU, Yasmine Luu. The views expressed herein are not necessarily the views of UMSU, the printers or the editors.

Farrago is printed by Printgraphics, care of crisp lettuce Nigel Quirk. All writing and artwork remains the property of the creators. This collection is © Farrago and Farrago reserves the right to republish material in any format.

COLLECTIVE

EDITORIAL

H

ello world! This is me! Life should be fun for everyone!

We were a little sombre this month because we knew this was the penultimate mag we’d be producing this year. But then it was Amie’s birthday so we had a party marathon with glitter and presents galore! We did some #bonding, explored Amie’s garden shed and found her old roller skates (from her speedskating career that was cut short when she broke her arms) and lived out our dreams of being Olympians.

It was not our calling. James fell over and hurt his little boy butt. The roller blades cut up our city feet. In future, we will stick to sitting in our oices and answering your emails.

We also pushed out another tiny baby from our collective womb. It’s called Above Water and it’s on stands NOW! It contains poetry and short iction and lovely artwork. The afterbirth was claggy. We were about to chop the bloody thing up and eat it for din-dins like Kim Kardashian did but as we were carving it, we found that it contained a POSTER. That’s right.

Every copy of Above Water contains a poster for you to stick on your wall or cat or boy butt. How about that?!

Anyway, we hope you like Edition 7. We decided to make its guts all black and white with some pops of colour. The beautiful cover is by the beautiful Morgan Lee-Snell and was inspired by the plants and bees of Sarah Peters’ 'Apiary Anxiety' (pg. 46).

You wanna read something cool? Here are some of our picks.

There’s an interview with the new Indigenous Oice Bearer, Alexandra Hohoi that might tickle your fancy. Alex also begrudgingly thinks you should read the UMSU election wrap-up (pg. 07) by Alain Nguyen because democracy democracy etc.

She also reckons that 'Lodging Complaints' (pg. 08) by Wing Kuang and Martin Ditmann is a good read but might make you scream about the injustice of it all. Approach with caution.

Amie highly recommends that you read 'Life in Parkville' (pg. 22), where Harry is that dude from the Shooting Stars meme, but in a deeper way. She also really likes the photo project 'Haunted Beauty' (pg. 54).

James wants you to read Poorniima Shanmugam's elegaic 'Lady of the Night' (pg. 63), as well as the electric, uninhibited verse of Esther Le Couteur (pg. 50).

Even though Mary doesn't like the practical consequences of implementing communism (that has historically proven to be an inefective and often dangerous system), she does like 'Red Flags' by Elena Piakis (pg. 24). But if you're feeling less SAlty and more ready to party*, turn to page 65 to see Sebastian Dodds and Elizabeth Haigh battle it out in For & Against Soup. * Mary has a warped idea of what constitutes a party.

Go fuck yourself, Alex, Amie, James and Mary.

BACKGROUND BY ANWYN ELISE PHOTOGRAPHY BY MORGAN-LEE SNELL 05

CAMPUS

NEWS NUGGETS

PRECINT The University of Melbourne has approved the business case for the new student precinct, to be built on the southern side of the campus.

Preparatory works will begin in the Summer of 2017.

E-SHOOK Four academics at RMIT have been stood down after students were forced to buy an e-book to take an online test, worth 50 per cent of their marks for the semester.

BLOODY MURDOCH Murdoch University axed its 2014 enterprise agreement with staf and academics. It was determined that the Uni had a “a inancial imperative” to terminate the agreement. This puts other Universities’ enterprise agreements in question for future negotiations.

ANU ATTACK Three students and a lecturer were injured after an attack at Australian National University in August. The 18-year-old attacker attempted to hit the lecturer with a bat.

NOT SURPRISED, MOTHERFUCKER Group of 8 Chief Executive, Vicki Thomson, has stated that the Go8 is “dissapointed but not surprised” at the government’s framing of their higher education reforms. The proposed 23 per cent funding increase is “largely on the back of increased student fees” according to the group.

INSERT PLANT PUN New analysis by Universities Australia inds that STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Maths) students will be most afected by the government’s proposed higher education reforms, these disciplines bearing 35 per cent of the $1.2 billion in cuts.

NUMBER 1 The University of Melbourne has been ranked Number 1 in Australia and 32 in the world in the Times Higher Education University Rankings. Glyn Davis has attributed the success to the Melbourne Model.

BLOW OUT Simon Birmingham has said that universities must be in charge of creating eiciencies ahead of proposed cuts to higher education, as they have blown out our national debt, at the Financial Review’s Higher Education Summit.

PICKET LINE University of Sydney staf have been striking for fairer pay, amidst new enterprise bargaining agreement negotiations. Staf are concerned about proposed pay cuts.

GRAPE-SHOTS FIRED Macquarie University has censored its student publication, Grapeshot Magazine, vetoing an article surrounding sexual assault and harassment on campus. In response, the magazine published a blank page where the article should have been.

INTERNSHITS The government is currently auditing employers in their controversial PaTH internships program after cases of exploitation were exposed.

ARTWORK BY ANWYN ELISE 06

CAMPUS

OCTOBER CALENDAR WEEK 9

BREAK

WEEK 10

Monday 25

Monday October 2 Asylum Seekers Awareness Week Enviro - Community Garden Bee Keeping Workshop 12-1pm: Disabilities - Mental Health Support Group @ Training Room 1

Tuesday 19

Tuesday 26

Tuesday 3 1-2pm: People of Colour - PoC Collective @ Graham Cornish Room B 10-2pm: Enviro - Bike Co-op Breakfast at John Smyth Basement 2pm: Enviro - Enviro Collective @ Joe Nap A 5.30pm: Enviro - Play With Your Food Food Co-op

Tuesday 10 12-2pm: Enviro - Community Garden Working Bee and Summer Smoothies 10-2pm: Enviro - Bike Co-op Breakfast at John Smyth Basement 2pm: Enviro - Enviro Collective @ Joe Nap A 5.30pm: Enviro - Play With Your Food Food Co-op

Wednesday 20 5.15-6.15pm: Disabilities Disabilities Collective @ Training Room 1

Wednesday 27

Wednesday 4 5.15-6.15pm: Disabilities Disabilities Collective @ Training Room 1

Wednesday 11 5.15-6.15 1-2pm: People of Colour - PoC Collective @ Graham Cornish Room B Disabilities Disabilities Collective @ Training Room 1

Thursday 21 3pm: Media - Farrago Edition 7 launch @ Tsubu Bar 5.30pm: People of Colour Myriad magazine launch @ Stop 2

Thursday 28

Thursday 5

Friday 22

Friday 29

Friday 6 Activities - Octoberfest

Monday September 18 12-1pm: Disabilities - Mental Health Support Group @ Training Room 1

WEEK 11 Monday 9 12-2pm: Clubs & Activities - Clubs Carnival 12-1pm: Disabilities - Mental Health Support Group @ Training Room 1

Thursday 12 Creative Arts - Arts Grants (Round 5) Due 6pm: Creative Arts - Pot Luck Open Mic Night (PLOM)

Friday 13

ARTWORK BY ANWYN ELISE Reverse this calendar to see Anwyn Elise’s ‘Home System’. Each edition will piece together to form an eight part artwork.

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THE UMSU ELECTION WRAP-UP WORDS BY ALAIN NGUYEN ARTWORK BY JAMES MACARONAS

STAND UP!’S DESIREE CAI TAKES DOWN MORE!’S NICHOLSON FOR PRESIDENCY CONTENT WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT

S

tand Up! has taken back the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU), after presidential candidate, Desiree Cai, defeated More!'s Lizzie Nicholson.

Cai will work alongside More!’s Daniel Beratis, who is now General Secretary-elect.

Cai received 1585 votes (51 per cent) to Nicholson's 1369 (44 per cent) after exclusions. They were followed by Choice’s Themi Kritikakos with 149 votes (5 per cent).

The victory comes in contrast to last year's election, in which More! took control of the Union by a landslide.

Whilst More! retained some of its oices such as Activities, People of Colour, Queer, Disabilities and Environment, many of its previous oices have been lost to Stand Up!.

Several contests were decided on preferences with narrow victories on both sides. Only 47 votes separated Stand Up! and More! candidates for the Education (Academic) Oice. More!’s Daniel Beratis claimed a dramatic victory after receiving approximately 52 per cent of the votes to Stand Up’s Sonia Lim who received 48 per cent.

Stand Up!’s success did not just stop at Oice Bearer positions.

It extended with their near clean-sweep of restricted constituency representative positions in the Students’ Council.

The makeup of Students’ Council looks to be divided with both major parties having a presence – Stand Up! has nine positions, and More! has seven. Left Focus took out one spot, giving them a decisive role – two other spots went to tickets associated with its members. Independent Media and The Biggest Blackest Ticket managed to get up one representative each.

In a largely uncontroversial election week, Stand Up! campaigned as a progressive, left-wing ticket. The ticket has promised to create an “accessible, inclusive and diverse” union and believes in “active and passionate student activism and representation.”

Other election promises included establishing a support service for Centrelink-related inquiries such as housing and rental rights, campaigning for concession cards for all students and more 24-hour study spaces.

Cai’s irst priorities in oice are to address education on a federal and campus level, and work toward better policy

surrounding on-campus sexual assault from the University.

“I want to ensure UMSU is a part of the broader ight against increased fees and the move to the deregulation of our education,” she said.

“And of course, since the release of the sexual assault survey earlier this year, now is the time to be pushing the University to implement real change within their policy and procedures to make this campus a safer place,” she said.

What is interesting however, is the high amount of More!

Oicers that Cai and her team must face coming into 2018, especially with the election of Daniel Beratis to the role of General Secretary and More!’s retention of many Oice Bearer positions.

Both elected Oice Bearers have pledged to work together to ensure a stable and productive union.

“Open communication is key within any oice or workplace, and I want to ensure that everyone in the oice is communicating and working together, regardless of which ticket they were elected on,” she said.

“UMSU works most efectively when we are all working together as a team, and no matter what ticket they've run on, all Oice Bearers ultimately do have the same goals – to be working to improve the lives and uni experiences of students,” Cai said.

Beratis agreed with Cai believing there is room to come together.

“There are fantastic candidates from both tickets elected across the Student Union and it's awesome to have so many passionate people driven to make a diference in the same place. Coming together after a contested election always takes a little bit of work, just because of that awesome passion,” he said.

Cai attributed the success of Stand Up!’s campaign to her team of organisers and campaigners.

“I think perhaps students were able to see the importance of the Union being run by people who are already activists, and who have the values to be able to ight for students,” she said.

Voter turnout this year was slightly lower than last year with around 3400-3500 students casting votes.

New Oice Bearers and Councillors will be inducted in December.

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CAMPUS

LODGING COMPLAINTS WORDS BY MARTIN DITMANN AND WING KUANG ARTWORK BY SELENA TAN

INTERNATIONAL STUDENTS ARE STRUGGING TO FIND FAIR ACCOMMODATION CONTENT WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT

A

lthough the 2018 QS benchmark places Melbourne as the ifth best city globally for international students to study, it appears that there are some students and advocacy groups who would disagree.

The Tenants Union of Victoria (TUV) and student legal services argue that international students are being charged unfair and illegal fees, leaving them under-informed when facing “unscrupulous housing providers”.

Chinese international student at the University of Melbourne, Cora, told Farrago that she has been living in a subdivided apartment in which the lounge room is rented out as a bedroom.

Cora currently shares the two-bedroom apartment, a 15-minute walk from campus, with another two other female international students.

Cora found the accommodation via Weibo, a Twitter-like Chinese social media, two years ago. When she moved in, she signed a one-year contract with her landlord. “[Then] my landlord didn’t mention the renewal of the lease, but so far I have still lived there [for two years] with no issues.”

International students living in Carlton had similar concerns.

A student, who wishes to remain anonymous, has also experienced unacceptable living conditions in a Carlton shared terrace house.

She claims her landlord refuses to repair facilities, and makes her feel uncomfortable with unexpected visits. “[The landlord] will even come to the house at 7am without telling us,” she told Farrago.

She fears if the house’s conditions are improved, the accommodation would become unafordable to her.

There are many more students who have similar stories.

Isabelle Butler from UMSU (University of Melbourne Student Union) Legal Service said the organisation have received complaints from international students including false house advertising, breach of tenancy agreements, poor living environments and female students being sexually assaulted by accommodation providers.

While many issues have been related to private landlords, the UMSU Legal Service has also heard of complaints about real estate agents, room and house operators as well as student-oriented commercial complexes.

Butler cites vulnerability as the main cause of exploitation, as international students are “less aware of how tenancy laws operate in Australia, and less aware of where to ind information about what their tenancy rights are.”

She argues that complex residential tenancy laws mean that many international students do not understand how to defend their rights on housing in Australia.

Butler also says that, compared to domestic students, it is less likely for international students to raise complaints.

UMSU International President, John Hee, agrees with Butler.

“We do not believe that a majority of students move into accommodation knowing they will be exploited but do acknowledge that it does indeed happen.”

“This happens sometimes simply because of the lack of availability in accommodation, especially nearing the start of the

semester, when most of the better accommodation has been taken.”

It is not just private landlords exploiting international students.

UniLodge, one of Australia’s largest student accommodation providers, was ined $90,000 in March for providing misleading claims, providing misleading quotes and occupancy, and failing to meet rental bond holding requirements.

Residents’ bonds were not paid to the Bond Authority as required, and UniLodge was forced to pay back the interest it gained on holding onto the money.

UniLodge did not respond to repeated requests for comment.

So what can be done about the exploitation of international students?

President of Australian Federation of International Students (AFIS), Candy Tong, criticised the inadequate housing resources available for international students who may need assistance. AFIS has worked with the TUV to run housing workshops that provide information on international students’ housing rights in Australia.

“There are only a few workshops that invite professionals and thus students often have little chance of seeking face-to-face help from them, and they are less likely to seek help if they have to dial a helpline or send an email," she said.

“Universities should also provide greater support for students who have accommodation issues. [They] now only provide minimum support at the moment."

The University of Melbourne has defended its record, including the controversial merging of housing advice services into Stop 1 earlier this year.

“The University recently further improved student housing services by ofering these via Stop 1 channels to ensure a seamless and integrated experience for all students,” a University spokesperson said.

“There is a wide range of support available to help students make informed choices about their accommodation and address any diiculties which may arise."

The University says one of its key solutions is building more housing itself.

“The University’s Student Accommodation Program commits to providing 6,000 University-ailiated student accommodation places within walking distance of the Parkville campus by 2020."

However, the TUV is calling for legal reforms, including reined minimum property standards, and stricter criteria for evictions and enforcement of hard lease terms.

“The tenancy laws in Victoria need to be changed as a whole to better relect the realities of the current market,” a TUV spokesperson said.

Hee says UMSU International is always ready to advocate for international students.

“UMSU International is meant to protect and improve the lives of international students at the University and accommodation is a major part of that student life.”

We are here if students need support and help with housing issues or any other issues that arise and will constantly strive to improve student housing for all students.”

10

CAMPUS

PRO(SH)GRESS

OUT OF TIME

WORDS BY ALAIN NGUYEN ARTWORK BY SELENA TAN

WORDS BY CHARLOTTE WALLIN ARTWORK BY SELENA TAN

"W

E

e feel like it’s all stick and no carrot," Education and Research Oicer at the Graduate Student Association (GSA), Shirley Jackson, said.

This feeling of all punishment and no reward was shared by a gathering of post graduate students at the GSA forum earlier this month.

The GSA is currently protesting against the Academic Board’s policy changes which took place in June 2017, which will remove the possibility for research higher degree (RHD) students to extend their degrees beyond the maximum submission date.

As a result, some Master and all PhD students are expected to complete their degrees in two and four years respectively.

The Academic Board has stated that due to the policy, the timely completion rates will increase from the current 53 per cent to 75 per cent by 2020. However, the policy is not expected to be immediately implemented.

This gives students graduating before the 1 January 2018 the possibility of a one year lapse for those with a masters degree, and two years for a PhD. Such a policy change may have a strong impact on certain demographic groups, such as single parents who are already struggling to balance their academic workload and domestic responsibilities.

Yet, according to one biochemistry PhD student who wished to remain anonymous, the deadline also challenges the University’s competitiveness.

“Our lab-based research will be measured against international universities where students can work on projects for ive or more years,” she said.

This could lead students to convert to part-time study, giving them only half the access to essential resources such as their supervisor and funding scheme.

Senior Advocate at UMSU, Michelle Almiron, suggests that the Complaints and Grievances Policy may be a relevant course of action for students who are impacted by the RHD timely completion policy.

This policy relates to decisions made at an academic level that may afect students personally, in which case they are encouraged to make a formal complaint to the academic board.

“If they get to 20 or 30 individual complaints then they have to revise the situation,” Almiron explained.

“Some of us with more time on our hands might want to do this to help the others that don’t necessarily have the time."

very year, Prosh commands much attention within the University.

It markets itself as an event in which students can be “creative, athletic, adventurous, nude, hilarious, drunk, sleepy, slippery, delirious, silly, inventive and so much more”.

This year, Prosh was predictably illed with shenanigans that were, at times, hard for the general student population to get their heads around.

From swimming down the South Lawn Moat to elaborate scavenger hunts across Victoria, it forged alcohol-infused bonds, despite the cold rainy nights in Melbourne.

The event has seen its fair share of controversy, yet, it remains popular as ever, with over 20 teams participating in the event this year.

So why do people keep coming back to the largest student run event on campus, especially when student participation across other events is at an all time low?

One answer is friendship, and the opportunity to step out of one's comfort zone.

Second year Science student, Michael Williams, participated in Prosh for the irst time this year.

“Everyone was friendly. It’s the people and activities that make me come back. It’s only once a year that you can do scavenger hunts and drinking games all over uni,” he said.

First year student, Alex McFadden, commended the behind-thescenes work behind Prosh.

“I was amazed that the judges had organised so much,” she said.

The second explanation could be a gradual evolution of the event to better suit participants today, whilst retaining the ‘tradition’ of previous years.

Judge Green, one of the faces of Prosh, believes that Prosh must hold onto its zaniness.

“What is essential [is that] the core events remain the same, but there's a shakeup to the minor ones,” Green said.

This year, organisers made multiple changes to ensure participants had a fun and safe time.

There was a requirement for irst-aid trained teams during events, and better incident reporting mechanisms.

These included increased conidentiality in these procedures, and improved communication.

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CAMPUS

SAFER COMMUNITY? WORDS BY KYE-LEE CHEONG, CHELSEA CUCINOTTA, WING KUANG AND VICTORIA MADAMBA ARTWORK BY WINNIE JIAO

IS THE UNIVERSITY DOING ALL IT CAN TO PROTECT STUDENTS? CONTENT WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ASSUALT

C

oncerns have been raised over the transparency and efectiveness of the University’s Safer Community Program and Respect Taskforce for the prevention of sexual harassment and assault on campus.

The University sees the Safer Community Program (SCP ) as central to the prevention of sexual assault and harassment on campus. It's a university-based student support program. It provides advice, information, and referrals to specialist support services for students who have experienced sexual assault and harassment.

This year, the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU) Clubs & Societies Department requested support from the Safer Communities in providing Camp Welfare training to student leaders.

This training would run through various scenarios that could arise at events, including inapropriate behavior, equipping around 1000 students with better skills and awareness when planning club events.

Recently, SCP denied a request from the Clubs & Societies Department for help running the training in an email, claming that currently, they do not have the staf resources to deliver the training.

UMSU Clubs & Societies Oicer, Kayley Cuzzubbo, has expressed her disappointment and the need to continue the push for this general welfare training.

“This training is incredibly important as we know from the Australian Human Rights Commission survey that events with alcohol, and student club events, are risk factors that can contribute to sexual assault and harassment on campus."

The survey she is referring to is a recent nationwide survey into

12

campus sexual assault and harassment. The survey revealed 6.2 per cent of Melbourne respondents reported being sexually assaulted at the University in 2015 or 2016. Fifty per cent reported being sexually harrassed in 2016.

Alcohol was cited as a major factor in cases of sexual assault and harassment.

Cuzzubbo said she will continue to ight for the training.

"The AHRC survey indicated that student leadership is key to changing the student culture and this training will be delivered directly to the students who are leaders in the clubs and greater student community," she said.

"This is a way to engage the students to prevent sexual assault and harassment on campus,” she said.

Another program under scrutiny earlier this month was the creation of the Respect Taskforce. This is chaired by Deputy Vice Chancellor and deputy provost, Richard James.

Comprising of 13 members, the Taskforce aims to develop strategies to further improve the university’s culture, policies and practices, and to oversee and monitor their implementation.

The Respect Taskforce has stated it is committed to training university staf to deal with sexual harassment and assault-related issues. It will work towards strengthening existing Research Higher Degree supervisor training, and identifying and implementing other staf training programs.

Chancellery, however, initially only allowed two student representatives sitting in for the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU), and the Graduate Student Association (GSA) respectively.

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Only after lobbying by UMSU for a greater student presence in the taskforce did the University agree to include one more representative, an UMSU International student representative, in the Taskforce.

Farrago spoke to UMSU President, Yan Zhuang, at the time the request was rejected.

"I ind the low number of student reps to be concerning, as the University's response to sexual violence should have students at its core," she said She also commented on the inability for students from marginalised groups, who face higher risk of sexual assault and harassment, to have their voices heard with the low number of student representatives allowed on the taskforce.

As a compromise, the University has set up a student reference group for consultation.

The Taskforce membership also includes Head of University Services, Paul Duldig and academic staf from Law School, Social Works and Global Health.

Zhuang is now satisied that the University has changed its attitude and increased students’ voices.

“UMSU's view is that this Taskforce should put student experiences front and centre," she said.

"It is already diicult enough for student representatives to have their voices heard and to meaningfully engage in high level discussions, especially if it’s with staf of the University who often have decades of experience,” Zhuang said.

Particularly, Zhuang believes that the University has made a signiicant step in hearing international students’ voices.

“The international student cohort represents a signiicant percentage of students attending Melbourne University and international students can face signiicant additional barriers to dealing with issues of sexual violence which often go unacknowledged," she said.

"It is great to see international students being included in these

high level discussions.”

On 29 August, Student Council approved UMSU’s 15 recommendations in relation to the sexual assault survey. The recommendations call for increasing student engagement in the reviews of the University action on preventing sexual assault and support for victims.

“These recommendations were developed in consultation with UMSU’s autonomous departments, as well as UMSU International,” Zhuang said.

“This approach to the development of UMSU’s positions ensure that our role in the Taskforce will be intersectional and represent the diverse range of students at the University.”

According to the recent national survey conducted by the Australian Human Rights Commision, 92 per cent of University of Melbourne students who had participated in the survey reported that they did not seek support from the University, following a recent event of sexual harassment. Additionally out of this number, 70 per cent of the students did not believe their assault was serious enough to report.

Colleges are also aiming to do their bit to make the University a safer place.

Margie Welsford from the University’s Respect Working Group and who oversees the Fair Treatment Policy for the Colleges, said that colleges have worked closely with both the university and the Safer Communities Program.

“In recent years, we have worked individually and collectively to improve our processes, education, and practice, so as to educate our students around the dangers of sexual violence, and to better support its survivors," she said.

“There is more to do, and in the coming weeks and months we will relect and act upon the recommendations of the AHRC report and related reports better to understand and reine our thinking and practice in terms of prevention, education and support for survivors of sexual harassment and assault.”

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WELCOME, ALEX JUMPING HURDLES WORDS BY JACK LANGAN ARTWORK BY SARAH LEONG

WORDS AND ARTWORK

BY THE FARRAGO TEAM

W

T

ith exams looming, students are concerned about whether changes to the Bachelor of Commerce (BCom) will afect their marks.

One of the key changes enacted through a new policy at the beginning of the year was the introduction of a compulsory exam hurdle for all BCom subjects. The introduction of this hurdle means that if students fail the exam, they fail the subject.

Results gathered from Semester 1 2017 classes showed a large spike in fail rates. In previous years the average rate of class failure sat at around seven to eight per cent. After the introduction of this new policy some subjects saw fail rates rise up to 20 per cent, with economic and inance subjects being the most heavily afected and other disciplines not being afected at all.

Criticism that the policy is too harsh, especially towards students who already don’t cope well under the high stress environment of an exam, has arisen amongst some students in the Commerce faculty.

Third year Commerce student, Samantha Varghese, believes that if students are clearly struggling with the content then there might have been a more direct way to help them instead of adding more pressure and stress.

"I feel as though making adjustments to the course content or the way it is taught would help a lot in boosting students' conidence in knowing the material throughout the semester,” she said.

Education (Academic) Oicer at the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU), Caley McPherson, believes the focus should be on why so many students are failing in the irst place.

“Such increases in fail rates in some subjects are a source of serious concern, and the faculty needs to address them in more ways than just introducing a hurdle requirement. This is a clear signal that something in the teaching and learning experience is lacking,” she said.

Paul Jensen, Coordinator of the BCom at the University believes the introduction of the exam hurdle was a success, upholding the University’s high expectations of academic standards.

"It's most likely we will see a learning efect and people will work and study harder, whilst maintaining learning outcomes," he said. “We go to great lengths to ensure we safeguard the interests of students who can't sit exams.”

A comprehensive review into the BCom at Melbourne commenced in 2015. The review, which was lead by the Commerce Course Standing Committee, was concluded at the end of 2016.

here’s a new Oice Bearer in town! We interviewed the new Indigenous Oicer, Alexandra Hohoi to ind out a little bit more about her!

What are you studying?

I am currently studying a Bachelor of Arts, with a major in Psychology and a minor in Australian Indigenous Studies. My vision is to eventually work in research, studying Indigenous knowledge and learning.

What inspired you to take oice?

Universities aren’t historically safe places for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, and for that reason we still are so low in representation, particularly at The University of Melbourne.

During my time here I have seen so many of our students struggle, fail and drop out. And when it’s happening again and again you have to ask why. Why does this institution continue to fail us? Why is it such a struggle to exist here?

I remember hearing someone say that the only way to be at university is to be okay with never feeling safe, and that’s fucked up.

I wanted to take oice so that I can create safe spaces for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. I also want to help the University transform into a place where Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students can safely exist.

What are you enjoying about being the Indigenous Oicer?

Having an avenue to provide support to students through a position like being an Oice Bearer is so empowering. Since I have been in oice we have hosted a few social events which are always such a fun time.

But I have also had the opportunity to chat with a few students who have experienced racist encounters at university and being able to tell them that they are supported, powerful and able to do something about those encounters is so important.

What do you hope to achieve in your term?

I hope to make the students who are here right now feel like change can be made. I want them to feel powerful, like we can make University even better for our brothers and sisters coming after us.

I want the Indigenous students to feel encouraged through strong social networks, to have fun while at university in the face of the racism we encounter on a daily basis.

I also hope to be able to work with the University in a constructive way. I want to educate and be a strong voice for my peers. As a people with 65,000+ years of knowledge, we have a lot to ofer the University and we also have a lot to gain from higher education.

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OFFICE BEARER REPORTS PRESIDENT | YAN ZHUANG Unless something has drastically changed since me writing this, this edition of Farrago will come out (pun intended) as the postal plebiscite into marriage equality is underway. UMSU unequivocally supports marriage equality, and I encourage everyone to vote and vote in favour of marriage equality. This may also be a diicult time for some students. Please know that UMSU has your back, and that you can always reach out to us for support. Our Oice Bearers are always around for a chat, and if you think you’re being discriminated against for any reason, you can contact our Advocacy Department on 8344 6546.

Here at UMSU, we also have some really exciting weeks coming up. Week 9 is Enviro Week, an amazing opportunity to learn about sustainability and activism. Following that is Asylum Seeker Awareness Week in Week 10. This is the irst year this week it’s being run, and it’s going to be great. Keep an eye out for more details about these weeks!

GENERAL SECRETARY | YASMINE LUU Time to celebrate! You're drawing closer to the end of the academic year! So as exams come ever closer and assessments start piling up, I think it's time to start partying with UMSU! There's a huge number of events planned weekly for you, so make sure you get one of your last chances to get involved with UMSU. UMSU has a number of diferent services available to you, from free legal advice to free BBQs every Tuesday! *Cue streamers, glitter &, confetti!*

EDUCATION (ACADEMIC) | CALEY MCPHERSON & ROGER SAMUEL The night is young, and the future looks engaging and lexible. This month we ran three focus groups looking at student academic engagement, what promotes/dissuades it and what the university and UMSU can do to improve it. We’re meeting soon with Gregor Kennedy to discuss the outcomes of the Flexible Academic Planning project, the Union’s feedback and recommendations. The strong involvement of student representatives throughout the FlexAp process has resulted in recommendations that we think are broadly in the interests of students.

We have released a google form for student consultation. Speaking of feedback, the TALQAC working group on assessment feedback has inalised its report and is soon to release a lyer. If you like what you see from the Education department or see room for improvement, join the party and apply for the Student Representative Network for 2018! We have released a Google form for applications via our Facebook and website.

EDUCATION (PUBLIC) | SINEAD MANNING There's a Party in the House would you like to come? Not quite, but maybe there will be one in the Senate. RSVP to UMSU Education (Public Afairs) to register your displeasure at the proposed higher education reforms. Take a party hat to your cross-bench Senator and tell them there won't be any free punch if they vote for Birmingham's package (instead perhaps a diferent kind of punch will await them?*). *Please do not harm anyone whilst partying.

WELFARE | RYAN DAVEY & TERESA GORNALL Ryan and Teresa didn't submit a report 'cause they're party poopers!

ARTWORK BY LISA LINTON 15

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DISABILITIES | ALSTON CHU & CASSANDRA PRIGG It's the end of the semester and making it this far is worth celebrating, even if you feel like you're not having the good times Kool & the Gang promised. Through essays, assignments, group projects and mid-sem exams you've made it through! University might not (always) be a party, but that doesn't mean you should have to sacriice your health to get on by. Disabilities collective is still on from 5.15 til 6.15pm on Wednesday nights, and mental health support group is there for you from 12 noon to 1pm on Monday afternoons, both in Training Room 1. It's getting to the end of our year, so those are a good opportunity to steer the department for next year.

INDIGENOUS | MARLEY HOLLOWAY-CLARKE & ALEXANDRA HOHOI

PEOPLE OF COLOUR | ELLA SHI & HANANN AL DAQQA We are fast approaching the end of semester. YIKES!!! However, our department’s biggest event is about to happen. Week 10 will be Asylum Seeker Awareness Week, and we have a series of speakers and workshops planned. Check out the details via our social media for the full program, and info about how to get involved. (@UMSUpeopleofcolour on Facebook and Instagram). Collective is also on every week as usual. Remember it’s never too late to get involved and we love seeing new faces so don’t be afraid to drop by! We hope you have a restful break and that the last few weeks of uni go well for you.

QUEER | BLAKE ATMAJA & EVELYN LESH Greetings to my (as of the time of writing this current, but soon to be old because she’s leaving me and my store for closer pastures) manager Rachael, the small-minded parliamentary igures holding rights hostage and our new adorable pet Valentine, who as a snake has now a direct link to Taylor Swift through horcruxes and the like.

The Queer Department is in full swing this semester, with our weekly collectives + commitment in pushing marriage equality; it’s the wedding party we have every right to have, and we’re campaigning to inally get it here. Queer Ball is also shaping up to be a wonderful night with glitter and fame, and I hope we see you there as well! If you want to help out with any of our events, or have any parties you’d like to have the department throw streamers at, email us at queer@union.unimelb.edu.au – we’d love ideas and to get you all funky dancing the night away.

WOMEN’S | HANNAH BILLETT Things have deinitely been celebratory in the UMSU Women's Department over the past few weeks, but as always, the party-ness of it all is tinged with righteousness and passion. We have celebrated the achievements of women in higher education while contemplating how much further we have to go. Our Sexplorations week was all about appreciating the funny and wonderful things about sex, but also touched on serious topics like consent and the poor quality of sex education in schools. In many ways, it mirrors the experience of women in Australia. We have come so far, but there is still a myriad of things we have to ight against.

On a much more cheerful note, keep an eye out for the annual Judy's Punch magazine! It'll be hitting stands soon and is an absolute must read for you ix of young women writers and artists. Special thanks to co-editors, Esther Le Couteur and Ilsa Harun for their tireless work and to everyone who submitted, subedited and did graphics.

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ACTIVITIES | JACINTA COOPER & LYDIA PAEVERE Before the semester comes to an end there are still two chances to get down with the activities kids. Trivia is happening on 20 September and after the sell-out success of last trivia, it’s a great idea to RSVP ASAP to secure yourself a table. There is no better stress reliever than having a few drinks and putting your useless knowledge to the test. Our inal party of the year is Oktoberfest! On 6 October, your ticket gets you a collectable stein, free food, unlimited drinks for the night, live band as well as a DJ so you can dance the night away, PROST! Hopefully you came to our events in August. If you missed it, trivia was a sell-out. We also had a Monday pub night, and who could forget the Union House House Party?

CLUBS & SOCIETIES | GULSARA KAPLUN & KAYLEY CUZZUBBO Plenty of Clubs to check out at the Clubs Carnival on Monday Week 11, 12-2pm in North Court An array of entertainment will be there from magic acts to live music to balloon animals Regret nothing and skip a lecture – they are recorded anyway There will be no better way to inish of a semester than see the best Clubs have to ofer – did we mention free food?

Yet, not all of Clubs is fun and games, some of it is fun and regulations; Clubs council will be meeting to elect to hardest and most experienced clubbers to join the Camps Committee.

CREATIVE ARTS | HARRIET WALLACE-MEAD & SARA LAURENA MUDFEST HAPPENED. The largest student arts festival in the Southern Hemisphere went of with a bang, and we are so so proud of all the incredible work we got to witness and facilitate.

NEXT UP from Creative Arts, we're bringing back life drawing, our open mic night, and our arts grants are available once again.

So come along to the arty party, and keep an eye on our Facebook page for some extra presents! F/umsucreativearts

ENVIRONMENT | ELIZABETH NICHOLSON & KATE DENVER-STEVENSON *cue vengaboys* I've got something to tell ya. I've got news for you. You're gonna get involved in your student union. Get ready cause we're coming through. Hey now. Hey now. Hear what I say now. The end of capitalism is just around the corner. Hey now. Hey now. Hear what I say now. Full luxury communism is here for you. Enviro collective is pumping, and everybody's jumping. Play With Your Food and Green Screen. Alternating Tuesdays. The Bike Co-op will keep your wheels turning. We'll stop the coal ired power plants burning. So if you like to party, come and join enviro collective. Hey now. Hey now. Hear what I say now. The uni must cancel their partnership with Lockheed Martin. Hey now. Hey now. Hear what we're saying now. And come along to Lockout Lockheed's forum in Week 10.

BURNLEY | JESSICA PEELER It’s party time! OK it’s not really, but we can always ind something to celebrate, like the fact that our community garden pruning workshop was a big hit, or the fact that we can inally plant tomatoes! Keep an eye out for more workshops, a new range of magazines from the Rowdy, and some great events for RHD students including a writing club and the SEFS conference (we can’t take credit for organising these, but we’re chipping in for food!). Planning has started for our end of year Burnley getaway – that’s when we really WILL party (and hike and eat delicious food and collectively geek out over plants).

VCA | NICHOLAS LAM Nick didn't submit a report, boo. Bad Nick.

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DESTINATION UNIMELB HOW TOURISTS ON CAMPUS CHALLENGE INSTITUTION WORDS BY ELLA SHI ARTWORK BY SOPHIE SUN

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hinese tourists were a meme before memes existed.

In our cultural context, the term has been distanced from its literal meaning – a travelling person who happens to be Chinese – and is now used to signify a plethora of phenomena such as selie sticks, photos with peace signs and cavalier tour groups – all of which are more often than not coded derisively.

Googling the term produces headlines like ‘Top 10 most embarrassing Chinese tourists of 2016’ and ‘Have the Chinese replaced Americans As The Worst Tourists in the World?’ (thanks Vice). This derogatory attitude inevitably manifests on campus with the University of Melbourne being a popular tourist site. It is evident through the occasional meme on UniMelb confessions or ohand references in casual conversation.

To be fair, most ‘kinds’ of tourists cop a fair amount of ridicule.

But the concept of the ‘Chinese tourist’ seems to attract an especially pernicious kind of mockery, that is underscored by an additional level of racism revolving around complaints about bad English and cultural eccentricity.

This attitude towards ‘Chinese tourists’ can be interpreted as revelatory of subconscious assumptions of cultural hierarchies and anxieties about competing privileges.

On an obvious level, being a tourist is inherently entrenched in privilege. To be a tourist, you essentially need money and spare time. Perhaps less noticeably, a tourist also needs political freedom – the right to cross borders at a whim is a luxury which many don’t possess. Take for instance, Trump’s ‘Muslim ban’, which left many American residents unable to leave their country for fear of not being able to return. Given these conditions, tourism is inherently a hierarchical process where the tourist has agency and is positioned as an observer of the locals who are objectiied.

Additionally, there is also the attached cultural esteem. In the Western world, the precedent to tourism as it exists today was the ‘Grand Tour’, a trip around Europe undertaken by wealthy, upper class young men as a rite of passage and education. Touring equated to broadening the mind, becoming cultured and gaining knowledge.

This hierarchy of privilege is complicated when manifested on campus at the University of Melbourne. The University is an institution which models itself after a European tradition of social elitism and power. Its purpose is to produce educated and cosmopolitan citizens for a globalising world. The presence of tourists on campus challenges the anticipated social hierarchy which the university attempts to cultivate.

Perhaps it seems particularly heinous for a tourist to objectify us, when our education implicitly aims to position us as the cultured observer. To become the attraction for the tourist challenges our assumptions of who has power, autonomy and mobility.

Our response to the ‘Chinese tourist’ is doubly indicative of

both the fear of being ‘othered’ and of class anxiety. The response to Chinese tourists can be framed through historic Western perceptions of the East as an exotic curiosity and through contemporary values of multiculturalism which often positions non-Western cultures as products for Western enjoyment and consumption.

The ‘Chinese tourist’ subverts these cultural assumptions by instead positioning us as the intriguing spectacle. An aspect of the ridicule of tourists then perhaps stems from our discomfort at the realisation that in the moment, we become the ‘other’.

We also frequently fall back on cultural and social superiority as a line of defence against the gaze of the ‘Chinese tourist’. Any article about Chinese tourists in recent years hasn’t neglected to mention the nation’s increasing wealth and growing middle class.

This observation is typically used to explain the perceived bad behaviour of Chinese tourists, through the justiication that while they have amassed inancial capital, they have yet to develop the manners and culture to be tourists the ‘right way’. Complaints about large groups on tour busses, the supposedly incessant need to take photos, rude behaviour, or ‘wealth without class’ imply there is a ‘correct’ or more cultured way to be a tourist.

For many university students, the ‘right way’ takes the form of overseas intensives, exchange programs where we learn new languages and become enlightened or ‘voluntourism’ trips where you ‘live like the locals’. These are implied to be superior ways to travel and on campus are juxtaposed against the supericial photo taking and tour groups with colour coordinated lags.

While it’s certainly reasonable to expect (all) tourists to be respectful, our derision towards Chinese tourists is misguided.

When we respond by making judgements about ‘cultured’ behaviour and the more meaningful ‘right’ way to travel, we reiterate these social hierarchies. And when we ridicule or express disdain for this new, aspirational middle class, we reveal our own desire to be higher up on the social chain.

So on one hand, we should be critical of the privileges and power dynamics inherent to tourism, especially on occasions when we become the tourist. Yet on the other hand, perhaps the inlux of tourists on campus is a good thing.

The brief moment of discomfort when we ind ourselves in the middle of somebody’s holiday snapshot, as we’re rushing to class in John Medley West, is a momentary disruption to our understanding of how the world is ordered and our place within it.

When we make memes of Chinese tourists, we’re not so much highlighting their ridiculousness as we are revealing our own anxiety and insecurity that we may not be the centre of the world.

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BREAKING (THE) NEWS WORDS BY FERGUS NEAL ARTWORK BY MINAHIL MUNIR

COMMERCE FACULTY NABS LANDMARK PUFFER-JACKET SPONSORSHIP DEAL

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fter months of deliberation, money spent, and socialists held at bay, the 2017 Commerce faculty has cemented a deal with The North Face, which will see the popular ‘pufer jacket’ become a mandatory uniform for all Commerce students over the next ive years.

This deal marks the end of a uniform overhaul that started three years ago, when Rolex watches, tan-coloured chinos and R.M. Williams boots were all quietly ushered into the oicial Commerce student uniform.

President of the Commerce Students Society, Timothy Anglo, was quick to address the landmark deal, as students congregated on South Lawn to celebrate in an exclusive ceremony.

“Look, in the end it came down to one question: can we be snug and smug?” Anglo asked.

In between sips of Barossa Valley chardonnay, shouts of '"hurrah," "jolly good show," and "Dad’s picking me up in his Bentley," were heard amidst the sound of croquet sticks being swung through an air of reverence that quickly swamped the campus.

The momentous occasion was quickly overrun by ex-private school students wanting to showcase their blazers – something the president of the club quickly condemned.

“It’s just a shame that on such a day of momentous signiicance for pufer jackets, some network-hungry individuals have chosen to undermine what this day should represent,” Anglo said, fastening his Old Scotch tie.

The celebration almost turned sour when Arts students walking past mistook the event for a Trump rally, and began a counter-protest.

This landmark deal sent rumours swirling that the Arts faculty would now begin to seal a similar sherpa jacket sponsorship deal.

Likewise, the Science faculty’s push for Crocs to be part of their own oicial uniform looks set to materialise.

Once only considered a fashion pipe-dream, these two deals have quickly come to the fore as genuine possibilities heading into the last half of the academic year.

Farrago asked President of the Arts Students Society, Rain Chaelattie, about the possibility of such a deal during a smoke break just outside South Lawn.

“Sherpa jackets aren’t really a clothing item, they’re more of a philosophy,” Chaelattie told Farrago, before extinguishing a cigarette on his denim jeans – allegedly handpicked from Savers just hours before.

“So, no, we will not be knocking down the doors of Levi’s anytime soon.”

The president of the Science Student Society refused to leave a computer lab for comment.

'Breaking (the) News' is Farrago's satire column and is not to be taken seriously.

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A QUESTION OF RESPECT WORDS BY KATE ASHTON ARTWORK BY MORGAN-LEE SNELL

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pon entry to the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, staf hand each visitor a small, double sided piece of paper. It contains a very simple map and directions, the sort of information necessary to the safe operation of one of Australia’s busiest national parks. On the back of this instructional lealet are the words “Please don’t climb Uluru”.

It’s late in the day, and even though it’s July, it is seriously hot in the afternoon sun. A man, grey-haired, elderly, has just descended from the face of Uluru. A woman – his wife? – runs up to meet him, kisses him. She forces him back up the rock several metres, makes him pose, takes photos. She puts her hand on her chest as if she had been holding her breath. But now they’re standing together and, almost nervously, they begin to laugh.

He tells me they’re from NSW and doing “the big trip”. I take this to involve some sort of caravan. He must be seventy, or around that, and friendly, speaking with a broad Australian accent.

I ask him what made him want to climb the rock and he explains that he had already done it 40 years ago, nodding sincerely as if that was a coherent justiication. “Much harder this time around!” He chuckles, still breathing heavily, and I don’t doubt him for a second. His wife shrugs, smiling. Was she was waiting here for him this whole time, fretting, in the afternoon sun?

Has he seen the sign? He nods. “I just think it’s great it’s there, that’s all.” It’s deliberately vague what he is referring to. He motions towards his wife – time to leave – and heads towards the carpark. His replies are characterised by a certain feigned friendliness, very happy to chat but very unwilling to engage. Perhaps it's simply too diicult, too annoying, to let my questioning interfere with his holiday.

His friendliness is also, I suspect, conditional. I’m white. This privilege means it’s very easy for me to approach strangers with a small smile and my Australian accent. It also means we are equals in our complicity. I too am a settler/invader, occupying Aboriginal land when I know sovereignty was never ceded. *** I retreat into the shade, straining my eyes for any other silhouettes crawling down the face of the rock. Nearby two lanky teenagers from Switzerland are, like me, scuffling around in the sand somewhat awkwardly. They seem to be watching the climbers

intently, and I wonder if they were preparing for the ascent. "We are just waiting for our parents,” they explain in perfect English. "The Aboriginal people don't like people to climb. So we won't."

The teenagers are right. Uluru and its sister formation Kata Tjuta are the lands of the Anangu people. The ‘climb’ is the traditional route taken by the ancestral Mala (hare-wallaby men) on their arrival at Uluru, and as such is a site of great spiritual and cultural signiicance. Under Anangu traditional law (Tjukurpa), climbing is not permitted.

While the land was formally recognised and handed back to its Anangu owners through native title in October of 1985, it was immediately leased back to the Australian Parks and Wildlife service for 99 years. The fact that climbing continues in a direct violation of Anangu wishes speaks to the severe limitations of native title rights and the grossly unequal circumstances upon which the 99 year lease was negotiated (access to the climb was one of the conditions before the title was returned).

But what is perhaps even more complicated and more important to understand is, why do people still want to climb? The message is absolutely clear. The sign at the base of Uluru reads: 'Please don’t climb' printed four times in English, then repeated in twelve diferent languages. So why climb? *** A woman from Perth in her mid-30s looks up, admiring the rock.

She’s with a group of friends, and they’re all on bikes, stopped at the base of the climb. I start chatting to all of them but she’s the only one who responds to my questions. Her friends just watch. It’s a little odd.

I asked if she was going to attempt the climb, or perhaps she already had.

"Two years ago actually. But I didn't do the whole thing". She went on to explain that she climbed to the irst marker and felt it would be wrong to continue any further.

“It depends on your beliefs. Because some people really do feel its disrespectful.” She had read the sign.

This time she was traveling with a diferent couple who were yet to scale the rock. Would she would do it again? "Maybe," she said, pausing, thoughtfully. “But not past that irst marker. That's enough for me".

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It seems a strange thing to do, to invent a false benchmark to create an illusion of meaningful behaviour. But these sorts of fantasies are actually very common. They are self-serving to non-Indigenous interests, especially in their capacity to alleviate invader/settler guilt, a way that white and non-Indigenous Australians like me, trick ourselves into believing that we are thoughtful, or respectful or, most of all, that we are ‘not racist’.

For instance, for me, as a white Australian, visiting and occupying Aboriginal land, what gives me the right to write about issues of the Anangu people? Isn’t it a perpetuation of my colonial privileges? Am I writing this to alleviate my own sense of white guilt? These people at the bottom of Uluru, waiting to climb, are not strangers. It’s easy to pretend I am not like them, but that’s not the point. Non-Indigenous Australians need to ask diicult questions of ourselves, especially when that makes us uncomfortable. We always need to try – and we will sometimes fail – to acknowledge that we are complicit, that we are always part of the problem. And it is important that this role of self-critical labour doesn’t fall upon Aboriginal people as it has for so long.

The last people I approach are a family, a husband and wife and three small children. They are just inishing the climb. The dad has a broad brimmed hat, ropes, water: the type of person who has reapplied sunscreen per packet instructions. He looks totally goofy, but well-prepared. He came here to climb.

So, why climb? “Well we are Christian. Captain Cook – was it Captain Cook? – proclaimed this is the Great Southern Land of the Holy Spirit. Jesus Christ is our rock. To us, we couldn’t think of anything greater, than to come here, and to climb this rock.”

Had he read the sign?

“To them, it might be disrespectful. But to us, it’s not our belief.”

It is remarkable the conidence he had in his own faith, so much to literally trample upon the ‘church’ of another. Not knowing what to say, I turned to one of his daughters, an adoring blonde no older than seven, and asked her if she was having a fun time away.

“We are going on a four-to-six week holiday! And we have now climbed the rock!". "Ooooh" I mused. "Lucky! Long holiday. Bet you get to miss school!" She smiled, then spoke proudly "We are home-schooled!"

The most recent Park Management plan noted that a high percentage of those who chose to climb are children. Not only is

this problematic in terms of risk management, it is so sad. These are children who have had the privilege and the opportunity to come to such a wonderful place, but whose parents or carers haven’t been able to teach them about the importance of respecting Anangu culture. *** It's worth questioning the value publishing opinions that are harmful, especially in current times, where Parliament is already doing such a ine job of providing a platform for hatred and bigotry.

So I write this with caution.

However, for those of us like me, insulated safely in our middle class, left-leaning communities, this is yet another reminder: there is a whole country out there which has not progressed how we like to imagine it has. This is an issue that was already contentious in the '80s. How dare white Australia claim to have made progress?

More importantly, the strategies those at the base of Uluru used to justify their behaviour are equally prevalent in ‘liberal’ communities. It is important to acknowledge and understand these practices so when we see them in ourselves and around us, we can stop them.

For instance, framing engagement with Aboriginal issues as a 'choice' from which individuals can 'opt-out', like the Christian family from Mount Gambier, happens all around us, even in white progressive circles. Many ‘opt-out’ from complex issues concerning Aboriginal rights because they "don't know enough about it". When this is happening in communities with the resources and privileges to self-educate (though of course not all have such resources), it is just as unacceptable as those that disengage at the base of the rock.

The issue of climbing Uluru extends far beyond the boundaries of the National Park – it’s a mentality. It creeps in all corners of Australia, present in the broader social and political attitudes that constrain, frame and control the lives of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. The irst step is not teaching people and children not to climb Uluru. The irst step is understanding how harmful attitudes persist in ourselves and in our communities, and acknowledging that they perpetuate and exacerbate the violence of the colonial state. Only then can white Australians begin the very basic process of enacting respect, whether in our everyday lives, or at the base of one of Australia’s many sacred sites.

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THE DEATH OF CINEMA? WORDS BY CLAIRE KRELITZ ARTWORK BY VERONICA FERNANDO

DID NETFLIX KILL THE CINEMA STAR?

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t seems increasingly hard to justify going to the cinema. While ideal for illing a lazy Sunday afternoon, or a classier date option than the new go-to, 'Netlix and chill', the entry price often abates any urge to actually go.

After seeing an enticing trailer, my automatic mantra is: “I will watch this when it comes out on DVD”, which really means, I will watch when Netlix adds it to streaming. This may explain why, with each passing year I have seen fewer new releases, and instead passed the time with streamable content, like World of Compulsive Hoarders.

Venturing back to the cinema never fails to blast a seismic shock through attendees’ wallets. Currently, one of Melbourne’s most popular cinemas, HOYTS in Melbourne Central, charges an adult $21.50 for a ticket. Students are blessed with a meagre three dollar discount, gaining entry for $18.50. However, a ticket may not be the only cost of attending the movies. There is always the option to continue your wallet’s workout by purchasing grossly over-priced popcorn and soft drink that feel foundational to a proper cinematic experience. Once lured inside those sacred cinema walls, the deep and dark hole in your savings will force you to think a cruel but instinctive thought, 'this all could have been avoided if I had just watched something at home'.

With today’s abundance of viewing platforms, going to the cinema can feel like a careless allocation of cash. There are countless streaming sites, movies on television, and even still (yet rapidly dwindling) spots to rent an actual DVD. These alternative methods for video consumption boast that they are money-saving with more selections and a personalised viewing experience.

The 1890s saw the birth of moving pictures. These one minute, soundless, black and white ilms, were shown solely in storefront

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spaces or traveling exhibits until 1905, when the irst successful permanent theatre was opened in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Shortly after, the formal ilm industry was established, and cinematic art became forever bound with commercial marketability. While ilms have always sought to attract large audiences, the movie industry’s drive for proit has only exacerbated over time. Today, marketing budgets for major releases far outweigh the actual production costs – blockbuster ilms attract the masses through their merchandising power, not necessarily through the content of the ilm. The efect is that the industry often proves impenetrable for independently produced ilms, and as argued by Forbes, blockbusters headlining the cinema have become “recycled, bloated, arbitrary [and] homogenised”. It is possible that because streaming platforms ofer an easier foothold for independent ilms, they may provide viewers with the niche preferences they crave.

There has only been one period where Australian cinema attendance dropped, which was the 1980s due to the birth of video-hire.

Netlix arrived in Australia in March 2015. After its irst three months, Netlix garnered more subscriptions than all other major Aussie streaming services combined. Today – only two years later – one in three Australians have subscriptions. Yet, more shocking than Netlix’s booming success is its impact on cinema attendance. And for the opposite reason than one would expect.

In the years before Netlix, 68 per cent of Australians attended the cinema at least once during the year. The year after its great invasion,

COMMENTARY

cinema attendance increased to 71 per cent. In fact, there has only been one period where Australian cinema attendance dropped, in the '80s, after to the birth of video-hire. But by the end of the decade, attendance had normalised to pre-1980s levels and has remained stable ever since, despite other technological developments.

Global statistics launt similar indings. In 2016, global box oice revenues saw a one percent increase from 2015. Additionally, the amount of cinema screens increased by eight per cent worldwide. These statistics reveal that despite increasing ticket prices and technological advancements in viewing modes, cinema attendance remains vibrant. While I am initally asonished by these igures, I must admit that I am absolutely one of the 71 per cent that continues to attend despite loathing the price. The reason?

Attending the cinema has an inherent quality that streaming can never replicate nor decimate.

Watching a ilm in the cinema renders a viewing experience categorically diferent than that of watching a DVD or streaming.

The cinema is not simply one mode of many for viewing an image on a screen; it provides an experience that other viewing platforms cannot. Going to the cinema converts the viewing experience into a complete, all-encompassing physical state. A person is not solely watching and listening, they are constantly engaging in the act of watching a ilm. Watching a motion picture in the cinema is a full commitment that alters the mental state or frame of mind in which a person watches.

The central concept of going to the movies is that watching the given ilm will be the only thing that takes place within the cinema walls. This forces viewers to devote their complete attention to the ilm, unlike how many do when watching on their own television or computer. There is no pausing to ix a snack, no multi-tasking with texting and no ability to rewind. Watching a movie in the comfort of your own home, with your own rules, can be nice, but it strips away the distinction between watching and doing something else. Going to the cinema keeps the art of watching a sacred, singular act.

Furthermore, this act is imbued with cultural and historical

meaning. Despite radical changes in technology, the mechanics of this act have remained relatively the same for over a century. A close friend’s favourite part of going to the cinema is, “feeling like I could be attending during any time period”. There has proven to be timeless magic in the cinema’s symbolic structure: standing in line for a physical ticket, purchasing popcorn with synthetic liquid butter, and sitting in a dark room in the presence of total strangers.

When the lights lash on and everyone shyly looks around, you might make eye contact with someone and feel strangely close.

I’ve come across a feeling exclusively found at the cinema: after the conclusion of a remarkably good picture, there is this palpable lingering radiating from audience members. It’s a reluctance to accept that the ilm is actually over. When the lights lash on and everyone shyly looks around, you might make eye contact with someone and feel strangely close. It is a feeling of solidarity, in which you realise the reality that you just left individually, happened to everyone else around you as well.

However, the hoops one must jump through to feel this magic is not what creates it. While attending the cinema is a truly special viewing experience, it is a privilege that not all can aford at $18.50.

But with a dash of craft and some extra planning, you can score a ticket for the price of an average Melbourne schooner ($8). For example, Cinema Nova in Carlton ofers $9 tickets on Mondays, or $7 if you go before 4pm. Waverly Cinema in Mount Waverly ofers $6 tickets at randomly selected times, pre-scheduled on their website.

Otherwise, tickets are normally $8.

Netlix is great, and some nights watching World of Compulsive Hoarders feels perfectly satisfying. But going to the cinema is a subtle rarity; it’s a entity that has out-lasted the technology designed to displace it. The cinema remains victorious in providing the most engaging way to consume cinematic art.

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COMMENTARY

RED FLAGS WORDS BY ELENA PIAKIS ARTWORK BY WASINEE (GWEN) PHORNNARIT

I

was saddened to ind there was only a scattering of students at the student protest to ditch the Federal Government’s interference with university fees and funding.

We bunched outside the State Library, holding union banners in one hand and darts in the other, screaming “Shame!” in our exhales whenever a Lib or fact-depicting-inequality was quoted by the megaphone holder. Screaming “Shame!” does wonders to release pent up rage, I recommend it.

Then we marched, all three hundred or so student Spartans, against all odds and governments and university chancellormillionaires. “Fight back!”, we were yelling. It took a few turns before I realised we weren’t meant to be yelling, “Fuck that!”

Mid-fervour, I was approached by a Marxist who pretended he wanted to become friends. But alas, he sprung into the interrogation almost immediately: What do you know about Marxism? In the interest of learning some new funky facts, I played dumb. Although I have, in fact, read the Communist Manifesto and so many books on the Russian and Chinese revolutions that Mao himself might be impressed. He recited all the facts that I already knew: the wealthiest one per cent own more wealth than the other 99 per cent. Corporations aren’t paying proportional tax. Corporations are protected by legal loopholes.

Corporations are upending our democracy. As he talked, I nodded like a bobble head at all the injustice.

Against the advice of a friend, who reminded me that I was not Louis Theroux, I decided to attend a Marxist gathering a week later.

"What do you think about Marxism?" Oh, I thought, you’re inviting me to rant my own manifesto. Instead I paciied my ego and said that while I’ll happily identify as a leftist as a mere indication of where I stand on the political spectrum, I refuse to further indulge in labels. Why should I, and why should anyone else? There seems to be such desperation to align with a singular ideology, or a political party, that the issues themselves become of secondary importance.

Assuming I was fence sitting, my Marxist enlightener invited me to attend the Marxist meeting at Trades Hall after the protest. I told him I had plans, which I did, not that he believed me. I wanted to add, "If I wanted to hear a liturgy, I would visit my local church on a Sunday morning."

While my hopeful converter was chatting to me, a little quote kept lashing in my head: “Humans are susceptible to religion,” courtesy of Richard Dawkins, of course. Does this just as easily apply to ideology? If so, and I strongly agree that it does, why has an ideology like Marxism prevailed as the sponsor of leftism, just as hard-line Protestants may lobby conservative political parties?

In The God Delusion, Dawkins talks about how when Jesus was alive there were many charismatic preachers, just like Him, but somehow Jesus’ following won over the others and 'mhst of those cults died away'. It’s a risky analogy, but it’s sure it enough to indicate that Marxism has prevailed over its preceding and succeeding counterpart theories and ideologies – of which there were many. Marx

himself acknowledged in The Communist Manifesto that many of his ideas were based on those past, from the Enlightenment, the French Revolution and beyond. Really, he was just building on ideologies and inventing a few more labels to construct an Industrial era version.

So why is Marxism, the theory tailored for Industrial England, the same theory that is attempting to trademark the leftist movement of the 21st Century?

While Marxist theory should be honoured as a momentous historical development, having provided an important analysis of class struggle and critique of the political economy, it doesn’t make sense for it to be the banner under which people ight for justice today. Marxism is a theory, not gospel; it isn’t there for mere consumption, but rather, as a stimulus for democratic discussion. It proposes a socio-economic model for society. However, this doesn’t imply that it can be implemented in all societies at any point in history. Rather, it demands adaptation, as discovered in the form of Leninism, Trotskyism, Stalinism, Maoism…the list goes on. There are plenty of economic theorists, past and present, who argue that Marxism isn’t the text to abide by when implementing socialism and that revolution is not actually required in the transition.

But I didn’t want to make assumptions and come out in the wrong. So, in name of investigative journalism and against the advice of a friend, who reminded me that I was not Louis Theroux, I decided to attend a Marxist gathering a week later. I grabbed my Little Red Notebook and headed to Trades Hall (making a quick stop for a glass of red) on a Monday evening to collect some facts and quotes.

The discussion at the meeting was stimulating and iery, but would have been better if it wasn’t just preaching to the converted.

Funnily, there were few references to Marxist theory, which made me ponder whether the Marxists in the room were all that occupied with the theory that’s slapped on all their campaign to better the world.

The modern era has complicated the economy and class system and is underlain with conversations about race, gender, sexuality and the environment; topics that Marx only skimmed but which, ironically, are still listed as items up for discussion in Marxist meetings – issues that require a broad following of people in order to be resolved.

We often hear that there's a lot at stake for our generation. We underrepresented young people are compounded with socio-political, environmental and inancial issues, to name a few. Hence, we need a united front for change, and we can’t aford to be sticking niche ideologies, especially ones that served as the scripture to brutal communist regimes, to causes that should be driven by ethical and social-conscious motives that will draw the support of millions.

Stamping ‘Marxism’ like a commercial brand on activism announces its intrinsic partnership with a particular cause and it distracts from the real focus.

Hailing Marx as a prophet-like igure isn’t exactly spurring our nation’s populace into a resistance movement. So, maybe slow down on that revolution for now, comrades. Instead, how about formulating a unique movement that is packed with a few more ‘isms’ than just Marxism. Rather than falling into the trap of idolism, nostalgia and, frankly, regression, perhaps look towards a broader appeal and a united front that may win the praises and support of more than just the handful that were at Trades Hall on a Monday evening.

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COMMENTARY

SICK SAD WORLD COLUMN BY ED PITT ARTWORK BY HANNA LIU

INSIDE THE COMMUNITY KNOWN AS 'THE SCENE'

I

f you've ever illegally downloaded a ilm, television program or video game, there's a good chance you'll have ended up with something from 'the scene'. Intentionally vague and mysterious, the scene is a group of people who make a sport out getting the latest episode of Game of Thrones online, cracking the new Call of Duty, or getting the best quality encode of Baby Driver; kind of like fox-hunting but, arguably, more ethical.

The scene is made up of numerous groups, all in competition with each other. Some focus mainly on television, some on music, some on games, as each require diferent skill-sets and resources.

In television, SVA and AVS are two of the major groups currently operating, having won every race in two of the most popular categories for the recent season of Game of Thrones. SVA focuses on x264 encodes: encoding in the x264 codec, a blending of the words coder and decoder, referring to a computer program used for the streaming of digital content, that provides better quality at smaller ile sizes than older codecs. AVS focuses on x264 720p encodes: using the same codec but at higher resolutions, resulting in better picture quality on larger screens, however this comes with the consequence of larger ile-sizes.

The scene hates public ile-sharing websites as their material is disseminated with no beneit to them.

If you've ever illegally downloaded anything, these details can often be seen in the names, the rules of the scene dictating that the resolution (480p, 720p, 1080p) should follow the name of the series and its season and episode number. Following the deinition, the way in which the program was sourced, the codec used, and group responsible for releasing it are to be speciied. And these are just the rules for television. Diferent media and even diferent codecs can have their own naming conventions.

However, the naming conventions are the least of it as for each kind of media, and for each diferent codec, there is a diferent, lengthy and complicated 'ruleset'. scenerules.org documents all of these rules, as well as past rulesets. Like The Ten Commandments, these rules detail the codecs that must be used, their resolution, the framerate, as well as audio standards, for all uploads. At the end of the ruleset, the document is signed, or conspicuously not signed,

by various release groups. The current set of rules for x264 720p television is signed by 72 diferent groups and three groups are listed as having refused to sign. One of these, FLEET, are notorious in the scene for shit uploads. So much so that one of their scene’s pre-eminent groups, AVS, called them out in the text ile that customarily accompanies an upload. This resulted in the ‘nuking’ of FLEET's release, whereby AVS publicly declared FLEET's upload to be subpar, and provided a proper upload.

The scene is serious business and for good reason. Although many people compete for the fun of it, various groups also ofer access to their 'topsite' a server where their releases are hosted and available to download. These topsites often provide greater privacy than the public trackers used by The Pirate Bay and other sites, as well as providing new material quicker, and often having obscurities that would be diicult to ind elsewhere. However, release groups are not charities and this service is not provided for free. Commonly access is granted to members of a release group and paying subscribers. As a result, the scene hates public ile-sharing websites as their material is disseminated with no beneit to them, unless you consider notoriety from lawbreaking a beneit.

But this relationship is not one-sided, with many at the bottom of the ile-sharing hierarchy – so-called 'leeches' – annoyed at the scene at one time or another, generally following a change to the ruleset. One signiicant example being last year’s move away from .mp4 being used for video iles to the less accepted, newer, .mkv format. And similar complaints were made in 2012 following the move from .avi to the .mp4 format. However, considering the secretive and rather elitist nature of the scene, there is unlikely to be any love lost.

The scene is a murky, secretive world – there are very few who will speak about their experiences in a release group. After several attempts to contact people in the scene, or people who knew people in the scene, I gained very few responses. I only received one answer that explained, in a quite hostile manner, that the scene was secret for a good reason and that this article was counter to those ideals. Despite attempts to explain that I was writing for a student publication, not the New York Times, and any extra notoriety would therefore be minimal, I still gained no ground. A recurring theme from my research, however, suggested the scene like an incredibly nerdy speakeasy, guarded, secretive and incredibly elitist.

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COMMENTARY

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COMMENTARY

A MARXIST COMMENTARY ON CHICKEN RUN WORDS BY CONOR DAY ARTWORK BY EWAN CLARKE-MCINTYRE

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any people remember the irst movie they truly enjoyed as a child, the irst movie they really wanted to watch again after the irst viewing. For me, this movie was Chicken Run. Released at the tail end of the year 2000 to widespread critical acclaim and global interest, Chicken Run gave joy and happiness to many young children on the big screen and on VHS cassettes in 48 diferent countries. While allowing children everywhere the chance to revel in the trials and tribulations of Ginger, Rocky and the rest of their feathered friends as they attempted to escape the farm, one might not catch the subtle-yet-very-present Marxist message of class struggle and organised resistance that this piece introduced to a whole generation of children.

For those unaware of this ground breaking political statement and damning indictment of the capitalist world order, Chicken Run tells the story of a group of chicken workers on a poultry farm who wish for an escape from the brutal working conditions they face.

Early in the ilm they are presented with a way out in the form of ‘Rocky the Flying Rooster’, and while it turns out that he (*spoilers*) cannot actually ly, his failure to provide a means of escape gives the group the motivation needed for their eventual light from the threat of death, as the farm moves away from the egg business and into chicken pies.

This political awakening, geared at the 4-12 age bracket, inds its foundations at the Tweedy’s farm, the prison in which the domesticated fowl undertake their own form of sedition. The ilm opens on Ginger, our protagonist on this wild ride through political ideology, attempting escape with her fellow comrades, à la Steve McQueen in The Great Escape (1963). However, these attempts are shown to be truly futile, as, in line with Mr. Tweedy’s war cry, “No chicken escapes from Tweedy’s farm”, no chickens escape from Mr. Tweedy’s farm.

Chicken Run, or Hennen Rennen as it is known in Germany, presents its audience with the reality of proletarian struggle.

Is Tweedy’s farm representing the capitalist system in which we live? Is it emblematic of the deeply ingrained mind set of neoliberalism? Is this just a children’s movie?

Furthermore, Chicken Run, or Hennen Rennen as it is known in Germany, presents its audience with the reality of proletarian struggle. Under the bright colours and slapstick comedy of the opening scene (characteristic of Aardman Animation’s oeuvre) hides the oppression and hope for radical structural change that underpins the narrative force of this ilm. As an audience, we are presented with the stiling rule undertaken by the Tweedys in their unrelenting pursuit of proit. The viewer sufers the futility of these actions time and time again, as not only has it led to decreases in their egg yield, but it turns out to be their inal undoing.

Despite this though, Chicken Run, or Evasion on the Farm (as the Spanish title roughly translates), also presents the grim realities of the world in which we live. It highlights the struggles faced by the prospective poultry products in organised rebellion against an entrenched power structure, and especially one on which the people, or chickens, depend so much.

Early in the cinematic masterpiece director Peter Lord, the ilmic legend of Wallace & Gromit fame, examines the barriers that Ginger faces in mobilising the resistance. Ginger is often faced with disbelief and hesitance from her fellow revolutionaries on her path to Marxist uprising. Upon encountering the incredulity of her companions in response to the prospect of life outside the farm, Ginger declares that the “fences aren’t just around [the] farm, they’re in your heads”. Even though they have nothing to lose but their coops, the chickens cannot fathom the possibility of freedom from the system, asking who will feed them and what farm they will go to if they leave, unable to comprehend a life without their omnipotent overlords.

In Chicken Run’s universe, it is not religion, but instead whole, cracked and rolled grain that is the opiate of the masses.

Furthermore, like many traitors of class struggle before him, Rocky (the falsely named ‘lying rooster’) hijacks a well-meaning workers’ revolution to beneit his own ends. Rocky’s faux leadership is built on the fallacy of his lair for light, and through fostering an unquestioning totalitarian rule he establishes an epoch of great unsustainability in the revolution.

Additionally, when faced with the death of a fellow comrade to the pie machine, the hens are placated by the Tweedys with chicken feed, and Rocky encourages these unhealthy coping mechanisms, completely obscuring the real problem at hand. Thus, the audience sees how, in Chicken Run’s universe, it is not religion, but instead whole, cracked and rolled grain that is the opiate of the masses – showing not only the dire straits that the workers are experiencing but also turning a reluctant mirror on modern society.

Thus, it can be said that Chicken Run, or Chicken Rebellion (as the Estonian title rightly proclaims once translated), presents the viewer with a vision of revolution which, while plagued with pitfalls, ultimately succeeds. Seizing the means of egg production allows for self-actualisation in the poultry, and for a true Marxist utopia to be achieved. Like Aardman’s other feature length projects (see Flushed Away (2006), Shaun the Sheep Movie (2015)) Chicken Run is a great introduction to Marxist theory and a terriic insight into the problems within organised class struggle. And, according to the Sunday Mail, it’s also a ilm “that your children will love”.

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CAMPUS

GENDER IS BURNING WORDS BY TESS MILNER ARTWORK BY ELENA PIAKIS

A HISTORY OF WOMEN IN ELECTRONIC MUSIC

“D

Detroit and Chicago.

Meanwhile in the United Kingdom, acid house and rave music genres were emerging. Electronic music undertook a political turn against Thatcherism, as the subculture created a deviant and hedonistic presence in the face of harsh authority. Gender politics remained imperative with acid house being the dominant sound of many gay clubs across Britain, enduring as a space of freedom of identity. The gay nightclub, Heaven, was one of the irst nightclubs to host an acid house night. Today, cities across the world, such as Berlin and San Francisco continue to hold ethnically and sexually charged parties as a way to convene and overcome oppression.

However, women remain sidelined from the movement.

Considering electronic music’s intrinsic connection to gender, politics and minorities, women have never been placed at the forefront of the movement, despite their continuous presence within the scene. Nowadays, many club and festival line-ups do not relect the numbers of women producing and creating music.

The 2017 line-up of Sydney house and techno festival, Days Like This, contained no women performers within its setlist of over 30 artists. Additionally, a study led from 2016 to mid-2017 by the collective Female: Pressure found that women artists make up less than 16 per cent of festivals acts, highlighting the diiculty female artists face in receiving the level of attention and promotion that their male counterparts obtain.

It is evident that change is needed to return club culture to its inclusive past. Collectives such as DISCWOMAN and Women on Wax were born out of a lack of representation of women in the genre and aim to confront these inequalities and lack of diversity now found within the scene. They do so by booking and promoting female identifying DJs to create a more progressive future for dance music. Recently, DISCWOMAN curated an all-female, 15hour show with local collective Girls Gone Vinyl to raise funds for a scholarship to attend production classes at Detroit’s Music Industry Academy. Many artists promoted by the collective, such as Jayda G and Umfang, have been showcased on music streaming sites such as the Boiler Room.

In modern day underground dance music, many have lost sight of its founding values and political roots. The past of electronic music and club culture has shown us that electronic music is not about maintaining the status-quo, but alternatively creating an inclusive space for all divisions of society, protesting the inequalities of the outside world. It is important that women are included, which would enable the continuous breakdown of gender barriers within these subcultures and scenes.

All girls to the front.

ance music needs riot grrrls. Dance music needs Patti Smith... Dance music needs cranky queers and people who are tired of this shit. Dance music needs writers and critics and academics and historians. Dance music needs poor people and people who don’t have the right shoes to get into the club... Dance music doesn’t need more of the status quo” – The Black Madonna (Producer and DJ) Gender, electronic music and club culture have always been associated with each other due to their interconnecting histories.

The creation of electronic music was inherently political, forming an inclusive space which deied gender, race and class barriers.

However, with the increasing popularity of electronic-based dance music today, diversity within the scene is becoming rarer. The founding minorities have been displaced, which has seen the iniltration of gender norms and stereotypes that were originally rejected by this genre of music.

Recently, the co-founder of Giegling, a German electronic based record label and collective, remarked in an interview with Groove Magazine that “women are usually worse at DJ-ing than men”, and women working within the industry must lose their “female qualities” in order to achieve similar levels of success to male DJs. Such comments bring to the forefront the inherent sexism that underlies all modern-day dance music.

This viewpoint is not unsurprising or new, when considering the general attitude towards women who DJ. On websites such as Boiler Room, whose aim is to showcase the underground sound globally, the diference in reaction to male and female DJs is remarkable. Often female DJs and producers are heavily criticised on their appearance, sexuality and skill set, in comparison to males who receive little critique.

Likewise, in July this year, techno producer Octo Octa faced transphobic and dehumanising comments from another representative of an electronic music record label who described her using transphobic slurs and dismissed her skills as a musician. From a scene which traditionally challenged gender, race and class barriers, it is evident that electronic music’s diverse and accepting past is now overshadowed by a darker sexist reality. These problems exist in all other professional sectors, yet they are becoming increasingly prominent in dance music and worryingly it is often the record labels expressing these views. As a result, women are sidelined from the industry, facing a lack of recognition or promotion from record labels.

The prominence of these sexist comments begs the question of whether or not electronic music has lost its historic deiance against cultural norms. If so, how can club culture and electronic music reclaim the basic values that were once core to its scene? Primarily through education, beginning with an overview of the movement.

The emergence of disco and garage music from the urban suburbs of New York in the early ‘70s was primarily catered towards a crowd of mixed sexualities, gender, ethnicities and social classes.

Parties such The Loft, held by the DJ David Mancuso as ‘invitationonly’ events, created a luid and free environment from the outside world. Mancuso created an informal space for the gay community to dance together without fear of harassment from the police or others, which was happening in gay bars and clubs across the city. New York disco and garage parties, such as The Loft, led to the advent of house and techno music a decade later, which was further inluenced by the LGBTQ+, black and Latinx communities in

PLAYLIST: The Black Madonna - Stay Peggy Gou - Gou Talk Honey Dijon - Houze (feat. Seven Davis Jr.) Avalon Emerson - The Frontier Jayda G - Listen Closely Nightwave - Lava Shanti Celeste - Selector Octa Octa - Who I Will Become Helena Hauf – Tryst Donna Summer – Sunset People

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COMMENTARY

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COMMENTARY

IS MY SEXUALITY MADE OF MEMORY? WORDS BY LUKE MACARONAS ARTWORK BY ELLA HOPE BROADBENT

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boy in a red t-shirt and high-waisted jeans stains my mind.

My memories are haunted by Gordie Lachance – his dark eyelashes and silky hair, his faintly freckled skin. If you had asked me even a month ago, I would have told you that I didn’t have a gay childhood. I can’t describe a sense of ‘knowing’, I had no primary school sexual experiences and no childhood boy-crushes; I have no memory of being gay. But sitting now in front of Stand

by Me – a ilm I adored as a kid for its boyish sense of rebellion and freedom – I can recognise the familiar afection I feel for its characters as the same afection I now feel for men.

I’m forced to confront the possibility that I did have a gay childhood, and that I am still unable to come to terms with it. I am losing my grip on my memories, because everything I now relect on seems distorted through this prism: a single beam of memory refracts into a rainbow of homoerotic possibilities. My four-year-old obsession with ABBA, kissing my best friend in drama class in Year Two, painting my nails with my cousin in the summer holidays; I can selectively collate a simple chronology of sexual discovery that would satisfy the people who promise me they ‘always knew’ I was gay.

But if I can still recall the sensations of my past, why is it the privilege of my present self to punch holes in what I used to feel?

Throughout history, queer artists have questioned the stability of their pasts. Relecting on her own memories in Moment of Being, Virginia Woolf suggests that ‘as an account of my life they are misleading, because the things one does not remember are as important; perhaps they are more important.’ Even the rosy depiction of ‘coming of age’ in Stand by Me is symptomatic of a social desire to contain our pasts within a narrative: as something linear and logical. But no matter how hard I try to frantically piece a ‘gay childhood’ together, it never feels truthful. I don’t want to invalidate the experiences of those people who believe they were born gay or straight, but I don’t want to keep retelling my past to explain who I am today.

I am made up of more than the individual dates that tally up my life experiences. I am made up of more than strands of DNA. I am made up of more than the clothes I wear, or the way I speak. I am made up of memory, intangible and changing.

I don’t think I’ll ever know if the ‘straight’ sexual feelings I had as a kid were genuine, or some kind of self-denial. But I can be certain that my childhood was not some cleverly crafted piece of prose with a proleptic iguring of a deeper sexual and emotional reality. Each time I try and look for those clues I am disappointed, because I only feel the gap between who I was and who I am today widening. I have lost touch with my past, because the boy whose body I grew up in would be afraid of the person typing these words.

We should stop telling gay kids that their childhoods were a lie. That their memories are only half-truths of half of themselves.

Part of the shame of coming out is having to admit that you were ‘wrong’; a feeling as though you let everybody down because you were stringing them along. And we don’t ix that by being open to idea that ‘our child might be gay’, because that still demands that kids experience adult desire.

Instead we should recognise that kids don’t experience sexuality in the same way that adults do. All children – gay and straight – perceive lust and even love in ways separate to adult understandings of sexual gratiication. I think that means that coming out is more like reaching the point that all of us reach, when you can fully comprehend your sexual identity. We should stop talking about gay kids ‘admitting’ or ‘accepting’ their sexuality, as if we were the ones making everyone else believe we were straight, when in reality so many of us didn’t even understand the way we felt ourselves.

Questioning childhood sexuality doesn’t mean that having a gay childhood – the experiences that I can never be sure I had – isn’t okay, it simply acknowledges that not knowing is okay too. I can’t totally estrange myself from my childhood memories, both straight and gay, and I think that means I shouldn't be ashamed of the kid I once was. And maybe then, he’ll be less ashamed of me too.

No matter how hard I try to frantically piece a ‘gay childhood’ together, it never feels truthful.

I can squeeze myself into that stereotype, but that would be a camped-up relection of my past. No matter how many times I’m told that people ‘could have guessed’, that ‘it was obvious’, I cannot shake how tangibly I lived straightness. I can still remember what it is to think straight, to see straight.

If the way I understand my sexuality now is ‘right’, does that make my childhood memories somehow ‘wrong’? It could be argued that I experienced a homophobia so internalised that I fabricated a straight identity for myself: I sufocated my ‘real’ sexuality and wilfully erased its traces from my memory. Without leaving a scar, I nipped and tucked my past so immaculately that now I cannot adequately describe my childhood in a way that seems truthful.

Time is a frequency gay people have continually struggled with.

Often unable to locate ourselves within a celebrated cultural past or legitimised social future, our memories are fragmented by the closet and constrained by the expectations of the norm. So we tell ourselves that we were ‘born this way’, as a means of legitimising who we are: something biological, something quantiiable.

I think that’s why gay people try and sexualise their pasts – because someone who has ‘always been this way’ is more acceptable, something that has to be tolerated. We poke fun at our ‘confused’ childhoods because the ambiguities of those memories are incompatible with a heteronormative understanding of identity.

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COMMENTARY CAMPUS

ON THE ORIGIN OF STRANGENESS COLUMN BY TESSA MARSHALL ARTWORK BY EDIE BUSH

THE UNTOLD STORY OF HYENAS

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ike countless other '90s kids, I irst learnt about hyenas from watching The Lion King.

For me, it was not only the best Disney movie ever (except for maybe its sequel #Kiara&KovuForever), it also gave me my entire knowledge of hyenas via Scar’s cackling trio of hyena henchmen – Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. Yet, while Disney’s representation of hyenas successfully terriied a generation, did its portrayal get anything right?

Although it may seem like a minor detail, Shenzi (voiced

by Whoopi Goldberg), the scheming, sassy leader of the trio, is female, and relects the matrilineal structure of spotted hyena society. Much like the large group of hyenas seen when Scar reveals his evil plan in the song ‘Be Prepared’, hyenas do in fact live in large, loose ‘clans’ of around 80 individuals. In these clans, females outrank males – with high ranking mothers passing on their social status to their children.

Another quarter of the litter will be killed by its own siblings, who are naturally predisposed to violent playing and arguing.

Female hyenas are larger and more aggressive than males, and show many traits that are typically masculine in other mammals. However, this dominance comes at a cost, in the form of a bizarre and complicated reproductive system. The female hyena has no external vagina. Instead, her clitoris, through which she urinates, copulates and gives birth, is over 15 centimetres long. This presents a major problem for irst-time hyena mothers.

The hole in the ‘pseudopenis’ is only two centimetres wide, and tears during birth to allow the cub’s head to exit. The tear the birth leaves is permanent, yet surprisingly, this is a good thing as it scars in such a way that subsequent births are much easier.

Another problem is the length of the birth canal. At 60 centimetres long, it is twice as long as in other mammals of a

similar size. Because the umbilical cord is far shorter than that, the placenta detaches from the uterus while the cub is still in the birth canal, meaning the birth must proceed rapidly to prevent the cub dying from lack of oxygen. No wonder the mortality rate for irst-time hyena mothers is 20 per cent.

Now you would think that after all this sufering, evolution would try its hardest to ensure the survival of the remaining cubs…but you would be wrong. Even if the mother survives, around 60 per cent of the cubs will perish during birth. More horrifying though, is the fact that another quarter of the litter will be killed by its own siblings, who are naturally predisposed to violent playing and arguing.

While hyena reproduction makes human birth look easy, the diiculty for these mothers plays a pivotal part in the formation of their incredibly hierarchical society. While testosterone ‘masculinises’ the female’s genitals and reduces their fertility, it is also responsible for their increased size and aggression – two crucial traits in establishing dominance and obtaining as much food as possible. In fact, studies have shown that mothers who release more testosterone during late pregnancy give birth to young that are more aggressive (especially when ighting for food), and hence more successful in the clan when they grow up.

The beneits of social dominance outweigh the risk of maternal mortality and reduced fertility.

After all this pain and sufering, there is one nice thing about hyenas – they are smarter than Disney gives them credit for. Far from being slow and dim witted like Ed in The Lion King, real hyenas are highly intelligent. They have a large prefrontal cortex, which is the area of the brain responsible for complex decision making and problem-solving. They even outperform chimpanzees on some intelligence tests, particularly those involving teamwork, and show evidence of counting ability. So don't be fooled into seeing hyenas as nothing more than giggling numskulls – there’s more to Shenzi, Banzai and Ed than meets the eye.

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MODEL POLITICIANS WORDS BY EPONINE LE GALLIOT ARTWORK BY RACHEL MORELY

I

n May 2017, France elected a new President in what was undoubtedly one of its most uncertain elections in a long time.

The usual right and left-wing division seemed to fall apart, and from that mess emerged a new political igure, unknown until recently, in the form of Emmanuel Macron.

The subject of politics is not taboo in my family – although we do sometimes butt heads, we always do so in a respectful manner.

And so one evening a few weeks before the elections, I asked my grandmother if she knew who she would be voting for. My dad and I are more left-wing, while she has always had a more conservative view in general. This time, however, she seemed to have been seduced by the newly arrived Macron and told me she was thinking of voting for him. I asked her what the reasons were behind her choice. “Well, he has new ideas, plus he’s young and quite pleasant to look at!” was the answer she gave me.

I looked at her in disbelief. “You’re going to vote for him because you like his…looks?” I asked, and although she assured me it was not the only reason, she had trouble giving me a precise answer when I asked for speciic policies that she supported. Now far be it from me to accuse my grandmother of not taking into account what's most important, but to me, it raised an interesting question to be addressd. I suddenly realised that some people base their political decisions on the leader's looks, something that seemed especially true of Emmanuel Macron.

This has even been given a name – 'The Macron Efect' – as if youth and good looks are enough to make someone a viable head of state.

Of course there is nothing wrong with having a young president, who seems 'fresh' and 'new' because he appeared on the political scene just a few years ago, but it seems absolutely unbelievable to me to choose a candidate based on his looks and not his policies. The candidate I voted for, the leader of the Socialist Party, was admittedly not very 'presidential', and deinitely not good-looking, but I could not have cared less about that – I chose him because I believed his policies were the smartest and most beneicial for the country in the long term, and that they shared a lot of my ideals, values and ethics.

Macron ended up winning the election quite comfortably, and although you could argue that many only voted for him to prevent a far-right victory by Marine Le Pen, it is safe to say that quite a few people voted for him because of the charisma that he seems to exude. This has even been given a name – 'The Macron Efect', as if youth and good looks – I'll let you form your own opinions on that one – are enough to make someone a viable head of state.

An article published in the newspaper Le Monde, titled 'Does beauty favour success?', deals with the Macron phenomenon. While considering whether physical beauty is related to professional success, it relates to the words of two women in the metro. 'It’s diicult not to vote for this good-looking guy,' they say, holding a newspaper with the soon-to-be President on the cover. In an interesting analysis, Le Monde suggests that although the criteria regarding good looks are usually subjective, beauty is still considered as a rarity. It is, by deinition, an exception – because what stands out is what is singular and unique. Therefore, if we return to the French election, it is not that surprising that, among the bunch of sixty-year-old candidates “that we have known for thirty years and have already promised the earth”, adds the paper, the face of the centre-right candidate appeared an exception.

This has actually been studied by researchers, in a 2011 study from the University of Aston in the UK, that attractive candidates usually had higher chances of winning. This is partly because people are unconsciously looking for the taller and better-looking leaders, as if it means that those people were ittest for the role.

Yet on the contrary, political leaders with asymmetrical or crooked features – the study uses Winston Churchill as an example – tend to be more successful and more popular, because of the need to overcome this 'disadvantage'. Churchill, especially, is remembered for his 'bulldog-like' features.

The leading researcher of the study, Dr Carl Senior, explains this tendency by the fact that people instinctively associate symmetrical people with more intelligence, and a better standard of life. On the other hand, “the asymmetrical group has to develop more positive social skills to compensate for these perceived shortcomings. The greater asymmetry the leaders have across their body, the more socially rewarding and inspirational they are.”

According to another study in the Social Science Quarterly, it is said that we as human beings tend to seek powerful (tall and strong) igures, as our pre-historic ancestors needed the help of powerful allies to survive. Therefore, faces that appear to be closer to the ideal of a 'it human being' seem more appealing, even if the judgment is made unconsciously.

Of course this is not the only dimension through which we can analyse the success of a leader in relation to his or her features; the reaction of these people to prejudices or misconceptions about them is also crucial. They may be encouraged to work even harder, and needless to say, life experiences shape characters as well. But we do all need to be aware of this underlying phenomenon, and try not to let ourselves be won over by a politician's features. Whether it’s their ethereal beauty that strikes you, or the perfect alignment and shape of those ears or eyes – please do us all a favour and read up on their policies irst.

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EXORCISM AND THE CHURCH WORDS BY KATIE DOHERTY ARTWORK BY CHARLOTTE BIRD-WEBER

“A

nd Lord, you've given her this assignment. Father, I'd just ask that you would touch her heart as she's writing it, Lord, that she would hear from you, that she would say what you want her to say, Lord.”

In hindsight, I should have been more worried.

When Elizabeth Ryan, a devoutly Christian woman who I was interviewing about her experience of being “delivered” of 43 demons in 2008, ofered to pray for me and the article, I was mostly just confused. As an atheist, I was concerned that I might have to participate in the prayer, something that I did not know how to do.

Elizabeth reassured me however, that only she would speak, and even at the end, I only needed to respond to her “amen” with a hesitant “thank you”.

What I didn’t realise at the time was that drawing God’s attention to a sceptical article about exorcism was not going to help with the writing of it. I spent the next few weeks with the most debilitating writer’s block I have ever experienced. Every word of this piece has been a struggle.

In 2014, for the irst time ever, the Pope and the Catholic Church oicially endorsed the International Association of Exorcists.

However, my (deinite) curse and (probable) damnation is not really the point. No, the point is that in 2014, for the irst time ever, the Pope and the Catholic Church oicially endorsed the International Association of Exorcists, an organisation founded in 1990 now composed of 250 priests in 30 diferent countries, indicating an increasing mainstream acceptance of what most would still see as a fairly fringe practice. This drew much attention, and raises the question, ‘wait, this still happens in the 21st Century?’

Professor Sarah Ferber, from the School of Humanities and Social Inquiry at the University of Wollongong, has studied the history and sociology of exorcism extensively.

“Exorcism is practiced by a large number of religious cultures around the world. It means roughly the same thing in all of them which is the removal from a person's body of what is believed to be an inhabiting evil spirit,” she says.

This belief doesn’t sound like something that should still persist in this day and age. Yet, exorcism seems to be on the rise and many people in Australia have even undergone the practice, including the

aforementioned Elizabeth Ryan, who found God in primary school, when a group came to start a Bible study group.

“They said if you want to pray and give your heart to Jesus and make him Lord of your life, just come and do that,” she says.

While the ethics of promoting religion in supposedly secular public schools may be questionable, Elizabeth herself has “never looked back”.

Although, she admits that “At that stage I probably didn't understand a whole lot about… what it was about, but the more understanding you get of God the closer you become to him, and the more on ire for God you become.”

Her faith did not, however, protect her from experiencing a number of diiculties in her life. She describes how, in 2008, she was not in a good way.

“Things had become very diicult because of the WorkCover I was on, because I had swollen nerves in my elbows. My husband and I … weren’t doing too well either, probably just because of stress.”

She was also being treated for depression, but was not inding the medication or the counselling helpful. When she heard about the ‘revival meetings’ being held by Pastor Danny Nalliah, she went along – stories were coming out about people being healed of all sorts of ailments, and Elizabeth hoped that she too could be helped. “[Pastor Nalliah] said to come up for depression, people with depression. I knew I had that so I went up, and as soon as I sort of got on the stage I realised that there was something demonic, I could just feel demonic things inside me, just like a presence of evil, I suppose is what I felt, and then Pastor Danny started to pray for me and I fell over, and then he started casting demons out.”

Elizabeth says she was then “delivered” of the 43 demons, many of which she believes had inhabited her body since she was very young.

“Pastor Danny said, 'How many demons are there?', and it wasn't even my voice, I knew that the demons were saying 46, but an interesting feeling, I felt like in the pit of my stomach this number 43, and I felt, in the midst of everything, I felt like a peace, there, of knowing that was the right number.”

“Danny started delivering me of the demons, and he was quite aggressive with the demons, not as in physically aggressive but he would speak to them and say, ‘you have to get out, you know, you don't belong in this body and she's a child of God’, and he would look in my eyes and even put his ingers on my eyes because he could see the demons. And then he would just tell them to go, and I would know when they went, because I felt a bit cleaner, a bit freer,

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I suppose, each time one went out. And I'd been wearing this brace on my arm because of the swollen nerves and Pastor Danny said, ‘Put your hands up and say hallelujah and tell the people that you're free’, and when I did that I realised that there was no more pain in my elbow.”

Elizabeth feels that this experience was an extremely positive one. She claims to have not had any problems since, and that her exorcism changed her perspective “On life, and on church and God and my husband, and yeah, everything”.

Despite this glowing praise, exorcism is controversial – and for a number of good reasons. Obviously, the idea of demon possessions is a fairly high hurdle for even the most open-minded to overcome.

It sounds like a practice from medieval times, or at best, something only the most extreme religious sects would believe in, despite the fact that one in every 28 Catholic dioceses in Australia is supposed have an oicial exorcist.

This could in some way parallel the history of witchcraft accusations in places like Salem, which tended to be a way of controlling women’s behaviour.

Furthermore, many suspect that the symptoms of supposed demonic possession are more likely those of undiagnosed mental illness, and worry that attempting exorcism rather than seeking proper professional treatment will do much more harm than good.

This was one of the things that concerned me most about Elizabeth’s story – she told me that she had been on antidepressants and undergoing therapy before her “deliverance” but that these treatments weren’t helping.

Ferber cautions against taking any testimony from individuals who had experienced exorcism at face value, pointing out that there can be many reasons why a person might feel better after an exorcism. A main concern is that “They might indeed feel pressured to say that they feel better, even if they don’t”.

She also suggests that the automatic diagnoses of mental illness can oversimplify something quite complex. In the Western psychiatric tradition, mental illness is a cognitive problem whereas within Christianity, the underlying issue is a moral one.

A 2005 study by Swiss psychiatrist, Samuel Pfeifer, on 343 psychiatric patients who were believers in exorcism found that a negative outcome is achieved when the exclusion of medical treatment is coupled with coercive forms of exorcism, even when the patients believe in the possibility of possession and deliverance.

Equally concerning is the potential for abuse in the practice of exorcism. When giving someone the power to label another person’s behaviour demonic, it allows them to judge which behaviours are acceptable and which are not. This means that those performing exorcisms are able to respond to behaviours that they do not consider

to be acceptable in forceful and violent ways.

Ferber has co-authored a number of papers on the case of Joan Vollmer, a Victorian woman murdered by her husband and three of their friends in the early ‘90s. The court case efectively came down to the question of belief – whether Vollmer’s killers truly believed they were attacking a demon, rather than the woman herself, or whether this was a convenient excuse to cover a more regular murder. Two of the attackers were eventually convicted of manslaughter. This, though, was after a drawn-out court case in which even the judge, in the interest of remaining impartial and even-handed, never even questioned the possibility of possession itself.

The manslaughter conviction seemed to imply something unintended about the death, framing it more as an unforeseeable side efect of their attack on a demon than the totally foreseeable outcome of strangling a human woman. Ferber, in the Sydney Morning Herald, stated, "When the human body is seen as a cosmic battleground, women and children in particular are vulnerable".

In recent decades, violent cases of exorcism, increasingly involved women and children, have become the norm. Ferber believes a “fragmentation within Christianity” has led to rogue exorcists who are not governed by any kind of religious hierarchy that can monitor their activities.

In part, this could in some way parallel the history of witchcraft accusations in places like Salem, which tended to be a way of controlling women’s behaviour and punishing them for perceived wrongdoing. However, Ferber says it is not so simple, “There can be a gender dynamic where possession is seen as a function of kind of sexual seduction… often people who are said to be possessed are said to be possessed because they have thought or done something evil.”

It is the timing of this resurgence of interest in exorcism that is particularly interesting. Within the Catholic Church, exorcism is an extremely political issue. The practice seems to have often seen spikes in popularity at times of division within the Catholic Church, such as the Reformation and Counter-Reformation. Around 40 years ago, when the Church council tried to modernise and reform the church, the traditionalists who opposed these more liberal reforms become those advocating for and carrying out exorcism.

Ferber explains why exorcism is often brought back into popular practice during times of division, “It can be perfectly logical to think all of these troubles we're enduring are because of the Devil…it can actually be an interpretation of why events are unfolding the way they are.”

As Western societies become increasingly secular and progressive values become more mainstream, it makes sense that the Church might feel threatened. As a result we have the increased visibility and acceptance of a practice which can make them seem more powerful, and ofer an explanation for why, exactly, things have changed, and are changing, so radically.

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A TALE OF ANXIOUS WOMEN WORDS BY ELENA PIAKIS ARTWORK BY NELLIE SEALE

I

meet Rose* at the place she can be found every Thursday morning, escaping the cold in her favourite campus café, laptop open next to a pint of cofee and bowl of edamame. She’s working on her Spanish. “I study languages,” she tells me. She speaks loudly and clearly, moving her lips like an actress; slightly dramatically – which she’ll admit – and often with a smile. “Spanish and Indonesian.”

Rose has high-functioning anxiety. Dormant for a long time, it intensiied in high school when the workload became heavier and she found herself drowning in a multitude of tests and assignments.

Some people thrive under such stress. Others struggle to cope.

Her thoughts were altered. They became darker and overbearing; a cacophony of negative self-talk. “I’m not good enough, I’m not achieving enough, I could be better.”

She points to a little black notebook sitting by her laptop and opens it: the originally blank pages are now illed with colour-coded notes and tables. It’s the equivalent of a diary, except it’s scored beyond your average calendar reminders. There’s a list titled ‘people to stay in touch with’ – a measure that prevents her from losing friendships. There are lists of tasks to complete for uni (she counted 46) among tasks like, ‘ix my bed’. Pencilling it down means there’s one less thing gnawing at her thoughts.

“The reason my to-do lists are so long is because there is a constant fear of missing something.”

“Does this always work?” I ask her. “No,” she gasp-laughs and proceeds to tell me about her anxiety attacks. “My breathing will become shallow, my stomach…it just drops, like there’s a heavy brick put in it. Tears start running down my face.” But she isn’t crying; they’re numb tears. And she doesn’t let other people see, lest they assume she’s being hysterical. Hysteria, that 19th Century diagnosis for women succumbing to their emotions.

One in three Australian women, compared to one in ive men, will experience anxiety at some point in their lives. Why? No one really knows, but Beyond Blue does list some of the could-be causes: caring for family members who are unwell, separation, violence or abuse, eating disorders, same-sex attraction, pregnancy and menopause. All plausible enough to elicit a, "hm, makes sense", from me. But Rose hasn’t experienced any of the above, and she’s not the only one.

“One of my friends who’s started getting into business and working at a big company, she really has to hide all of her anxiety because as a woman in that ield, she’s already seen as more emotional and less capable. For people to see her as weaker could really stop her from getting promotions. So I guess sexism and anxiety can afect each other.”

I wondered aloud whether this friend bore any resemblance to her. Raised eyebrows and a vigorous nod of the head told me it did, and she echoed, “I would hide it.” I asked her what she meant.

“Women will feel like they need to hold it together for everyone around them,” Rose tells me. “They’ll pretend like nothing’s wrong.

I never told my last boss that I had anxiety, simply because I thought that she’d see that as a weak link for me and either would’ve exploited that or stopped giving me shifts.”

Her passions have also been restrained. “I’ve always wanted a career in performing arts, which has been, as I get older, dwindling.

I never felt fear about being on stage. That never frightened me.

However more and more, I can see me talking myself out of actually pursuing it, simply because I don’t want to hear that ‘no, you’re not good enough’.”

With less stage-based release, the drama has accumulated in her everyday life – but largely in secret. I can’t help but think that this might be the case for other women; women who want to further their careers, who want to be involved in the world but fear their altered mental health might be perceived as a weakness.

Anxiety gnaws at the fragile balance between Rose’s mind and performance and she has to ight to restrain it. “I don’t want to fall victim to my anxiety.”

Rose’s story is not unique. With so many women succumbing

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to the grip of anxiety, I wanted to hear from other suferers. In my search, I met Grace, the artist, who has also been grappling with an anxious mind.

It’s crisp but sunny at the VCA campus. Grace tells me she doesn’t know which is colder; her face or her hands. Regardless, she opts to sit at a bench table outside, next to the tin-shed of art studios from which she emerged.

“I’ve got the collector’s edition of all the anxieties,” Grace tells me. She started seeing a psychologist in Year Five and, as the anxiety became more apparent in her early teens, she undertook cognitive therapy that sometimes helped and sometimes didn’t.

Despite being surrounded by supportive people, there is still a jittery something tapping away at the back of Grace’s mind that convinces her that society interprets her anxiety as otherness. She fears, “people not thinking that it’s a real thing, and thinking that you’re overreacting. It can seep into your own thinking, so it’s like, ‘I’m being a wuss’.”

Perhaps this judgement is all in her mind. Or perhaps Grace, who is strikingly androgynous, is also juggling society’s expectation of her as a woman. I think of the ancient ‘wandering womb’ theory and ponder whether anxiety in women is the modern equivalent that prevents women from sharing their mental condition. Is this why women like Rose and Grace conceal their anxiety, so that is doesn’t become inscribed on their female identity?

“I don’t tell other people about it because I think there’s a stigma, where people think you’re saying it for attention.” If she can help it, people don’t see it. “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.”

A friend of hers walks past and she gives them a rapid wave, breaking eye contact with me for the irst time. Stigma. That little

voice that we thought we ditched as a society that tells Grace she’s less normal, turning anxiety into more of an inhibitor than a spur.

“My anxiety tells me not to do certain things, like, ‘don’t go outside because if you do you might have to talk to people'”. At other times, Grace will spend hours in her studio, clinging to her art.

Apparently stigma around mental illness no longer exists, but it still seems as though it’s brewing in the minds of women with anxiety.

So I ask Grace the forbidden question: Does it matter that you’re a woman?

“As a woman I think it’s almost expected of me, or it’s not surprising if a woman feels like that, whereas it’s more surprising if a man is feeling vulnerable.” She makes reference to hypermasculinity, and I instinctively envisage conidence and assertiveness. I’m ashamed at this thought, and I immediately scrap it, but it keeps on edging its way in.

Is anxiety more acceptable in women? It seems that the ‘overreacting’ and the ‘weakness’ that are the tropes of anxiety are still deemed female traits; that women – talented, sophisticated women like Grace and Rose – who have anxiety are just incubators for hormones gone wild. It makes me question how much progress our society has made since the days of the ‘wandering womb’.

“People probably aren’t as surprised by it because I’m a woman,” Grace says. “It’s hard to tell.”

Just like anxiety, I suppose, it’s hard to tell. * Name has been changed for privacy reasons

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THE YAZIDI GENOCIDE WORDS BY LUCY WILLIAMS ARTWORK BY AMANI NASARUDIN CONTENT WARNING: REFERENCES TO GENOCIDE, SEXUAL SLAVERY AND MASS MURDER

I

t was a dusty, rocky landscape, without adequate access to water or food, but it was also a temporary refuge from the horrors of the Islamic State. Almost three years ago, the Sinjar Mountains of Iraq’s Nineveh Governorate sheltered an estimated 50,000 people leeing catastrophic violence. Those seeking safety were Yazidis, and they were leeing what the advocacy group Yazda calls “a systematic campaign of mass atrocities against civilians in northern Iraq”.

The Yazidi recently celebrated the anniversary, on 3 August, of the day IS’s (also known as Daesh) depravity reached Sinjar and the surrounding cities. By celebrating this day, they acknowledge their survival and the continuation of their people despite everything they have faced, and continue to face, struggling to get the world’s attention. Families gathered together on this day of mourning and remembrance, but it is impossible to forget those that have been left behind; some still surviving in the mountains, some radicalised and transformed into child soldiers for the caliphate, thousands still enslaved and thousands murdered.

The Yazidi people are an ethno-religious minority community whose religion predates all three Abrahamic religions, tracing its religious calendar back over 6,700 years.

You cannot convert to Yazidism, it is only passed down through the family. Signiicant debate surrounds their relation to Kurds, with some acknowledging Kurdish ethnicity, others distancing themselves from this claim.

Obviously the Daesh have opposed many religious and nonreligious groups, including many Muslims. Diana Darke, a Middle Eastern cultural expert, points to several aspects of Yazidism that set it apart, and which have provoked the abhorrent treatment they have faced.

Firstly, the most important of their angels is Malak Taus, a peacock, to which Yazidis pray. Malak Taus has a second name, Shaytan, which is Arabic for Satan. This has led to the false belief amongst many that Yazidis are “devil-worshippers”. Secondly, while Yazidism is held by followers to be monotheistic, Daesh point to the fact that their God, the world’s ultimate creator, entrusted earth to seven angels as refuting this fact. Thirdly, Darke argues that the word ‘Yazidism’ is incorrectly assumed to stem from a signiicantly unpopular caliph Yazid ibn Muawiya.

In fact, it comes from the Persian “ized” meaning angel or deity, with Yazidis translating to “worshippers of God.” However, their devotion to God, has not prevented wounding labels such as devilworshipping, satanic and pagan.

The horrors that have faced this community are unimaginable.

Yazda explains that during the escape from Sinjar Mountain, Daesh executed an estimated ive thousand men, hundreds of children and about 86 women. They captured 7000, most of whom were women, girls and children. Boys were forced to ight as child-soldiers and attack their own communities, while women, including girls as young as seven, were used as sex slaves by Daesh ighters.

Videos have circulated online showing ighters joking about

the sale of these women and girls. With haunting and disgusting frivolity, they speak to the camera: “each one is free to take whatever share he wants…the price depends, if she has blue eyes it will be diferent.” Footage of slave markets has been released, and price lists, with girls under nine typically garnering the highest price.

Yazidis have been forced to convert or face death, their holy sites have been desecrated. Daesh have argued in their publications that their “continual existence to this day is a matter that Muslims should question as they will be asked about it on Judgment Day.” This is only one example of numerous where they justify the murder and enslavement of this community, in actions that completely go against the views of most mainstream Muslims.

A Yazidi survivor of this slavery, and the Goodwill Ambassador for the Dignity of Survivors of Human Traicking of the United Nations, Nadia Murad, explains that Daesh told her community they “want to wipe the Yazidi from the face of the Earth.” The community is working to have these atrocities globally recognised as genocide, which the 1948 United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide deines as “any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group: killing members of the group; causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; deliberately inlicting on the group conditions of life, calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; and forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.”

Amal Clooney, legal counsel to Yazda and Nadia Murad, argues what has happened to the Yazidis is a “clear case of genocide,” and that it is “shameful, that three years after the genocide began no ISIS member has been held to account for it in a court of law”. Add to this that the genocide is ongoing. The UN High Commissioner for Human Rights estimates over 3300 people are unaccounted for and 44 mass graves have been discovered in the Sinjar region alone. Yazda explains that the UN, the European Union, Canada, the United States, France and the United Kingdom, including the national parliament of Scotland, have all recognised these brutalities as genocide. Australia is yet to acknowledge this.

Sinjar Mountain, a sacred site for Yazidis, is described by the UN as “a craggy, mile-high ridge identiied in local legend as the inal resting place of Noah’s ark”. While many Yazidis have now made a home in Australia, their minds and hearts remain back on this mountain, with their people and their motherland. There will be no relief until the world recognises what has been done to this community, until ighters are brought back to their home countries to face justice and the consequences of their war crimes rather than having passports revoked, and until the actions of Daesh are called for what they are. “I want serious action, not just words,” Nadia Murad says. “Rescue our girls and women, and recognise the genocide.”

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MY FRIEND MICKEY WALDON WORDS BY CAITLIN KLOPPENBORG ARTWORK BY CORNELIUS DARRELL

THE COMPLEX STORY OF A SIMPLE MAN CONTENT WARNING: REFERENCES TO SEXUAL ASSAULT

S

everal pickets were missing from the beige-coloured fence.

The unruly grass grew in patches, its colour ranging from a deep ivy to a murky yellow. The mailbox was overlowing with about a week’s worth of junk mail. It was a humble, indigent dwelling. This was Mickey’s home.

From the late '50s to the early '90s, the simple house belonged to the Waldon family. Annie, Mick’s mother, spent most of this time in the safety of her own bedroom, attempting to mend the wounds of severe post-natal depression. Yet Mickey is not entirely pessimistic about his mother’s illness: “Things were diferent back then.” He casually pulls at the peeling skin around his ingernails. “Mum liked being in bed and Dad always did everything he could for her. It was love.” His face seems to almost illuminate at the memory. This enduring love isn’t exactly present in the way Mickey describes his relationship with his siblings, Steve and Caroline. Steve, who is two years his senior, once trapped him in the fridge. “I don’t think he really meant it,” Mick adds. ***

In the '80s, we’d often go to the movies as a group, at the old Chadstone. Not the glitzy centre you guys know – it was a single strip of shops back then. Anyway, we’d always go and see what Mickey wanted, usually something involving a car chase. But it didn’t matter what we saw, because Mick did not shut up. Bloody walking commentary, he was. “Did you see that, Wez?” he’d try and whisper. “You reckon he’s gonna try and kill him?” and things like that. Oh, and after the movie he’d always insist on a rating out of ten. He wouldn’t pipe down till you gave him one. *** ‘Leave Nothing Undared’ Mazenod Secondary College’s school motto suggests a place of opportunity, of learning, where ambitions will be fulilled. Yet the Catholic school’s grimy '60s style architecture would indicate otherwise. Graiti canvases the entrance to a urine-covered bathroom and the distinct smell of adolescent boy lingers through every hallway I walk. Mick attended the school between 1975 and 1978 – not even completing Year Ten. He hated school – all of it. The ruthless, strict teachers, “stupid” cool kids, the work that made “zero sense.” Absenteeism became a pattern, alongside poor grades and low motivation.

English classes were the worst. “I really tried Cait, but I couldn’t do any of it,” he almost pleads. Toward the middle of year ten, Mr Shannon assigned his class an essay on Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. It wasn’t as though they didn’t have time to do it – they had weeks. Yet the night prior to the due date, Mickey sat at the foldedwashing-covered kitchen table with nothing on his page. Nothing.

“I got really angry at myself” he relects. “I think I threw some of that washing onto the ground. I just couldn’t do it.” Steve, who late became a teacher, ended up writing the essay. It would have been an A-plus piece of writing, if Mr Shannon believed that Mick had written it himself. He was suspended for three days for collusion. *** I didn’t talk to him about his illness. I think he didn’t want it to seem real. But I do remember that it was just before your Mum and I got married, say 1994. He still came to the wedding. He wore a bandana to hide the scars and stuf. Oh, and he decided to impromptu MC at the reception, commenting on your Oma’s outit and who was lirting with who. People enjoyed the free comedy that night. *** If you keep driving north up Stephenson’s Road from Mt Waverley station, you’ll ind a quaint church and coinciding school.

‘Faith, love and learning’ are printed proudly on the front of the small dwelling and the adjoining hall. This hall is like a time warp.

Straight out of 1980, complete with brown bricks and dome-like lights. This hall was where my father irst met Mickey, at the Youth Group, which met here weekly on a Friday night. They were both eighteen. “I was drawn instantly to Mick’s sense of humour and positive spirit” Dad recollects.

The youth group focused on socialisation. “I wasn’t religious or nothing like that” Mickey assures me, holding up his palms. “I just wanted a free drink. They could do that in the ‘80s.” Alcohol was a big part of the weekly meetups. There was also Tony’s favourite component of the nights – the games.

“Cait, has your dad ever told you about when we played billiards at youth group?” He reminisces excitedly, his energy levels increasing exponentially. He doesn’t let me answer his apparently rhetorical inquisition. “Everyone would play. I was too shit to join in, so I’d just commentate. ‘And here we have Snapper lining up the perfect shot’ I’d say stuf like that.” Snapper Wilson. Deinitely not his Christian name, as I’ve been informed. That was another thing about Mickey. He relished on making up arbitrary, nonsensical nicknames for those around them – Steve became “Super dog”, Dad was stuck with “Wez” and of course, “Snapper” for his childhood best friend, Joe. No one can tell me where they came from, not even Mick himself. Dad always smiles awkwardly, with a touch of nostalgia whenever he is referred to by this nickname. *** The caravan park at Frankston. Do you remember it? You were really young. It had everything – a swimming pool, tennis court and even that bloody jumping pillow. He called it the jumping jellybean.

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I couldn’t get you kids of that thing. I think Mick just liked the feeling of being on holiday all the time. *** It was 1983. The youth group nights started thinning out, as people started to graduate or work full time jobs. But on this one September night, everyone seemed to show up; Tony, my dad and couple of the other guys. Details were sketchy: “It was the ‘80s, what do you expect?” Mickey informs me, chortling happily. I do know that alcohol and a bit of pot were involved – but only around the back of the hall and only where the organisers couldn’t smell them. At about 11pm, the weather turned sour. It was pissing down. Everywhere. Covering their heads with their jumpers to avoid the downpour, people ran to their cars and sped of down the main road. Mickey followed, his parka dangling over his head like a veil.

Dad ran after him, panting: “Mick, you can’t drive. You’ve had way too much to drink.”

“Mate, I’ll be ine. It’s only ive minutes” “There are cops up Stephensons [Road].”

“Not in this weather. I’m telling you mate, it’ll be dinkum.”

As Tony jumped into his cream-coloured Triumph, Dad felt sick. There was nothing more he could have done. The next night, he found out that Tony blew a 0.11 blood alcohol reading – twice the legal limit. Thank god he hadn’t touched the weed. It seemed that the foul weather didn’t stop the Police from patrolling Stephenson's Road after all.

After a court hearing, Mickey lost his licence for a year. He was lucky to avoid jail time, Dad told me. *** Do you remember when Mickey would come over for dinner during the week every now and then? It became quite a regular thing. He’d always bring something to share. Never anything homemade or fancy. It was always something like chips or chocolate – you can’t forget those terrible Sausage Sizzle lavoured Smith’s.

And he would try and avoid eating any sort of vegetable. Mum had to sneakily serve salad onto his plate for him. The only proper meals he ever ate were at our place.

*** 1976: Toilet seat factory. Checking unpainted items for cracks and discrepancies.

1977- 1980: Paradise biscuits. Packer.

1981- 1984: Recycling plant. Sorting plastic and paper materials.

“They were all shit.” Mickey sighs, taking a gulp from his polystyrene cup of cofee. “Who would want to hire me? All I knew was how to talk shit.”

The shit talking couldn’t have been too bad. Towards the end of 1983, Mickey became a sports presenter on Melbourne’s Southern FM. The role was initially as a ‘button pusher’, ensuring sound clarity for listeners. However, after hearing his funny anecdotes during lunch breaks, the managers decided to put him on air. “It’s Mickey time folks!” He’d chant in the microphone each afternoon, at four on the dot.

Mick uses his ist as a microphone and gives me a personal demonstration, causing the female guard to inspect us with caution.

“Waverley Lions trump Oakleigh by six points! You ripper!” He recites, clearly enjoying his impromptu performance.

When Mick was 28 years old, he inally had enough cash to move out of his family home. That tiny Wheeler’s Hill unit and Tenny the beagle were all that he needed.

In 1994, Mickey began complaining about his head. “A really bad headache,” Mick recalls. But his father, Roica, explained the full extent of Mickey’s ‘headaches.’ “Somedays he couldn’t get out of bed,” he revealed. “A couple of times, his speech began to slur.”

On this day, after a particularly long shift at the radio station, Mickey walked two blocks to his local pub. The ‘Nott’ was a singleroomed pub which always smelt like tobacco and soggy hot chips.

But the staf knew him by name, and greeted him with an ice-cold Carlton Dry stubby.

According to the police report, about half an hour later, he was found lying motionless on the loor. The report also mentioned a tiny gash on the side of his left eyebrow, dripping with crimson-red droplets.

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“I can’t remember that day, or any of that time, really,” I don’t ind it particularly odd, especially since a later CT scan revealed a golf ball-sized tumor on the far side of the temporal lobe. Was it the excess drinking? The adolescent pot use?

The years after the diagnosis spiraled Mickey’s life into a state of disarray, which would never properly correct itself. There was surgery and rehabilitation. It was successful in the medical sense.

However, his non-existent health insurance and the fact the radio station could not keep him on due to his absenteeism meant Mickey was buried in inancial debt. Dad told me that no one in the Waldon family knew anything about managing inances. The little savings Mick did have were spent on an almost derelict ‘80s Mercedes Benz- the upkeep more expensive than what the car was worth. He also fancied himself a keen pokies player, Dad estimating that he’d burned through at least a grand on the “stupid pastime.”

In 1997, an estimated 30,000 Australians lived in caravan parks or other portable dwellings. Mickey had no choice but to become one of them, moving into a caravan no larger than my bedroom. He was jobless, cashless and still recovering from a major illness.

In 2009, my family and I were seated at the dining table, munching our chops. Mum stayed in the kitchen, dishing up extra servings of potato. The rest of us had our eyes glued to some sort of screen. The low-volume television acted as background noise.

Through the blurred screen of the television, I half listened to a story of a Scoresby BWS cashier being been held up at knifepoint in exchange for cash. “Turn it up” Dad instructed. “That’s not too far from us.”

Seconds later, Mick’s face stared absently at our screens. “What the fuck?” Dad called out, running straight for his mobile phone.

Mick needed money on that dismal day. Money to pay for his car repairs. Money to stay alive. A warrant for his arrest was approved and within 24 hours of the incident, he was arrested and taken to Dhurringile Prison. Bail was an option, but in no way a possibility for the struggling Waldon family. He eventually received an eight-year sentence.

Dhurringile is what you’d expect from a medium security prison. Its exterior mimics a modern toilet block, complete with large grey bricks and a tin roof. The inside is dark and dingy, with dirt speckling the linoleum loor. The overwhelming aroma of disinfectant evokes the atmosphere of a hospital. Rachel, the guard overseeing my visitation, enforces me to withhold from taking photos or using any sort of recording device. I nod my head nervously in compliance and take seat behind what looks like a school desk, opposite Mickey.

“I am sorry for what I did” Mick insists. “I’ve told them that. I also said that I wouldn’t ever do something like this again.” It was as though he was a child apologising for stealing an extra Tim Tam from the jar. A simple ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough ix this.

The weight has fallen of him and his hair has greyed substantially since I last saw him. He tells me that prison rape was most deinitely a real thing. “It didn’t matter which team you bat for” he explains. You got bashed if you were in there for hurting little kids and if you did what he did, you’d get an almost self-deprecating high ive. It seemed that Armed robbery was the crime of the “cool guys” Mickey tells me, shaking his head in dismissal.

Visitation is an hour maximum in Dhurringile. Frankly, I’m relieved to exit the sufocating, dimly-lit building. I’m fortunate to have this option. “Thanks Cait” he beams as he lets go of our embrace. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

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ARTWORK BY MAYU INOUE 45

COMMENTARY

LESSONS IN MINIMALISM WORDS BY MAKI MORI ARTWORK BY LILLY MCLEAN

A

few weeks ago, the blinds came of the railing on my window. For no apparent reason, they just fell and landed with a loud thud on my carpet.

Since then, my blinds haven’t moved an inch. Because ixing this problem means iguring out how to replace blinds or ,alternatively, buying a new set of blinds. But both of these options involve either handiwork skills or a soul-crushing trip to Bunnings.

The former which I don’t possess, and the latter I’m unwilling to embark on.

So I’ve simply left it like that – blind-free. At irst I had vague intentions of ixing this issue, but I’ve eventually come to enjoy my life with a blind-less window. Every morning I wake up to the irst few rays of sunlight tickling my face. This means I no longer need an alarm clock to shock my body into accepting the fact that another day has come around. It’s also convenient because the alarm on my alarm clock happened to stop working a couple of days ago. Waking up in this manner is probably also good for your health, as it aligns your body with the natural chakra cycles of the earth – or something like that. So now I no longer cover my window with blinds, as the majority of sensible people on this planet insist on doing.

Houses are fragile. Things break, batteries run out and blinds sporadically fall on the loor. But as household ittings inish their life course, I’ve come to see that you can make do without a lot of them.

A few days ago my lightbulb sparked out. ‘Damn’, I thought to myself, ‘how will I read, eat, waste hours on the internet and do all the other things that I usually do in my room?’ Then I realised, ‘Alas!’ although the lightbulb is out, the power socket is still working. So I scrounged around for some lamps in the house and used them to light up my room instead. This, to my surprise, created an atmospheric ambience that’s much more pleasant than the harsh glare of my singular ceiling light. So I neglected the trip to Kmart and have continued to opt for this multiple lamp alternative instead.

Living in a sharehouse means that when you can’t be bothered going shopping, there’s always some sort of free-for-all item loating around that you can use instead.

Which is great, because, at some point, I ran out of tissues.

We also ran out of paper towels. We never had napkins in the irst place. But I soon realised that in instances where all these items are used, you can just substitute toilet paper instead. Toilet paper is incredibly versatile. The general populace seems to look down on the idea of using toilet paper outside of the bathroom…but it’s not like it’s dirty prior to its intended use. If you think about it, toilet paper is really like any other absorbent paper. The only diference is that it’s rolled in perforated rectangles around a cardboard cylinder.

Thinking that you’re only supposed to use toilet paper in the toilet is basically just a constructed social norm. So for weeks, instead of indulging in the purchase of absorbent paper in its multifaceted

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forms, I’ve just used plain old toilet paper instead. I like to think that I’m posing a radical challenge towards societal categories by doing so.

Apparently, we need a lot of things. But in many cases I’ve not only learnt to do without various household items, but I have found it’s actually better not to have them. Who would’ve thought that moving out would eventuate in a Minimalist lifestyle? Perhaps being a student equates to accidental Zen. Take for instance, culinary endeavours. Our sharehouse has never had a microwave. When I irst moved in, I thought this was an atrocity and had intentions of organising to buy one for the house. I used to be under the popular impression that microwaves are vital kitchen appliances. Microwaves mean microwave popcorn and hot food at the press of a button. Sadly, I’ve come to the conclusion that making microwave popcorn is kind of impossible without a microwave. As for other hot foods, I’ve discovered that reheating meals on the stove actually tastes better. Alternatively, you can eat it cold – which brings out a new perspective on the dish. Cold curry can be surprisingly enjoyable, and cold pasta has a distinct lavor that difers from hot pasta. By choosing not to microwave your meal, you’re probably also making a savvy environmental choice, as it saves power and you aren’t letting evil waves of radiation iniltrate your food. Who knew that a matter of laziness can, in some instances, lead to doing your bit for the environment.

Other life lessons can be learnt from a poorly stocked kitchen.

Sometimes, pleasant surprises can come out of not having certain things.

Like milk. Milk is something that we all know inevitably runs out. However, at any hour in the morning it’s simply not something that you’re willing to walk all the way to Woolworths for. And I refuse to go to the corner shop, as it’s a convenient trap of useful yet overpriced items. So when the milk runs out, I just do without milk instead. The irst time this happened, I drank my cofee whilst sulkily wishing there was milk in it. But overtime I began to enjoy the taste of black cofee. Now it’s gotten to a stage where I actually like and prefer black cofee, to the point that I often order long blacks at cafés. This is something that would have been unthinkable in my past life as a cappuccino-sipping fanatic.

And so, a combination of a dilapidated house, being under the (entirely false) impression that other people will take the initiative to ix things, trying to save money and most of all – sheer laziness, has taught me many things over these past few months. It has led me on a wild adventure through a life with less furniture, less appliances, less clutter, less unnecessary additions…and most of all, less stuf.

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APIARY ANXIETY WORDS BY SARAH PETERS ARTWORK BY CAROLYN HUANE Living undiagnosed is a lot like diferentiating wasps and bees when I forget my glasses and can’t see the stinger stuck in my left cheek that keeps striking hot against my face, Flushed.

I keep thinking of veering into lorist shops, Painting myself with pollen like Van Gogh, And everything blurs with breaths and bees and blurs mix in my always-anxious mind into blurring and bleeding.

Bleeding my honey over dead roses: things I thought were real when I was stinger-stuck.

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POLLEN WORDS BY SARAH PETERS ARTWORK BY KYAW MIN HTIN Today I am smearing wattle across my eyes hoping that the glow and pollen infect and you ind yourself defenceless.

I ind myself sneezing whenever we cross into the wind with senses distorted trying to escape my burning eyes, So that I don’t have to believe that I am golden addictive and full of light that even if it refracts of you will at least have touched your soul.

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COLUMN BY DANIELLE SCRIMSHAW ARTWORK BY SAM NELSON

Y

PART 7: LAND DOWN UNDER “They’re watching us!” the guy with the hat spat out.

“Not cool,” added the other. “Seriously bad vibes.”

I turned to George questioningly. He smirked. “Hazel brought us here. This is her bunker and they’re members of her jazz band.”

“Uh…huh.” Things were beginning to make a little more sense.

A little, but not much. Well, no, not much at all.

“Why are they hissing?” I whispered.

“They don’t like mentioning the Sanctuary –” “BAD VIBES dude, do you have no chill?”

“– because they think the government is watching us. Tin Man over there is a major conspiracy junky. I mean, I know you think my aliens-caused-the-end-of-the-world theory is crazy, but this is next level.”

We sat quietly and watched them for a moment. Finally, they went back to playing their instruments, but the music sounded a little off, and their hands kept shaking.

Tin Man screamed and dropped his saxophone as a knock sounded above us. Ray Bans shushed him and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, Axel. It’ll just be salespeople.”

The knock came again, but this time more rhythmic, like a code. The guys brightened and Ray Bans rushed to the other side of the bunker, climbing a ladder to open a small hatch. There was a minute of hushed whispers before he came back down, followed by a girl with familiarly vibrant hair. Hazel beamed and threw her arms around my neck.

“Ro! I knew those Yo-Yo kids wouldn’t get the better of you.”

My body was too busy feeling an intricate array of feelings to correct her.

I pulled away and cupped her face in my hands.

“Where have you been? Were you looking for Tony? Did you take him to…” (I glanced at Axel) “…that place?”

“What? Oh, no.” She shook her head and went back to the ladder. “No, screw that. I found somebody else for you.”

Hazel gestured for somebody outside the bunker to climb in.

I gazed up at the entry, a pool of light pouring in to brighten the otherwise miserable shelter. Slowly, someone made their way down the ladder, and as I caught sight of her face I fell back into George.

I must have been dreaming, I must have been in a coma because this was just too good, and the world was too shit to even allow good things to happen anymore. But she was there, she was right there, and I knew the world could end again for all I cared so long as I was never separated from her again.

Mum.

ou know that feeling when you wake up after a really hectic night? Like when you and your best mate go to a twentyirst as the drag queens from Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and after the fourth round of shots you lip-sync ABBA and grab some kebabs on the way home and you feel amazing, like the Gods of Glam, but then you wake up the next morning and that feeling hits you right in the gut, that feeling that you’ve absolutely been swallowed up by the void, that you’ve discovered the meaning of life but the meaning of life is fucked, because the world is fucked, and you can’t even remember the meaning of life anyway because your head is screeching and your throat is on ire.

It's kind of the same feeling you get regaining consciousness after passing out from smoke inhalation. Kind of. Jazz music playing. That was the first thing I was aware of. The second was that the room was dark and most likely underground. The third was George, leaning over me. He poked me in the face.

“Ow, dude –” “You’re alive!” he shrieked, hugging me enthusiastically.

I struggled underneath his weight. “Where are we? What happened? Oh my God, I need to find Mum.” I sprung forward, but George held me back.

The jazz was still playing, though as my senses adjusted I realised that it was only a saxophone and bass guitar, apparently covering a tune that I could only just pick as 'Down Under' by Men at Work. This didn’t make any sense to me and I figured I must have been in a coma, but George kept on talking and hugging me and it all felt too damn real.

“All you need to know, my dearest Ro, is that I’m pretty sure the chick with the flower crown pissed herself when they all ran away screaming.”

I frowned, struggling to remember what had happened.

Slowly, images of a burning train came back to me, as well as the flickering shadows of the YOMG kids.

“Why were they screaming?”

“Oh, you should have seen it. After you collapsed, I tried dragging you back to the ute and then Hazel just came out of nowhere, brandishing a lit branch and chasing after them. It was magical.” He smiled, enraptured.

“Hazel? Where is she? Did she go back to that sanctuary place?”

The music stopped and a chorus of hissing echoed off the walls. I whipped my head around and noticed two other people in the small room, illuminated by a small lamp. They looked a few years older than George and me and wore ugly sweaters they probably found in an old Salvo’s. One wore cracked Ray Bans and the other a tin-foil hat.

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CHER WORDS BY ESTHER LE COUTEUR ARTWORK BY LAUREN HUNTER i believe in life after love. cher if u agree it was a tussle to get here, fringing on an indigo denim jacket that stained some white t shirts but there must be more a deepening not quickening or that electrolysis autotune all my chin hairs are gone it could only be you ripped cruelly like a child in the night the leggings more to life than a linen smock and some tote bags the meanjin quarterly on my desk the nails coming out there has to be paint and jewels not facelifts no chad murray or chaz bono but moisturiser made out of your own blood and plasma skin that pulls across mounds teletubby hills erupting youre the blue one the jewel the sapphire with enough blue that i can look liz taylors eye with an instagram ilter the movement of hair across a bee stung upper lip big noses and youre no miss baltimore crabs no a trip to the doctors oice and the paint is peeling rotting and theres u youre not so vain youre not so paranoid the girth of it astounds me spacing time in my head all you need is a phone and it's yours this now its made of sheep fetus stem cells i kiss ur cheek and theres nothing at all so i let my lips graze the black strand between ur teeth sit on me in the beanbag, all 92 years of rasping at strangers. hook our noses like braces and let me go to sleep

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RADIO WORDS BY ESTHER LE COUTEUR ARTWORK BY JAMES GOH Breathe in I couldn’t love youmoreif timewas runn ing out alright I looke into its eyes the way you see a mirror in sunlight and there’s nothing but the being — nothing but a sign without meaning I don’t think we’re meant to understand each other but you need to relax.

The dishwasher digests while we’re on the phone.

I, II I don’t know. you left it out on the end on the bendch on the bend it rots Sugar, what sugar to scrub of the salt scab, your life is the spinning that says when to stop microwaving & look a around. To say not now but later canwe talk can you say that and the same of the cutlery in the drawer that needs banging An unixed mat that is to say a hazard the colour of a heart – aerial valves You pump the air with your ist like a glove thrown down and piping petrol in wounds. You hang up and I watch a cat in my mind lick the armpits of your shirts and feel jealous while a small possum watches me through the window growling leaning on the kitchen table don’t put your head in your ingers

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CATMAN BY SAM NELSON

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SQUIRREALISM BY BEN VOLCHOK

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HAUNTED BEAUTY

PHOTOGRAPHY BY CLAUDIA MACKOJC STYLING BY KAROLINA SURAWSKI 56

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BREAKER WORDS BY GREER SUTHERLAND ARTWORK BY SARAH FANG-NING LIN

“A

s a get-to-know-you activity – an icebreaker,” the tutor adds signiicantly, “we’re each going to go around and say our names, then who we would have a dinner date with, if it could be anyone in the world, living or dead. It can totally just be based on who you think’s hot if you want!”

Well, shit. In the grand total of eight hours we’re going to be in the same class together, I won’t connect with one of these people.

Yet we have to know who everyone fantasises about, apparently.

The light coming through the Venetian blinds is too bright. I tap a ingernail against my cofee to the tune of a song I don’t recall the name of, maybe something by The Beatles.

The irst person starts. Ryan Gosling. Emma Watson. Of course.

It’s my turn so I tell them my name and nobody will forget it, because they won’t remember it to begin with.

“Agatha Christie,” I say. “She disappeared for eleven days in 1926 and I want to know where, and why. So, if we had dinner, I’d force her to tell me.”

There. Genuinely who I’d have dinner with, and if they all think I have sexual fantasies about Agatha Christie then so be it. The last person mumbles out some celebrity I’m too square to have heard of then the tutor claps her hands, her glasses lashing.

“Thank you for sharing, everyone. Now, for the next part of this little icebreaker,” my heart sinks a little more, “I’ve got a surprise for you all.” She gestures, jumper lapping, at a door. Not the entrance to the room, but a door painted the same white as the wall which I swear wasn’t there before. “Through there is a restaurant, and you get to go in one by one, and meet your dinner dates!”

Everyone looks around at each other then bustles and shoves to be irst in line. I roll my eyes and wander over to the queue. This has to be a hoax. But the door swings open and the irst person enters.

So I’m about to meet a long-dead crime writer and I’ve forgotten my cofee at my desk. I shouldn’t be surprised that the irst day of semester has gone this way.

The door swallows the next person in line. We accept this fact.

We wish good luck to the guy who said Hitler for a joke. Now I’m at the front, the door opens for me and my tutor waves me through.

The door shuts behind and I’m no longer in Collaborative Learning Space 450.

Instead, I’m in a dim restaurant. Red curtains undulate along the walls. Romantic, maybe, but I’m thinking of how much blood is in a Christie novel. At the closest table one of my classmates lets out a nervous, high-pitched giggle at something her date has said. A sharply dressed waiter takes me by the elbow, sort of how a grandfather might, and ushers me over a Persian rug to a small

table with two empty seats. I look around but can’t see the exit anymore.

“Mrs Christie will be with you shortly.” He hesitates, “It might actually take a while. Time works diferently here, you see.”

I nod to show that this makes complete sense to me.

He smiles and leaves. I look around. A girl from my tute is having dinner with Benedict Cumberbatch a little way of. I nod to her. She is busy talking and doesn’t see me. He does. He raises his eyebrows impeccably, immaculately – spiritually. He is eating steak tartare.

I play with my napkin. Maxwell’s Silver Hammer. That’s what that Beatles song was. That’s depressing.

The waiter comes back holding a wine bottle as a question. It’s only 10.20am and I still have cofee ilming the inside of my cheeks, but what the hell. I can see Taylor Swift from here and her earrings look like the bones of two small rodents. I can drink wine if I want.

I nod to the waiter and he swirls wine into a glass. He has a tattoo on his hand, just a bunch of lines which creep up his sleeve too. He rolls away again. To cheer myself up I think, if this was a murder mystery then that tattoo could be a clue.

I used to work at McDonald’s. When you hear what they say about fast food and its health consequences it makes you think, as a McDonald’s employee, that maybe you are a murderer. Or at least, part of a murderer, if not the brains, then maybe the inger of a murderer. God, the horror of it just rises up in you, like earthworms.

Then someone orders a salad and you feel absolved again. Mellow, you know?

Anyway, one time I was dealing with a customer and in the background I heard this guy I worked with say, very seriously, very regretfully, “The worst thing I ever did in my life was kill someone.

Not on purpose, or anything, but I did kill him. I really did.” I imagine he shook his head sadly.

I was silent.

The customer was silent.

The whole entire world was silent.

“So,” I said, “did you want to upsize that to a large?”

Agatha Christie inally arrives and the most shocking thing is that she isn’t in black and white. She swings herself and a fur coat into the seat opposite. Her eyes are languorous, her nose beautiful and beakish. She dumps a purple silk handbag onto the table. With Agatha Christie, I wonder if every bag is a body-bag.

“Hello,” I say. I don’t know why but I curl my ingers around the

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stem of my wine glass. It is mine and I must protect it.

“Good day,” she says crisply, her accent radically more English than I could have ever imagined. “I do not wish to be rude but I will say this was not my idea, but here I am in any case. I suppose you’ve read my novels?”

I blink and try to decide whether to be embarrassed or not. “I mean, not all of them. A lot, but not all.”

Her lips part slightly. Her teeth are curiously small. “Well, why haven’t you read them all?”

“I’m not a lean, mean, crime-consuming machine, Agatha Christie,” I tell her.

She just snifs and checks her watch. The face is smashed and the side battered.

I should’ve just chosen Ryan Gosling. “Listen,” I say. “This wasn’t my idea either, but we’re both here now. So I guess I might as well ask you. When you disappeared, all the big newspapers reported on it and everything, but nobody could igure out what happened. I wanted to know. What did you do? Where did you go?” I hate how pathetic I sound, how much I need to know the answer.

She picks up her knife. For a moment, it looks like she’s about to snif the blade, but she just balances it in front of her face and says, “Where did Amelia Earhart go?” She looks at me. “Where do any of us go?” This time she does hold the blade to her nose, smells it and then puts it back down. “At least I came back.”

There is silence other than muted, awkward chatter from other tables.

There’s my answer, I guess.

She calls the waiter over so we can order and get this dinner over and done with. He now wears a ring with a black stone in it which I’m sure he wasn’t wearing before. Agatha Christie orders ish. For both of us.

How much wine have I had?

“Why do you need to know where I disappeared to?”

“I don’t know.”

She stares at me. Her tiny teeth glint like knives behind her lips, “Is it the melodrama of it all?”

The curtains ripple along the wall, wine and blood mixing together.

“I don’t know,” I say weakly.

“The idea that anyone could be hiding a secret from you?”

I want to cry. She’s speaking so loudly. “I don’t know.”

“Anyone could be a murderer. Anyone could disappear. Do you fear that for yourself?” she asks, gentler now.

I don’t know what to say. Does she mean do I fear being a murderer, or do I fear disappearing?

Agatha Christie pats her napkin down. “Just something you might like to think about, dear.”

She smiles, and somehow, I do too. She is a nice lady after all.

“Now, I really must head of,” she says, picking up her body bag.

“If I stay much longer, people will be wondering where I went of to.”

She swings herself away, fur coat gliding after her, disappearing into the depths of the restaurant, I sit there some more, thinking about how those purple frozen drinks from McDonald’s looked so poisonous, and whether that guy really was a killer because I never asked him even though I wanted to so badly, and about which celebrity the girl I sat next to in my tute lusts over because I forget what she answered. Mostly I just think about all those people wondering where Agatha Christie went of to.

The dinner goes mercifully quickly. If you’ve ever had dinner with an aunt, then it is much like that, except your aunt knows a lot about poison. She tells me about the Great War and I tell her about my studies. It’s a bit underwhelming, really. I thought there’d be a dead body by now. Not that I want one. I just thought there’d be one.

Agatha Christie folds her napkin in half seven times then puts it next to her plate. She is serious. “What is it you like about reading murder novels?”

I jiggle my leg up and down. “I don’t know.” Maybe this isn’t Agatha Christie at all, maybe it is Miss Marple impersonating her.

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hink for a second. What’s your favourite type of screen entertainment? What’s that? Panel shows? Speciically panel shows hosted by hateable talentless quasi-celebrity B-listers? Well, have we ever got the ilm for you!

What we’re proposing is a continuous game of Family Feud with Grant Denyer; one that only ends when Grant Denyer’s sanity does…

A little extreme? Perhaps. Confusingly tasteless and unfunny? Certainly. But what we’re trying to capture here goes further than a touch of light comedy. Yes, what we’re going for is an unlinching gaze into the descent of humanity, to uncover the haggard soul of TV’s greatest martyr. And the only format we can see having the moral depravity and shamelessness to allow this cinematic tragi-stunt is that of the panel show.

And don’t worry about the legality of it all – we already igured that one out with Channel Ten. In Denyer’s contract for this year, they threw in a secret clause that requires him to fulil that year worth of shows over the course of seven consecutive days. We’re pretty excited!

COLUMN BY LINUS TOLLIDAY ARTWORK DARUS NOEL HOWARD 60

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CONTESTANT #1 Derek!

INT. FAMILY FEUD SET – TIME IRRELEVANT Grant Denyer is coated in sweat, his suit torn, his hair a mess, his eyes bloodshot. Contestants stand at their podiums, apparently unfazed.

The contestants all look to one small goth child, Derek.

CONTESTANT #2 Yes, nobody likes Derek! Take him!

GRANT DENYER Why are you doing this to me? We’ve been playing for one hundred and thirty hours! I need to sleep!

GRANT DENYER Don’t you see you people are animals? Encouraging me to murder your child on air?

CONTESTANT #1 Please, Grant, we wanna play Family Feud.

LIVE STUDIO AUDIENCE Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!

GRANT DENYER Shut the fuck up, Russell! You arseholes can eat shit!

GRANT DENYER How did it come to this?

CONTESTANT #2 Whoa, Grant! That’s not cool!

Grant approaches Derek, crying and shaking.

GRANT DENYER (CONT’D) I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

GRANT DENYER You want a question? You want a question? If a man were to murder eight strangers with his bare hands on live television, who should he start with?

Grant rolls up his sleeves to pummel the small child.

CONTESTANT #1 Beat the dweeb, already!

The contestants pause to consider this. One buzzes in.

3

4

Grant punches Derek in the face. Derek cries and falls to the ground. Grant continues, sobbing loudly. Blood spatters onto his suit.

GRANT DENYER Andrew O’Keefe? You truly are a god to a second-rate host like myself! Why hast thou brought down thy temple, Almighty Overseer?

GRANT DENYER I’m sorry! I’m sorry!

Grant looks at his bruised and bloodied hands.

He looks back down to Derek. All that is left is a red paste. Grant collapses into the paste.

ANDREW O’KEEFE Almighty Overseer? God? What? No, no – I just drank a potion that enlarged me tenfold. You must help me – it’s all part of Australia’s new media stunts directed at panel show hosts!

GRANT DENYER (CONT’D) Oh, Grant, how low hast thou sunk!

GRANT DENYER What are you talking about?

CONTESTANT #2 Now kill Sally!

ANDREW O’KEEFE They’re filming me as we speak! No panel show host is safe! Quick – come with me!

Grant looks up, his face covered in the Derek paste.

Grant Denyer jumps into Andrew O’Keefe’s hand and looks out onto a burning Melbourne.

GRANT DENYER Will nothing sate you? How simultaneously entertaining and irredeemable can one flimsy television format be?

GRANT DENYER Where are we going? There are no roads for us to follow!

The floor starts to rumble and the ceiling gives way, crushing all the contestants. Grant is the only one left alive. A shadowy figure blocks out the sun, ten times the size of Grant. It is Andrew O’Keefe.

ANDREW O’KEEFE Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.

Andrew O’Keefe starts to hover before flying into the distance, à la Zardoz.

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COLOURS OF DEIRA BY CLARA PIETREK 62

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MUSHROOM GEISHA BY POORNIIMA SHANMUGAM Instagram @poorniima_s

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LADY OF THE NIGHT WORDS BY POORNIIMA SHANMUGAM ARTWORK BY BONNIE SMITH

I will die and be reborn Slowly and gently my curves will grow Slowly and gently my light will pour Into the darkness of the night Patiently waiting to be reborn

And you will no longer remember me Not until the darkness returns And the clouds unveil my naked self

I am the pearl of the night sky A lonesome gem born from the stars Radiating until the break of dawn

Because that’s what happens when you love the moon You lose Her slowly Between the cracks of day Until She is gone completely

Then my light will be muted My spirit overlooked And my curves no longer visible

For She is the Lady of the night sky You Her daybreak The warmth that thaws Her skin

I will become a memory to you A ghost of your thoughts And soon a broken habit

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CHROMA PURPLE ARTWORK BY CALEB TRISCARI CURATED AND DESIGNED BY ILSA HARUN

Each edition of Farrago will include a photoset of a diferent colour.

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FOR AND AGAINST SOUP ARTWORK BY WASINEE (GWEN) PHORNNARIT FOR BY ELIZABETH HAIGH

S

oup is by far the greatest food that has ever existed. Not only is it cheap and easy to prepare, here are four more reasons why you should consume this wonderful creation.

Health Beneits Hot soup is the perfect thing to soothe a sore throat. Studies have even found that chicken soup can help cure a nasty cold.

So next time you reach for the cough syrup, remember, soup is a natural solution that can also double as a meal.

Flavour There are so many types of soups out there, the list is endless. Soup can cater for any palette. You can literally put any combination of foods into a broth and guarantee that someone will love it! Take Kiburu Soup, a broth made by the Chagga tribe, that live at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. This soup is made from bananas, beans, twigs and dirt. Or spare a thought for anyone who has been served a bowl of Menudo, a traditional Mexican soup made from a cow’s stomach, that can act as a cure for hangovers.

However, you can rest assured there are classic variations on this timeless meal that everyone can enjoy such as classic creamy pumpkin or potato and leek.

Convenience Soup is one of those rare foods that is both a meal and a drink.

You can have it at the dinner table with toast or crackers, you can have it in a mug or you can pour chilled soup in your drink bottle and take it to lectures (no-one will know).

Social convention also allows you to put anything into a pot of steaming stock, serve it in a bowl and call it soup. Take fruit bat soup served on the Islands of Palau – if you happen to have a spare fruit bat or two around the house, whack it in a pot with some coconut milk, ginger and spices, boil it for two hours and BAM you have a tasty and convenient treat for everyone to enjoy.

Fragrance If you step into a room where soup is being made, you will know straight away. The sensation of walking into a kitchen that has soup being cooked in it will remind you of cold winter days at home with your mother.

Soup is a blessing, and we all must strive to be worthy of it.

AGAINST BY SEBASTIAN DODDS

W

hen the editors of this here student mag came to me, asking1 me to write an argument against soup, I had to question their motives. At irst I thought this was pure character assassination – after all, who could argue against soup?

It's a dish beloved the world over; variations of the 'food but you drink it' pitch present in every continent and culture2. Yes, I thought, this is surely the Media Oicers' attempt to cut me down to size.

One too many 'suggestions', too few 'wow you guys are great’.

Well, I took the bait and here I am. Let's begin with the obvious: have you ever, in your entire life, heard the word 'soup' used as a positive description for something? Didn't think so.

'Soup' and 'soupy' are only ever brought out in conversation to describe something that's a bit too much. Thick, cold, dank fog?

A real pea-souper. Sticky, humid summer storm? Soupy. Soup has become tainted in the cultural consciousness by its own sloppy, tepid blandness.

The reason for this is that deep down we know soup ain't all that. We know it's kind of gross to slurp up a dish that (probably) came about by accident that one time a caveman overcooked the proto-tomatoes he was simmering over a haphazard ire and just thought ug urrr gruhht krorp3.

And now we've got fuckwads like Hector Blueballs all over shows like Masterchef, making soup out of cat piss and bad dreams that turn your skin bright blue because 'it's an experience, mannnnnnn'. Who the fuck is even ordering soup at restaurants?

You can make that shit at home BY ACCIDENT. You don't need Bestold Hoosgonebald turning your skin inside out through orgiastic soup-transcendence. How far does the carnage have to go before people wake up to the grotesque excess that soup has become? How long am I going to have to put up with Heather Boobs'n'All appearing on Masterchef season after season?4

1

Begging Probably. I didn't fact-check this at all.

3 Translated: Fuck it, I'll eat this slop anyway because these prototomatoes are a real bitch to hunt.

4 Also, his glasses are fucking dumb. He looks like he's cosplaying the old guy from Up (2009). He thinks he’s somehow a worldrenowned chef because he gimmicks the shit out of all his food. I promise I don't just hate him because my parents didn't take me to his restaurant when it came to Australia and instead took their good friends of several decades, the selish pricks. Fuck you Helpless Beachball.

2

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THE SUN BY DOMINIK LUKAS KIRSTEN-PARSCH Instagram @000dollars

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ROBOT BY DOMINIK LUKAS KIRSTEN-PARSCH 69 69

WE COULD USE A CREATIVE LIKE YOU!

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UMSU and the Media OďŹƒce is located in the city of Melbourne, situated at the heart of Wurundjeri land.

A key member of the Kulin Nations, we pass our respects on to the Wurundjeri elders, both past and present and acknowledge the land we are on was never ceded.