Everyone loves a success story, and in the New Zealand arts community, there’s no greater one than that of the Montana World of WearableArt™ Awards Show.

The idea for the now-iconic shows was conceived by Nelson sculptor Suzie Moncrieff. In 1987, she decided to exhibit art on human bodies as an innovative form of promotion for a rural art gallery, in which she was a co-op member. Combined with elements of theatre and dance, the result was a never-seen-before blend of art and fashion—and WOW® was born.

“In those early days, I suspect nobody had any idea of where WOW® was headed,” says Mike Ward, a Nelson-based former Green Party politician, whose hand-painted creation The Emperor’s Entourage won the competition’s prestigious Supreme Award in 2005.

Certainly, it would have been hard to predict the measure of success that WOW® would go on to find. Today—23 years after its humble debut—WOW® is a major event in design, fashion and costume calendars worldwide, attracting over 300 entries from across the globe each year. The annual award shows, now held here in Wellington, contribute a huge amount to the city’s economy and tourism industry; in fact, a study by McDermott Miller for the Wellington City Council estimated that the Montana World of WearableArt™ Awards Show in 2009 gave rise to just over $15 million of new spending.

“The biggest winners are retailers, who see close to $5 million of that,” says David Perks, chief executive of Positively Wellington Tourism.

“Accommodation-wise, Wellington is close to capacity throughout the WOW® awards season, and hoteliers and the like take in somewhere around $4 million as a result of the shows. The hospitality sector sees about $3.5 million through its tills.”

McDermott Miller’s research also indicated that 65 per cent of the Montana World of WearableArt™ Awards Shows’ audiences in 2009 travelled from outside the Wellington region exclusively to see the event. “So we’re looking at well over 20,000 [visitors],” Perks points out.

Clearly, then, it’s hard to argue with WOW®’s popularity. What is less straightforward is the show itself—a fact that its brand and strategy manager Donna Ching acknowledges.

“It’s true—it is hard to describe!” she says.

“One of our biggest strengths as a brand internationally is that we’re so unique, but it can also be our biggest weakness when you’re trying to describe it, as it really needs to be seen to be believed…”

This year’s World of WearableArt™ shows will be the eleventh that Ching has worked on. Her involvement with WOW® began in 2000, when Moncrieff and competition director Heather Palmer asked Ching to be a part of the show’s full-time management team.

“At this stage, the show was a three-night event with a total audience of 7,500, and we had no permanent home or base,” remembers Ching.

“The main appeal was the commitment, vision, and shared fun of working alongside two inspiring people. It was really a passion for me, and I never thought about it from a career or financial perspective.

“You can’t experience anything quite like WOW® anywhere else in the world,” Ching continues.

“I love the quote from Bob Haven, professor in Costume Technology at Kentucky University in the United States, who, after his first experience of entering WOW®, said, ‘athletes have the Olympics; actors have the Oscars; musicians have the Grammys; and designers and costume creators have WOW®’.”

Unlike those honours, however, WOW® isn’t exclusive. As the competition is open-entry (and judging is ‘blind’), a butcher, a baker, or even… well, a former politician has just as much chance of winning the Supreme Award as a professional costume designer does. However, the standard of entries is high: to be successful in the competition, a design has to have visual impact on a 40-metre arena stage, as well as demonstrate a high quality of workmanship—in other words, a work of art with the WOW® factor.

Room to grow

Thanks to the passion and perseverance of Moncrieff, Palmer, Ching and the rest of the team, WOW® soon outgrew Nelson. In 2005, WOW® management decided to move the awards shows to Wellington, as part of a four-year contract with the Wellington City Council.

“Certainly, we believe that Wellington was the natural and right step for the show to take in its journey to reach an international audience,” says Perks.

“Since their first year in Wellington they have increased their audience size by over 30 per cent.”

This decision was hotly contested by Nelsonians. Those who had supported WOW® since its infancy saw it as a uniquely Nelson experience—and moving it across the Cook Strait was perceived as a slight to the city in which it had flourished.

While Ward allows that the move to Wellington “opened up more possibilities” for WOW®, he points out that, as home to the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, the New Zealand Ballet and Sir Peter Jackson’s movie-making, Wellington “might be expected to produce ‘spectacular’”.

“Call me parochial,” says Ward, “but I like to think WOW® presented as an even more remarkable achievement—and a more intimate experience—against the backdrop of a modest provincial city, and that it would have continued to develop had it stayed here.

“The move was a great loss to Nelson, and in fact, came as a shock to most Nelsonians. If the city thought that there was any chance of getting it back, I believe it would [endeavour to].”

Ching maintains that WOW® had to move to Wellington if the brand was to develop both commercially and creatively, as it had “outgrown the infrastructure of a smaller city”.

“Nelson had nurtured this event—and we’re so proud of our Nelson roots—but the event had to grow for it to continue to be successful, and Wellington was the natural choice…

“The full-time WOW® team are based in Nelson—we’re a bit like a travelling circus, and move to Wellington for the three-week period of the shows,” she says.

“So the show is still effectively produced out of Nelson.”

Nelson is also recognised at the competition’s home throughout the year, due to the WearableArt™ & Classic Cars Museum, in which a selection of successful entries in the competition are displayed.

“Often, the first experiences international people have of WOW® is the Museum, and they get inspired to enter or see the show,” says Ching.

“There’s a really nice cross-promotional opportunity between Nelson and Wellington—the show promotes the Museum in Nelson, and the Museum promotes the Wellington show.”

Opening doors

Of course, WOW® is more than just a spectacle for tourists and a cash-cow for councils. Entering WOW® presents designers and creative types with the chance to challenge themselves—as well as the opportunity to make contacts in a competitive industry. In the case of 24-year-old Claire Prebble, her success in WOW® led her directly to Richard Taylor’s Weta Workshop.

Having entered WOW® 14 times, Prebble—who grew up in Golden Bay—is a comparative veteran of the competition. She gave up on conventional schooling at the age of 13 in order to pursue alternative forms of education, which allowed her more time with which to pursue her passion.

“I got involved at a really young age, and I just really, really enjoyed entering each year,” she recalls.

“I got a real buzz from seeing my costumes up on stage, and meeting all the other artists.”

She did not struggle to come up with ideas for entries.

“Sometimes I’d just have a visual idea, and I’d have to figure out a way to make it happen,” she says.

“There might’ve been some years where I’d get stuck and have to think quite a lot about what I was going to make, but that wasn’t very often… Sometimes, I’ll have ideas for costumes, and they’ll be there for years and years—it’s just a matter of when is the right time to do them.”

In 2004, aged 18, Prebble became the youngest-ever recipient of the Supreme Award for her creation Eos, which was made of sterling silver wire, copper wire, beads and silk. In order to achieve a striking stage presence, she paid particular attention to extending the design’s wings, ram’s horns, and train.

“She was a real visual thing for me, and then I came up with the concept of what she meant,” says Prebble.

“I found out that Eos was the Greek goddess of the dawn, and that worked really well, because I worked on her so many nights ‘til dawn… It all just sort of—fell together.”

Prebble used her winnings to travel for six months, in order to broaden her knowledge of international approaches to design.

“I’d been itching to travel for so many years; it was something that I really wanted to do,” she says.

“Growing up in Golden Bay, it’s only, like, 5,000 people—so I’d never even really used public transport!

“It was a huge learning curve, and probably one of the best things I’ve ever done.”

Prebble met Sir Richard Taylor of Weta Workshop through WOW®.

“I just kept in touch with him, and a couple of years later—maybe in 2006 or 2007—I was up in Wellington for the Montana World of WearableArt™ Awards Show, and I asked him if there were any projects going on,” she remembers.

“I was actually interested in being involved in Halo, but he said—well, there’s this project happening, and if you want the job, you can start tomorrow. So I flew home, and packed my bags, and came back up, and that was my 21st birthday.”

That job turned out to be designing costumes and weapons for James Cameron’s blockbuster, Avatar. Prebble worked on the movie for nearly three years, basing herself both in New Zealand and the States.

As an independent contractor, Prebble is employed to work as and when she is needed: “I keep busy with my own bits and pieces,” she says.

“Jewellery, costume work, fashion, a little bit of teaching… I get up to a real mixture of things.

“I’ve got something else on at the moment, and I’m putting all my energy into that—it’s a personal project, a costume that I’ve been thinking about for the past five years, and I’ve finally got the time to make it.”

For this reason, Prebble has not entered WOW® this year, although she has nothing but praise for the competition.

“The whole impact of the show is so spectacular and over-the-top, and it just creates such a wonderful atmosphere,” she enthuses. “It gave me such a buzz [to enter]. And it was so wonderful to meet a whole bunch of creative people who were so into it as well, and so encouraging. That would be what it’s about for me, really.”

A practical application

22-year-old Emma Whiteside graduated with a Bachelor of Industrial Design with Honours in 2009. That same year, she entered Queen Adelaide, a design made of recycled automotive radiator copper, into WOW®’s Shell Sustainability Award.

“I entered that year because it was my last year at university, and I still wanted to enter as a student,” she explains.

“I was a dancer growing up, so I quite liked the idea of relating performance to my design degree—and because I can’t sew, I wanted to push myself into doing something different.

“One of the main reasons I entered WOW® was because I wanted to do something outside uni, using my design skills in the real world.”

Working on Queen Adelaide during her Honours year was “an amazing amount of work.

“I was in my second-to-last semester of my final year at uni, and I was doing three papers: two industrial design core papers, and a fifth-year research [paper] that I was silly enough to take on—again, just because I wanted to push myself.

“So by doing WOW®, I took the risk of my grades going down,” she explains.

“But they turned out all right,” she adds, with a slight smile.

Whiteside started designing her entry with a medium in mind: scraps of automotive radiator copper, which she gathered from a factory in Auckland.

“My parents used to own the factory, so I grew up playing around with this material when I was little, and I really wanted to use it,” she says.

“I’d also used the material to make a light in my second year at university, so I knew it’d work really well with stage lights going into it.”

She used aluminium hoops as a framework for a fabric dress, which the copper parts were then sewn onto. Working with fabric was a “huge challenge” for her.

“When I started putting the dress together and it wasn’t even holding itself up—that was a big problem,” she says.

“I was going to give up then. And the next time that I thought it wasn’t going to work out was at 4 o’ clock in the morning before it was supposed to be sent, and I was still sewing copper onto the dress!”

To be eligible for the Shell Sustainability award, an entry has to be made of at least 85 per cent recycled materials. Whiteside reinforced the visual spectacle of her design with a strong and relevant concept.

“The reason I called it Queen Adelaide was because Queen Adelaide was quite a resourceful queen—she didn’t like spending public money, so at her coronation, she decided to take out all the jewels of her old crown and put them into her new one. She was sort of the ‘recycling queen’.”

Whiteside’s success in WOW® opened a number of doors for her: most notably, she was commissioned to build a giant bamboo globe for the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF), which was then exhibited at Te Papa. At the moment, however, she is focusing on developing her newly-minted furniture and lighting design business, which she has started with a fellow design graduate.

Whiteside believes WOW®’s appeal lies in its lack of elitism: “It’s not biased, there’s no hierarchy about whether you’re a professional or not… anyone can enter. That’s the thing that captures designers to enter.

“And for the spectators… it’s the fact that it’s not just a fashion show on a catwalk. It’s more like a circus, or a whole theatre production. That’s what keeps people coming back every year.”

Image: ‘Firebird’, Susan Holmes, Auckland. Winner of the 2009 Untouched World WOW Factor Award. Photo courtesy of World of WearableArt Ltd and edited by Salient.

Designer, publisher, consultant, and more recently, mayoral candidate Jack Yan is, not surprisingly, an extremely busy man. Born in Hong Kong in 1972, if Yan is successful in his bid to be the next mayor of Wellington, he will be one of the city’s youngest at just 38.

Immigrating to New Zealand with his parents, Yan was schooled in Wellington before attending Victoria University where he graduated with both a Bachelor of Law and a Masters of Commerce.

In 1987, Yan started his first company designing typefaces and turning them into digital fonts, filling a niche in which no other New Zealand entrepreneurs were operating at that point. He now runs three companies simultaneously; Jack Yan & Associates is a global media and communications consultancy firm; The Medinge Group is a Sweden based think tank concerned with issues surrounding branding; Lucire, Yan’s third company, is both a web-based and more recently, in-print fashion magazine.

As a mayoral candidate, Jack Yan has campaigned on a number of platforms. Most significantly, he aims to see free wifi available in the city, while focusing on creating jobs through a technology platform. Long the environmentalist, as seen through his work with the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), Yan promises a comprehensive environmental programme for Wellington. And, perhaps most importantly, Yan, who co-wrote a book concerning transparency in branding, assures that a council under his leadership will be significantly more transparent in its proceedings.

In this interview with Salient, Yan spoke about just one aspect of his life. Offering reflections on both his introduction to the fashion industry, and his subsequent work within the industry, Yan also offers a vision that would see fashion at the forefront in presenting Wellington to the world.

Without further ado, Mr Jack Yan…

…on his introduction to fashion.

“Strangely enough, it had actually nothing to do with fashion to begin with. In 1987, I started my own business and that was in the graphic design world. I got involved very quickly with the typesetters around town because I really love typefaces. I had the ambition to become a typeface designer, and as it turned out, I did become the first typeface designer to work on a desktop in New Zealand, to do it digitally. So, when you have that love of type at an early age you’re very aware of what is good typography, what is bad typography, how much more it costs to get good typography, and good typesetting done.

“I can’t remember what project it was at high school, but I remember picking up a copy of Studio Collections, which was an Australian fashion magazine in 1989. The typesetting in that was absolutely beautiful. You could just tell that money was lavished on this product. It was much better than Vogue et cetera. Because I was involved in the publishing world, even then—doing my own layouts and stuff, literally cut and paste; physically, scalpel and glue—I thought, what is the most glamorous way to present information? The answer is fashion.

“The fashion magazine has an aesthetic of its own, but there was no reason that aesthetic could not be shared with lesser publications, and by lesser I mean things like school magazines. I was involved with publishing school magazines to some degree back then, in the late 80s and early 90s. If you have ever looked through your old school’s magazines, they are really boring—title, columns, text and a black and white photo of the First XV. Every page was the same. I thought, there is no reason, not even cost-wise, that that aesthetic couldn’t be shifted over to the school magazine, so I started designing school magazines along those lines. It was just understanding that form of presentation.
“It was inspiration by the fashion magazine’s art direction, and that is really the reason I got into. So, it wasn’t so much a love of fashion, although I grew to love it from talking to other people in the industry and understanding that their method of creativity is quite similar to mine. Creative people do seem to have that sort of kinship, in that we do take risks and we don’t base things on some cold calculated formula. There is something inside us that drives us. We look at what the next trend is going to be, we look at the behaviour of people, and we try to translate that into something tangible. So, I shared that with a lot of fashion designers, and that is why I love, not so much fashion, but I love the creativity that goes into fashion.

“I looked at ways of pushing the aesthetics because I still to this day believe that a fashion magazine is one of the most startling, beautiful ways to present photographs and text.”

…on founding Lucire magazine.

“In the 90s, the interest thing was the world web. So, the same question arises. Web pages in 1993 were boring. It was headline, type, headline, type—you couldn’t even do columns with the initial html 1.0 specs, so again, I tried to find ways to extend what was possible with coding, to turn something into what looked like a fashion magazine. Lucire in 1997 was really an exercise in that…

“I really used fashion as a means, and as a medium to really communicate socially responsible issues. Fashion was a means to an end. It was a way to show off great art direction, and great design. I think really my passion still lies more in design more generally as a discipline, with its graphics, animations and fashion, rather than just specifically fashion. It’s a world that I really love.”

…on Lucire and the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP).

“It’s a long story. It was about 1997 that I met this guy Chris Macrae whose dad was Norman Macrae, the deputy chief editor of The Economist. In 2001, DNA, a local Wellington firm, created a site called allaboutbranding.com, which is still going. They wanted the first set of articles to be of such a high calibre that we would set the stage for everything that followed. Chris was appointed the editor, and I was appointed one of the first contributors. The site got off the ground and was very successful.

“In 2002, I was just walking about, and went to a travel agency, just out of total inspiration, and said how much is a ticket to Stockholm. I didn’t really think about, I just loved Swedish design. There was no rhyme or reason for me to go, but I just enquired about it, got the price, and went back home. About four hours later, Chris sends me an email which says ‘how would you like to come to Sweden? We’ve got this conference on there—the chief brand offices meeting. It’s in Medinge in Sweden, come along’. How many times have you enquired about going to a place just before you get asked to go? So, I took that as I sign that I was meant to go to this. I went, and that meeting really became what is now known as The Medinge Group.

“The big topic then, right after 9/11 and the Enron collapse, was social responsibility. The feeling was Naomi Klein has attacked us, Enron has collapsed, and people think branding is defunct and irrelevant to society. Well actually, it’s not. It’s just that if it is being used for evil it is bad, if it is being used for good, it’s good. We decided to write this book called ‘Beyond Branding’, and use good for good. We came up with this thing called the ‘Brand Manifesto’, which the CEO of Medinge now calls the ‘Constitution of Medinge’. It was writing this that gave me this reputation for corporate social responsibility (CSR).

“One of the people I met as a result of having gone to Medinge, was a guy called Will Rogowski, who then worked at the UNEP. I recognised that the organisation was never going to get the word out preaching to the converted. The only way to get the word out was by aligning it with a medium that was considered ‘cool’, and we could make the environment ‘cool’. I remind you this is 2002. The deal went through the UN machinery by 2003 and then we announced it. We started promoting eco-fashion, but also showed that eco-fashion didn’t mean wearing khaki tones, and hemp, but is as good, and as fashionable, and as meritorious, and as deserving as mainstream fashion, and that has always been our bag.

“Lucire really was started to show that niche fashion is as good as mainstream fashion. You could go to somewhere like Frutti, and the design integrity of those garments was as good as what was at the top of New Zealand fashion at that time—Zambesi, Karen Walker, Trelise Cooper. They deserved coverage. Late 90s fashion media was very focused on those top labels—it was very Auckland-centric. I like to think I helped change that in my own little way. Anyway, we coordinated that promotion with the environment…

“With UNEP we had eco-fashion, but we wanted to start looking at other causes. We thought let’s look at fair trade, let’s look at other things that we can promote using the UNEP banner, and they fully got on board. It generally was brought up by social conscience, but if you look through my career it has always been about game changing. With fashion on the web, I recognised you could have an international fashion magazine coming out of New Zealand. With Lucire we’ve launched here, we’ve launched in Romania and we’ve launched in Thailand. We’ve got one more country coming up which I can announce in the next few weeks.

“Again, it is showing we can do this, you don’t have to be a French company like Elle, you don’t have to be a US company like Vogue. You can do this from New Zealand and show Wellington to the world. And it’s the same with the environment.”

…on the importance of fashion to Wellington.

“Fashion is something that is very tangible, so if you are talking about creativity, it is a very tangible sign of Wellington’s creativity. There is no reason why we can’t market Wellington to the world using our designers. Say to the world: This is what we are capable of. We are leaders in this country for creativity.

“We have had a very successful run, promoting ourselves as a tourism destination, and an event capital—not thanks to the incumbent mayor, but thanks to the incumbent’s predecessor, Mr Blumsky. It is entirely conceivable that, now that we are in a creative age rather than a leisure age, we use fashion as the poster-child for Wellington’s creativity. Sure, we can use Weta. I’d love to use Weta as well, but I think it takes Weta and the geek community, equally used with fashion, to send a picture out to the world to say: Wellington is actually a centre of creativity on this planet. I don’t think that is an arrogant thing to say, and I actually believe that we are well equipped to promote ourselves as all of those things. All we need is a creative leader who gets this industry.

“Think of Silicon Valley. Silicon Valley is known for geeks, it doesn’t have the other things that make Wellington great. It doesn’t have special effects, that is in the North Bay Area. We’re talking an hour to two-hour drive north. We are the only city in the world that has all three of these things in the one space—special effects, tech and fashion. You go to Paris, they’ve just got the fashion. You go to Milan, same thing there. There is nothing else that stands out in terms of their creative realm, so there is a lot of backing in saying this is the most creative city in the world.

“We need to capitalise on that and use fashion as a gateway. Not everyone is going to be impressed by geeks. I know that. Despite the great work they do, they are always going to appeal to the Technorati. Fashion is a lot more mainstream. It is a lot broader, certainly for females—it is a much bigger area for them to sink their teeth into. So let’s use that as a means for promoting Wellington.”

The relationship between fashion and architecture may seem surprising to many, given the ephemeral (and somewhat superficial) nature of the former, contrasted with the percieved durability and permanence commonly attributed to the latter. Unlike a lot of clothing, a building is not easily tossed asunder when it shows signs of wear, nor is it as subject to seasons and the swift ascendance of new trends as is fashion. Rei Kawakubo however, an architectural enthusiast and the woman behind Japanese fashion heavyweight Comme des Garçons (CdG), has been looking into their commonalities as a means to challenge the traditional conception of fashion and architecture as separate disciplines.

Founded in 1969 in Tokyo, CdG’s designs borrow heavily from architectural materials and techniques to create intensely sculptural garments that consistently turn conventional notions of fashion and beauty on their heads. Kawakubo’s first showing in Paris in 1981 provided a dramatic contrast to the highly tailored offerings from other designers, with sculptural, asymmetrical garments layered, draped or wrapped in unconventional ways. The forms created by Kawakubo deviate from more orthodox fashion practices, and ranges such as Excellent Abstract (spring/summer 2004) use structural elements to manipulate the garment away from the body as a means of expressing the idea that a garment, much like a building is a spatial construction. In 2000, Kawakubo was honoured with an excellence in design award from Harvard University’s School of Design, and has garnered praise over the years from many of her contemporaries, including Alexander McQueen, who once cited her as the world’s most gifted designer.

In addition to subverting traditional techniques and treatments, Kawakubo’s personality presents us with a more humble front than some of the star designers and architects who often give convoluted and obtuse explanations of their work and practice. She rejects any fixed interpretation of her work and on the rare occasions she has spoken she has denied that her work should be considered art, insisting there is no hidden agenda in her design work. The very name of the company was chosen simply because she liked the sound of the words.

Brooke Hodge, in her book Skin and Bones: Parallel Practices in Fashion and Architecture, admits being interested in the parallels between the two disciplines following her work on an exhibition dedicated to CdG. During the course of her research she was “struck by the visual similarites between clothing design and architectural structure” as well as being fascinated with the aptness of “architectural terminology” for describing Rei Kawakubo’s garments.

This linguistic crossover is not confined to Kawakubo’s work and its influence can be seen in the exchange of vocabulary from both areas. Notable developments in materials and manufacturing processes have led to architects adopting sartorial terms such as wrapping, folding, weaving, layering, texturing, hanging, draping and coating to better express architectural ideas, while the fashion world has simultaneously been quick to adopt such terms as “architectonic”, “sculptural” and “constructed” to articulate a new-found appreciation of the body and its relationship to space.

Kawakubo’s architectural involvement is not limited to metaphor, however, and the formidable fashionista is extremely particular about the ‘total environment’ surrounding her label. In a way not dissimilar to the Bauhaus creation of Gesamtkunstwerk (total artwork), her desire for the completeness of experience requires her to take extensive control over the way in which her designs are to be encountered. She has worked with a number of high-profile architects such as Future Systems and Takao Kawasaki in the creation of around a dozen specifically designed CdG boutiques from Toyko to New York that dramatically contrast with more typical retail environments. In addition to these flagship stores, there are around 200 stockists worldwide whose stores must meet a certain level of architectural quality specified by Kawakubo herself, as well as innovative ‘guerilla’ stores.

In 2004 CdG initiated their first ‘guerilla’ store in Berlin in an “out-of-the-way” location designed to be open for the duration of one year only, and fitted at a minimum cost. The use of temporary structures to display and sell her garments through non-traditional means has had considerable impact on contemporary architectural practice by bringing the temporal quality of the fashion industry into the realm of a discipline with a tradition of durability and permanence. By suggesting that buildings need not be built to last, Kawakubo has opened the door to a whole new generation of architectural designers free from the immutability of traditional construction and a number of practitioners in the fashion world have since opened similar temporary outlets.

If the practice and influence of Rei Kawakubo gives any indication of the future direction of these two disciplines, we can be sure to see the boundaries between architecture and fashion to blur further. The continuing relationship between fashion and architecture is likely to produce ever richer developments in both fields, and the crossfertilisation of such practitioners as Kawakubo will see the development of increasingly hybrid practices that can reintroduce the emobodied and ‘lived’, sensory experience into architecture and unimagined architectural forms to the world of fashion.

Earlier this month, 35 architecture students (and one stealthy geology student) headed up to the UNITEC School of Architecture in Auckland to compete in the annual Superstudio competition. Organised by SANNZ (Student Architecture Network New Zealand), Superstudio is an international short-form ideas competition which sees students from the country’s three architecture schools come together to compete against students across Australasia in a 24-hour no-holds-barred contest. Designed as a chance to challenge the limits of what is normally a slow and drawn-out process, the event encourages students to push the boundaries and cast aside any technical favouritism in place of the creative, the imaginative and the plain bizarre.

What Went Down

On the Friday morning, a crew of bleary-eyed VUW students diligently set their alarms to catch the 7am train to Auckland. Thirteen hours, 352 bridges and 14 tunnels later, the southern rabble arrived at the UNITEC architecture campus in Mount Albert, where they were treated to a dinner of cold sausages and the announcement that their late arrival had already shortened the allotted time period—leaving them with just 22 hours to produce convincing architecture schemes for an esteemed judging panel. The assembly was then divided into teams of three across the schools, requiring each individual to cooperate with complete strangers as they hastily put together fantastical schemes for the scrutiny of their peers.

After a brief sleep (for some), Saturday saw most teams up and about early in the drizzly conditions visiting various sites throughout the city to locate their designs. Once back in the studio, the teams got down to some serious scribbling and squabbling as they started to push and develop their ideas, often to the consternation of the other team members.
Thankfully, a number of practising architects were on hand to offer support, and their advice was welcomed by the students as the realities of the time constraints began to take their toll.

After an intense scramble to the finish line, the pained cries of flustered students subsided and the group made their way back to the lecture theatre to present their proposals to the waiting panel. Disappointingly, the judges barely seemed to raise an eyebrow at the ensuing hilarity. Nothing seemed to be off-limits, as break-dancing brick walls and Justin
Bieber jostled for the top spot against some of the more macabre offerings that saw a dual-purpose drug rehab clinic and kindergarten occupying the same space.

Although one of the principal aims of the event is to encourage a collaborative atmosphere between the schools, it was hard not to be impressed by the dominance of the Vic contingent. Despite a home ground advantage for the two Auckland universities, the Vic group seemed to dominate the podium and represented six out of the nine place getters, the winning entry coming courtesy of a Vic-heavy team ‘Brotown’, who will now move on to compete against our Australian counterparts in a bid to win an all-expenses-paid trip to the Venice Biennale.

The closing of the competition coincided with the SANNZ AGM, which saw a number of promising young bloods elected to the exec for the following year. In addition to the new arrivals, current President Nicholas Leckie handed the reins on to fellow Victoria student Samantha McGavock, who will take charge of the organisation for the year to come. After sorting out the housework, a generous bar tab ensured that the event’s competitors were well looked after and a solid posse battled through the night, ending their festivities at Britomart station for the long journey home.

The highlight of the presentations came courtesy of Victoria’s own second-year ‘Maxwell’, who entertained the assembly with an award-winning display of comic genius and a seemingly endless draw of one-liners that had all present in stitches (minus the judges, of course). Overall, the quality of the proposals was truly inspiring, particularly given the
short amount of time taken to produce them, and the light-heartedness with which many approached the challenge proved a seriously refreshing antidote to what has traditionally been a stronghold of the super-serious.

Superstudio is a pretty fantastic platform for young students, and currently stands as the only significant point of communication between architecture students across the country. Most left the weekend feeling suitably invigorated by the camaraderie displayed by all the participants, and by all accounts this year’s event was a success which will
hopefully be repeated when Superstudio is hosted by Auckland University next year.

Props to Gordon Harris for supplying drawing material and prizes, and to KiwiRail for generously providing the Wellington contingent with the means to get there and back for bext to nothing. Chur.

Tell me a bit about yourself, what’s your background?

Ah, my name’s John Carter, just coming up 45-odd, born and bred in the Hawkes Bay. I own a dairy farm just outta Rongotea near Feilding with me lovely wife Ange, and our
two kids. I’m a pretty straight up and down kinda bloke, no hassles. I like my rugby, and a quiet beer on the odd occasion. I’ve spent most of me life on a farm, started out sharemilking for a joker near Havelock—120 acre block, 500 fresians. Always loved working the land, eh, just something about it, the piece and quiet of it all. It’s also where I learned to juggle, but uh, yeah [laughs]. Thought about university, but yeah, nah, not for me.

What do you do these days?

Still milking, still working the land. Right in the middle of calving at the moment, so busy as hell with that—hear about this nine-to-five sorta thing, 40-hour week, doesn’t really work like that out here, eh? Sunrise to sunset sorta thing, long hours, but hardly worth complaining about, especially when you’re outdoors. I love it. I try to fit in some time for the kids too, yeah, nah, but they’re pretty keen to give Dad a hand out on the farm. Oh and Ange, shit, [laughs] almost forgot the wife. Yeah, nah, love her to death, eh, just the
best thing that’s ever happened to me. Used to manage the local colts side—Te Kawa Under 21s, good lads, hired a couple of them as farm hands, keen as hell to learn about milking and that kinda thing. Weren’t much keen about the juggling though, bit of a shame, really.

How did you get to where you are today?

Ohh, I guess I was born into it—just sorta lucky I guess, given my background on farms and that. I try to be on level terms with everyone—no one needs a rough time, give everyone a fair cop. If you’re a gutsy kind with a good head on ya shoulders, then yeah, nah, no reason to resent you or anything, eh. I just worked hard, put one foot in front of the other, and I ended up here. I’m pretty bloody lucky, and don’t regret much at all. Well, yeah, nah, the juggling. Miss that a bit.

What do you do in your spare time?

[laughs] What’s that? [laughs again]. Shit, I used to remember spare time, haha. Oh, I just enjoy messin’ around with the kids, havin’ some quiet time with Ange. Meet up with the lads from rugby every now and then for a few quiets. Trying to build a deck around back, but weather being what it is, just not happenin’ for me. Got the timber, just haven’t had a chance. But, ah, this might surprise you, but I do enjoy juggling. When I’ve got a quiet moment, which ain’t that often, I grab a couple-a tennis balls—maybe even the dog’s chew toys, if they’re handy—and have a bit of a throw around. Kids love it too, they’re always naggin’ me to juggle bits and bobs—dolls, toy cars, pinecones, farm buckets. Think it’s great fun the old man can juggle [laughs]. Me brother Bruce calls me the black sheep in the family ‘cos of it—calls me Carnie, haha. Fair enough, it’s pretty out of the ordinary. Bruce’s a hard case though, he used to take the kids through the KFC drive thru and order the wrong shit. You know, like “Can I take your order?” “Yeah, I’ll have
three Big Macs and a Pizza Supreme!” Kids used to piss ‘em selves over it, think it’s a great day out. Bit of a strange streak in the family, methinks [laughs].

What about politics—what do you think are the pressing issues in New Zealand society today?

[folds arms, looks upwards] Shit, solve the country’s problems, eh? [laughs] I think the thing that gets up my nose now most of all isn’t this politically correct crap—I mean, just seems like jokers like whinging about one thing or the other and throw those words just to make it sound serious, eh? Think the biggest problem’s actually howto fit everything all in without being too much of a niggle.

Could you elaborate?

Oh yeah, I mean, we’re all kiwis in one way or another. I’ve worked my arse off for years on the land, but things are pretty bloody good if you’re a white fulla with a house and kids. But yeah, nah, we’re not the only people here. I think gettin’ everyone involved with, you know, the politics and… and how things are run, then that’s a step. Maori, Islander, female, male, gay. Just get your arse into gear, and get stuck in and this place will sort itself out. Think John Key’s got the right idea there, but he’s missing bits and pieces. Country oughta look after its own, but the government isn’t the whole country. Everyone’s gotta get stuck in. That’s what I try and tell my kids—work hard, and this place will be
good to you. Then they ask me to juggle their train sets and shit. In one ear, out the other, cant’ help it when Dad’s a clown.

Who did you vote for in the last election?

Voted for Simon Power, he’s National, eh? Yeah, good bloke, that guy. Looks out for us down the farm.

Local body elections coming up—what matters to you in your neck of the woods?

Council’s been talking about taxing farmers for excess runoff, which I think it’s a bit of a bloody waste. Yeah, nah, you can tax money off farmers for that, but that’s not the whole up and down of it. Most blokes out this ways don’t get up in the morning and think, “By jingos, I think I might go dump cow shit in the river.” We all want what’s best for the environment and the land ‘cos it’s our livelihoods. I was actually thinkin’ of running for council up here, but I’d have to ring in a sharemilker, and I can’t be buggered dealing with some of them lot on council. Me brother Bruce thought it was a cracker idea, and even came up with me slogan: “Juggling Your Issues” or somethin’ like that. [laughs, sighs] Disgraceful, to be quite frank.

What aspirations do you have for the future?

Oh, just to have a good life, raise my kids right, be a good dad, be a good husband. Might one day chuck this all in and go live on an island, but yeah, nah. The only chucking I do is on the cricket pitch—call my arm ball the ‘Mad Juggler’, used to bugger a fair share of batters. If you want, I could show you [points to dictaphone, pen, pad] how I throw ‘em up, if you want?

That would be… great?

Yeah, nah, kids love this eh. Think you could get a photo of it?

UD: Well honestly I prefer to think of it along the lines of Brecht’s Messingkauf dialogues, which are more of a dialectic materialism than a Hegelian dialectic.

JC: I think the fact that both of us understand what that means is indicative of the root problem here, Uther.

UD: What root problem, Josh?

JC: The inherent superiority complex that arises from an eclecticism of education that is part and parcel of the modern BA.

UD: Are you saying, Josh, that the endemic lack of competition and absence of non-abstract benchmarks has made the BA an achievable dream for people who would otherwise struggle in other, more rigorously assessed degrees?

JC: Yes Uther. Yes I am.

UD: How so?

JC: BAs fundamentally enable the hobbyists to justify their lack of provable skill and measurable achievement.

UD: But not all people with BAs are deluded hippies whiling away their hours on weaving animal-scaled tea cosies. Many successful artists start with BAs. Look at me.

JC: I am, Uther. Believe me, I am.

UD: The real problem seems to be that BAs lack the clear developmental path into a real-world career that other degrees like an LLB and a BCA do. People aren’t taught to survive with a BA.

JC: Do you feel that this has something to do with the lack of concise focus within the degree itself? For example, I am majoring in Film, but this semester I am taking papers in Philosophy, Science and Language Studies.

UD: I think it’s partly that, but it’s generally quite a forgiving degree anyway. You can get through the whole thing without really finishing anything, which is a skill you really need in the real world. Especially if you want to be creative, like, I think we can safely assume, most BA students do.

JC: It does seem that the BA fosters an attitude of lethargy. It becomes far too easy to start something and then get distracted by frivolities. It occurs to me that there is a more profound problem at work here though. As White Middle Class Males we have a support network that is second to none. But we have been raised to take it for granted. Anyone getting what appears to be a better hand up than us inspires some kind of muted outcry, but realistically our greatest concern is the age-old question of Beatles or Rolling Stones.

UD: We’re trained to aspire to the future without preparing for the present. With that comes a great sense of entitlement and an almost Fascistic sense of what is right and wrong. We’re more concerned about how badly we don’t want to sell out than with the actual facts of the work we want to make.

JC: I think that the greatest challenge we face is the inability to instill a sense of discipline in BA students. Oft we are told that as adults we are responsible for our own self-discipline, but the reality is that in the modern work force there is an exercised regimen of control that keeps us on deadlines assigned by others. Rarely do we actually have the opportunity to decide our own timelines. But within the BA framework there is little to no backlash for not sticking to an arbitrary set of guidelines. This encourages us to focus on devising arguments for getting out of handing in assignments than it does on getting them finished in good time.

UD: That’s all well and good and I think we can all agree that there needs to be a greater sense of effort going towards the BA. But we have to consider what the degree symbolises as a whole. It’s the degree people take when they’re not good at anything else or misguidedly want to be famous artists. Nine out of ten BA students, even if they won’t admit to it, are in the programme in the hope that it will somehow magically lead to an easy life. To think in a right-wing way, how many artists can New Zealand society support? Is tightening up the criteria of the BA a way of stemming the tide and making life easier and fairer for the people who actually put the work into their art?

JC: Do you think that the gatekeepers of the BA are, at least, partially responsible for this?

UD: Yes and no. There is an element of “those who can’t do, teach BAs”, but at the same time there are an equal amount of lecturers who are genuinely talented practitioners of the art they lecture in. The problem becomes not one of a lack of talent on their behalf, but a lack of caring. As the funding of universities changes, I think we can agree, for the worse lecturers are forced more and more to teach things they have no interest in. So it’s easy for them to stop caring and allow mediocrity to flourish.

JC: Harsh sentiments. No less true for their callousness, but harsh nonetheless. Is there a wanton lack of regard for the real-world implications of getting a BA? We implicitly understand that as an artist the odds are that we are only going to make around $20K a year for the rest of our lives. We will never own our own homes and we will probably die destitute and alone. Under a bridge somewhere.

UD: Obviously. But, at the same time, that is what is so great about the BA. Sitting here in my honours year, staring bleakly down the barrel of my future, it is easy to be annoyed with not having done a “safer” degree. But, at the end of the day, given a time machine and a sense of purpose, I wouldn’t go back and change it. The BA has all the joys of making art, but with none of the real-world bullshit. You just have to make sure you’re ready for the real world on your own terms. Which, admittedly, the BA is not a big help with. How hard can it be, really?

JC: I don’t know Uther, I just don’t know.

UD: Hold me, Josh.

JC: No, Uther. No. And that is the end of it.

You can be flamboyant. You can have brightly dyed hair, a camp voice, the works—and as long as you’re happy with yourself, cool. That’s you. Myself and many more wouldn’t even think twice about judging you negatively for it.

It’s unfortunate to read that our UniQ co-president, and our sole outward representative in Salient (and thus, to the wider student population), is being judgmental towards constituents in the ‘queer community’. Now I’m all for celebrating the diversity of this community. Our variation is one of our biggest strengths; I would’ve thought you’d agree with me there. This is the 21st century after all. We’re all our own people. But the latest column seems opposed to this.

There shouldn’t have to be a choice between being an: a) an apparently self-loathing, self-denying, internally homophobic queer; or b) flamboyant, ‘true to themselves’, balls-to-the-wall for queer rights, queer—a binary you seem to express as inevitable, despite your scapegoat “straight-acting” post-script. It is important to recognise that if someone isn’t overtly flamboyant by nature, it does not mean they’re disrespecting those predecessors who fought in the Stonewall riots, and they’re not making subtle digs at Ellen or Elton. That’s a ridiculous assertion to make.

It seems nothing but counter-productive to reconstruct that binary of ‘us gays vs. them straights’ in sexuality politics today. Don’t be so quick to pass off everything and everyone that isn’t flamboyantly gay as hetero-normative, patriarchal, and not worth your time. It’s a personal preference and natural instinct of some people, not a personal attack, to choose to embrace their sexuality through means other than conforming to stereotypical social constructs. So what?

Anyway, open your eyes and you will probably find that there are awesome straight, white, middle-class guys who walk around Lambton every day. You’ll find these people who are perfectly accepting (and even embracing) of flamboyancy, repressed flamboyancy, or those seemingly novelty “straight actors” who, incidentally, prefer to sleep with men.

There’s room for everything in the queer community. At least, there should be! Everything except ‘gatekeepers’: those who create unnecessary divides and barriers inside the queer community, when it needs to be united. These gatekeepers suck (and not in a good way), especially when they’re in positions of influence. Sure, we’re a mixed bunch. That’s why we love us, isn’t it?

“Aerial performance” is a general term for a number of circus disciplines—trapeze, aerial acrobatics, the tightrope—performed above the ground. “Tissue” has recently formed a part of this canon, especially with the popularisiation of nouvelle cirque, typified by acts such acts as Cirque Du Soleil.

In tissue performances, also known as ribbon, the acrobat contorts themselves around two strips of cloth hanging from a gantry on the ceiling. The act is usually set to a oundtrack, and the performer is clad in a sheer unitard intended to prevent friction burns. The performer winds their way up and down the ribbons in an aerial dance requiring a tremendous amount of strength and flexibility, with spectacular contortions and unfurling aerial rolls designed to thrill the audience.

There’s obviously a deal of eroticism implied in seeing lithe—often female—acrobats entwining themselves in tight sheer fabrics, positioning themselves in ways which push the boundaries of physics and gymnastic capability. Small wonder, then, that the fetish community has embraced the discipline so wholeheartedly.

Lewis: Aerial performance is obviously very gymnastic and requires a great deal of strength. Had you done any related activities before you started tissue work proper?

Morgaine: Not really, I mean I trained martial arts for seven years beforehand. That was my physical background—I’d never been to the gym or anything like that.

Lewis: So how did you start doing tissue having not had any sort of gymnastic or dancing background?

Morgaine: I kinda went sideways—I’m from Melbourne originally and I was fire-twirling. There’s quite a large fire-twirling community in Melbourne and a lot are involved with circuses, so I somehow found myself in a circus training space. I ended up doing aerials and before I knew it was training five nights a week.

Lewis: Most people’s knowledge of aerial performance in New Zealand is limited to what they’ve seen of Cirque Du Soleil. How would your performance at something like the Fetish Ball differ from a circus show?

Morgaine: Shows like the Fetish Ball are more character based—there’s a theme to them, whereas the circus is what you call a trade performance—basically all about the tricks and the sparkle. It’s very much trick, ta-da, trick, ta-da. With the Fetish Ball there’d be more of a flow, and a character behind what you’re doing.

Lewis: Do you carry along a character from other shows that you’ve done?

Morgaine: I’ve never done a fetish ball before. I’m basically going with a character that I did for a theatre show. It’s not a set character—it doesn’t have a name, more a way of moving.

Lewis: What sorts of songs do you find work best with your performances?

Morgaine: Depending on the apparatus and depending on the scene, you need something that has a beat and carries itself along quite well, but isn’t too driving. A ribbon performance needs to flow. It’s not like a ground-based performance where you can jump in time with the music. It needs to be a smooth movement, but still needs obvious auditory cues, drops and things like that. For this show I’m using Tom Waits, ‘Tango ‘til They’re Sore’.

Lewis: You mentioned apparatus. When I think aerial performance, I think two pieces of cloth hanging down from the ceiling. Are they just fabric?

Morgaine: Because you’re doing dynamic movement the material needs to hold more than just your 60 kilos or however much you weigh. It needs to hold up to ten times your body weight, and the apparatus I’m using for the Fetish Ball has a single point loading of up to a tonne.

Lewis: What would you suggest to someone interested in starting performing tissue work?

Morgaine: Wellington has a group called the Wellington Circus Trust, which is dedicated to training and supporting performers throughout Wellington. We teach classes at all levels; I teach tissue along with a couple of others. We also teach a number of other classes, hand-balancing, pole and so forth. At the moment they’re also teaching trapeze, adagio (two-person balance). They also teach fitness classes which are based around circus acts.

Lewis: Any injuries?

Morgaine: It’s very rare that you’d get to the point of doing a tissue performance and not feel safe. By then you’ve gotten past the point of not knowing whether or not you’re going to do the move properly. The biggest injuries tend to be overuse of particular joints—not really looking after your body. Rotator cuff injuries and general back injuries which come from not warming up or overusing. In tissue you tend to be wrapped and locked within the material, so it’s very hard to fall. You’re usually more worried that your rigging is safe.

The Capital Fetish Ball 2010 is being held at the Garden Club from 9pm on Saturday 28 August. Students with ID can get tickets for $20 (plus booking fee). Tickets are available from Real Groovy stores or www.dashtickets.co.nz. The theme for this year is “Skin”—costume is compulsory and it is (obviously) strictly R18.

The coalition between National and the Maori Party, which has endured now almost two years, is an odd relationship to say the least. The coalition deal by no means represented a sudden change of interests in the average Maori voter—for example, young Maori in particular continue to feature in disproportionate numbers in the most recent unemployment figures. This constituency is unlikely to be agitating for less government spending and lower taxes—cornerstones of the traditional National agenda.

Similarly, your average National-voting middle-class New Zealanders haven’t suddenly back flipped on their desire for a smaller government, and lower taxes. If anything, the surge in popularity following ex-National Party leader Don Brash’s ‘Nationhood’ speech in Orewa signifies that much of white “middle” New Zealand felt as though the Maori under the Labour Government had been empowered with too many rights through loose references to the Treaty of Waitangi.

So how then did this coalition come about? In a column from a July 2009 edition of The New Zealand Listener, political commentator Jane Clifton wraps it up by explaining “Labour became the No. 1 villain to much of Maoridom only because it devised and enacted the Foreshore and Seabed Act. National benefited from this by being the Maori Party’s enemy’s enemy, and therefore a strategic friend.”

From the National Party’s perspective it was also entirely strategic. With National’s two key coalition partners enjoying representation with five MPs each, the Maori Party effectively acts as a counterbalance to the ACT Party, ensuring the National Party can run a centrist agenda. It can look to the left when it needs to, and look right in alternate circumstances.

Holding the majority of seats in parliament, any relationship is undeniably going to work to the National Party’s advantage, but having said that, the Maori Party has enjoyed some policy achievements—most notably, the repeal of Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004, and the institution of the Whanau Ora programme, as allocated for in the 2010 Budget.

Seabed for the whanau? For sure!

The preeminent point of contention between the Maori Party and the previous Labour Government was the Foreshore and Seabed debate that arose in 2003. It was the Foreshore and Seabed Act—passed in 2004—that ultimately led to the formation of the Maori Party. The repeal of the act has remained a central policy for the party.

The Maori Party clearly stated in their 2008 election policy that they “oppose the Crown sale or lease of the foreshore and seabed or its resources, including mining”, and the party managed to convince National to sign on to “a review of the application of the Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004 to ascertain whether it adequately maintains and enhances mana whenua”.

In keeping with the Confidence and Supply Agreement, National has since agreed to repeal the act, which will no doubt be lauded as a huge victory for the Maori Party as it campaigns for the 2011 election. In a statement released in June this year, Maori Party co-leaders Tariana Turia and Pita Sharples announced: “We negotiated a review, we promised a repeal and to restore access to justice, and today we are proud to say we’ve achieved that. By working together with iwi leaders and the National Party we’ve been able to produce some significant advances”.

While the victory certainly is important for the Maori Party, the outcome of the revised legislation is likely to be less beneficial. In essence, is there really much difference between ‘Crown ownership’ and ‘public ownership’? Admittedly, that is an oversimplified analysis of the likely outcome of the revised agreement, but the Maori Party certainly hasn’t ‘gotten its way’ on this one. This is reflected in Hone Harawira’s comments: “Well, well, well … so it looks like we ain’t going to get what we wanted on the Foreshore and Seabed.”

Similarly, the Whanau Ora programme was only really a success in that it gained any funding at all in the 2010 Budget. Turia unsurprisingly heralded the announcement of funding for the plan as “A very significant day for Aotearoa. A day in which the government has placed its faith in families; a day in which the state invests in the potential of whanau.” Despite the brave face, Labour’s spokesperson for Maori Social Development and Employment Nanaia Mahuta was quick to point out that secretly, “Tariana Turia must feel a little short changed after the government decided to allocate a mere $33.5 million dollars a year for four years to fund Whanau Ora, $800 million dollars short of what she first expected”.

Columnist John Minto is perhaps most cynical about the whole Whanau Ora programme, predicting that in spite of its “aim to benefit struggling Maori families, National will it use to undermine state provision of social services and open the sector for the damages and ravages of privatisation. Maori will be the predominant losers”.

Does this relationship alienate Maori voters?

Maori voters have traditionally associated themselves with Labour, thus the coalition agreement has the potential to alienate them from the Maori Party. Moreover, while the Maori Party has achieved some of their policy goals, these appear to serve corporate Maori much more than the average Maori voter.

Jon Johansson, a Senior Lecturer in Victoria University’s Political Science programme, asks: “If you are a Maori voter in South Auckland in 2011, what are you going to do? Are you going to reward the Maori Party for its Foreshore and Seabed Act? How many busses does it take to get from South Auckland to a beach? Do you even go to a beach, let alone have any access to whatever benefits accrue from having customary title over that beach?”

From these questions come uncertainties over the future of the party. “Maori might give them a second chance, but the tension you see there between the Hone Harawiras, and the leadership in the party—and the trajectory they’ve taken the party—you can see that Hone reflects that core constituency that actually puts the party in there. The leadership will alienate the Maori electorate at their peril,” Johansson says.

If one looks at the history of party success in the Maori seats, after the introduction of MMP—when the Ratana-Labour deal broke up—New Zealand First claimed those seats. Labour then claimed them back, and while the advent of the Maori Party saw a few of the Maori seats won by that Party, Labour has managed to retain some, indicating that Maori voters don’t appear to have an automatic association with the Maori Party.

So, even though the Maori Party has achieved much of what they set out to do, recent unemployment figures reflect that the relationship hasn’t trickled down to benefit their core constituency. Alongside the fact that the Maori Party is already failing to secure the Maori vote entirely, life for many Maori under the National-Maori-ACT government may call into question the continued viability of the Maori Party.

Is white middle-class New Zealand similarly threatened?

“Only on a daily basis,” says Johansson.

“If you have ever been to a National Party conference, one of the things that really stands out is the absence of Tangata Whenua and other ethnic groups. It is still overwhelmingly a white middle-class party.”

Despite being riled by the media as racist, the most important effect of Brash’s ‘Nationhood’ speech at the Orewa Rotary Club was that it facilitated the spectacular rise in support for National. Brash spoke of what he saw as a “dangerous drift towards racial separatism in New Zealand… where the minority has a birthright to the upper hand”. Controversial as his opinion was, a lot of the public seemed to agree, and National’s standing was boosted significantly in the polls.

While Brash narrowly lost the 2005 election, his speech really did sow the seeds for the National Party’s reclamation of parliament in 2008. As such, Johansson points out “many National Party supporters would have been far happier if there had just been a straight out National-ACT coalition, because then they would have had a policy mix more conducive to why they voted for National”.

He does comment, however, that despite many National supporters’ clear distaste surrounding an agreement with the Maori Party, “the smarter people inside National understand that National can’t not be in that action, and for too many years it wasn’t—certainly during the Brash era”.

“Bill English understood the problem, but was in there at the wrong time to do anything about it, so Key has struck the right path for his party, and I think National Party supporters are willing to swallow a lot because they were out of power for nine years. They don’t want to return to that state anytime soon, so they realise the real politic and advantage that accrues from having that greater strategic flexibility.”

While there certainly is some support for Key’s decision to include the Maori Party in the arrangement as outlined, Johansson concedes, “There is still a certain amount of unrest about [the coalition], and you see that from time to time in the reaction to anything that Hone Harawira says.”

Harawira has recently said he would not be comfortable to see his children with Pakeha partners—such comments do little more than to widen the racial gulf in New Zealand, and simply justify the racial prejudice much of white New Zealand still so clearly holds.

One woman interviewed on TV One’s Marae programme thought it appropriate to suggest that Maori should “stay” up in Waitangi, and leave the rest of us in peace “down here”. While her ignorance borders on comical, views such as these really do illustrate that many of National’s traditional constituency clearly remains threatened by the party’s coalition partner.

Where to for the Maori Party?

Despite the problems faced by both parties, the Maori Party faces much broader issues than their coalition partners. It isn’t unrealistic to expect the Maori Party’s constituency to give the party another go in 2011, despite its relative failings. Similarly, it isn’t unlikely the party will attempt to engage in another agreement, especially with its pressing need to keep the removal of the Maori seats off the National Party’s agenda. Moreover, day after day, it becomes clearer that the Labour Party isn’t going to able to seriously contend the next election. But realistically, Labour will be revitalised, and the Maori Party will have to reevaluate its relationships, especially if it aims to keep its constituents happy.

In the 2005 election the Labour Party attempted throughout the campaign to discredit the Maori Party. They did this by associating the party with National, and to Labour’s dismay this did little more than to set into motion the cogs of partnership, which underscore the present coalition. Despite this, Johansson contends “that in many respects Pita Sharples would be happier sitting around a Labour Cabinet than a National one, and the attitudes of your average Labour politician would be more comforting to Pita Sharples than those on the National side”.

The problem lies with the Maori Party’s other leader—Tariana Turia. Turia was a member of the Labour Party before the Foreshore and Seabed legislation saw her resign in her refusal to tow the party line. Johansson believes that “the utu that she struck in 2008 surrounding the circumstances of her resignation from Labour will be ongoing, and so long as she is there, she is actually an impediment to the party.”

“You have to flip it on its head here. It suits the Maori Party at the moment to stick with National because it is getting some policy wins, but the Maori Party can only survive long-term if it can in fact go with either, and so long as Tariana is there, it is shutting off half of its equation.”

Therefore, as long as Turia remains at the helm of the Maori Party, a future Labour government will have one of two choices. They can either pander to the party’s interests in an attempt to bury the hatchet with Turia specifically, or on the other hand, and perhaps more realistically, Labour could simply do its damndest to discredit the Maori Party among its core voters, purloining all the Maori seats, consequently destroying the party.

While certain constituencies may feel threatened by the Maori Party in its relationship with National, it is the Maori Party that in the end faces the most threatening situation.

On 7 April 2008, New Zealand became the first developed country to sign a free trade agreement (FTA) with China. The agreement came into force on 1 October that same year, signaling the beginning of a blossoming economic relationship between the two countries. But why has New Zealand so fervently pursued an economic relationship with China? What’s in it for us? And what interest does China have in an island nation, with a population of only four million people, at the bottom of the South Pacific?

The deal

The substance of the FTA was negotiated over a three-year period. Kefeng Chu, Director of Operations–China from New Zealand Trade and Enterprise (NZTE), says that the final product of the negotiations, the FTA that is now in place, “liberalises and facilitates the trade of goods and services, improves the business environment and promotes cooperation between the two countries in a broad range of economic areas”.

In addition to this, Chu says the FTA ensures “that any services and investment provisions that are extended by China to third countries in future trade agreements will automatically be applied to New Zealand”.

For most of us, this just sounds like economic gobbledigook. So what does the signing of the FTA mean in a sentence? The Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade (MFAT) summarises the FTA as this: “New Zealand and China have entered into an agreement that allows for mutually beneficial concessions in the area of trade of goods, services and investment.”

There are several specified “key outcomes” of the FTA. The most important of these is the removal, over time, of tariffs on 96 per cent of New Zealand exports to China. The FTA outlines rules to determine which products qualify for tariff cuts, along with rules to “counter unfair trade or unexpected surges in imported products from the other country”. The FTA is, in some respects, a more formalised means of building upon and expanding our already cooperative economic relationship with China.

For a number of reasons, it makes sense for a small nation like New Zealand to pursue an FTA with China. Despite the recession, China’s economy has continued to grow, even if at a slightly lower rate. China has become an important player economically and politically on a global level, and its importance is unlikely to diminish in the foreseeable future. Some political commentators have predicted a shift in the global ‘balance of power’ from the United States to China and East Asia.

In the two years since the FTA was signed, China has gone from New Zealand’s fourth to second largest trading partner. Agricultural products, including dairy, wool, oils and fats, are New Zealand’s main exports to China. Beyond the agricultural sector, forestry, seafood, machinery, aluminium and high technology products are among New Zealand’s other export products to China. Trade with China is crucial to New Zealand, and yet because of our size and relative economic unimportance, we are but a blip on China’s economic radar.

A long-standing relationship

New Zealand’s relations with China date back to the late 19th century, when Chinese migrants arrived in New Zealand seeking jobs and other opportunities. Professor Xiaoming Huang, who heads the Contemporary China Research Centre at Victoria University, says three stages are evident in New Zealand’s relationship with China. The arrival of this first generation of Chinese in New Zealand, many of whom found jobs as gold miners, marks the first stage in relations between the two countries.

The second stage, Huang explains, spans the 1930s and the Second World War period, when a few New Zealanders ended up in China. He says they developed “very good relations with the then-exiled Communist groups in different parts of China”. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) eventually took power in the Communist revolution of 1949. As a result, the relations that New Zealanders had developed with members of the Communist party became very useful.

New Zealand established formal diplomatic relations with China in 1972, recognising the People’s Republic of China led by the CCP. In the years since, the relationship with China has become, according to MFAT, “one of New Zealand’s most valuable and important”. Visits by high-level officials and politicians have been exchanged between the two countries, particularly since the mid-1990s. Prime Minister John Key has twice visited China, the most recent visit being just a month ago, while the Chinese Vice-President touched down in New Zealand in June.

What has paved the way for greater economic cooperation between New Zealand and China is the opening up of the Chinese market, a process started by Deng Xiaoping in 1978. His sweeping economic reforms ended the stranglehold that the CCP and the state held over the Chinese economy. China’s economic liberalisation and entry into the global marketplace has seen China’s wealth grow considerably, with business and private enterprise opportunities opening up for both the Chinese population and foreign investors hoping to tap into the Chinese market.

Huang says that particularly over the last ten years, and especially with the FTA, New Zealand and China have built a relationship with “more substance”—marking the third stage in bilateral relations between the two divergent countries.

“China and New Zealand, they are different sizes, [come from] different political ideological camps, different historical backgrounds, but somehow they have found common interest to nurture their relations.”

Huang adds, “What China wants here and what we want from China may not always be the same, so you do have [those] different views about the relations. New Zealand is doing quite uniquely with China.”

What are we set to gain?

The economic benefits to be gained from an FTA with China have been a major talking point in media coverage of the New Zealand-China relationship. Charles Finny, Chief Executive of the Wellington Chamber of Commerce, says that since the signing of the FTA, New Zealand has been doing even better than expected.

“The modeling done before the negotiations started suggested that a high quality FTA would deliver benefits worth hundreds of millions to the New Zealand economy. The performance of our goods and services exporters since the FTA was signed suggests that the growth in our exports has probably exceeded these expectations.

“During the first year of operation, New Zealand exports to China grew by 60 per cent. This was in the face of a global recession, which saw the biggest contraction in international trade since the 1930s. Over the last year, exports to China have continued to grow strongly at around 25 per cent.”

Finny adds that New Zealand consumers have also benefited from “lower prices resulting from tariff liberalisation at the New Zealand border”.

Chu says that as a result of the FTA, New Zealand products enjoy 15 per cent lower tariffs, compared with countries that don’t have an FTA with China.

The FTA has “helped to increase the overall awareness of the potential of the China market for New Zealand businesses, and there is an increasing number of New Zealand companies who are interested in the China market or have entered the market,” Chu says.

“The FTA has also resulted in an increased awareness of New Zealand, at least in some business sectors and amongst some senior government officials in China.”

Given New Zealand’s size, exports are crucial to the economy. “In the longer term, the FTA with China will increase our exports to China,” Chu says.

“The FTA also leads to greater cooperation in the areas of customs, sanitary and phytosanitary measures and intellectual property, which will improve the operating environment for New Zealand companies and their services/products in the China market.

“There are also other areas of cooperation, such as agriculture and food safety, that have strengthened as a result of the FTA.”

In the end this will help increase New Zealand’s presence in China, no doubt having flow on economic effects for us back home.

Bumps along the road

It hasn’t all been smooth sailing in New Zealand’s relations with China. Prior to the signing of the FTA, Finny says New Zealand faced a range of barriers to goods and services exports into the Chinese markets.

“These ranged from quotas, to high tariffs to heavy regulation. Our companies also had poor protection for their IP [intellectual property]. The FTA has liberalised these barriers and increased protections for New Zealand companies.

“Our key competitors—Australia, [the] EU, US, Canada—do not enjoy the good access conditions New Zealand now enjoys.”

China does not present as much of a concern to New Zealand, strategically and politically, as it does to bigger countries like the United States and Australia. This could be a reason why New Zealand has been able to develop cooperative relations with China, but others have found it a more complex prospect.

“If you look across different countries, certainly New Zealand feels less [political problems] or otherwise in dealing with China,” Huang says.

“I suppose because we don’t have much of a strategic concern that some other countries might have—the United States, or even Australia I think—[their concerns are] bigger than just economic interests I suppose.”

However, debate does occur in New Zealand about the nature and shape of our relationship with China. And this debate goes beyond the issue of economics. Huang says that different interests and views regarding relations with China do exist within New Zealand society.

“It’s not like there’s no questions or debate about what we do with China… Particularly more recently in terms of how do we deal with incoming Chinese capital to buy land, to buy companies? How do we deal with labour issues, politics in China, values, human rights issues—all these issues. You do have different groups and interests in New Zealand.”
Interestingly, Huang doesn’t think these competing interests pose much of a barrier to New Zealand’s relationship with China—thus far the two countries have successfully made agreements based on what common ground they do share.

“They’re just a part of the policy process and general public interest,” he says.

The future?

China is going to play an important role in New Zealand’s economic future, Finny believes.

“The international financial crisis has increased China’s relative economic position globally, and reinforced the importance of China’s foreign exchange reserves and the strengths of its banking system,” he says.

“China has become more important to New Zealand, not just as a trading partner… but as a source of capital and investment funds. As a country that is a net importer of capital, we need China if we are to maintain our standard of living and improve upon this. We need a more sophisticated debate on foreign investment. If we don’t access capital from abroad, where is it going to come from?”

Finny touches on a good point, one that came to prominence when a Chinese-backed company proposed buying the Crafar farms earlier this year. There appeared to be considerable opposition to the proposal, and foreign investment in New Zealand farms appeared to hit a bum note among New Zealanders. Huang says that the issue of land purchases touches at the very “foundation of New Zealand society [and] economy in a sense, this is the way we built our system”.

John Key made it clear in an interview on Q+A that he was concerned about New Zealand farms being sold offshore in large numbers because he believes it’s “not a good thing for New Zealand”. But as Finny says, if the capital can’t come from within New Zealand, where else are we to turn?

New Zealand’s budding relationship with China is not going to be without its challenges. As ties with China grow stronger, no doubt it will have some impact on policy debate in New Zealand and how we see ourselves as a country. But New Zealand has set itself on a path that it might find difficult to turn off.

“Movement of Chinese capital around the world is a phenomena you can’t stop,” Huang says.

“[The] question is how international society can build relations so it can be useful for us. It’s a challenge.”

North Korea fascinates me. A country of contradictions and frightful distortions of fact, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) is also home to the world’s largest display of coordinated gymnastics in the world. The Mass Games, or Arirang as it is locally known, takes place annually in Pyongyang’s 150,000-seat May Day stadium and sees more than 100,000 gymnasts and performers take to the floor for a 90-minute synchro-spectacular that former US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright once referred to as “an Olympics opening ceremony on steroids”.

Often referred to as “the hermit kingdom”, North Korea is one of the world’s least-known societies and is practically sealed off from all outside influences. As a single party state it is one of the last remaining Stalinist vestiges, and follows its own set of communist ideals called the ‘Juche’ ideology, developed out of reverence for the almighty Kim Il-sung, their Eternal President—a man who, despite passing away in 1994, remains its eternal Head of State.

Currently, the country is under the care of that lovable puppet Kim Jong Il, who has maintained a controversial ‘Military First’ policy that sees a quarter North Korea’s GDP spent on maintaining the highest percentage of military personnel per capita anywhere in the world. Controversial indeed, when you consider up to three million of North Korea’s 23 million inhabitants have starved to death while its authoritarian head continues to spend ludicrous amounts on nuclear development and the upkeep of events such as Arirang—which annually drains ridiculous amounts of man hours for what is viewed by many as an hour and a half of spectacular political propaganda.

The Arirang version of mass games has been practised more or less annually since its beginnings in 1946, and takes place during the summer months. The performances have grown ever more lavish and fiendishly choreographed over time, although occasionally political unrest and national emergencies have disrupted the proceedings. After six to eight months of intensive training and rehearsal (an estimated 100 million man hours) the games normally take place four times a week over an eight-week period in the summer months, when tourists from outside of the republic are actively welcomed to tour Pyongyang and its surroundings.

Historically, massive coordinated gymnastics displays have held pride of place in the communist calendar. Dating back to at least the 19th century, Czech nationalists observed a similar practice in Sokol Slet, and Eastern bloc nations like Romania found the tradition an excellent and demonstrative way of expressing and reinforcing their ideology. After the Soviet Union collapsed, many of these nations discontinued these practices, although their influence can still be seen today as many of these countries still hold unrivalled dominance in the sport of gymnastics. The North Korean version is the only ongoing event of such magnitude and, as such, offers a genuinely unique opportunity to witness the power of mass synchronicity.

The festival involves over 100,000 participants which includes about 80,000 interchangeable floor gymnasts who perform the spectacularly complex and impeccably choreographed routines to the sound of Korean orchestral classics. Without the aid of floor markings, gymnasts and acrobats dance, jump and tumble with unfathomable precision, performing wretchedly complicated arrangements from blooming flowers to intersecting shapes that swell, subside and flow into each other in perfect time with the group. There are no flailing limbs, no off-beat individuals or unbecoming breaks to divert your attention from the “patterns of perfection”.

In addition to this display of coordination, a backdrop is constructed from up to 20,000 young school students who collectively make what is (unsurprisingly) the world’s largest man-powered jumbotron. By holding up single colour pages from a 170-page booklet and coordinated by semaphore, the students are trained to alternate the pages of the book with exceptional adroitness to create moving animations across an entire wall of the stadium. Subjects for display include triumphant North Korean soldiers taking to their southern counterparts with bayonets, a flying kick from a Tae-kwon-do champion and a magnificently radiant image of “the Incarnation of Might Displaying Infinite Creative Ability”, himself, their almighty leader, Kim Jong-Il.

While it’s easy enough to be dumbstruck having witnessed this gigantic human TV via short clips on the interwebs, what struck me most was the incredibly saddening thought of thousands of schoolchildren holding up an image they can’t see. However, in A State of Mind, the seemingly well-balanced BBC documentary on the games, we are presented with a much more ambivalent stance which appeared to show that the mere participation in the world’s largest man-powered jumbotron is reward enough for the participants. A regime that can at times appear maddeningly sick to us can simultaneously appear infinitely wonderful to its participants.

But for those of us without the unwavering adoration for a 5’2” madman, exactly what is it about such large-scale and extravagant coordination that gets us all going? While it is easy enough for us to get lost in the incredible injustices that are occurring at the same time as this maniacal exhibition of power and discipline, perhaps there is something more to this decidedly false Utopian image of the DPRK that we can take away.

For those of us who have been raised in the western world it is easy to misunderstand or miss entirely the purpose of the Arirang festival without any explanatory context. Taken at face value the games are a perfect example of the state’s ideology: the subordination of the individual’s desires to the needs of the collective. The author of Korea Bug, J. Scott Burgeson, invites us to set aside the event’s authoritarian undercurrents and to consider Arirang as “a case in which the sum is greater than its parts”. He also calls for us to view the spectacle as an example of collective artistic achievement as opposed to a tyrannical display of order and submission. This ultimately fits well with the North’s desire to market the games as “A triumph of human creativity that on a purely aesthetic level trumps all political or ideological underpinnings.”

What can be certain is that the games, with their newfound position on the international tourism calendar, present those curious enough with a rare opportunity to travel to the heart of the world’s most secretive state.

Should you have any compulsion to witness such a spectacular show (as I certainly do), you can buy a ticket to the festival that will see you seated on the Dias reserved for the Illest dictator around for about NZ$600. For those of us without sugar daddies/mummies you can still get the economy ticket for around $150. As a side note, it is worth checking to see if you can actually get a visa before investing. If a trip to North Korea is a bit of a mission you can always just watch the watered-down version on Youtube or alternately buy a kaliedescope and attend a local gymnastics competition in the Hutt.

Of course, this kind of appropriation has a long, storied, and at times highly controversial history. “There’s long been an interest [in Asian culture] in the West. You could trace it back to the Greco-Roman world, with exotic products coming overland from the Silk Road,” says Professor Stephen Epstein, Director of Victoria University’s Asian Studies Programme.

Appropriation can occur in a variety of ways, and can be as simple as purchasing a piece of kitsch from Iko Iko, getting a tattoo of a Kanji character on your wrist, or even preparing a plate of sushi for dinner. Although these examples may seem trivial, the processes of appropriation, which extends to the ownership of artefacts from a foreign culture, can at times be problematic.

A Brief History of Orientalism

To explain, Epstein points to Edward Said’s book, Orientalism. Here, Said traced the history of western fascination with eastern cultures, and their depiction as an exotic “Other” with promises of the unknown, mystical properties and distinct aesthetic qualities. “The East,” Epstein says, “was positioned in binary opposition to the West. It was a mirror image, an inferior image, and a feminised image.” Throughout the ages then, western travellers have returned from the East bearing exotic artefacts, which showcased these oriental qualities, and in turn began to influence western culture. And, as Epstein explains, these processes continue today.

“You still see a lot of orientalist tropes in action, particularly in mainstream western culture, emphasising the mysterious East, as it were. Take Lost in Translation, which really polarises people. It’s both critiquing Bill Murray’s character, but also making fun of ‘wacky’ Japan, and presenting Japan as unknowable. Remember tall Bill Murray in the elevator scene, where he’s towering over all the ‘identical’ Japanese? So there definitely still is a lot of orientalism going on.”

Burger Fuel, Star Wars and the Zen Masters

Films like Lost in Translation and The Matrix can be seen as a continuation of this Orientalist process, producing an idealised image of Japanese and pan-Asian culture which does not necessarily reflect their contemporary cultural makeup. For instance, when we think of Japanese television, our minds might instantly jump to the clips of bizarre gameshows featuring slippery obstacle courses, human Tetris and Matrix-style ping pong that Burger Fuel seems to be so obsessed with playing on those wall-sized LCD screens of theirs. But does this really represent the makeup of terrestrial Japanese programming? In fact, the most popular genre on Japanese screens turns out to be the light serial drama, which receives more airtime than either the madcap gameshows or the even more familiar export, anime.

The figure of the venerable Asian spiritual master, at one with the world via some kind of Zen mind conditioning, is equally stereotypical and familiar to us. I need only mention the words Star Wars, Yoda and the order of the Jedi to remind you of just one example of the sorts of pseudo-mystical philosophising that is constantly dredged up in mass-media depictions of Asian or Asian-inspired spirituality. These kinds of depictions are often superficial, if not downright wrong, and may draw as much on western new-age wish-wash or bastardised Freudian theory as on any genuine eastern spiritual practice.

Re-Appropriation and Lolita Fashion

However, cultural appropriation does not necessarily have to be harmful, or stereotyping. It can also be playful, curious or thought-provoking, and it can often be multi-directional. At the same time teenagers across the world don Sailor Moon outfits and upload cosplay (an abbreviation of costume roleplay) videos to YouTube, the Japanese have been engaging in Lolita fashion. An incredibly popular subculture, Lolita fashion draws on Victorian-era clothing (think frilly blouses and petticoats) and updates it by applying gothic-era aesthetic tweaks. Naturally, this style has since produced a veritable cornucopia of offshoots, some of which incorporate traditional Japanese (Wa Lolita) or even Chinese (Qi Lolita) styles into the Victorian outfit. And if that somehow wasn’t culturally complex enough for you then there are plenty of videos to be found on YouTube featuring westerners showing off their finest Lolita threads to the invisible hoards that frequent the internet.

As Epstein notes, “appropriation involves increasing interconnection, movement of people, and cross-fertilisation”. The result is an increasingly blurred set of notions of cultural ownership. Does Lolita fashion encapsulate something quintessentially Japanese? Or is it really just an appropriation of an anachronistic mode of dress? Is it a dead culture, which has become fair game for appropriation by anyone, anywhere, or an unfortunate revival of an oppressive mode of dress? Is an English teenager wearing a Lolita outfit more or less authentic than a Japanese teenager doing the same? At some point these kinds of questions simply stop becoming interesting. It might sound banal, but at the end of the day culture is just culture.

That Fluoro Green Digital Rain Shit

What we do want to be aware of though is the moment where appropriation becomes more troublesome. Commoditisation of culture, where one group gains monetary benefits by mining the culture of another, is particularly problematic, especially when it occurs in a manner that fails to engage in any kind of dialogue or exchange with the source culture and its heritage. Think of those descending Katanaka characters in The Matrix. Their usage in the film serves little purpose other than to function as a bit of extra window-dressing, or as a sprinkling of what Epstein calls Japan’s “Gross National Cool” to make the Nebuchadnezzar and its crew seem that much more multi-cultural. Japan, and therefore anything vaguely ‘Japanese’, become signifiers for the cool, the edgy and the high-tech. Call it Neo-Orientalism if you will. Sigh. Oh, and did I mention that they ripped the ‘digital rain’ directly from the opening credits from the anime feature Ghost in the Shell?

Samurai Code +Hip Hop + Chess

In spite of all this, some of the more wonderful exponents of cultural appropriation and re-appropriation should not be disregarded. Think of the Wu-Tang clan, and in particular GZA’s three-way mashup of hip-hop, Samurai philosophy and chess in Liquid Swords. In the words of the man himself:

“Liquid Swords comes from a kung-fu flick… But the title was just… perfect. I was like, Legend of a Liquid Sword. Damn, this is my rhymes. This is how I’m spittin’ it. We say the tongue is symbolic of the sword anyway, you know, and when in motion it produces wind. That’s how you hear ‘wu’.That’s the wind swinging from the sword. The ‘Tang’, that’s when it hits an object. Tang! That’s how it is with words.”

Anyone who has heard Liquid Swords will know how perfectly this metaphor applies in the context of GZA’s music. If the tongue symbolises the sword, than what is the art of the MC if not the art of ‘liquid’ swordplay? Not only has GZA appropriated (by way of samples from Samurai flicks, as well as from a lyrical and philosophical standpoint) the Samurai code, he has also engaged in a cultural dialogue, drawing parallels between both sets of aesthetics (and chess!) in a manner that extends beyond mere fetishisation or fascination with Otherness. If the example of Liquid Swords tells us anything then, it is that culture is always in a state of flux. Simply put, culture changes, and regardless of whether different kinds of appropriation are ‘good’ or ‘bad’, they are still going to occur, and produce (potentially new) meanings as a consequence.

Today, the repetitive jerk of the Maneki Neko (Beckoning Cat) arm is one of the most familiar sights in quotidian Wellington life. I cannot accurately imagine Wellington’s Cuba Quarter without thinking of all those delicious (and cheap!) Malaysian restaurants. Sushi bars are equally ubiquitous, and there are more than a few Korean joints (and Karaoke bars) nestled about as well. Doubtless, my own desire to seek out these imported flavours is in part the result of an ongoing fascination with their Otherness. However, just as we have imported Asian cuisine and culture, the process, as Epstein concludes, goes both ways: “A lot of it is back and forth, and it becomes difficult to talk about things being specifically eastern or western anymore.”

“The peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error.” John Stuart Mill, On Liberty, 1859

On 18 June, Green Co-Leader Russel Norman waved a Tibetan flag in view of the visiting Chinese Vice-President Xi Jinping as he entered through the parliamentary forecourt. Norman claims that the flag was pulled from his hands by Chinese security, forcing him to move closer to Jinping in an attempt to retrieve it. The subsequent events—the alleged security threat to the Vice-President and the rough handling of Norman by Chinese security—unloaded a cannonade of opinion. The Vice-President avoided the eye of the storm—opting to bunker down at his hotel rather than brave his scheduled engagement at Victoria University.

The media fracas raised an important issue: Where do the boundaries of freedom of expression lie and what role does it play in New Zealand society?

A number of commentators expressed outrage at Norman’s actions, saying they were irresponsible and jeopardised New Zealand’s relations with China. Paul Henry described it as “economic espionage”.

Other commentators vigorously defended his right to freedom of expression.

Norman himself calls it “a mixed bag”.

“I mean some of the media did quite strongly defend freedom of expression. Whether they defined it particularly well or not, they certainly did try to defend it.

“A number of them didn’t defend it because they said, well, you’ve got freedom of expression but you can’t use it in a particular way that is offensive. Which is of course the government’s line. And so of course that means you don’t have freedom of expression if you are not allowed to say things that are offensive.”

Dean Knight is a Senior Lecturer at Victoria University’s Faculty of Law, and Associate Director of the New Zealand Centre for Public Law. An expert in constitutional issues, he agrees that the right to expression includes the ability to offend.

“Our courts have said that just annoyance isn’t enough… You can’t be too quick to dismiss protesters because they make you feel uncomfortable.

“The Chinese Government doesn’t get the right to choose how they are going to get protested against. The whole point about freedom of expression and protest is that it is, by and large, meant to cause annoyance and make people feel uncomfortable, because that stirs up ideas.”

However, Steven Young, President of the New Zealand Chinese Association, says that “people’s actions can be circumscribed by considerations other than constitutional or legal rights, such as dignity, respect, harmony, the common good—[ideas] which are, I suppose, Confucian.

“How would the public feel about an immigrant or Maori charging at the Duke of Edinburgh on the steps of parliament?”

For Norman, the protest was about representing the views of his supporters.

“I think that the key thing is that we are here to represent the people of New Zealand and those who elected us. That is our primary responsibility—not to the executive or the cabinet, nor is it to the Chinese Government. So the people that voted for the Greens feel very strongly about human rights,” he says.

“I think the New Zealand Chinese Association might want to decide whether it supports the Chinese Communist Party or whether it supports free speech.”

Context is everything
The right to expression is a broad one. Under section 14 of the Bill of Rights Act 1990, it entails the freedom to seek, receive and impart information and opinions of any kind in any form. However, the right is not unrestricted. The Bill of Rights only applies to bodies exercising public powers or functions. Furthermore, under section 5, rights and freedoms within the act may be subject to reasonable limits that can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.

Knight says context is everything.

“I mean, freedom of expression is important—we need to be incredibly vigilant about protecting people’s rights to do it. But that’s not to say we can’t place legitimate restrictions and limits on rights for proper purposes. The big argument is whether the instances you talk about are being done for proper purposes, or just to avoid upsetting one of our major trading partners. The cynics will say that there are bad motives… I think the point is that we need to scrutinise those limits carefully to make sure they are being done for proper purposes.”

One element of Norman’s protest that drew criticism was its location on the parliamentary forecourt. The general public are excluded from protesting in the area, and Norman’s ability to get up close to the Vice-President was denounced as an abuse of his privileges as an MP. However, the issue also brought to light whether the restrictions on the area are justified.

Speaker of the House Lockwood Smith acts as parliament’s landlord and thinks that the restrictions on protest around the parliamentary forecourt are legitimate. He points to guidelines issued in 1999 to comply with the Bill of Rights, which he says “are fair and do not interfere with individual rights to demonstrate within the grounds of parliament”.

According to Smith, these“include a requirement for members of the public to seek authorisation to stage a demonstration and restrict certain activities… Members of the public staging a peaceful demonstration are also required to keep clear of the parliamentary forecourt”.

Smith says that these guidelines were also intended to apply to MPs, and he has reiterated his preference for MPs to check with his office before any demonstrations.
While Knight concedes that restrictions around the forecourt that protect foreign dignitaries are “a legitimate thing we can regulate”, he also suggests that MPs might have greater rights of access than the general public.

“MPs, through their tradition, their role as community representatives, you might more strongly protect their right to protest around parliament because it’s more closely politically aligned to what they do in parliament—it’s their job, it’s their space. Whereas a general person going along there, you might put the barriers back further. I think it’s grappling with where to draw those distinctions and those lines, which is quite hard.”

Rights or Dollars?
The Norman incident comes swiftly behind a series of instances where New Zealand officials appear to have bowed to Chinese interests.

In 1999, police parked a bus in front of protesters at the APEC conference so that the Chinese President would be free from interference, infringing the protesters’ right to expression. Senior ministers were implicated as directly authorising the action.

More recently, both Auckland and Wellington City Councils have attempted to ban Falun Gong from their Christmas parades, with barely concealed imputations that it harms their relationship with China. Wellington City Council backed down in 2007 after it was threatened with judicial review. As a private trust, the Auckland parade faces no such challenge.

In another incident in 2007, accredited press journalist Nick Wang was removed from an advertised photo opportunity with Vice-Premier Zeng Paeiyan at the request of Chinese officials.

The question is whether these incidents involve reasonable limitations that can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society. In short—whether they serve proper purposes. Norman considers that we should be concerned.

“There hasn’t been the very deep kind of discussion about human rights, democracy, freedom of speech and some of the other values that are quite important—I would say fundamental. So a lot of people involved in government subscribe to the idea that money should come first, so they are happy to suppress basic human rights like freedom of speech if they think there is a buck in it.”

Whether Norman is right, many New Zealanders are concerned about the economy. But Norman disagrees that Realpolitik entails sacrificing our rights to address this.

“You can have a commitment to values and be a realist—it’s just that Labour and National, you know, they just give up.”

Schizophrenic nation?
When it comes to rights, New Zealanders seem unsure what to think. Knight calls the inconsistent approach to freedom of expression among the public and the media “schizophrenic”.

“Sometimes we get awfully heated up when someone’s rights are limited, but other times… it doesn’t upset us when gang-members in Whanganui are made to strip away their labels. We are utterly schizophrenic.

“We do actually have a tradition of being outspoken [internationally], and try to put, and press unpopular views. But I’m not sure in our backyard we are always as careful about some of those other types of rights as well.”

For many New Zealanders it is difficult to draw the distinction between the right to expression, and the actual debate at issue.

“Protest is hard because it upsets people. It’s hard for people not to judge the thing that people are protesting about, and you can look at that with the Israeli stuff, the anti-abortion stuff, the hate speech stuff from Destiny… But you know, you’ve got to judge the right to protest, knowing that it’s going to produce views that you don’t like. It’s why we protect it.”

Undeniably, our tendency to conflate the right and the issue is exacerbated by a lack of education about freedom of expression. Few people apart from lawyers and academics study the issue in depth.

“There is a lack of understanding… There was a tipping point with the electoral finance reforms that basically beat out the idea that you had an absolute right to express yourself. And it’s a non-sense. People don’t understand that we need to adopt a nuanced approach to working out what’s protected and what’s not in our society.”

While Knight says that he is not a “chest-beater” about rights, there are instances that concern him.

“The problem is that there are powers that we should worry about—the power to arrest for disorderly behaviour, which doesn’t set out a clear standard; the power of private landowners to kick someone off their property. Someone got removed from… I think it was a Westfield Mall—for blowing a raspberry at John Key when he was there. And with impunity because it is a private land area. I mean those are the things that I worry about.”

Get ready, so you’ll get through. We’ve all seen the ads and seem to know the story—we’re in for the big one, right? Within the space of a minute, the ground will split into a cavernous fissure, indiscriminately swallowing buildings and loved ones as the rest of us dive for the nearest school desk in the face of its tectonic fury. For those of us lucky enough to have “ducked, covered and held” without being crushed by flailing debris there’s also the slight matter of tsunamis, aftershocks and fires that should see the rest of us off—not to mention difficulties in supplying aid. Grim.

Is all this cautionary warning and general sloganry a way to generate an air of optimism in the face of such a cataclysmic disaster? Will fixing, fastening and forgetting really do the trick or are we well and truly fucked?

Scenario: The Big One

New Zealand experiences hundreds of earthquakes every year, but most of these are either centred very deep in the earth’s crust, or well offshore and cause little damage. In addition to their frequency, on average we experience an earthquake that exceeds magnitude 7 every ten years. Although these quakes rarely coincide with populated places, there is a recurrence rate of between 500-1000 years on the Wellington fault—the most recent having been hundreds of years ago.

Wellington city has already been subject to a massive quake in 1855. In this quake the Wairarapa Fault ruptured and the entire Wellington Region was tilted westward. In addition, around 5000 km2 of land was shifted vertically, with uplift of 6m near Turakirae Head and 1–2m in the Wellington Harbour, dramatically changing the landscape. There were hundreds of aftershocks greater than magnitude 5 in the following weeks. To put this in perspective, it is expected that at sometime in the future the city will have to deal with a sizeable shallow quake along the Wellington Fault. For the sake of establishing a likely scenario, the Greater Wellington Regional Council website estimates that such a quake (of around magnitude 7.4), could be expected to cause around 500 deaths, 4000 injuries and perhaps leave 1800 people trapped. If the quake was to hit at night, fewer people would be killed or hurt, but in either case we could expect about 2800 homes and other buildings to be destroyed and another 100,000 buildings to be damaged in some way.

Tsunami

In addition to the threat of the initial quake, there are also a number of other dangers that can cause even more loss and suffering. In their capacity as environmental scientists, NIWA (National Institute of Water & Atmospheric Reseach) have produced a simulation of the likely effects of a tsunami after an 8.2 magnitude quake centred in Cook Strait. Unfortunately for those living in the Eastern suburbs, the results don’t bode well. Populated areas on the southern coast, such as Lyall Bay and Island Bay, would bear the brunt of the wave as it made its way through Cook Strait towards the Rongotai Isthmus (the flat bit with the airport on it). Depending on the size of the tsunami, it is possible that this area would be covered by up to six metres of water as the tidal surge moved north through to Evans Bay. In addition, the relatively low level of parts of Miramar could leave this area as something akin to a saltwater lake, which could remain submerged for a significant period. While the impact on the waterfront area around the city centre would be somewhat destroyed, it would no doubt still be a dangerous place.

Materials

Contrary to popular belief, it is generally the flexible buildings that tend to perform better under earthquake forces. Rigid materials such as bricks, glass and unreinforced concrete might appear convincing in their weighty appearance, but under the intense earthquake forces they are much more prone to failure and subsequent collapse. In comparison, wooden framed houses (such as those you probably live in) are a surer bet. Their relative flexibility means that they will move consistently with the shaking of the ground as opposed to the rigidity of other structures, provided there is a strong enough foundation connection.

Shaky Foundations

In 1978, new housing design standards were introduced to ensure the safety of occupants in the likely event of another quake. The Edgecumbe quake in 1987 (magnitude 5.1) was the first significant test of new design standards for timber-framed buildings, and the initial results were promising. Post-quake inspections showed only negligible damage due to inadequacies in the structure and, as such, the compliance code for new buildings has only received minor amendments since this date.

The main issue found after the Edgecumbe study was problems with the foundation connections and bracing. In many cases, the connections were either not there at all or had corroded significantly to have impeded their performance. The corrosion of structural members is likely due to inadequate ventilation to the subfloor, which occurs when buildings have been built too close to the ground, or in some instances when gardens have been built up around the foundations.

Our Flats

New Zealand’s housing stock consists of mainly light timber frame dwellings which perform reasonably well in earthquakes due to their inherent flexibility, with wall linings and claddings which provide a high level of bracing. In spite of this benefit, a study conducted by Dr Geoff Thomas and J.D. Irvine in 2007 showed some alarming results. Based on a sample of 80 Wellington houses, the pair concluded that approximately “70 per cent of houses in Wellington City had foundations that would not be adequate to resist the design earthquake expected in Wellington”. In addition to this startling fact, a significant portion of these houses were in such a bad state they could be expected to fail in the event of a relatively minor earthquake.

With this worrying statistic in mind, the study also investigated the potential effect and cost of upgrading existing structures to approved standards against the costs of recovery if nothing was done. The results show that to upgrade the existing deficiencies it would cost around $15–$60 per square metre to achieve the required standard. Projecting the total cost onto the upgrade of all Wellington City foundations, the total cost would be in the vicinity of $250 million which, despite appearing an expensive amount, is relatively paltry in comparison to the expected $2.1 billion in damages that would occur in the event of a magnitude 7.5 quake if nothing were done. Even with these upgrades, however, the number of environmental factors affecting foundation capacity means that no foundation reaction can be fully predicted, or assumed to be safe.
The Safest Buildings

New requirements for seismic design established after the Napier earthquake in 1931 have led to a much greater consideration of the impact of seismic activity on our buildings. For the most part, this has ensured that all buildings built post-1975 are generally considered to be of sufficient strength to withstand a significant quake. In addition to meeting these seismic standards, there are a few exemplary structures in Wellington that shoot above and beyond the specifications and stand as examples of excellent seismic engineering. Locally developed ‘base-isolation’ bearings in Te Papa, the parliament complex and the new hospital in Newtown have been specifically designed to dampen lateral forces exerted by earthquakes and protect their precious contents.

The new Victoria student hostel, Te Puni Village, presents another example of the possibilities for reduction in earthquake damage. Large spring coils are located at the base of the buildings that absorb excess energy during the earthquake and greatly reduce the risk of collapse. The additional advantage of this system is that the spring coils can be retrofitted following earthquake damage in order to provide the same level of resistance as before, whereas other systems often render the structure useless following a significant quake.

Theory vs. Practice

These examplars of seismic design have generally been developed from proven models used elsewhere (Japan, California), but there still exists some doubt as to how they will perform in our conditions. One such concern is Te Papa having been built on the reclamation. The worry is that while the ground underneath the museum was compacted significantly during construction, there still exists the chance for liquefaction during a quake. Basically, this would mean the further settling of the soil which would cause the building to sink and potentially flood the ground floor spaces—a reason the museum does not have any permanent exhibits at this level. That being said, the broadness of the building would make Te Papa unlikely to develop any Pisa-esque leans if the subsoil were to liquify and even in the worst cases, movement would be greatly minimised.

Non-Fixed Objects

Another point to seriously consider when designing buildings is that structural concerns present merely a small portion of potential dangers during a quake. In reality, there is a far greater risk from household contents such as fridges and bookshelves which are particularly dangerous during ground-shaking. Most televised cautions do encourage fixing heavy items as a means of minimising this problem, but little can be done to prevent unexpected collapses such as items in supermarkets or books in libraries falling from shelves. Damaged electrical and gas connections present similar new hazards and can often result in large-scale fires following the initial earthquake.

Aftershock

In addition to post-quake fires, gas leaks, inundated buildings and further collapse, there are a number of further dangers that can develop. One of such is the occurrence of aftershocks, which can sometimes be of a similar strength to the main event. Generally these aftershocks can lead to greater losses of life, as the effect of any significant shaking on already weakened structures can completely reduce anything still standing to rubble.

Emergency Response

Should a sizeable quake hit tomorrow, the majority of our current building stock would likely be destroyed or damaged to the extent that they would be rendered uninhabitable. This would leave a large percentage of the population without shelter, awaiting emergency support that could be a considerable distance away. In the most likely post- earthquake scenario, landslides in the Ngauranga Gorge and along the Hutt Road would block road access to the city from the north as well as the possible raising of the seabed at the harbour entrance, restricting shipping traffic. If this were the case, aid would be considerably delayed, and many more people could perish from a lack of adequate attention. These additional ‘costs’ in terms of volume of evacuations and aid requirements are significantly difficult to predict and quantify, but would no doubt constitute a large sum of money.

Rebuilding

Once the need for emergency aid and healthcare has subsided, the next stage of earthquake recovery would be the restoration of physical and social systems damaged by the quake. This usually involves the implementation of emergency management systems, followed by a much more comprehensive reconstruction phase which can last for many years after the event of a quake until the city is able to function by itself once more. The failure of businesses and the resources required for this rebuilding effort can further inhibit reconstruction, and often there are a number of unforeseen issues that can extend the recovery period well beyond any prediction. The only small consolation to the restoration effort would be the opportunity to rebuild the city to a more efficient and potentially richer standard, as was the case with downtown Napier following the 1931 quake.

Fixed, fastened, forgotten

Of late it seems as though the plethora of cautionary TV adverts that assaulted our screens a few years back has subsided. Surely the risk is as great or greater—so what’s the dealio? Presumably, this is an important measure to avoid a boy-who-cried-wolf scenario by ensuring that Kiwis don’t become complacent in the face of too much exposure but, by the same token, the recent perceived lack of preparatory warnings could also lead to a false sense of security in the face of what is still a very real threat. This, coupled with the appalling reaction to the tsunami warning earlier this year which saw a large number of idiots flocking to the waterfront as though it were a spectacle to be observed, and you begin to see: we are quite dumb.

All said and done, the efficacy of any preparation pales in significance to chance, although it does vastly improve the odds. The only way in which we can truly count ourselves prepared is in terms of the quake’s aftermath and the provisions we would have to ensure our continued safety until aid is possible. Failing that, the next best strategy would be to spend as much time in the earthquake-strengthened Rankine Brown building as humanly possible. Avoid Hunter at all costs.

5 WORST PLACES TO BE DURING ‘THE BIG ONE’

1. St Gerard’s Monastery—a colossal brick structure precariously perched atop Oriental Parade…

2. In the Ngauranga Gorge—With a likelihood of large landslides this would be worse than running the gauntlet against Vulcan, Saber and Storm—on the best of days.

3. Lambton Quay—Watch helplessly as three-meter-high glazing panels fall from 10 storeys up and cleanly slice through the suited throngs of the corporate world.

4. Anywhere along the Tinakori Road (Wellington Faultline) —the classic ‘swallowed by the earth’ scenario. Coincidentally, this happens to be where the chairman of the Earthquake Commission lives. His wife’s decision, so I’ve been told. Hmmm.

5. Chaffers New World—In spite of the fact the relative shelf-height makes it more safe than the bulk force of Pak N’ Slave, the threat of tsunamis and settlement, coupled with their inability to keep shelves standing during more peaceful times makes this one a sure-fire danger zone.

The images that follow document the aftermath of the earthquake and tsunami. Many thanks to Anna Comrie-Thomson for allowing Salient to publish her photographs.

Luckily, the government of our fine nation has examined the possibilities of these disasters actually happening and has put together a list of suggestions for us, so that we may better serve as their minions in a post-disaster scenario.

A helpful website

When you go to www.getthru.govt.nz it says in nice big bold letters on the front page: “This website will show you how to get ready, so you’ll get through”. While I can’t see that Telstra will still be providing my internet if Mt Ruapehu has just blown it’s top and covered most of the central North Island in lava and volcanic ash, people aren’t stupid enough to not check this site before a disaster, right? Preparation is key.

Get Thru recommends having an Emergency Plan. The plan should outline all of the gathering points and supply caches you have created. There is a small downside to this: it’s highly likely that at least a few of your dwelling mates won’t be at home when a disaster occurs. So live and let die. The good of the many outweighs the needs of the few. The government also advises having a Getaway Pack ready, but more on this soon.

“Ensure your insurance cover is adequate and up to date” is another helpful tidbit of information. Obviously the first thing I’m going to be doing when the hordes of ravaging pillagers are smashing through my front door is call State Insurance to make sure I won’t be liable for the excess when they eventually get around to seeing to my (comparatively) piddling insurance claim.

When disaster strikes, expect to get the middle finger from your insurance provider. They will have bigger fish to fry. Try expressing your point with a thoughtfully placed petrol bomb. They won’t see to your claim any faster, but you will feel better about establishing your place in the dystopian wasteland.

The Kit

Everybody knows they should have ‘The Kit’ somewhere. The Kit is a collection of supplies to get you through until normal service can be resumed. The Man would have you believe that after a catastrophic event everything should be back to normal in around three days.

However, I have been intently watching footage from disasters that have occured around the world over the last twenty years or so. I have kept scrupulous records of what happened, where, and how long it took until life was back to normal. I’m here to tell you that, in the event of a system-shattering catastrophe, if life is back to normal in three days then there is an afterlife—and you probably won’t need a survival kit.

But assuming that you made it and you have just stepped outside the shattered ruins of your once-whole house to find a ravaged environ full of toxins and hazards, what do you really need to survive?

First thing’s first: make sure you’ve got the basics covered. For those of you taking notes, never fear, I will have a handy checklist for you to cut out and keep at the end.

Water is a vital consideration. A rough guideline for how much water you’ll need is three litres per person, per day—give or take a bit based on your consumption and general size, etc. I decided to look into this further. Three litres of water takes up a fair amount of room. If you need nine litres of water for three days for one person, that’s 27 litres of water for three people for three days—about 12 2.25 litre Coke bottles. It should be noted that the New Zealand Government suggests we use empty Coke bottles for water storage. I wonder how much Coke paid them for that little slice of advertising genius. You can’t buy empty Coke bottles.

Don’t forget you need space to store your 2.25 litre Coke bottles. The entire floor of my walk-in pantry is filled by 12 2.25 litre bottles of water. And they are pretty heavy. What if your house burns down in the disaster? You’d be well fucked. Or would you? Does your next door neighbour have a spa pool? Mine does. That’s a water source right there. Or, you know, go grab a distillation kit and distill seawater—then you have salt AND water. Both are essential to human survival.

Food is the next consideration. I would recommend stocking up on biltong, wasabi sauce, Maggi’s Vegetable Cuppa Soup (kerching!) and Watties Fruit Salad (canned(kerching!)). An odd-sounding mix perhaps, but bear with me. Biltong is dried spiced beef. It’s tasty as hell and was the staple food of the Dutch when they colonised South Africa. So if it’s good enough for them, then it’s good enough for me. It also lasts longer than anything you’re likely to create in your life, and in times of great need its fibers can be woven into a makeshift rope.

Wasabi sauce will provide a lot of the nutrients that a protein-only diet would be lacking. Like biltong, it’s tasty and you can smear it on your fingers as an added close-combat weapon. Jab that shit in someone’s eye and see if they notice (this will also help determine if they are human). The vege soup has dehydrated carrots and other miscellenia—it can’t be all bad, and at least it has some carbs in it. The fruit salad, that shit never, ever goes off and it’s fruit. It even has cherries in it. That’s pure class right there.

You should have a first-aid kit. Now I’d recommend you go and buy a tramping one, but let’s be honest—we’re all students here, and frankly given the choice between buying a first-aid kit and a beer and well, I’m pretty thirsty. Realistically, you only need a few basics thrown into an ice cream container. You definitely need band aids. If you can’t afford them I would suggest tapping up every store you go into, they generally have a box around somewhere. A little fake blood goes a long way here. Added bonus: you end up with a widely varied selection of band aids so you can appropriately accessorise.

You need a needle and thread. This one is for the wounds beyond the help of band aids. A lighter wouldn’t go amiss here either, as it helps sterilise the needle. You will also want to put some non-iodised salt in the kit. This helps stop wounds bleeding and disinfects. It also flavours your food. Make sure it doesn’t have iodine in it, or it will just make the wound worse. Iodine + open wounds = bad news.

You will also require clean cloths and a pair of scissors. With these two basic items you can take care of damn near anything in a pinch. It won’t be pretty and it’ll damn sure hurt, but the injured person probably won’t die. Unless they were going to die anyway, and then you can take solace in the fact that your inept fumblings were never going to do any good.

At the end of the day it comes down to this: Do you want to be Mad Max or the Mariner from Waterworld? Cause if you want to be top dog after disaster strikes, you need to be hardbitten and tough as nails. A take-no-prisoners attitude will get you a long way. Alternatively you could potter around from now until the Apocalypse collecting items that might be useful and stowing them away. Maybe you can successfully revive a barter economy after money means nothing because the government is buried under a landslide and burning to death in their concrete deathtrap.

As promised, the checklist:

• 3L of water per person, per day. I’d recommend freezing it.
• Biltong, wasabi sauce, vegetable cuppa soup and tinned fruit salad. If you’re a vegan or you don’t own a can opener then you’re pretty fucked, huh?
• First Aid kit. Even the rudimentary one I outlined above is better than nothing. A little goes a long way with these sorts of things, but it never hurts to be over prepared.
• Leather jacket (leather pants are a good option too). “Why?” you ask. They are hard wearing, they don’t catch on fire easily and they are really good at keeping you warm and dry. Again, fuck you vegans.
• A machete. Pretty self-explanatory really. Should be your go tool for most things. A shotgun would be a worthy addition to your collection if you can manage it.
• A sweet dog. Bonus points if it’s a Blue Heeler. Mine’s a Shih Tzu/ Schnauser cross and I’m not worried.
• A creased, weather-beaten photo of your loved ones. ‘Cause if they can’t get you through then who can?

Be Prepared. Stay Alive. Survive. I’ll see you on the other side.

The Caribbean nation of Haiti was rocked on Tuesday 12 January this year by a devastating 7.0 magnitude earthquake, centred just 25 kilometres west of the impoverished nation’s capital Port-au-Prince.

The quake has directly affected an estimated three million people. 230,000 died, 300,000 were injured, and one million were made homeless, according to reports by the Haitian Government—though some experts question the validity of these figures.

Television and newspaper reports worldwide were rife with images of the tragedy. Thousands upon thousands of bodies lined Haiti’s rubble-strewn streets, as a result of overwhelmed morgues. Injured survivors were receiving treatment outdoors in the searing heat, with inadequate medical supplies, due to the fact that all hospitals, as well as three Médicins Sans Frontièrs (Doctors Without Borders) facilities had been destroyed.

Unharmed survivors were sleeping on the pavement, in cars, or in makeshift structures—they refused to re-enter buildings out of fear that these remaining structures would collapse in an aftershock. Low construction standards in Haiti meant that buildings left standing had more than likely been structurally compromised in the earthquake.

The response to the disaster was swift, but considerable difficulties were faced due to the tattered state of Haiti’s infrastructure. A damaged control tower restricted the efficiency of flight operations, but it did not stop the Toussaint L’Ouverture International Airport from being used altogether. The capital’s seaport on the other hand was destroyed, rendering the harbour out of action for the initial relief efforts. Most significantly, the sheer amount of rubble littering the streets of Port-au-Prince hindered the delivery and distribution of vital aid. US Secretary of Defence Robert Gates initially ruled air drops too risky without the proper distribution structures implemented on the ground. Gates’ decision was subsequently overturned, and aid was parachuted in to desperate survivors in inaccessible parts of the devastated city.

On top of the immediate efforts made by both military and official personnel to send help and shipments of food and medical supplies, across the world states, multilateral banks and non-governmental organisations (NGOs) were quick to commit huge sums of money for emergency aid and the long-term reconstruction of Haiti. Aid contributions included US$474 million from the European Union, US$210 million from Brazil, US$131.5 million from Canada and US$100 million from the United States, among a plethora of smaller donations amounting to a staggering US$10 billion. More than six months on, however, this commendable response has largely failed to assist in Haiti’s ongoing recovery from the earthquake.

Failing Aid

On 31 March a UN Aid Conference saw $5.3 billion pledged in relief payments. The payments would be made to a World Bank fund managed by the Interim Haiti Recovery Commission (CIRH). Payments would be distributed over an 18-month period. As it currently stands, a relatively insignificant 10 per cent of those payments have actually found their way into the fund.

Further to this, only 2 per cent of the $5.3 billion has actually been spent to directly help Haiti in reconstruction. Scoop columnist Gordon Campbell points out that the problem doesn’t end with state-pledged aid either.

“Much the same thing has happened to the money donated for emergency aid by millions of people worldwide to international aid NGOs to help relieve the suffering. Reportedly, only about 25 per cent of that money has been spent.”

Dr Megan MacKenzie, a lecturer in Victoria University’s International Relations programme, speculates that there are a number of reasons for these failures in the delivery of funds. She makes particular note of the media’s role, and consequent failure, in ensuring the issues continue to remain in the public’s consciousness.

“I think the media has a role in how long people pay attention to a particular issue, and I think there was so much attention—and rightly so—when the earthquake happened. Then several weeks on, that attention shifts, in some cases justifiably, to what else is going in the world. But that attention shift also means that peoples’ attention changes, so individuals shift their attention, and governments as well. They don’t feel that urge, or don’t feel like this is the top thing to be dedicating their budget to. So I think the way certain events are portrayed in the media, and peoples’ demand for that sort of immediacy, has something to do with that.”

Dr MacKenzie continues, pointing out that in addition to the role of the media, “in some ways there is also an underestimation in how much time and resources are involved in a lot of different disasters”. She comments that this is common scenario in both post-disaster and post-conflict scenarios.

“There is often this idea that there is a year or two transition and you need an immediate reaction and then things move forward naturally, but actually, as research has shown—rebuilding institutions and rebuilding infrastructure just takes so much time and resources, so I think there is maybe a sort of incongruence between what people think is required and what actually is, in terms of resources and time required.”

Ngos and the Cirh: Acronymic Failures

It has been suggested that the CIRH and its 26 directors—13 of which are representatives of the donor nations as well as multilateral banks such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank, and the Inter-American Development Bank—could be one of the key problems behind the failure in delivering funding, preventing reconstruction from beginning.

Naomi Klein’s book The Shock Doctrine is critical of institutions such as the IMF and World Bank. Klein explains in detail the lasting damage these institutions can have on countries that require urgent loans. Klein points out that these payments often come burdened with interest rates, and are conditional on the government in question following neoliberal economic policies. Such policies more often than not undermine the country’s ability to make a full recovery.

However, Dr MacKenzie says, “I think with Haiti, the western powers can’t really exploit much more out of the country.” She raises an important point, relating to the problems faced when these multilateral agencies head reconstruction efforts.

“The funding structure for disaster aid is really top-heavy. There is so much money going into these international agencies, but smaller organisations that have really simple projects, like clearing rubble, have a lot more difficult time getting that kind of funding, so I think any time you have an international organisation managing that amount of money, it is very difficult for a smaller organisation to identify their own priorities,” she says.

“It tends to be they will align their priorities with whatever the funding structure is. If there is a lot of funding, for example, for health vs. rubble clearing, even though the latter might be more important, they will pitch for whatever they can get funding for, so you have this system which is really common where local actors are really shaping their priorities according to what external priorities are.”

In a recent documentary, the Al Jazeera network showed that a lot of the Haitian public’s anger and frustration at the inefficiencies in the reconstruction effort is now being targeted at the international NGOs. While this could be a result of funding priorities, Dr MacKenzie explains that this frustration isn’t an uncommon occurrence in post-disaster and post-conflict zones.

“It’s not that people who work for NGOs don’t have good intentions, it’s not that there is any maliciousness—but it’s that budget timelines are not realistic. They are not realistic for how long crisis recovery takes, so you often have this situation in many different contexts where NGOs come in with these amazing ideas and they’ve got money for one year, and so in that year they aren’t able to get their feet off the ground, and then they are gone. So then another NGO comes in with a similar idea, and this is what locals see all the time,” she says.

“In the meantime, these people are coming in with SUVs, and are spending tonnes of money, and often aren’t actually listening to what locals have to say about what would work for them. Sometimes locals have really simple ideas; like that digging an irrigation canal would increase productivity for this farm by x amount. Really simple things, and then you have NGOs coming in with these elaborate plans, and not only might they not be useful, but they may not be realistic when you only have money for one year.”

While there are certainly some systemic failures in the actions of the multilateral banks, donor countries and international NGOs, perhaps the most significant barrier to reconstruction in Haiti—as suggested in a recent article by journalist Kim Ives, published in the Haitian weekly newspaper, The Haiti Liberté—comes from the other 13 members of the CIRH who represent the interests of Haiti’s elite.

Bekele Gelata, the secretary general of the International Federation of Red Cross Societies, claims that the Haitian government has not provided the open land necessary to build large numbers of storm-resistant houses—an urgent priority as the region gears up to deal with the hurricane season whose presence looms large in displaced Haitians’ collective consciousness.

Ives says that this is due to the fact “a small handful of rich families own large tracts of land in suburban Port-au-Prince which would be ideal for resettling the displaced thousands”. The representation of these elite interests in the Haitian Government, as well as the CIRH, has stopped the necessary reallocation of this land, despite the urgency of the circumstances. “Over the past 25 years, Haiti’s bourgeoisie bought up large swaths of this (land) for pennies… Now they will look to sell it for a huge profit,” Ives wrote.

The result of all this is that just a single camp has been built to date for the displaced survivors of the earthquake, “on a forbidden strip of sun-baked desert situated between Titayen and Morne Cabrit, two desolate zones”, where the homeless reside in tents that lack the capacity to resist even the least powerful of the hurricane winds that lash Haiti every year.

Aiding Failure

The issues surrounding land ownership, and the failure to relocate the hundreds of thousands who remain homeless to relative safety, are underscored by a long history of subjugation and democratic failure in Haiti. While even the briefest of accounts of Haiti’s history is far beyond the scope of this article, it is important to consider the effect of the 2004 coup d’état, which saw the removal of the democratically elected President Jean-Bertrand Aristide.

Aristide was ‘kidnapped’ by US security forces during the coup, and was sent to live in exile in South Africa where he remains to this day. While there are questions surrounding corruption and human rights abuses within the Aristide administration, he remains one of the most popular figures in Haitian politics, exemplified by regular and massive protests calling for his return. As Gordon Campbell points out, Aristide is “the only person who could mobilise the bulk of poor Haitians to believe that the earthquake reconstruction effort was being motivated by a concern for their welfare”.
Current Haitian President René Préval has revealed that Aristide and the Fanmi Lvalas Party he represents will not be permitted to run in the recently announced November election. This is despite the fact the current president was originally allied with Aristide, serving as Prime Minister under the exiled leader’s first term. Beyond the logistical nightmare, and ethical questions surrounding the organisation of an election while the nation is in chaos—especially when said election is estimated to cost upwards of US$30 million, and the election process will require the hundreds of thousands of homeless people to somehow register—there are more important questions of the perceived legitimacy of the election when the most popular candidate is excluded from running.

Ives points out “the most prominent elite representative on the CIRH is Reginald Boulos, who heads one of the Haiti bourgeoisie’s most powerful families, and backed both the 1991-94 and 2004-06 coups against Aristide”. Boulos’s influence is not restricted to the CIRH—it extends to the Préval Government itself, raising questions surrounding exactly whose interests the exclusion of Aristide from the upcoming election serves.

One might speculate that elite influence, and exclusive elections will simply ensure the elites represented on the CIRH the freedom and ability to continue to take advantage of their hold Haiti’s poor in the prolonged aftermath of desecration. This begs the question: in the event that the majority of the money pledged to Haiti’s reconstruction actually finds its way into the state’s coffers, are these funds simply aiding failure?

Tērā anō te mui o te mahi ki ngā pakihiwi o ngā māngai tauira Māori o te motu, rātou e whai i te ara pokepoke hei whai oranga ngā tauira ki ngā whare wānanga. Arā anō ngā tini take o te wā nei. Heoi, ehara i te mea he āhuatanga hou tēnei mō ēnei rōpū. Ko te ara takahi ai e rātou nō nā noa nei, he ara kōputaputa, he ara poutama ka ekea hei whakapāoho te reo o ngā tauira Māori ki te taumata o te hāpori whānui. Mā tēnei e taea ai ngā tauira te whakaputa whakaaro mō ngā āhuatanga maha ka pā ki a rātou. Ko ēnei rōpū māngai tauira he hokinga mahara ki taua whakaaro e mea ana he tikanga tō te whai mātauranga, ā, ko te ao hurihuri tētahi o aua tikanga. Atu i te pakanga mō ngā nawe pēnei i ngā pūtea taurewa me ngā tahua tauira (student allowance) kei te mura o te ahi rātou, tautohe ai mō ngā nawe e hāngai ana ki ngā take pāpori.

Ko te mahi a ētahi he whakahahani i ngā rōpū māngai, te kī kei te aro kē mātou ki te taha ‘mauī’, ki te taha ‘matau’ rānei o te kāwanatanga, otirā, ko mātou kē e noho kūpapa ana, te reo o te nui, o te rahi e hāpai ana i ngā nawe o te tokoiti.

Ko tā mātou nei mahi, he kawe reo o ngā tauira ki ngā rangatira o te Whare Mīere e mau nei te mana whakahaere o te motu. I te nuinga o te wā, ka tuku whakaaro hei hāpai i te mana taurite me te ikeiketanga mō ngā tauira katoa e whai ana ite mātauranga. Ae rā, he pai ngā rōpū mō te whakatipu tautohe, whakangungu wheako, whakanui whakaaro engari ko ngā rōpū o nāianei he ratonga matua ki te tokomaha o ngā tauira.

Ko te taupatupatu o tēnei wā e pā ana ki te pire e kīa nei ko te VSM (Voluntary Student Membership). I ahu mai tēnei i tētahi tikanga paremata, ka mutu, ko tōna tikanga he mea angitū, ehara i te mea he āhuatanga nā ngā tauira anō i whakarite. Nā tērā, ka whakapau werawera ki te whakamārama i ngā tini āhuatanga o ō mātou mahi, kaua ko te mahi i te mahi kē. Arā, kua mate mātou ki te whawhai i tēnei pire, ā, ka mate te tauira ki te whai huarahi kē hei tautoko i a ia anō.

He mea matua tēnei kohinga reo o ngā tauira e whakapāoho i ngā nawe o ngā tauira huri noa i te motu. I tēnei wā whakapaipai, whakatikatika o te wāhanga mātauranga, kua tino
whai tikanga te tauira reo tahi. Inā te pukumahi a ngā tauira ki te mau i tēnei tikanga o te reo kotahi, ko te reo e kōrerohia nei he mea e whakaputa i ōna māharahara mō ngā whakarerekētanga o te ao mātauranga. Ko tēnei te reo ka ngaro mēna ka whai hua te pire VSM.

Hei tirohanga whānui, ka taea te kī nā tēnei pire, kua whai wā tātou ki te tiro whakamuri ki ngā rā o nehe o te kāhui tauira. Ahakoa ngā whakapātaritaritanga o ngā tau kua pahure, ngā kaupapa maha e kōkirihia e te kāwanatanga, e kore te whawhai e mimiti mō ngā rōpū māngai tauira, ka ū tonu ki ngā whāinga a ngā tauira. Arā te whakatauki, ‘ko te pae tawhiti whaia kia tata, ko te pae tata whakamaua kia tina’ hei kupu tohutohu mā tātou. Kua tū māia te kāhui tauira kia whai hua te katoa o ngā tauira, ahakoa te aha, ā, me ū tonu ki te kaupapa matua.
I tēnei wā, kua āhei ngā tauira me te hāpori whānui hoki te kite i te pāinga o ngā rōpū māngai tauira. Mai i te pōwhiri tuatahi tae noa ki te whakapōtaetanga o te tauira i ngā whare wānanga, ka taea te kite he hua kei ngā rōpū nei. Mai i te whakatika kaupapa, ki te manaaki tangata, kua rongo ngā kōrero. Kua piki ngā taumata ki runga i te mahi whakatōhia e NZUSA. Ka takahi mātou i ngā huarahi o te Kāwanatanga, tuku ai i ngā whakaaro ā-waha me ngā whakaaro ā-tuhi nei, ka mutu, kua whakaputa ki te hāpori, kia toitū ngā rōpū tauira hei taura e honohono nei i ngā whare wānanga.

Kua roa nei tātou ngā iwi Māori e whawhai ana mō te rangatiratanga o te whenua. E hia kē mai nei ngā whawhai kua tau ki mua i te aroaro o ngā Kooti. E hia kē ngā hīkoi mautohe i tīmata mai i ngā moka o te motu. Kua rangona ngā hāmama, ngā tangi mō tēnei mea te whenua. Ka titi mai te urupounamu he aha ngā hua i puta? Hei tā ētahi e whai take ana te whakaaro, kāore ngā hua i puta nō te mea kua tangohia te nuinga o ngā whenua e te ringa Kāwana. Mō te takutai moana ka toko ake te pātai i hanga mai ēnei ture hei haukoti i te ao Māori, hei karo kē rānei i te ao Pākehā? He ture tēnei kia whawhai tonu ngā Māori mō ngā kongakonga noa iho? Tuatahi mai me whakamahuki i ngā ture kia mōhio tātou ki ngā aronga o ēnei pātai. Mā tērā ka kitea he aha ngā take, he aha hoki ngā hiahia, ngā wawata o tēnā, o tēnā.

Rangatiratanga

Mai rānō ka noho ngā iwi Māori ki runga i te whenua. Nō runga i ngā tikanga Māori i whakapau ai ngā rauemi. Koinei te whakamāramatanga o tēnei mea te ‘rangatiratanga’: kia noho ko ngā iwi Māori hei ‘rangatira’ ki runga i te whenua. He tikanga whakahaere rauemi e puritia e te iwi, he mana whakahaere tāngata e puritia e te iwi. Kāore i tua atu i te mana kua tukuna ki taua rangatira e tōnā iwi. Nō te iwi e rangatira ai te rangatira. Pērā i te whakataukī ‘e kore te ure e tū ki te kore ngā raho’. I te taenga mai o te Pākehā kua mahia tēnei kupu ki roto i te Tiriti o Waitangi. I whakamahia tēnei kupu ‘rangatiratanga’ hei kawenga whakaaro ki roto i te horopaki o te Tiriti. Engari he aha te whakamāramatanga o ngā kupu ‘tino rangatiratanga’ i Waitangi i te tau 1840?

“Ko te Kuini o Ingarani ka wakarite ka wakaae ki nga Rangatira ki nga hapu—ki nga tangata katoa o Nu Tirani te tino rangatiratanga o ratou wenua o ratou kainga me o ratou taonga katoa. Otiia ko nga Rangatira o te Wakaminenga me nga Rangatira katoa atu ka tuku ki te Kuini…”

Ko te whakamāramatanga o te taha Pākehā kei raro nei:

“Her Majesty the Queen of England confirms and guarantees to the Chiefs and Tribes of New Zealand, and to the respective families and individuals thereof, the full, exclusive and undisturbed possession of their Lands and Estates, Forests, Fisheries, and other properties which they may collectively or individually possess, so long as it is their wish and desire to retain the same in their possession.”

He aha ētahi atu horopaki e rangona ana tēnei kupu ‘rangatiratanga’? E tika ana kua mahia tēnei kupu kia tukuna he mana o te whenua ki te tangata. I tētahi tiriti hokohoko o Te Rarawa kua tuku atu te ‘mana’ me te ‘rangatiratanga’ o te whenua ki tētahi atu.

“kua oti te tuku e matou e Nopera Pana Kareao ma kia Reiha Teira tetahi wahi wenua oti tonu atu me nga rakau katoa me nga aha aha noa me nga aha noa katoa e tupu ana i taua wenua me nga mea katoa o raro o taua wenua me te rangatiratanga me te mana i runga i taua wenua (Te Mātāhauariki, 2007).”

Ka kitea i runga nei ka taea te tuku i te mana me te rangatiratanga ki tētahi atu. Engari he rerekē te tauira ki runga i te Tiriti. Ki roto i te tauira ki runga kua tukuna te ‘mana’ me te ‘rangatiratanga’ ki raro i ngā tikanga Māori. Heoi, kia riro mā te tikanga Māori e whakamārama i te ‘mana’ me te ‘rangatiratanga’ kua tukuna atu, hāunga atu tērā o te ture Pākehā.

Te Ture Takutai Moana

I te tau 2004, i kōkiri te Pāti Reipa kia whakawhiwhi i te ture Takutai Moana. I runga i te mataku tēnei ture i kawea. Ka whakanohoia te takutai moana katoa ki raro i te mana o te Karauna. Ka riro mā ngā iwi e tonotono ki te Kōti kia whakamātauria nō rātou tētahi wāhanga o te takutai moana. Taumaha hārukiruki ngā pīkaunga ki te hiahia te iwi ki te haere ki te Kōti. Me whakaatu ki te Kōti nō 1840 i pupuri ki te iwi te ahi kā o taua takutai moana. Mēnā kāore e taea ka hinga te kēhi. Ahakoa te rarahi o ngā moni i pau i ngā roia, i ngā kairangahau, e kore te rangatiratanga o tērā whenua e hokia ki te iwi. Ko te whakatau kē o te Kōti he ‘customary rights order’ he ‘territorial rights order’ rānei. He timotimo noa iho tēnei i tērā i mau i ngā mātua tīpuna i mua. I te whakawhiwhinga o tēnei ture ka puta te Pāti Māori.

Te whakakorehanga o te ture 2004

I ngā tau ka tohe te Pāti Māori ki te Pāti Natinara kia tīnihia tēnei ture. Tekau mā waru ngā marama i tautohetohe rāua kia puta he whakatau whakamutunga. E rima ngā peka e kawe ana i te matū o tēnei whakakorehanga:

1. Ka whakakorengia te ture o 2004;
2. E kore te takutai moana e pupuri ki tētahi tangata ake, ka noho mō te tini ngerongero;
3. Mēnā e pupuri tonu ana te iwi i te mana whenua o tētahi wāhanga o te takutai moana, mā ngā Kōti te tono e whakatau;
4. I ētahi wā ka taea e te iwi te whakakore i ngā mahi o ngā pūtahi hokohoko ki runga i te takutai moana;
5. Ka noho tūmatawhānui te takutai moana. Ka noho te whenua hei ekeeke mā te tini ngiangia ahakoa waewae tapu, ahakoa waewae pokanoa.

I te karenga o te wai, he hua ka puta i tēnei ture. Engari ki te ruku tātou ki raro i te kahu o te wai, ka kitea he raru kei te haere. Pērā i te whakataukī he kokonga whare ka kitea, he kokonga ngākau e kore e kitea. Tuatahi atu, e mate ana tātou i te whakaaro nō te Karauna te mana whakatau he aha te aha. Nō rātou kē te mana nekeneke i a tātou. I noho ngā iwi Māori me tō rātou mana whenua ki Aotearoa. Koirā i tuhia ki te ‘Declaration of Independence’ i te tau 1835. Tuarua nei, mēnā kei a tātou te ‘rangatiratanga’ o ngā whenua ki mua i te taenga mai o tauiwi i konei, he aha te take o te tononga ki te Kōti? Pērā nei tātou i te keretao. Kua mau ngā aho i te ringa o te Kāwana, tarapekepeke ana, whawhai ana. E noho tautauāmoa tātou ki ngā maramara o te whenua.

Ngā kōrero hei arahī i a tātou

I te tau 1992 i puta mai he kōrero o te Taraipiunara o Waitangi hei whakaaro ake mā tātou:

“It is said to be based on tikanga Māori, or Māori law, in that traditionally the tribes had authority over the seas adjoining their land, an opinion encapsulated in the recent expression, ‘mana-whenua, mana-moana’. We would hesitate to use ‘tikanga Maori’ or ‘mana moana’ to describe the scheme however, for it is arguable that traditionally the mana, or authority, did not extend far from the shoreline, and the central feature of this scheme is the value given to the distant fisheries of modern times. The authority went only as far as it could in practice be enforced, it could be said, and customarily, the open seas were open. The equation does underline however, that there are differences in the extent of traditional resource ownership amongst the various iwi” The Fisheries Settlement Report Wai 307, Waitangi Tribunal, Wellington, 1992, cited in Te Mātāpunenga, 2007.

Kei roto i tēnei pūrongo te titiro o te Māori ki tōna whenua. Mai i te oneone tae atu ki te moana, nō te mana o te iwi te whenua. Nō te whenua e ora ai te iwi. Nō te iwi e mana ai te rangatira. Koirā te rangatiratanga i mau nei i ngā Māori o mua. Te āhua nei kua ngaro tērā wawata ki te pō kia noho ngerengere.

He hua ka puta?

Ko tētahi aronga o tēnei pātai kāore he paku hua. Kua riro i te Karauna te mana whakahaere i ēnei momo take. Engari e ai ki te titiro o te Māori ko ngā mokopuna te puanani o ngā whakatewhatewha a ngā mātua tīpuna. Ka whakatōkia he kākano ki te whenua, ka pārekereke, ka tipu, ka rea. Ki te whakaako tātou i ngā tamariki kia mahara i ēnei tirohanga, ka mau tonu. Ehara i te mea e noho pūmau ngā ture a te Pākehā mō ake tonu atu. Pēnei i te moana e ākina ā tai. I tōna wā ka eke, i tōna wā ka hinga. Kawe kau tātou kia mau ki ngā tirohanga, i ngā wawata o mua, ka whawhai tonu atu mō te rangatiratanga o nāianei.

I te wāhanga tuarua o te Tiriti o Waitangi, i te mea Pākehā me te mea Māori, kei ngā tāngata Māori te tino rangatiratanga o ngā whenua, o ngā kāinga me ngā taonga katoa o Aotearoa, nō reira ko tēnei te mana, me kī te tūranga rangatira o te kerēme. Ahakoa he iti te kupu nei, he nunui te tikanga.

Ki ngā kaitono, e whā ngā take o tēnei kerēme e takotohia nei ki raro:
• Kua hinga te Karauna i tō rātou mahi ki te whakamana i te tino rangatiratanga me te kaitiakitanga o ngā kararehe, ngā rākau, ēnei momo mea taketake ki Aotearoa me te mātauranga Māori.
• Kua hinga te Karauna ki te tiaki i ngā taonga Māori
• Kua takahi te Karauna i te tino rangatiratanga me te kaitiakitanga o te Māori ki tō rātou mahi whakarite kaupapa, whakahaere ture
• Kua whati te Karauna i te Tiriti o Waitangi ki tō rātou herenga ki ngā kaupapa o te ao e pā ana ki ngā taonga taketake o Aotearoa.

Tokoono ngā iwi o te komiti whakarite engari kua kitea he take tēnei e hono ana ki te iwi Māori whānui. Kāore e kore, he nunui tēnei kaupapa. Hei whakangāwari i te kerēme, kua whakarōpū te kaiwhakawā i ngā take kia whā.

1 – Ngā Take Mātauranga Māori: E pā ana ki te pupuritanga me te tiakitanga o te mātauranga mō ngā toi, ngā whakairo, te hītori, ngā kōrero-ā-waha, ngā waiata, te reo me ngā rongoā Māori.

2 – Ngā Take Whakatinana Mātauranga Māori: Kua pāngia e ngā ture kāore e tiaki ana i ngā taonga nō te Māori, kāore hoki e parepare i ngā takatakahi a ngā taonga Māori pērā i ngā whakairo me ngā mokomokai

3 – Ngā Take Mātauranga Māori me te Whakatinana Mātauranga Māori: E takahia ana e ngā ture e pā ana ki te mātauranga me ngā herenga ki ngā ture o te ao. Kei konei ngā take o te mana ki te whakahaere i ngā mea hou, te rēhitatanga o ngā tohutohu mahi ai i ngā kupu me ngā tohu māori pērā i ngā tā moko whakapapa

4 – Ngā Take o te Taiao me ngā Rauemi – Ko ngā raru e pā ana ki ngā kaupapa e mahi ai i te taiao me ngā rauemi, me kī ngā rākau, ngā kararehe te mea te mea. Me whai whakaaro ngā iwi mō tēnei mea, te hanganga ora o ngā mea taketake o te motu.

Koirā ngā kupu taumaha o tēnei take, kua kitea i te iwi Māori te hōhonutanga me te whakaharatanga. Ko te matū o te kōrero, me kī taurangi te Kāwanatanga i te tino rangatiratanga o ngā iwi Māori ki ngā kararehe, ngā manu, ngā otaota taketake o Aotearoa, te honongo ki aua mea, me te mātauranga. He raru tēnei o te ao whānui me ngā iwi taketake.

Te haerenga a te kerēme

I te tau 1998 me ngā tau e toru i whai ake, ka tukuna ngā kōrero a ngā kaitono hei whakatīmata i te mahi. I te tau 2006 i kawea te tono ki te Te Kotahitanga o te Ao (United Nations) kia whai tautoko mō te haerenga o te kerēme. Ko te manako, ka whakamana te Kāwanatanga i te tukanga kia tere mai te whakamutunga o te mahi. I te tau 2007, i aukati ngā tukunga ki te Taraipiunara katahi ka rumaki te Taraipiunara ki te tuhi rīpoata engari kāore anō kia puta. Ā tōna wā, ka hoatu te rīpoata ki te Kāwanatanga, mā te Kāwanatanga e whakatinana. Ehara i te mea ko tēnei te mutunga o te mahi, he whakatō kākano kē.

Kua roa te wā rātou ngā kaitono e ngana ana. Kua tinakuhia te haerenga e te Karauna me ētahi kamupene e kore e pīrangi kia tutuki te kerēme. Waihoki, kua mate te nuinga o ngā kaitono, mā te whānau e hari.

Nō reira, kia mataara, kia hiwa rā. Ki tā te whakataukī “Te umanga nui a neherā ko te whawhai”, kia pēnei tō tātou āhua i te whaitanga o ngā taonga Māori, o tō tātou tino rangatiratanga.

Nō ngā tau 1970, i tīmata te taki o tēnei mea te waka whakaora i te reo Māori i runga anō i te waimehatanga o ngā puna reo huri noa i te motu. Ko te pōkaikaha tērā o te minenga, ka mate te reo, ka parea tēnei taonga ki rahaki, ngaro noa. Ka putaputa mai ngā kaupapa whakaora reo mai i ngā whāruarua o te motu pēnei i te kākano o te Kōhanga Reo, te pihinga o te Kura Kaupapa Māori, te mahuri o te Wharekura, te kōhuretanga o te Whare Wānanga hoki. Āra anō ko Te Ātaarangi e whakatō ana i te kākano o te reo ki ērā o ngā mātua, ngā pahake kāore i tipu ake i te reo. Whai muri ake ko ngā kaupapa whakaora i te mita o te reo, arā, ko te Kāpunipuni Reo tērā mo ngā uri o Taranaki, ko te kaupapa Kotahi Mano Kāika tērā mō ngā uri o Ngāi Tahu, anō hoki, ko tētahi pekanga o te tino karamatamata o te reo tērā e poipoia nei e te Panekiretanga o te Reo. He mea whakaora katoa ēnei kaupapa i te reo Māori i waenganui i a tātou mā, kōhungahunga mai, pakeke mai, kaumātua mai. Otiia, he aha te pānga o te reo ki te oranga o te iwi?

Kia para i te huarahi o taku kōrero nei, tuatahi ko te whakamārama poto mō tēnei mea te ‘reo-ā-iwi’ me tōna ‘mita’.

“Tōku reo ka tuku, tōku mouri ka ora.”

He reo e mōhio whānuitia ā-motu nei te reo Māori nā te mea he reo taketake o Aotearoa, heoi, he wāhanga anō tō te reo Māori, arā, ko ngā pekanga o ngā reo-ā-iwi. Ko te rerekētanga o te ia, o te piki me te heke o te reo, o ngā kīwaha, whakataukī, whakatauāki o ia iwi hei whakaputa i ōna ake kōrero. Hei tauira, ki tā te tuhinga Ngā Reo ā-Iwi a Te Wharehuia Milroy ki te pukapuka Te Kōhure, ka mea mai ia:

Ki te haere koe ki roto o te rohe o Taranaki me ōna hapū katoa, hei konā anō koe rongo ai i ngā rerekētanga, arā, i ētahi atu rohe kua rongo koe i te kupu ‘kei’ e whakamahia ana. Ki roto o Mātaatua, o Te Arawa, o Te Tai Rāwhiti ka rongo koe e whakamahia ana ‘kai’. Kei roto i ētahi o ngā hapū o Taranaki me Whanga-nui e pērā ana anō tā rātau whakamahi i tērā kupu, i te ‘kei’. He ‘kai’ kē, he ‘hai’ rānei mō te ‘hei’ (1996:53).

He mita ake anō kei ētahi reo-ā-iwi. Hei tauira ake, ki tā te mita o te Tai Tokerau, ka makere mai te ‘w’ i te pū ‘wh’ kia noho hei ‘hakarongo’ te kupu e mōhio whānuitia e te nuinga ko te ‘whakarongo’. Anō nei, ko Ngāi Tūhoe mā, kua kore mai te ‘g’ mai i te pū ‘ng’ kia noho mai ko te ‘whakarono’. Tau atu ki Te Waipounamu, ko tā rātou he ‘k’ kē mō te pū ‘ng’ kia ‘whakaroko’ te kupu ‘whakarongo’ nei. Ā, ki tā te Tai Hauāuru ka warea ake te pū ‘h’ kia ‘wakarongo’ kē te kupu.

He tauira noa iho ēnei hei whakaatu i te rerekētanga matua o ia mita, ā, kia noho ko ēnei tauira e whakaatu ana i te rerekētanga o ia reo-ā-iwi, o ia mita, kia mārama pai ai te tangata he kokinga anō tō te reo Māori.

I runga i aua whakaaro, ka tahuri ake anō ki te reo me te mita o te Tai Hauāuru hei whakatauira te tino ngako o te kaupapa nei.

Te Kāpunipuni Reo o Taranaki

E ai ki te paetukutuku o Te Reo o Taranaki, ko te aronga matua o te Kāpunipuni Reo o Taranaki he whakaako, he wānanga i ngā āhuatanga katoa o te reo me te mita o Taranaki. Arā, ko te ōrokohanga o te kaupapa whakaora i te reo o Taranaki i puta tuatahi mai te taki o ngā kaupapa whakaora i te reo Māori o ngā rau tau 1980. Ko ngā nawe i rangona ai e te iwi te take i tū mai te rōpū kaporeihana o Te Reo o Taranaki, nā tēnei i puta te ihu o te waka whakaora reo i te tau 1986 hei kawe ake i ngā wawata o rātou mā ngā mata reherehe mo ngā uri whakaheke.

E ai ki te pūataata rorohiko mō te rautaki o Te Reo o Taranaki, nō te tau 1991 ka huakina ngā tatau o Te Kōhanga Reo o Te Kōpae Tamariki ki Ngāmotu. Ka kotahi tau, ko ngā kuaha o Te Kura Kaupapa Māori o Te Pihipihinga Kākano Mai Rangiātea i tūwhera mai. Makere mai te whitu tau, ko te Wharekura i āpiti atu ki te kura. Anō hoki, ko Te Ātaarangi tonu e whakaako ana i te reo i Taranaki ki te marea, ēngari, ko te Kāpunipuni Reo i puta hei whakakīkī i te whārua mō ērā tokoiti matatau kē ana ki te reo.

Ko ngā tūmomo āhuatanga e whakaakona, e whakamahia ki ngā wānanga o te Kāpunipuni ko ngā karakia ōmua, ngā karakia hou, te whaikōrero, te karanga hoki, ngā waiata ōmua, ngā waiata hou, te kōrero paki, te pao maioha, me te taukumekume. Ko ēnei āhuatanga katoa he whai i ngā tikanga o Taranaki, o Ngā Rauru hoki. Ka tū ngā wānanga nei ki ngā marae huri noa i te rohe, ā, mā te hunga kua tangata whenua mai i aua marae e taki i ngā kōrero o ia wānanga.

Ko te mea nui o te Kāpunipuni, ko ngā kōrero katoa e hāngai tōtika ana ki ngā uri o ngā waka o Aotea, Tokomaru me Kurahaupō; ki ngā kōrero me ngā hītori o ngā iwi whānui o Taranaki. I a te tauira o te Kāpunipuni e wānanga ana i tōna mita ake, ko ia hoki e mau pūmau ana ki tōna ake tuakiri, arā, ko te reo tērā e mau kaha ana ki te tuakiri o te tangata. Ki tā te tohunga wetereo, Joshua Fishman, ko te takakino o te reo, he takakino o te tuakiri, arā, mā te oranga o tētahi te oranga o tērā atu hoki, ka mate te reo, ka whakamomori nei tātou i a tātou anō. Ki te ora te tuakiri o ia iwi, me ora anō tōna ake reo, mita hoki.

Nō reira, kei te ora tonu te reo?

Ka whānui taku titiro ki te oranga o te reo Māori. I taku tirohanga tuatahi ki tēnei urupounamu ka tere taku whakapae, āe, kei te ora tonu. I runga anō i te maha o ngā kaupapa whakaora reo e karapotia nei e te motu ināianei, i runga anō hoki i te mea e āhei ana ahau me te nui o ōku whānau ki te kōrero i te reo, te nui o ōku hoa hoki me ērā atu tāngata kei te hāpori, kei ngā pouaka whakaata, kei ngā reo irirangi, kei te ipurangi, kei hea kē mai e taea ai te kōrero, te rongo, te kite hoki i te reo e whakamahi ana – i runga anō i ērā whakatau āku, ka tika, kei te ora pai te reo. Ēngari anō, ki te tahuri ake ki ngā tatauranga ō mua, e whakaatu ana ēnei nama i tētahi āhuatanga kē.

E ai ki ngā kōrero o te pae tukutuku o Te Taura Whiri i te Reo Māori, i te tau 1913, āhua 92% te nui o ngā tamariki Māori e taea te kōrero i te reo Māori. Tau atu ki te 1973-78 o ngā tau, āhua 18-20% noa iho te maha o te tangata, ko te nuinga hoki he kaumātua. I te 1985 ka heke anō ki te 12%, otiia, e kore e mutu ki reira te hekenga o te tatauranga. Nō te tau 2006, ka puta mai anō ngā tatauranga mō te reo, i tēnei wā e kī ana e 4% noa iho te maha o te tangata ki Aotearoa e taea te kōrero i te reo Māori. Hei tāpiri ki tērā, mai ngā Māori katoa o Aotearoa – arā he 14% noa iho o te huinga tāngata katoa ki Aotearoa nei – 24% noa iho o aua Māori ka taea te kōrero Māori. Ki te whakataurite tērā ki te paihēneti o te maha o ngā tangata e taea te kōrero i te reo Pākehā, arā, e 95% e taea, tēnā, pehea tērā atu 5% paihēneti? Kāore e kore ko te nuinga – inā kāore i te katoa – he tangata nō whenua kē me tō rātou ake reo rerekē! Kāore kau he tangata e taea te kī e tūturu ana ko te reo Māori tōna reo noa iho. Kia whakaritea anō tātou i te rahi o te 24% o ngā tangata Māori; ko te nui o te tangata Māori e taea te kōrero i te reo Māori he pēnei te rite o te nui o te tangata noho ana ki tētahi rohe o Tamaki-makaurau i te tau 2006.

Ko ēnei momo tatauranga e whakaatu ana i te tino oranga o te reo. He reo rehurehu noa iho i te tirohanga mārō nei. Ka tata hemo te reo i te ngoikore o te nuinga me te tokoiti o te hunga matatau ki te kōrero, ngākaunui ana hoki ki te reo. Nō reira ka tika te ui atu, ‘kei te ora tonu te reo Māori?’

“He reo e kōrerotia ana, he reo ka ora.”

Otiia, ahakoa ngā tatauranga nei, kia mōhio mai koutou, ka mau tonu au ki te whakaaro, āe, kei te ora tonu te reo Māori. E kore rawa au e whakapae kua mate katoa te reo Māori tae noa ki te wā kua hemo katoa tātou e kawe i te hā, i te mura, i te ahi o te reo. Ēngari anō, he tika te whakatau, e kore te reo e ora pēnei nā i ngā rā ō mua, arā, te kaha rangona ki ngā wāhi katoa, te maringi noa mai ngā korokoro, waha, ngutu maha, te tika hoki o te reo. E kao. He ora pēnei i tētahi tangata e mau tonu ana ki tētahi tūpari, ā, ki te taka ia, ka hemo. Kei te kapokapo haere tātou i ngā kōhatu, i ngā paruparu, i te pātītī kia ora tātou i te pari rā. Kei te pēnā te ora o te reo ināianei, ko te whiu noa iho o ngā kupu hangahanga, ko te kaha mikirapu o ngā rerenga kōrero, o ngā kupu, te whakatū kaupapa whakaora reo maha, aha atu, aha atu mo te tūpono ka ora mai te reo i te muia o te reo, i te pārara o te hora ki te whenua. Ko te whakaaro nei kei te kōrerohia te reo, kei te kite atu, ko te tūpono kei te ora. Heoi, ko te reo Māori tērā e rere ana? Anei te tino ngako o ēnei kōrero. Ka mate tātou i te hurihanga o tēnei ao me ōna pānga maha ki a tātou, ki ngā iwi Māori o te motu, ki te reo hoki.

Maringanui he kaupapa whakaora reo pēnei i Te Kāpunipuni Reo. I runga i te whakaaro ko te ako, ko te whakaako hoki o te reo Māori he mahi paratī i te puna reo, he mea tīmatatanga noa iho hei eke ki te taumata kōrero. Ki te kōkirihia tonutia te kaupapa whakaora reo, hei māunu ake te oranga o te iwi hoki, me ruku hōhonu nei i ngā hōpuapua o te mita o te reo hei wānanga, hei wetewete i ngā kōrero a rātou mā. Kei reira kē te pūmautanga o te reo me ōna tikanga. Kia muramura mai te ahi kā ki roto ki tēnā, ki tēnā, pērā ki ngā pou o te reo Māori, te hunga kua roa nei e ‘tutungia te hātete’ o te reo, arā, kia Tīmoti Karetu mā, kia Te Wharehuia Milroy, kia Huirangi Waikerepuru, kia Tipene O’Reagan hoki. Kua riro mā rātou e mau i te ahi kā roa mo tātou kua mauheretia ki te reo paraoa o tēnei ao hurihuri, ā, ko te mura o te hā kei tēnā, kei tēnā o tātou e kawe tonu i te kaupapa. Ka tika kia para tonu tātou i tēnei ara o te reo kia tutungia tēnei mura hei ahi-kā-roa mo ērā e takahi ana i tēnei ara tāpokopoko.

Photo credit: Remon Rijper

Not all of us, of course. My neighbours are picking piles of silverbeet big enough to make a six year-old cry. In the depths of the nature-loving Cotton Building there are office windows full of tomato and basil planters, with the occasional mandarin tree thrown in for good measure. If you listen hard enough you may hear proposals for potato plots in the stairwells, conversations on eel-harvesting in the corridors, and tales of Tahr-shooting in the tearoom (for the uninitiated, Himalayan Tahr are a large, invasive ungulate).

For the majority of New Zealanders, it seems the concept of growing and harvesting our own food is either unwelcome or impossible. Here in Aotearoa many traditional mahinga kai (food-gathering places) are unable to be utilised by communities due to loss of lands as a direct result of colonisation, or through degradation of habitats and threat to native species.

Globally, we all know things aren’t too pretty, food-wise. Although it’s difficult to pin down concrete statistics, the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organisation estimated in late 2009 that over one billion people are undernourished worldwide, up from the 854 million estimated in 2006. Contrary to our childhood dinner table entreaties to “think of the starving children in Africa”, almost two-thirds of hungry peeps live in Asia and the Pacific. Suffice to say, it’s extremely depressing. So what to do?

The New Zealand Government is calling for ‘better’ (read: more intensive) global agriculture, to cut greenhouse gases and feed the hungry. They argue that we need to industrialise food production, possibly even adding a few pinches of Genetically Modified Organisms to keep up with the exponentially expanding human population. While our swelling species probably doesn’t help matters, it’s too easy to pin all our food issues on “overpopulation”. In fact, the world currently produces enough food to feed us all.

There’s a mash-up of reasons for malnutrition: poverty, harmful economic systems and conflict being first in line. What we’ve got here is a distribution problem. Think of Aotearoa: we’re a ‘developed’ country with a welfare system, supposedly clean water, and hundreds of thousands of cows meandering around paddocks nationwide. However we’re still subject to skyrocketing food prices, with families who can’t afford to buy breakfast, and kids succumbing to “third world” illnesses because of micro-nutrient deficiencies.

A primary school kid opens her lunchbox and sees no fresh fruit; simultaneously 30 fresh oranges are thrown into a skip behind a supermarket, resting next to a can of dented beans and a discarded tray of eggs, just one cracked. Last year The Guardian reported that global hunger could be alleviated by redistributing the millions of tonnes of food disposed of annually in the UK and US.

In New Zealand it’s particularly difficult for shops to give way unsold products, due to higher regulations dealing with use-by dates. While your local bakery staff may dearly love to give their excess custard pastries to the city mission, it’s likely difficult for them to do so.

It’s a bit upsetting when you start to mull over it. Luckily, there’s a global movement out there dealing with this sort of waste. It’s called freeganism.

Freeganism: a brief introduction

‘Freeganism’ is a mash-up of ‘free’ and ‘vegan’, describing an anti-consumerist lifestyle based on “limited participation in the conventional economy and minimal consumption of resources”. The movement sprung from a collision of alterglobalisation and environmentalism in the 1960s, with primary aims of reducing waste, limiting environmental and social harms resulting from goods production, and building awareness on how human actions impact the world.

Freeganism is often motivated for environmental, religious or political reasons. Freegan activities may include building renewable energy systems, squatting and cycle-sharing, For sake of simplicity we’ll focus on three issues of food freeganism: ‘free stores’, Food Not Bombs and dumpster diving.

But first, my disclaimer: I’m no active freegan. Rather, I’m interested in portraying freeganism in a fairly accurate light. Like all movements, freeganism is diverse and individuals are motivated by a smorgasbord of reasons; this article does not pretend to represent the movement.

Buying food, for free?

In May 2010, a small vibrant business was set up on Ghuznee Street by artist Kim Paton. The shop stocked a range of fresh produce and grocery items, but with a catch: all goods were completely free. The Wellington Free Store was designed to raise discussion around the value of products and definition of ‘waste’, exploring what happens to edible food items after trading stops.

For a fortnight customers flocked to look, comment and ‘buy’. The store was supplied by a number of local retailers, many who already provide excess stock to social agencies at no cost. Goodies included coffee from Supreme and People’s Coffee, bread from Arobake and Brooklyn bakeries, and produce from Countdown and Woolworth’s supermarkets.

Self-facilitation was rife: those in need carried shopping bags home with them; students self-moderated to a larger degree; others might have chosen a singular item. In a world where ‘need’ is often socially constructed, the Free Store showed that individuals and families may have a better idea of their own needs.

I recently caught up with Paton, planning a brief retrospective of the project. But I was pleasantly surprised: the Free Store is likely returning to our windy city. Paton says the two-week trial was a test, and that she plans to “look at viability over a longer period of time”; by late August a longer, four-month version of the Free Store should be underway, largely due to youth community group Zeal taking on the project.

Kaibosh is a Wellington non-profit organisation that has been working since 2008 to redistribute food products from retailers that would otherwise have been disposed of to charities. The Free Store worked alongside this organisation, but Paton considers the retail side of the Free Store important: “Businesses and shops are public spaces, and customers felt comfortable starting up in-depth, complex, intensive discussions.” Customers also commented that the Free Store had no shame attached, unlike perusing a food bank.

While Paton is incredibly passionate, she recognises that the store “should only exist when it’s viable to exist”. In a perfect world, businesses would change the way they run and the store would no longer function. This seems a far-off dream, but at least Free Stores are booming. A Dunedin Free Store is currently coming to life, and Paton has been asked to carry out a trial run in Waitakere City.

Diving into Dumpsters

Paton’s project highlights wastage in a consumer-friendly manner. But there’s also a secret squirrel community of dumpster divers out there, refusing to let supermarkets and bakeries throw away perfectly edible (and often remarkably delicious) food.

While it seems that everyone wants to jump on the ‘free store’ wagon, dumpster diving is the less cute-and-cuddly side of the Freegan coin. Not everyone likes the idea of climbing into dumpsters and over barbed wire to get their weekly groceries, and not everyone is physically able to. Then there’s the issue of legality: um… it’s definitely illegal. Trespass is the standard charge, but theft could also be on the cards. Last year three Dunedin students were arrested and charged for ‘diving’, so it’s not something to do for the hell of it.

The divers I talked to were quick to point out their focus on the unequal distribution of resources. Dumpstered food is often redistributed to those who need it through collectives or groups. Like the Wellington Free Store, dumpstering is seen as a stop-gap measure in an imperfect world, not a salve to fix the underlying problem.

The magnitude of wastage can be astounding: slightly dented tins of baby formula; deformed but perfectly delicious apples; more baguettes than you could ever carry. There’s enough to share it around.

Food Not Bombs

Admittedly, I was confused when I first heard about Food Not Bombs. It was a few years back, when I was still relatively green to being ‘green’, and the idea of giving away food for free sounded good, but why? My naive questions on the subject were answered with “Food’s a human right, yeah?” So I thought a little harder and decided I couldn’t help but agree with such blatant logic.

Food Not Bombs is a global grassroots movement of independent collectives which gives free vegetarian and vegan food to hungry people as a means of protesting war, poverty and military spending. Ingredients may be provided by surplus food from supermarkets and shops, or sourced from dumpsters. The movement has supported anti-globalisation and environmentalist actions during its lifespan of almost three decades, with a rough ideology that corporate and government policies allow hunger to continue in the “midst of abundance”.

Food Not Bombs has been represented in Wellington by a myriad of groups over the years. Soup and chocolate seem to be favourites of both food givers and receivers. One frosty Saturday night at 2am you may be lucky enough to score some free hot chocolate as you wander, tequila-soaked, down Manners Mall.

Just like the Wellington Free Store and dumpster diving, Food Not Bombs draws attention to the ridiculous amount of waste our society creates and the terrible state of our food distribution. Tonight, when we sit down for dinner, let’s remember that elsewhere peeps are simultaneously dining on dumpstered dal and rice; that volunteers are ladling out free soup; and that others have nothing at all.

Dumpster Diving Etiquette:

• Network with other divers.
• Dress appropriately: we’re talkin’ thick plastic gloves, long-sleeve shirts and pants, sturdy fabrics and footwear.
• Brings props: a torch and bags for carrying goodies at minimum.
• Be careful: watch for broken glass and unwrapped meat products.
• Be stealthy: Make sure no one is around and keep a look out.
• Take only what you can use or share.
• Leave the dumpster as you find it.
• Clean items (and yourself) thoroughly afterwards.
• If discovered, leave quickly and politely.
• Know your rights, ‘cause it is illegal.

Landlords and homeowners on Team Tumble Dryer insist that they “don’t want to be looking at somebody’s underwear out the kitchen window”. Their main argument is that visible clotheslines decrease the aesthetic and commercial value of their property. Luckily, vociferous opposition exists from groups like Project Laundry List, which was recently voted Grassroots.org’s June 2010 Member of the Month for their successes in raising awareness of the immediate, individually achievable environmental benefits of simply using a clothesline (or clotheshorse) as opposed to a dryer. Beyond its significant environmental advantages, using a clothesline also presents clear financial, personal, and even psychological advantages over using a dryer. Of the limitless possibilities for impacting positive environmental change, only one option happens to be lint-less.

Lurking in your laundry or your bathroom, the clothes dryer (not the solar-powered, rope kind) is one of the worst offenders on a scale of the sum of ozone-destroying greenhouse gases produced, also known as its carbon footprint. According to a study by Time Magazine, dryers alone emit up to one metric tonne of CO2 per household every year; for a flat of four people who wash and dry three loads of laundry every two weeks, this is roughly equivalent to 3300 square metres of deforestation per year. These figures seem especially staggering once we consider that they could be cut down to zero simply by choosing to use a clothesline, which generates no greenhouse gases and therefore has no carbon footprint.

Theoretically, the concept of a clothesline is the simplest way of harnessing renewable solar and wind energies. Figures on the Project Laundry List website say that only 8 per cent of American households line dry their laundry for five months of the year. If all of those who do not currently use a clothesline started to use one for ten months of the year, we could avoid 12 million tonnes of carbon dioxide from entering the atmosphere annually.

A 2008 Oxford University study showed that at least a third of carbon emissions savings in the residential sector comes from behavioural changes like line-drying. Furthermore, 80 per cent of the carbon emissions produced by a single pair of jeans comes from the energy used to dry them in a conventional clothes dryer. Once an emblem of economic success and prosperity, the clothes dryer has to many now become a quietly humming symbol of environmental disregard and ignorance.

All of these environmentally conscious benefits seem to be rewarded by the personal, practical benefits of owning and using a clothesline. Three of New Zealand’s largest energy companies—Meridian, Genesis and TrustPower—specifically recommend switching to a clothesline as a means of conserving about 6 per cent of the total energy used in a household, which is produced by a dryer alone. In an average New Zealand household using 12,000 kW of electricity per year, saving approximately 720 kilowatts by eliminating a dryer is equivalent to about $60 per year in energy savings, which in turn is equivalent to six bottles of Chat En Oeuf (described as a truly mouth-filling red wine packed with ripe berry fruit flavours, a touch of soft tannin and a subtle twist of spice and garrigue herbs) from The Mill.

Due to the natural disinfectant properties of sunlight, which is much less harsh on clothing fibres yet just as effective as bleach, red wine stains will remain a nuisance of your dryer days anyway. As a moderate form of exercise, the active yet calming routine of hanging up the clothes has been proven to help with weight loss, and its refreshing outdoor nature aids in the avoidance of depression and Seasonal Affective Disorder. The lint pulled from a dryer is a sign of how quickly clothes are worn out by being subjected to a weekly 45-minute tumble; more threateningly, dryer lint accounts for 92 per cent of laundry appliance fires, damage which results in 17,700 structure fires, 15 deaths, and 30 injuries every year in the United States (figures courtesy of Project Laundry list). As the Right to Dry movement is passionately aware, ‘hanging out’ is one of the simplest steps an individual can take to improve their personal laundry habits as well as minimise their carbon footprint and contribute to positive climate change.

Ultimately, the best reason for having (and the poorest excuse for not having) a clothesline is how easy, affordable and achievable they are to set up and use. Nylon rope (in neon colours, if you like to add a little something to your whites) and clothespins can each be purchased in large and dependable quantities from the $2 Shop on Cuba Street. New World, Moore Wilson’s, and most of the Sunday morning fruit and vege markets stock fragrant herbs like thyme and rosemary, which make your laundry smell wonderful when planted near or underneath your clothesline. If you don’t have room for an outside line, an indoor drying rack is available from most major New Zealand department and hardware stores for under $20. In addition to all of the carbon footprint-reducing benefits of an outdoor line, an indoor drying rack also serves to humidify a room during dry winter weather. The simple clothesline, and its proportionately extraordinary potential, proves that no individual act is ‘too small’ or ‘doesn’t matter enough’ to change the greater environment for the better.

The concept of ‘urban agriculture’ as a means of encouraging sustainability has been floated around in architectural circles for a number of years, and remains a favourite buzzword of many an Urban Designer. But is it really possible to kerb our environmental ills by planting a few potatoes in the backyard? Salient’s Stuart Taylor talks to comedian and self-styled opinionist Te Radar about his latest foray into self-sufficiency, Radar’s Patch, to discover whether it is indeed possible to survive off a typical quarter-acre section.

Firstly, what happened to the house and section you worked on once filming came to an end?

It was leased and went back to its landlords, who had bought it with the lease in place. They will no doubt do it up a little and then sell it and attempt to make a profit. Living the Kiwi dream they were.

And how does the project section compare to your usual abode? Has it changed the way you now live?

My house is in a bit of a better state, in fact it’s an old state house I believe. It hasn’t really changed the way I live. I potter about a little but I’m away so much that I don’t have a big garden, as it would simply die or become overgrown. And as far as being aware of products, food choices etc, I’ve always been pretty conscious of that.

How possible do you think it is to live a similar lifestyle in an urban situation where perhaps the sections are commonly subdivided and bare land is at more of a premium?

Space utilisation is what people make of it. I know people who grow vegetables in the tiny space between their house and the fence. People can grow a considerable amount in a tiny space. In fact I think the more space people have the more difficult they might find it. Less is more, as they say, and a small space, well used, can be hugely rewarding for little effort.

An interesting by-product of self-sufficiency is the emotional connection that one can develop with the process or product. How did you feel about leaving your quarter-acre paradise and its bounty?

This time round I didn’t mind, as I wasn’t as attached to the property as I was in the first series. But I do miss the chickens, and certainly the livestock from the first series. You can get quite attached to animals, even those you intend to eat. And there is always something a little frustrating about leaving somewhere just as you start to get things right.

With global trading, the seasonal variation in produce becomes less significant—that would be, certain vegetables can be bought year-round as opposed to earlier days when produce would fluctuate from scarcity to abundance as per the seasons. How do you deal with this disparity that at times could be used as an excuse against the idea of growing for oneself?

I guess it is what people are willing to do, or put up with. It’s also to do with where they shop: supermarkets or a local orchard or greengrocer? Many people might not have the time nor inclination to preserve, bottle, stew, pickle or freeze in times of plenty, but others do and love it. It’s really a personal decision as to where you will put in your effort in being a little more eco-aware. Do you buy locally produced tin fruit or bottle your own? Do you attempt to eat just those crops in season? While it is lovely to have a pantry full of home produce, the reality is for many people that it’s just not an option.

Something really positive to come from the series was the sense of community you managed to achieve with all of the characters who you met over the six months. Do you see projects like this as a means to reconnect people and to encourage active participation in the community?

I think that at the heart of both series was not a message of sustainability, but one about the importance of community. Participation in aspects of community life is essential for many, be it from sports clubs, to schools, to groups with similar interests. It’s a sharing of skills, using your money to reinvest in your community, in the form of supporting local small business, butchers, bakers, greengrocers, brewers, cheese makers, and so on. They are all a part of what makes a community a rich and vibrant place.

For me, the final real estate evaluation of the property was something of a disappointment, at least in that it perhaps represents New Zealanders’ core value system as being financially driven—‘useable space’ being declared as more economically valuable than anything put into it. What were your feelings about their reluctance to attribute any worth to the oven and chicken hutch, etc?

People buying property seem to like a blank canvas apparently, or at least something they don’t have to do too much to in order to achieve their dream. I was a little surprised that the thought of a place being set up for an eco-aware type wouldn’t have commanded a better response, but then having said that I guess she knows the market. I am sure that for someone it would have been ideal. But then again, people do paint their walls that weird off-white when selling to create the bland appealing-to-all look.

Another focus for you was the economic potential for such a lifestyle—both in terms of whether it is cheaper to live by producing for oneself and also in terms of potential income, particularly—with surplus yield—would you consider this one of the biggest hurdles for those interested in doing something similar?

The actual cost of producing some of the items didn’t strike me as being all that cheap, and was certainly time-consuming. However, many people do make a tidy sum from doing so, whereas others do so as a lifestyle decision, liking the fact that they can have a stall at the local markets, meet people, and make a little extra.

One great advantages of a supermarket lifestyle is the time-saving benefits. In your experience, does the sense of reward that comes with self-sufficiency equate the time input? Or is this perhaps something that would become more true over a number of seasons, etc, at least once you have the initial setup required?

Ah yes. Being time poor. We spent a lot of time just getting the basics set up, so each season, once you have that done, you can refine and improve. However, some things do take time. Killing and prepping chickens, for example. It’s a fair amount of effort, but again, something that you improve with over time. But, is the result worth it? Sure, it’s something you grew, but the chances of it being as fleshy as a nice free-range store-bought one may be slim, and then, given the time and money invested in rearing and butchering it, is it worth it? Again, this may be down to personal taste and pride. But, once you have systems in place, it should get easier. After all, you only have to build a raised garden plot once, then you move onto something else, while it enriches itself over the year with compost, etc.

In terms of New Zealand, one of our greatest agrarian pursuits is the use of vast swaths of land for dairy farming—do you think it is possible to meet some of our dairying needs in close quarters? Or is rearing livestock and the like perhaps a step too far?

If you mean people having a small holding and raising a cow for milk, I think for most it’s not practical. Again, it has to do with looking at the economics and your personal philosophy and practicalities of TIME. Rearing and milking a cow is time-consuming. It’s an everyday thing. And, arguably, much less cost effective. However, again, some people prefer it. The other option is small farmlets selling milk to locals direct, but there are a few laws about this.

What is your take on the difference between personal efforts to become sustainable versus the wider efforts required? Do you think this kind of grass-roots approach can ultimately lead to a change for the better?

I’d like to think so, but the reality is it’s a little bit greenwashy. Most of the refuse, resource use, and pollution comes from industry, and simply stopping the use of a plastic supermarket bag won’t change that. Again, it depends on your notion of sustainability. If it is a community thing where you support your local businesses, this is an excellent way of approaching it. Having said that, there are many great grass-roots ventures. Wastebusters, enviro-centers, resource pooling, shared allotments, are all vital and very good.

What is your take on greenwashing and voodoo marketing strategies that give consumers a false sense of satisfaction that they are doing their part?

Most people simply don’t have the time or the resources to fully investigate every aspect of their purchasing. But I think many are being hoodwinked. The belief that all free-range chickens, eggs come from happy chickens mooching around a field is a classic example. I think though that there is a huge difference in production techniques here than there are in the food industries in the US, and many people may not realise that. There was a recent furore over the chemicals in supposedly natural washing detergents, for example. Just because it’s labelled organic doesn’t mean it’s good for you.

A caution from the wise then… thanks a bunch for your time, Radar!

So it was with great pleasure (and a tinge of revenge) that I accepted the opportunity to help “energy audit” a flat. An energy audit is a process of checking how your crib can be made better—warmer, drier, more energy efficient. Freezing damp bunkers can be miraculously transformed into warm, dry, healthy houses. Or, at least that was what I was hoping as I shivered into the soggy villa that plays home to Max Hardy and Seamus Brady*.

The place was cold, damp, dark and obliterated by a menagerie of British political paraphernalia. Oh, and there were cats. Many cats. In hindsight, it was quite extraordinary how our brilliant auditors Seth and Sarah coped with the dank surrounds; they quickly got to work, analysing how the house coped with energy. They focused on where the energy came from, and where it could be leaking. How well the house was insulated was an important first check.

I’d never realised how I should be loathing windows. They’re like giant gashes in your house’s skin. Or, perhaps a more accurate (and less disturbing) comparison would be to a car window that’s frozen open at the top of Mt Ruapehu. Except, of course, comparing windows to windows is hardly literary genius. Anyway, they’re pretty bad, so getting a good pair of curtains can make a massive difference, keeping the heat where we can use it. If you have a Community Services Card, hit up the Curtain Bank through your local Citizen’s Advice Bureau—they’ll sort you out with thermal curtains, cut to fit, completely free.

Another little trick you can commandeer is the chimney plug (I’m thinking of copyrighting that title so don’t get any sneaky ideas). Unutilised chimneys are a common source of heat seepage: the average timber-free student fireplace is (in a fantastically ironic way) more ice-box than ice-eater. There is solace, however. Stuff a couple of plastic bags with newspaper, and then plug them up your chimney. It’ll go a long way to plugging an energy hole and, as an added bonus, the fool who in ten or twenty years time tries to light a fire will get a hilarious surprise.

Inevitably though, you can’t keep all the heat in the room in, but you’re still going to need to generate the heat in the first place. World health standards say that a room colder than 18 degrees is unhealthy, and in the Wellington winter you’d be lucky to get a high of fifteen degrees—generally the temperature is closer to zero. We all know how expensive heating can be, which means flats like Max’s end up cold. If your landlord happens to be an amazing post-Christmas-Carol Ebenzer Scrooge, I’m sure I don’t need to detail the delights of heat pumps—but asking is always worth a shot. However, for those of us less blessed, a better solution might be sorting out a roster with your flatmates and getting a good ceramic heater. If you use it wisely (young Padawan), it could be cheaper than you think.

It’s important to remember that heat is not the only grail good energy-knights are questing for. Think about how dry your house is—moisture is unhealthy, unpleasant, shit for the house and could even [insert gasping here] make your home less energy efficient. I know, right, damp equals lame. Unsurprisingly, bathrooms are typically the most soggy part of the house. Showers are often the culprit, with all that steam inevitably going somewhere, and your slimy body dripping water all over the floor doesn’t help either. New technology like shower domes can do a massive amount to dry up the place—you chuck them on top of your shower and they use Physics** to keep the steam from condensing. Still, at around $270 they’re kind of dear, and simply leaving a window ajar when you’re in the shower can deal to a lot of that steam. I’m sure that all of you, unlike Brady and Hardy, are wise enough to be using a bath mat too. ACC tells you too, so you know it’s a good idea, plus they’ll do a lot to dry up a floor.

Another common source of moisture is washing. When you dry clothes inside, all of the evaporated water is going to seep into your walls, roof and floor. The brilliant (if, admittedly, occasionally impossible) alternative is drying your washing outside. It’ll release all of the water into the air, and as an added bonus you’ll get that genuine clothesline smell.

A final source of energy-efficient goodness is the hot water cylinder. The one we looked at was pretty good, achieving the EECA recommendation of 60 degrees. It’s important that your cylinder is around this level, because that allows it to be hot enough to kill germs and invading swarms of Gumbumbles, while being not too hot to be considered unsafe. Remember, there’s nothing sexier than safety, and you’re going to be pretty gutted if you get sick the night before your final law exam or Olympic-level equestrian event. Make sure your water heater’s thermostat (if it has one) is at a decent temperature and help things along with a cylinder insulation wrap, which would probably pay for itself in electricity savings in less than a year.

There’s a lot you can do to make your flat warmer, drier and healthier. Ultimately, though, any major changes will have to come from the landlord. Quality ceiling insulation is always effective, and because of the EnergyWise insulation scheme, it would be heavily subsidised, so that you could get the job done for $15 per square metre. At around $400 for the average house, this is a cheap way that our landlords can up the value of their house while ensuring we don’t freeze to death. If you need help with convincing your landlord, VUWSA’s Warm My Flat campaign is kicking off soon, so talk to them and they’ll totally help you out.

So, what are you waiting for? Go get ‘em, you energy efficient tiger. Warm dry flats are where it’s at, you’ll be healthier, wealthier and stealthier. Well, maybe not stealthier, considering everyone will want to hang out at your place what with your newly found awesomeness, but it’ll be a good time. I promise.

*I’m assured that this wasn’t an instance of a corrupt VUWSA getting its exec a nicer pad.
**The Laws of Physics are the property of Monsanto Co, patent pending.

Find out more about VUWSA’s Warm My Flat campaign on their website.

Poo is something many of us are very familiar with. It comes in a variety of shapes and sizes. There are four million people living in New Zealand and there are many more sheep, cows, pigs and chickens. All of us put together would create a substantial amount of poo. With this being VUWSA’s Environment Week, I was curious how all of this is dealt with, so I did a very small-scale investigation. I spent three hours on the internet finding out what it may take you a few minutes to read in this article. I will, for the sake of being brief, only mention three poo varietals: people poo, cow poo and factory-farmed poo.

People poo

As far as I have discovered, most regions deal with people poo (or human sewage, as the Greater Wellington Regional Council likes to call it) in their own fashion. So instead of looking at every city I decided to focus on Wellington. You’ll probably be pleased to know that the “Discharge of human sewage” is classed as a “Discretionary and Restricted Coastal Activity”. This means that you have to get resource consent before you carry it out.

So what happens to our “human sewage” in Wellington? It took me about an hour to discover this, and it was on page 67 of a District Plan. Prior to 1986, “untreated sewage effluent” was dumped into Lyall Bay at Moa Point (near the airport). Thankfully, this is now considered “no longer acceptable” and now our poo is treated at a nearby sewage plant before it’s shoved into the bay (there are also three other treatment plants, my favourite one is called the “Southern Landfill Sludge Treatment Plant”).

Cow poo

We have a hell of a lot of cows in New Zealand. These too create a hell of a lot of poo. This poo poses a problem for New Zealand because it is one of the main contributors to pollution in New Zealand’s rivers. The State of the Environment Report 2007/2008 from the Ministry for the Environment showed that 40 per cent of New Zealand’s swimming spots were not safe for swimming. One of the main tests used in this report was testing the amount of the bacterium E. Colli in rivers. While this is normally a harmless bacterium it acts as a way to indicate “fecal contamination”.

Once again, it is illegal to dump a cow’s poo into a river without first getting resource consent and second, treating it. There are also some pretty hefty fines for breaking these laws, for example the Crafar family was recently fined $40,000 for “wrongfully discharging effluent”. However, there’s a sneaky part of the law, because it’s not illegal if you just let your cows walk into a river and poo in it. It seems as though you physically have to get the poo down to the river yourself somehow.

But the best quote on this topic has to come from Green Party co-leader Russel Norman during his Dirty Rivers Rafting Tour earlier this year. Describing the Waihou river he said,

“Heavy rain on Sunday morning had washed all the crap off the land and into the river… By the time I launched my kayak from the Te Aroha boat ramp… the river was solid brown, full of sediment and dotted with great mats of weed. At times the stench of cow effluent hung over the river.”

Factory farmed poo

Factory farms present a similar problem to dairy farms, but on a much larger scale. Remember the huge fuss that was made of the proposed factory dairy farm at the McKenzie Basin? The poo from the proposed 18,000-cow farm would have been equivalent to 250,000 people. This goes some way to illustrating how much poo is produced by large farms. Another example is of a Taranaki pig farm of 10,000 where the owners built a pit to store the resulting poo. This pit has a capacity of 72,000 cubic metres. That’s a lot of shit! Just imagine the waste from the approximately 350,000 pigs,which are kept in factory farms around New Zealand.

One major problem from these farms is that an easy and legal way of disposing of this poo is to use it as manure on fields. However, this is a lot of manure and probably far more than can actually be used for farming purposes. The most amusing—and slightly grotesque—images are those of fields covered in poo from factory farms (not as a way of growing plants, but as a way of dealing with this vast amount of poo).

To conclude, it would be safe to say that we produce a lot of poo. It would also be safe to say that the more we produce, and the more we produce in one place, the harder it is to deal with. The problem is that we can’t live in a world covered in poo, so something may need to happen sooner, rather than later.

The New York Times reported that more than 20,000 people and 1400 vessels were involved in containment and cleanup efforts, recovering around 13.1 million gallons of oil-water mix—and 745-odd dead animals. Approximately 60,683 square miles of ocean—equating to 25 per cent of federal waters in the Gulf—were closed to fishing, while the government and BP worked fruitlessly to stem the ruptured well.

On 1 June, here in New Zealand, Energy and Resources Minister Gerry Brownlee announced that the government had awarded a five-year exploration permit to the world’s fourth-largest energy company, the Brazilian giant Petrobras International Braspetro BV, granting them the right to drill a 12,330-square kilometre area off the east coast of the North Island.

To make such plans in the middle of the biggest environmental disaster in the United States’ history sounded like a “bad joke”, to quote Greenpeace. Petrobras’ credentials failed to impress the Green Party and East Coast iwi Ngati Porou, but Brownlee made it clear that he did not intend to back down.

Those in the industry are quick to point out that Petrobras has only been awarded a permit to explore, not to mine, and so the potential for damage is currently limited. The Green Party and Greenpeace refute this, describing it as irresponsible to drill at all while the cause of the Deepwater Horizon blowout is unknown. It’s fair to say that although it’s too early to predict what Petrobras’ investigation may lead to, there is already plenty of debate.

The bidding process

On 10 December 2008, the Ministry of Economic Development (MED) released the Raukumara Blocks Offer to international tender until 28 January 2010. The proposal covered two permit areas over the Raukumara Basin, a 25,000 square-kilometre area north of East Cape, at the northern end of the East Coast Basin.

The term ‘bid’ is misleading, as the companies involved (which the government refuses to identify, thus ensuring “the integrity of the blocks offer process”) did not offer a monetary amount. Instead, they specified a work programme that, if they were successful, they would execute in the area. Petroleum Exploration and Production Association of New Zealand (PEPANZ) executive officer John Pfahlert explains:

“Money is one aspect—i.e., they do actually have to have the money to do the work they say that they are going to do, but they bid to do a certain programme of work, which generally ends with the drilling of an exploration well.”

The government evaluated the programmes that they received in order to ensure that they were feasible and “supported by the financial and technical capability needed to give effect”. Although this seems somewhat ambiguous, Pfahlert insists that the factors taken into account by the government were not “opaque”: rather, “a bunch of criteria” was recognised.

“The reputation of the company, their track record overseas, the amount of money they’ve got behind them, the likelihood that they will deliver on the work programme, the expertise they may bring to New Zealand,” he lists. “Those sorts of things.”

Petrobras—the largest company in Latin America, present in 28 countries—successfully secured the rights to explore Raukumura Basin. Its oil and gas reserves in 2008 alone equated to 15.1 billion barrels, while according to the company’s website, its 2009-2013 business plan predicts “investments in the order of $174.4 billion real”—approximately NZ$137.2 billion.

Pfahlert doubts that the government was concerned by whether a particular company’s practices were considered environmentally friendly or not, as there are other processes in place to monitor this.

“Generally, I wouldn’t expect it to have a high weighting [in the decision making process], no,” he says. “Simply because any subsequent consents [a company] might need to obtain to undertake operations would have to be obtained in the normal manner under the Resource Management Act (RMA), or with Maritime New Zealand.

“You wouldn’t normally expect the government to be second-guessing companies’ environmental track records when there’s a regime in place that will deal with that anyway.”

Pfahlert reiterates that, at this early stage in the venture, Petrobras’ operations are limited, as “they don’t actually have permission to mine at all”.

“There’s a two-phase process that the government goes through—once you’ve made a commercial discovery, you have the right to exchange the exploration permit for a mining permit, but it’s a separate process.”

The MED outlines the minimum requirements for Petrobras’ proposed staged work programme as completing a regional 2D seismic survey, followed by a 3D survey; drilling one well, with at least 12 months’ notice of drilling given to the MED beforehand; and reporting and presenting a full review of the Basin’s potential post-drilling. At least one of the projects must be carried out within the first 18 months of Petrobras’ permit—and at this stage, the company expects to be drilling for gas, rather than oil.

Pfahlert believes that the drilling of a well probably won’t occur until year four or year five.

“At the end of year five, they have to make a decision about whether they’re going to carry on or not—though that will actually be determined by whether they’ve found anything,” he says. “If they find nothing, there’s every realistic chance they’ll drop the permit, and hand back any information they obtained to the MED, which can then try and attract someone else to show an interest in the area.”

What New Zealand stands to gain

Pfahlert describes drilling for “financial and commercial discovery” as a hit-and-miss affair.

“Internationally, the odds are that for every oil hole you drill, you drill nine or ten that are duds,” he says. “I think in New Zealand, the odds are a bit longer than that—maybe one in ten to one in 20. So, there’s a 90 per cent chance that every hole that’s drilled, around the world, is going to fail. That’s just the odds of the exploration business.”

However, if drilling does uncover minerals, “there are very significant rewards,” agrees Pfahlert.

“If there is a commercial discovery, these projects pay themselves off very quickly and get a lot of return to the Crown.”

Aside from Brownlee’s promise of increased “long-term regional development”, as well as more jobs for New Zealanders, the MED is hopeful that Petrobras’ investment will further the economic relationship between New Zealand and Brazil—the world’s eighth largest economy.

Pfahlert points to the success of the five wells of the Kupe project in Taranaki, drilled about 32 kilometres off the coast.

“I think the company there spent about $1.3 billion on capital costs, and around half of that went into New Zealand’s economy; it had around 800 people involved in its construction phase, and there are probably 100 people employed full-time on an ongoing basis.”

It seems hard to overestimate the monetary value of a commercially viable petroleum find. Last week, almost $700 million dollars’ worth of additional oil and gas reserves were confirmed to have been discovered at the Kupe field. New Zealand Oil & Gas’ chief executive David Salisbury told The New Zealand Herald that the company’s 15 per cent stake in the project could, at current prices, equate to close to a $100 million share in the increased reserve.

It’s no wonder that the Vancouver-based Fraser Institute recently named New Zealand as the second most attractive country to invest in for petroleum exploration—especially, as Pfahlert points out, “[companies] have drilled for and exploited the oil in all the easy places.

“The reason that companies have started coming to New Zealand is that the global demand for oil keeps growing, and the places where you find it keep becoming perhaps less popular to go to. Increasingly, companies will look to invest in places they perhaps wouldn’t have looked at 15 or 20 years ago.”

The MED says that education and health are among the sectors that benefit from petroleum and gas production, as the Crown collects royalties from extraction of minerals. Pfahlert also notes that the companies involved pay tax, which will benefit the economy.

“That’s where it’s no different to any other commercial enterprise, I guess.”

Gambling with the environment

Where the energy industry does differ significantly is the high amount of risk involved, as exemplified by the Deepwater Horizon disaster. The poor timing of Brownlee’s announcement provoked immediate concern that Petrobras’ mining could result in such a catastrophe. Others have pointed out that if both the United States Government and BP have struggled to manage the spill, New Zealand stands no hope of managing such a disaster. There is a suggestion, in fact, that New Zealand is in over its head.

Dr Rosalind Archer, a senior lecturer in Engineering Science at Auckland University, points to data released by America’s Society of Petroleum Engineers to show that “While there can never be an absolute guarantee that any offshore operation is perfectly safe… if international best practices are followed, the risk of an oil spill due to a blowout is extremely low.”

Indeed, Petrobras’ health and safety record has improved immensely over the past decade, since the explosion of its 36 Oil Platform on 15 March 2001. Then the largest floating, semi-submersible platform in the world, it exploded off the coast of Brazil, killing 11 workers, and sank five days later with an estimated 1500 tonnes of crude oil remaining onboard. An investigation found a number of causal factors (including human error), which were worsened by the lack of an adequate contingency plan.

To its credit, Petrobras was quick to learn from its mistakes. The Dow Jones Sustainability Index (DJSI) recently named the company as one of the most sustainable outfits in the world today, and especially praised it for its “benchmark” score for ‘Management System and Environmental Policy’. Management & Excellence (M&E) reported that Petrobras was the world’s most sustainable oil company, with a rating of 92.25 per cent.

Certainly, Petrobras’ “pedigree”, to quote Brownlee, is impressive—but can any positive report or glowing safety record excuse the potential risk?

“It’s a difficult issue: the chance of a major environmental disaster is extremely small. However, the consequences of such a disaster could be huge,” says Dr Archer. “If Petrobras’ exploration activities are monitored and managed appropriately, I am not uncomfortable with the balance between the economic gains that could be achieved, and the inherent risk.”

Green Party co-leader Dr Russel Norman is not so magnanimous. In a statement dated 31 May, he described the government’s planned offshore drilling as “environmentally reckless”, and challenged them to suspend any programme until “[oil companies] knew exactly what went wrong with Deepwater Horizon, they can ensure that it won’t happen again, and that if it ever does happen again, they have the ability to plug the well”.

Dr Cath Wallace, a senior lecturer within the School of Government’s Environmental Studies department at Victoria University, says that the Environment and Conservation Organisations (ECO) of New Zealand—where she specialises in public policy—agrees with Norman’s proposal.

“And we are not alone. The International Union for Conservation of Nature has also called for a pause while these issues are sorted out.”

Dr Wallace asserts that the potential economic gains of Petrobras’ exploration, no matter how vast, cannot adequately justify the risk of an environmental disaster—even if a commercial discovery is as unlikely as Pfahlert claims.

“In any of these issues, you need to consider not only the probability, but also the severity of harm,” she says. “The reality is that New Zealand does not have the capability of dealing with any major blowout or disaster.”

To some extent, this has been admitted by the agencies involved. In an article published on Scoop.co.nz, Maritime New Zealand’s media advisor Sophie Hazelhurst said that a spill exceeding 3500 tonnes of oil would surpass the planning, equipment and training that the organisation has in place. New Zealand would therefore be forced to seek help from overseas countries such as Singapore, Australia and the United Kingdom.

Furthermore, Dr Wallace believes that mining will damage New Zealand’s ‘clean and green’ image overseas—just as the government’s proposal to mine conservation land did. In April, Bob Lancaster, founder of Nelson- and Sheffield-based hiking company High Places, was quoted on Radio New Zealand’s Morning Report as stating that international press had described New Zealand’s potential mining of protected areas as “state vandalism”.

“We are losing our international reputation for environmental responsibility, and that will rebound on us in markets all over the world,” argues Dr Wallace, who maintains that the government is pursuing “a very old-fashioned resource extractive economic strategy”.

“We need to wean ourselves off fossil fuels, for the sake of the atmosphere,” she continues. “A much sounder and more effective approach would be to pursue economic benefit from an intact environment—that way, we maintain our environment and economy into the future.”

What safety nets are in place?

Despite suggestion to the contrary, Pfahlert feels that New Zealand is prepared to handle Petrobras’ proposal.

“I’ll put a caveat on it, though: there is certainly room for improvement, and in fact, most of the agencies are looking to improve the regulatory environment to make sure that it really is world-best practice.”

The MED has commissioned an independent study, due this year, on New Zealand’s health, safety and environmental provisions around minerals activities, such as deep-sea drilling. For this reason, Pfahlert dismisses suggestion that a standalone agency be erected solely to monitor Petrobras’ practice as “a complete waste of money”.

What is needed, Pfahlert maintains, is “one regulatory system” relating to practices taking part in the Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) 12 miles offshore, “irrespective of who’s doing them”.

“We’re expecting the government to introduce a piece of legislation to deal with the same sorts of things that the RMA considers,” he says. “You wouldn’t want to set up a system just for the Raukumara Basin with one company. That’d be foolish in my view.”

Pfahlert says that the proposed Environmental Protection Authority, which Environment Minister Nick Smith hopes to be functional by 1 July 2011, will also play some role in processing legislation and consent applications.

Dr Archer reiterates that Petrobras’ permit to explore the Raukumara Basin does not mean that deepwater drilling is imminent; in fact, she predicts it won’t occur before 2013 at the earliest. Consequently, it’s tempting to disregard the developments in New Zealand’s minerals extractions until minerals are indeed extracted.

Although Petrobras’ exploration seems inevitable, as further details of Deepwater Horizon come to light, we should be primed to react to them—especially if we are to prevent any deepwater catastrophes occurring on New Zealand horizons.

On 9 November 1989, Swede Eija-Riita Eklöf-Mauer stood by as jubilant masses, armed with sledgehammers, took to her young husband, bludgeoning the 28-year-old to death and tearing chunks from his wounded body until he was left barely recognisable to his grieving widow.

Mauer was, of course, married to the doomed Berlin Wall and she is one of around 40 self-professed ‘objectum-sexuals’ (or objectaphiles) worldwide. Put plainly, objectum-sexuals are individuals who have intense and meaningful romantic relationships with inanimate objects, often engaging in promiscuity.

A few years ago I remember seeing a particularly disturbing BBC documentary, ‘My Car is My Lover’, which followed several men with an expressed sexual interest in cars of varying description. Images of grown men plugging away at car exhaust pipes aside, this odd affection was iterated shortly after by the eloquently titled Married to the Eiffel Tower, which documents the relationship between American woman Erika ‘Le Tour Eiffel’ and the Parisian landmark. Despite a tendency to portray the two women as oddballs and fetishists, both Eiffel and Mauer are staunch defenders of their condition (for want of a better term) and are bent on showing the world that their passion is as ardent as any human relationship.

As Eija states on her website dedicated to objectum-sexuality, a fundamental condition for those who experience OS is that of animism, whereby individuals are prone to invest real human emotions into the objects of their affections—essentially considering them as living beings. Effectively this is an extreme form of the gender specific personification we already attribute to certain objects such as boats and cars. However, to the objectophile this association is so natural and instinctive that intense emotional bonds are established that extend beyond what is generally considered acceptable—particularly in sexual terms.

In the case of Eiffel and Mauer’s intense devotion and subsequent nuptials, the question of consummation inevitably arises—and understandably so, as coital relations between human and object are perhaps less clear when one considers the economies of scale and the general outward shape of such lovers. Mauer skirts this issue of size by reconstructing scale models of her late husband which she claims act as “a kind of fax machine” that “conveys my feelings to my beloved”.

Mrs Eiffel, on the other hand, has suggested that intimacy in object-human relationships is especially tactile, privileging smell, touch and hearing as a means of ‘mutual’ engagement. Having witnessed a freely available clip on YouTube, I can attest to her claims of achieving intimacy with objects of certain scales—however, watch at your own peril—the short video clip has since rendered the image of a middle aged woman gyrating against one of the steel tower’s girders permanently onto the back of my retina.

So far as the cause of such affections are concerned, many experts have been quick to classify OS as a type of paraphilia, or sexual disorder, explaining away these individuals’ intense connection to objects as something born out of an abusive childhood or as fetishism. However, American sexologist Amy Marsh, who appeared on an ABC news story covering OS, disagrees. During her research into the medical backgrounds of known objectophiles, Marsh could find very few cases of neglect and abuse to substantiate other experts’ claims, believing instead it could well present a new sexual orientation, and others agree.

According to an article in Der Spiegel, retired professor and former director of Frankfurt University’s Institute for Sexual Science Volkmar Sigusch believes OS represents an example of modern “neo-sexuality”, and uses its example to prove his hypothesis that society as a whole is drifting into asexuality.

On a puritanical level there is certainly a strong resistance to the idea of arousing buildings, but architects are a group of individuals who already possess a tendency to sexualise designs and design processes, if not entirely in jest. I can certainly vouch for a number of design projects that have been met with a few raised eyebrows

While examples of objectum-sexuality are few and far between, cases are on the rise, and who’s to say objectophilia won’t experience an increase in credibility in years to come? As a point of comparison, it’s worth remembering that in America, homosexuality was only officially ‘declassified’ as a pathological illness in the early 1970s. However, with only a handful of identified objectophiles and the extremely one-sided nature of such relationships, the case for OS as a new form of sexuality may be a little far-fetched.

Here are 5 Wellington ‘buildos’ to check out for the budding objectophile

1. The Carillion—Whilst a bit more elderly, this old horse shows no signs of ED after years of straight up service.
2. The State Insurance Tower (aka Darth Vader’s Pencil Box)—‘once you go black, you never go back’—nuff said.
3. The Majestic Centre—erotic nob detailing for her pleasure.
4. The Vertical Bungee towers—Stripped back structuralism meets double team.
5. The Beehive—for those turned on by power…and chodes…

There is a reason that all the FAQs online about asexuality begin with questions like ‘I just don’t see how asexuals can be close to anyone. How can you have a relationship without sex?’ We as a society are so programmed to look for the sexy in everything that it becomes rather hard to conceive of people whose brains don’t automatically jump brain tracks to dirty town. Luckily this seems to be changing. Asexuality seems to be coming into fashion. Stephen Fry just outed himself as asexy. Apparently there is even one on Shortland Street these days. So as the blossoming flower of the asexuality movement comes into the public sun, it seems like as good a time as any to get the basics down about our cuddly friends: asexuals.

So, uh, how many people are asexual? Like heaps? Or none?

One in every hundred people is asexual, some sources say (and we have no real reason to disbelieve them). Which means that someone on your street is probably asexual. Try to work out who it is.

Could I, uh, I mean, could someone be asexual without knowing?

Well, it is possible, but it would be kinda hard to miss. The basic base level definition of asexuality is someone who simply isn’t interested by the idea of sex as a physical exercise.

That sounds dumb.

You’re pretty close-minded it seems.

Nah, I mean just… It… Nah. I mean, how do you… y’know, with a person if you can’t get a bit of the old how’s your father?

There are many different ways to be intimate that don’t involve taking your clothes off and doing mime trampolining. There is a really interesting (if at points a little sociopathic) series of blogs at asexualunderground.blogspot.com about how to take your conversations to the next level of intimacy. Also, hugging. Some people say hugging is overrated. That is clearly because they don’t hug enough people. Or have razors for arms.

So, do asexuals just spend their whole lives alone staring deep into the ocean of the lonely that is slowly drowning this world?

I think you need to talk to someone about your feelings. But, anyway, asexuals do lack a sex drive, but that does not mean they lack a romance drive. They can form relationships. They even get married. They sleep in the same bed. They just don’t bone. Not even on the phone. Asexuals can run the gamut of sexual orientation from queer to straight, from bi to dry.

Hmmm. So, uh, I think, uh, my friend is asexual and, uh, I… THEY… They want to find out more?

Well, www.asexuality.org is the home of AVEN (the Asexual Visibility and Education Network), which is the place to go for some good general info and interesting forums. Asexuality Aotearoa has information on how to meet asexuals around New Zealand.

Oh, cheers. My… my friend will real appreaciate that.

All G.

So, what, it’s a pill to treat frigidity?

Not quite. To be diagnosed with hypoactive sexual desire disorder, an individual must satisfy the following criteria as outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders IV:
1. Persistently or recurrently deficient (or absent) sexual fantasies and desire for sexual activity. The judgement of deficiency or absence is made by the clinician, taking into account factors that affect sexual functioning, such as age and the context of the person’s life.
2. The disturbance causes marked distress or interpersonal difficulty.
3. The sexual dysfunction is not better accounted for by another Axis 1 disorder (except another sexual dysfunction) and is not due exclusively to the direct physiological effects of a substance (e.g. a drug of abuse, a medication) or a general medical condition.
The emphasis here is that a lack of sexual desire in itself doesn’t warrant a diagnosis; the individual has to be significantly distressed by their low libido as well.

Maybe She’s Just Not That Into You

The etiology of hypoactive sexual desire disorder varies depending on whether it’s life-long or acquired, as well as whether it’s situational or generalised. Broadly speaking, however, sexual response (and thus dysfunction) involves an interaction between biological factors, the physiological mechanisms involved in sexual response; psychological factors, the affective and cognitive processes that sustain that response; and relational factors, interactions promoting intimacy and mutually satisfying experiences.

Drugs for sexual dysfunction address the biological processes involved in sexual arousal, but sex differences make it harder to target females. For males, the physiological basis of arousal is an erection: the arteries of the penis open, causing pressurised blood to rush into the corpus cavernosa, a spongy tissue running the length of the organ. At the same time, the veins leading out of the penis constrict, trapping the pressurised blood and thus elongating and stiffening the penis. Drugs like Viagra simply facilitate this process by increasing blood flow.

For females, sexual dysfunction is more difficult to diagnose. Physiological indicators of sexual arousal for females are diverse, and include vaginal lubrication, increased blood flow to the vulva, and the enlargement and erection of the clitoris. However, whereas men typically experience sexual desire in association with an erection, there is little evidence for a correlation between genital response and women’s subjective experience of arousal. Because of this, flibanserin doesn’t target any of these specific physical processes. Instead, it takes two steps back and targets the neurochemical processes involved in sexual arousal.

The Sexual Chemistry of the Brain

The classic linear model of sexual response involves four phases: desire, arousal, orgasm and resolution. At each stage, interactions between certain neurotransmitters and hormones play an integral and complex role, primarily in the hypothalamic and limbic systems of the brain. Sexual arousal results from an interaction between the excitatory and inhibitory sexual neural systems. Both systems are evolutionary and fundamentally adaptive: the former, allowing individuals to seek out sexual partners and reproduce; the latter, allowing individuals to minimise engagement in sexual behaviours that could potentially result in negative outcomes (having sex with the wart-ridden homeless man who lives outside Pak’n’Save), or to allow for a post-ejaculatory refractory period during which sperm can be generated for subsequent ejaculations (for better baby-making results). Arousal results from either direct activation of the excitatory system, or through suppression of the inhibitory system, or a combination of both.

The Excitatory System

The excitatory system is integral to the first three phases of sexual response, and the neurotransmitter dopamine plays the most significant role in modulating sexual desire. Studies have found that increased dopamine levels enhance the subjective sense of excitement associated with, and the motivation to engage in, activity geared towards attaining sexual rewards. Other key neurochemicals involved in the sexual excitatory system are norepinephrine, which plays a vital role in general arousal, and the sex hormones testosterone, estrogen, and progesterone.

The Inhibitory System

The mechanisms of sexual inhibition are typically exhibited post-orgasm, but can also be activated by situational variables such as stress, psychological processes such as specific thought processes, or through drugs operating on relevant neurochemicals. Activation of this system is characterised by shifting or minimising attention away from sexual incentives as well as inhibiting sexual responses where these incentives are attended to. So, for example, your 3am drunk self may feel that sleeping with your ex-boyfriend is a great idea, but thankfully the memories of him cheating on you come flooding back as you’re unbuttoning his shirt, and before he can prematurely ejaculate as per usual, you’re tripping over yourself to get the fuck out of there.

Opioids play a key role in this system by mediating sexual reward states. To take (not literally) a synthetic example, opiates like heroin produce a huge rush of euphoria, followed by a prolonged period of relaxation. Induction of this state is associated with a dramatic decline in sexual arousal and an inability to orgasm (if you get that far into the piece). So, you know, if you ever wanted to know what heroin feels like, it feels like a three-hour orgasm. Or something. High levels of opioids in the brain therefore reduce your motivation to seek out further sexual rewards, since you already feel awesome.

Endicannabinoids also play a role, inducing sedation. You become less responsive to stress-provoking stimuli, and experience a general sense of sleepiness. Yes, as if you just smoked a fat joint or, you know, violently came. Finally, serotonin promotes feelings of satiation, muscular relaxation, and a general sense of well-being. In other words, when the inhibitory system is activated, you feel pretty good and have no reason to seek further pleasure.

WANT TO WANT? TRY FLIBANSERIN OR YOUR MONEY BACK GUARANTEED!*

Flibanserin enhances sexual desire by increasing dopamine and norepinephrine levels (activating the excitatory system) and reducing serotonin levels (suppressing the inhibitory system). In support of its efficacy, a 24-week long clinical trial of the drug last year reported an increase in sexual desire, as well as what they termed “sexually satisfying events” from 2.8 to 4.5 per month, compared to 2.7 to 3.7 per month for those given a placebo.

*Money back not guaranteed

Despite these results, the Food and Drug Administration voted ten to one late last month against the approval of the drug, based on conclusions that it wasn’t significantly better than a placebo, and that the benefits of the drug failed to outweigh its side effects. These include dizziness, nausea, fatigue and insomnia. The panel did, however, acknowledge its potential benefits and encouraged the company to continue researching and developing the drug.

Sex sells sex sells sex sells sex

The drug in itself has a lot of potential, sure, but as with any company, Boeringer-Ingelheim’s ultimate aim is to turn a profit, and this involves pushing their product into as many eager mouths as possible. David Fitzhenry and Leslie Sandberg, in their overview of female sexual dysfunction in Nature in 2005, predicted that the market value of a successful drug treating female sexual dysfunction “could exceed US$4 billion in the US alone, with only 15 per cent of patients captured on therapy”. That’s a lot of super yachts. Or 114 trips to the moon if you book through Space Adventures (www.spaceadventures.com).

The attempted introduction of the drug into the market has raised eyebrows and sparked widespread debate, largely due to the company’s pre-emptive marketing campaign: this included a Discovery Channel documentary educating the public about hypoactive sexual desire disorder (though critics argue that reported prevalence rates—estimated to be around 1 in 10 for females—are exaggerated, and many prevalence studies have been funded by none other than Boehringer-Ingelheim), which in itself could create or enhance insecurities among women about their libido, inducing distress, the second diagnostic criteria of the disorder. A publicity tour was also launched starring the one and only Lisa Rinner, former Playboy model and actress on Days of Our Lives and Melrose Place (though embarrassingly, I recognise her only as ‘Logan’s mum on Veronica Mars’).

Classes for practising clinicians were also implemented: in one session, clinicians were given a case study describing a 42-year-old working mother who has to take care of her three children as well as her sick mother, and who no longer has any desire for sex. The diagnosis? Potential hypoactive sexual desire disorder. Obviously.

Leonore Tiefer, associate professor of psychiatry at New York University, expresses her concerns about the implications of introducing and marketing a drug like Flibanserin: “The much larger group of women without any medical reason for their sexual distress will inevitably be misinformed and misled into thinking that there is a pill that can get them the sex life they read about, the one they think everyone else is having.” Annemarie Jutel, associate professor of medical sociology at Otago Polytechnic, agrees: “On the one hand consumer culture is based on perpetuating feelings of sexual inadequacy; on the other, the industry has recognised an opportunity for exploitation, and has designed and presented a remedy: also for sale.”

Finger-Pointing Part Deux

Ultimately, you have to look beyond Boehringer-Ingelheim: they’ve invested into the development of this drug because there’s a genuine market for it. Societal attitudes now dictate that hypersexuality is the norm. Not wanting sex is not normal, and the medicalisation of low libido, Jutel comments, “reinforces an inadequately challenged combination of assumptions and observations about sexual function which consequently serve as a basis for commercial exploitation”.

Pathologisation of female sexuality—in what is arguably an attempt to control and moderate it—is in no way new; the direction has simply changed. In 1873, Edward Clarke, Professor of Psychiatry at Harvard, declared that women should not be able to pursue an academic life beyond secondary education, because it would shunt blood from their uterus to their brain, making them depressed, infertile and irritable. During this same period, French neurologist Jean-Martin Charcot concluded that most mental disease in females resulted from abnormalities or over-excitation of their genitalia. Masturbation was believed to be the cause of a whole host of psychological disorders, ranging from insomnia and exhaustion to epilepsy, depression, paralysis and insanity. Cliterodetomies were introduced as a cure for these ailments, and the acclaimed surgeon Isaac Baker Brown, whose practices led to the death of his career—although alarmingly not due to disapproval of his practice but reportedly jealousy over his commercial success—wrote about a series of clitoridectomies he had conducted, which successfully “cured” everything from one woman’s desire to divorce her husband, to treating a 20-year-old woman’s proclivity for sending visiting cards to men she liked and spending too much time in serious reading.

We’ve come a long way, true, but have we gone too far?

Societal attitudes towards female sexuality have since flung itself squarely into liberation, or so we like to think. But beneath the medicalisation of sexual desire lurk more sinister undertones. The diagnostic criteria for hypoactive sexual desire disorder is in itself problematic, since the necessary experience of distress is ultimately dependent on societal constructions of normative sexual behaviour. While laden with good intentions, pathologising low sex drive as a psychological disorder inadvertently perpetuates a norm of hypersexuality: You gotta want to fuck, now and always, else you’ve got a problem.

Names have been omitted for privacy reasons.

So just to clarify, you work in the sex industry, right?

I have—I’ve just finished working as a ‘supervisor’ at a brothel. I was actually a legit supervisor, not just saying that. So, I worked this year as a supervisor three nights a week at a brothel, basically running the place, serving at the bar, putting bookings through, and some light cleaning and a bit of sales. I did about two and a half years as a prostitute, with a bit of kink work added in. I also did three years on and off as a stripper. I got into the escort work through being around it in the strip clubs—I got to know some working girls and I was happily promiscuous. Eventually I decided if I was going to be having casual sex with drunk men who were often fucking crap lays, I may as well get paid for it.

I got into the stripping because 18-year-old me had an endearing habit of running around in underwear every time alcohol was consumed. It was much the same rationale: may as well get paid for it!

I worked for about two months as a waitress/promo girl in the strip club before I got up on stage. I took my time and really scoped it out, and I thought about the decision to start whoring for quite a few months before I started that too—and I’m very glad both those decisions were quite considered.

So it was something you thought through fully?

Yup, and my decision to quit was much the same. I was definitely still enjoying the job and it was still working out for me, but it was just getting more tiring, and I thought it’s definitely better to quit than get burnt out.

That’s a little bit different from the popular idea that women somehow get exploited and pushed into it. Is that idea justified?

I think that the idea that sex workers are coerced or exploited is part stereotype and part legitimate concern. Even though I entered the industry at 18, I have seen many girls start escort work at 18 who clearly weren’t aware of their own psychological and emotional limits, or the boundaries they needed to set to keep themselves happy and safe. And while I don’t, by any means, think that the industry is inherently exploitative, I think that if you aren’t protecting yourself and with a good support network in your personal life, there can be a lot of really hard emotional and mental problems to work through. Some related to the job, some related to the social discrimination, and some related to the wider social aspects, i.e. the prevalence of drugs in the industry.

So it’s something that, perhaps, wider society needs to gain a better understanding of?

Well I’ve always thought that a lot of the self-destructive behaviours I’ve seen—the higher visibility of substance abuse in the industry, the seedy characters some girls hang out with, and the messy relationships that are definitely hyped by stereotype, but can sometimes be seen—they can quite often be fuelled by self-destructive urges which are clearly fuelled by these internalised messages that girls get about their sexualities. NOT that I think being promiscuous means you’re automatically self-destructive, just that there’s often a link, you know?

I think the point is that we’re all a little bit ‘deviant’, and while there are millions of people who will never want anything other than monogamy and meaningful sex, I think a society that realises everyone’s a bit kinky in their own special way and that’s ALRIGHT will definitely be better off. You don’t need to be a raging whore who likes nothing more than a night of tequila, fivesomes and reclaimed language, to agree with sex-positive or sex-radical principles. The thing about sexuality is that’ll mean different things for absolutely everybody.

So, to go down a slightly different track for a minute—what do you think makes a good sex worker?

I think the most important thing, and it may seem glaringly obvious, is people skills. Especially empathy. The nature of the job is such that, even if you work in a very standard knock-shop where it’s ‘get in- get off- get out’ mentality, you’ll never have any two clients looking for exactly the same thing.

The most successful hookers I’ve known have had the same things in common: an ability to have interesting conversations on many levels, the ability to connect with many backgrounds, a brilliant natural smile, and a sense of ease with their own bodies. If you don’t have those things, the jobs where clients book you for four hours just to talk about their lives, depression or ex-wives, are going to be the hardest things ever. And no matter how good your body is, if you’re not comfortable with it, providing a really good and non-awkward sexual service is near impossible. One of the most incorrect stereotypes about the sex industry, in my experience, is that guys book girls just so they can fuck ‘em and walk away.

All of my regular clients—and I had several who’d book me around once a fortnight/once a month each—did so because I was genuinely open to trying new things, and I welcomed the idea of getting myself off at work, and showed them how to do it.

So what should the stereotype be?

The stereotype of what the client wants?

Yeah, we’ll start there…

It’s a hard thing to generalise, but I think almost everyone who uses the sex industry wants to find a service—no matter what ‘flavour’—with someone who is happy, respects themselves, and makes the client feel like a king. More often than not the essence of the service is escapism—and the punters I know would hate nothing more than spending an hour with a worker who’s clearly unhappy with their job, because then they, the client, isn’t going to have much of an indulgent escapist time.

People like being pampered, and paying a beautiful person to have sexy fun with you is definitely an indulgence.

It must be an incredibly insightful role to be in. To be the arbiter of people’s deepest desires, needs, fetishes and dreams. Does that ever weigh on you?

[Laughs] Woah—it does now that I think of myself as the arbiter. It’s definitely a responsibility, especially in terms of confidentiality, and respecting people’s privacy… I’ve definitely found it more empowering than anything—the confidentiality’s an important concern, but the feeling of being trusted, the quite real connections you get—especially with regulars—and being able to see the beaming smile on a repressed dude’s face after you’ve pegged him for the first time, that’s pretty rad.

And I wish more of society could appreciate just how fucking sweet a post-orgasm smile is, without being grossed out by it.

But one question went unanswered… What exactly made her a virgin? Who was to know if she had or hadn’t? She seemed like a savvy girl. She had just made $45,000 for a one-night stand. Was she just taking us all for a ride? And who was the man willing to pay such a huge sum? Did he have a fetish for being the first?

As we near the end of 2010, virginity is still a subject of much obsession. We have a culture that likes ticking boxes. Male, female. Gay, straight. Virgin or not… But as blurred as sexuality is in our modern age, nothing is more obscure than virginity. Instead of throwing away the term, we have instead created a lot of footnotes.

Losing your virginity in the strict sense is to have intercourse with someone of the opposite sex. Countless poems, movies and books in western culture have been born from recognition that losing your virginity is one of our important milestones. Could there have been any plot line in American Pie if virginity didn’t matter? As teenagers, the marketing of virginity goes into overdrive. You find a nice guy and ask those two deal breaker questions: “watz ur star sign n r u a virgin?”

What we fail to realise in our sweet teenage years is that it is far from simple. How do you even prove such a thing? We can’t tell if a man is a true virgin. However, men have a delusion that they can pick a virgin. The hymen, it seems, is the medical trump card. The sad truth is the hymen is often broken long before sex—tampons, playing sport, medical exams. The hymen is the wild child who can’t be tamed. So why do some people still cite this as real proof?

An article in 2004 stated that after all the studies that have been conducted, it was confirmed that “A doctor cannot determine from a vaginal examination whether a women is a virgin or not”. The scary thing about this is in many countries examinations of this kind are carried out to determine if a woman is a virgin before she gets married. And these results are taken as unquestioned medical proof, meaning serious consequences for the women involved. How could I explain the only affair I had was with a tampon?

So if we cannot prove virginity physically, who then are the real virgins? How did Miss $45,000 prove her meat was fresh? Men seem to take a rather more causal definition of virginity. If it goes in it counts.

However, there is the growing trend among women of the ‘technical virgin’. Virginity is now everything but the act of entering through the vagina—so you can still be considered a virgin after a lot of oral and anal sex. Many extreme Christian schools in the States are dealing with the implications of this motto. The vagina was seen as the only hole that counted. They turned a blind eye to all ‘back door’ action. Without any proper sexual health education, pregnancies were on the rise (born-again), and rates of STIs went through the roof.

I went to a girl’s school with its own pregnancy problems. But virginity was always a good talking point. My technical virgin friend had discovered a problem. She referred to it as having been 99.9 per cent roasted. The boyfriend went in, but it was over after one push. She did not want this to be her story, the one she couldn’t forget. He may have counted it. But she was a lady with high hopes for herself and this was a job well below par. We decided for a full roast there needs to be at least three pumps. But then my lesbian friend pointed out, did she have to be a perpetual ‘virgin’? She is far more Magdalene than Mary, yet men all call her a virgin. She was told the only homosexuals who lose their virginity are gay men.

Virginity has always whipped out horrible clichés for women. If you lose it you are a slut, if you don’t you are a prude. But for me this was the final straw. She is not a virgin, plain and simple. So why do we have to hold onto this male mentality that it takes a cock to make it pop?

As I mused over my missing cherry, I asked my friend to recount his story. At 17 he stumbled down Queen Street and decided his moment had come. He walked into a brothel ready to become a man. The cash was laid down and clothes were lost. He said he wanted to get it out of the way, and what better way than to see the guru of virgin stealing. Sadly, alcohol and erections don’t always work together. And after some awkward limp inning and outing they got in a bath and just ended up talking about her kids.

He left feeling confused. Was he now a man? Finally he could just be one of the guys. Yet after all that hype he couldn’t shake off the disappointment. That was sex? Nobody can prepare you for what it is really like. Everyone has such different stories; we are never going to have a clear test. It is time to stop being judgmental. It is time to embrace virginity 2.0.

We can sell it, buy it, save it. Rebuild it, lie about it and become a born-again. The hype shouldn’t be in the what counts, instead it should be what you think counts. You get to choose when; you get to choose with whom. Where, and what to wear while it happens. People have really shitty stories about losing their virginity. It was awkward, painful, drunk, quick and average. Why should that be a memory you are not allowed to forget? Since physically we can’t determine a virgin, it has become a state of mind. Virginity will always be a grey area to define. But it doesn’t have to be for you.

The contraceptive pill was first approved in the United States in early May of 1960, and reached the United Kingdom and New Zealand the following year. It was the reliable and safe method that women had been waiting for, and was readily adopted by those who could access it. Now, it’s widely available and heavily subsidised—but by no means has it resolved all of New Zealand’s issues with contraceptive health. In fact, many within the public health sector consider that these are still not being adequately addressed.

Prior to its introduction in New Zealand, women had been doing whatever possible to plan and space the births of their children. The methods used, which included the use of a diaphragm, which was often poorly-fitted; the ‘rhythm’ method; condoms; and withdrawal, were often ineffective, and as a result, the rate of self-abortions was high. The McMillan Inquiry of 1937 found that at least one pregnancy in five ended in abortion, and that the majority of women dying were married with four or more children.

“People have always used whatever’s been available,” says Dame Margaret Sparrow. Sparrow, now President of the Abortion Law Reform Association of New Zealand, has had an active role in promoting safe sexual practices, as well as the use of contraception. She was one of the first women in New Zealand to use the pill, and said in Helen Smyth’s book, Rocking The Cradle: Contraception, Sex and Politics in New Zealand, that it changed her life: “That was the first time that I ever really experienced good fertility control.”

Certainly, it’s hard to exaggerate the impact that the pill had on women’s lives. “They truly saw it as liberating,” says feminist and women’s health campaigner Sandra Coney. “And they enjoyed the chance to be sexual and to choose sexual partners, not guarding their virginity while lining men up for marriage… and the fear of pregnancy, which had been such a great constraint, was removed.”

In Rocking The Cradle, Smyth wrote that within just five years of its introduction to New Zealand, 40 per cent of married, fertile women were on the pill, equating to some 100,000 packets a month. Today, the pill is taken by more than 100 million women worldwide, and a wide range of contraception is easily attainable in most developed countries. It’s inconceivable—if you’ll excuse the pun—that women once had to struggle to obtain access to the pill, even after it had been made legal.

All the single ladies, put a ring on it

New Zealand—the first country to grant women the vote–was among the first to introduce the pill, but it did so unwillingly. For the decade following its introduction, the pill was largely prescribed only to married women, and while this had an immediate impact on the rate of self-abortion among that group, there was no mind giving to the huge number of unmarried women who were struggling to avoid falling pregnant.

“[The introduction of the pill] had a huge impact, except it took a while to catch on, because doctors were very reluctant to prescribe it,” remembers Sparrow. “There was even a statement from the New Zealand Medical Association, saying that doctors shouldn’t prescribe the pill to unmarried women because of moral objection.”

This didn’t deter Sparrow, who worked at Victoria University’s Student Health Services between 1969 and 1981—over which period, attitudes towards sexual health changed a great deal. She modestly allows that she was “instrumental” in ensuring access to contraception for students.

“I saw that as one of my roles, and that was why I became involved at Family Planning, so that I could give students a better service,” she remembers. “I think when you’re sitting in a consultation room and students come to you, it does push you to think—well, why shouldn’t I prescribe it?”

Sparrow also wrote articles for Salient on services such as pregnancy testing and emergency contraception, “just to let students know that they could come to Student Health for contraceptive advice”.

Sympathetic doctors such as Sparrow were godsends for unmarried women seeking access to the pill and, as Smyth writes, many women were prepared to go to great lengths to do so. Many women bought themselves engagement and wedding rings in order to coax their doctors into writing them a prescription. Family Planning found what Chief Executive Jackie Edmond describes as “a more pragmatic way” of resolving the issue.

“We used to give them things to put on their finger when they came to see us,” Edmond says with a wry smile.

The momentum of the women’s movement

Thanks to the efforts of individual doctors who understood that contraception was indeed “a basic healthcare necessity”, the pill became more accepted and accessible in the 1970s. Lynda Williams, coordinator of the Auckland Women’s Health Council, says that that decade’s women’s liberation movement was an important milestone.

“During the 1970s, there was more pressure to make the pill more widely available to young women, because this was when the feminist movement finally reached New Zealand,” she says. “We had consciousness-raising groups getting involved with menstrual extraction techniques; looking at their cervices; reclaiming knowledge of their own bodies…

“The expectation that the pill would be made more readily available started to impact on the medical profession, and I think they were slowly forced to become a lot more liberal, instead of trying to impose their own beliefs—religious or otherwise—on women.”

Certainly, Coney says, “It didn’t take much to change women’s ideas.” She asserts that the women’s liberation movement began as a “reaction against the homebound role of our mothers, and the expectation that we would simply leave school and marry.

“Contraception was embraced as a tool to allow this freedom to make life choices that were not dictated by biology and social expectations.”

Feminist groups began to promote the formerly taboo topic of sexual education. As part of Knowhow, Coney gave out leaflets on safe sex practices at the gates of schools, and ran a telephone advice group.

“It wasn’t just women’s lib, though these ideas were promoted and explored through writing, discussions, abortion law reform, workshops and so on,” she remembers. “There was a workshop on how to masturbate at the 1979 United Women’s Convention.”

The difference 50 years makes

Sparrow agrees that today, contraception must constitute a significant percentage of the work of Victoria’s Student Health Services. “Times have changed!” she says.

Edmond suggests that modern women—and even those of her generation (“I’m 47, and all my sexual reproductive years, I’ve had access to services and contraception. I’ve never even had to consider that I wouldn’t… and same for you, though I’m slightly older than you.”)—tend to take these services for granted. Contraception is available from most chemists, general practitioners and public health services, and in most cases, it is subsidised for people under 22 years old. While most acquiesce that it is preferable that teenagers use contraception than have unplanned pregnancies, there are small but vocal (“Very vocal!” interjects Edmond) groups that think otherwise.

“We’re constantly being accused by groups such as Family First and Right to Life, and [New Zealand Herald columnist] Garth George,” sighs Edmond. “All we’re doing is offering the same services as any GP offers—we just talk about it a bit more.

“They’re trying to take things back to how they were, but in fact it wasn’t that good. All this stuff was happening in the background: people were getting pregnant when they didn’t want to be, then. I think it’s all a bit idealistic really.”

Despite the efforts of groups such as Family Planning, New Zealand has the third highest rate of teenage pregnancy of the 31 developed countries recognised by the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). The result is reminiscent of a report recently prepared for the Ministry of Health by the Public Health Advisory Committee, which showed that among the most deprived neighbourhoods, New Zealand’s rate of infant mortality is worse than that of all developed countries bar Mexico and Turkey. Evidently, the discrepancy between New Zealand’s richest and its poorest is immense.

Williams points out that the OECD figure of teenage pregnancies is misleading because “there are specific ethnicities that are overrepresented in these figures”—as, she says, both the Maori and Public Health Advisory Committee have attested to.

“At a board meeting I was at two weeks ago, we were told that a certain age group—up to, I think, 25-years-old—something like one in five Maori women were getting pregnant,” she says. “The figure was so staggering that the board asked that it be checked.

“There are a lot of factors involved,” continues Williams. “There’s alcohol, there are heavy religious and cultural norms about not talking about contraception and sexuality. And Pacific women, even those that are married, tend not to have much control over their own fertility.”

Edmond says that Faming Planning has “still got a lot of work to do” before the issue of unplanned teenage pregnancies is addressed.

“I think young women continue to struggle to negotiate condom use—and that’s a challenge even when you’re my age, let alone when you’re 16 or 17,” she says. “Alcohol, too, has had a huge impact on decision making and doing things at haste, then repenting at leisure. We haven’t been really very good at getting the message out that young women should be using contraception as well as condoms.”

In a bid to tackle the problem, the Auckland District Health Board enabled women aged under 25 years old to access the emergency contraceptive pill (ECP) for free, as part of a five-month trial that started at the end of 2009. A preliminary evaluation of the scheme last year found a 13% reduction in the number of abortions at the Epsom Day Unit, the region’s principal abortion clinic, while last month The Manawatu Standard reported an increased demand in the ECP. However, the Auckland DHB decided that these figures were not able to be considered “statistically significant”.

“I have argued vociferously that [the ECP be made free permanently], as it would save money, but the Board is financially strapped,” says Williams. “They’ve put it on their list of priorities, but there is no talk of it coming in for the next wee while.

“We still have very conservative people around. There are one or two [men] on the Board who would vote against it.”

Women’s Health Action Trust’s policy advisor Christy Parker considers it a “shame” that the DHB has decided not to continue with the scheme.

“We strongly support increasing the accessibility of emergency contraception, and see accessing it as a fundamental sexual and reproductive right,” she says. “Our argument would be that a five month trial was too short a time period to demonstrate the success of such an intention.”

Areas for improvement

Although it seems that it will be some time before the ECP is made free of charge, there has been some development in the range of contraception available. 3 News reported in early June that the government’s drug-buying agency Pharmac intends to fund the long-acting reversible contraceptive Jadelle. Once implanted, Jadelle offers contraceptive coverage for five years, although it can be easily removed from a woman if she decides to change contraceptive, or try to conceive. Usually $300, it will be available free, bar the cost of a doctor’s visit and a dispensing fee, and Pharmac expects that some 35,000 women will take it.

“It’s one of our claims to fame,” says Edmond, visibly excited. “We’ve been advocating [for it] for two years, so we’re thrilled—we don’t get many wins.
“The pill relies on a human factor, and we’re all human, we forget… which is why we’re so keen on Jadelle. It’s really going to offer another option for young women.”

Although it is a long-term contraceptive, it remains to be seen just how effective the Jadelle will be in reducing the rate of teenage pregnancies, although Williams says she’s unsure of the number of Maori and Pacific teenagers that use services such as Family Planning. In order to ensure that sexual education and services are more wide-reaching, Williams would like to see Family Planning have direct access to schools.

“If I could wave a magic wand, I would insist upon government funding for Family Planning to offer comprehensive education on sex and contraceptive options in high schools,” she says. “The government needs to put a whole programme in place that looks at dealing with all of these issues, rather than [taking] a piecemeal approach.”

Parker cites a “damning” report from the Education Review Office into sexual education in schools, released June 2007. She describes it as a “really horrifying read”.

“Although we have quite a good sexuality education curriculum, it really wasn’t being implemented in practice in schools, and I’m not convinced we’ve seen any effective response to that yet,” she says. “I guess we feel that we’re really failing our young people in terms of sexual education.”

Parker says that sexual health education is not being approached in a “nationally coordinated and consistent fashion”, and that it’s a huge problem.

“It’s not about the birds and the bees, or pointing to an anatomy diagram. We see the need for quite a holistic framework around sexual education that integrates sexuality as part of the whole person.”

Sparrow also believes that sexual education is an area that needs immediate improvement. She hotly agrees that the government was shirking its responsibilities when it comes to issues of sexual education and contraception.

“My impression is that it’s quite patchy, and although some schools do take responsibility, it’s probably a little bit too little and too late—and often not relevant to the big questions that young people really want to know.”

What does Family Planning want to see implemented over the next five to ten years?

“We want comprehensive sexual education in schools, and we’d love to see more programmes for parents to learn more about talking about sexuality and sex,” says Edmond immediately, ticking them off one by one. “We would like to see a range of services for young people to access their sexual health, while keeping up-to-date with any new contraception out there.

“Public health programmes that push the use of condoms and contraception. More discussion around drinking and its impact on decision making. And programmes on gender-based violence and coercion.

“So we don’t want much!” she jokes.

“The other thing we’re saying is not universally liked, but you should be enjoying having sex; it should be a pleasurable activity,” says Edmond. “If you don’t want to have it, don’t have it. Don’t do it because you think you should do it: do it because you want to…

“People don’t like it, but I think it’s a good message. It’s pragmatic.”

Controversy aside, contraception is about choice. Being well-informed and aware of the options available enables a woman to make a decision that suits her and her individual needs. With the assortment available, it’s strange to consider that not so long ago, there wasn’t much of a selection to choose from. Who knows what changes to contraception and sexual health services the next half-century will bring about, but what can be counted upon is this: groups such as Family Planning will work to bring about the best and most convenient service possible.

The actual contents and impact of the government’s annual Budget are often difficult for the average Joe to understand. We’re bombarded with information and analysis in the media. Added to this is the plethora of alternative translations and interpretations put forward by various political parties and interest groups. The 2010 Budget, with its key focus on tax reforms, is no different.

Director of Victoria University’s Institute of Policy Studies Jonathan Boston helps to clarify the Budget as a whole: “In broad terms the Budget is relatively consistent with what one would expect from a central-right government.” He explains that this is down to the “clear desire to reduce the overall level of public expenditure as a percentage of GDP over time, and in the desire to reduce tax rates, particularly on middle to high income earners”.

However, Boston is quick to comment that the current government has exercised a certain level of restraint, as many “central-right governments might well have reduced public expenditure more significantly than the current government has done”.

“Certainly by comparison with the National Government of the early- to mid-1990s, there were rather more significant changes then, to social assistance, health and education than have been signalled thus far under this government.”

Boston says that this reflects the pragmatism of New Zealand’s current politicians working in an MMP environment. This compares to the ideologically driven political behaviour that was evident in New Zealand politics in the late 1980s and early 1990s. He says that as a result of the coalition agreements that have eventuated because of MMP, “it may well be that the Maori Party exercised a restraining influence on policy in a number of areas, such as primary healthcare for example, that might have occurred otherwise”. Despite recognising that there are only a small number of elements in the Budget that are clearly positive from the Maori Party perspective, Boston believes that the Maori Party no doubt affected certain changes from behind the scenes.

Bill’s ‘fair for all’ budget

In an interview with Q+A’s Guyon Espiner following the Budget announcement, Minister of Finance Bill English said the government believed that this Budget was fair across the board. He specified that the government “paid quite a bit of attention to the various measures of fairness and equity”, and that “background papers will show that all those measures have been applied”. He believes the government has “achieved a good balance of fairness between people, lower and higher on the income scale”, but more importantly he said that the intended increases in economic growth would ensure that all New Zealanders could “get ahead”.

Across the floor, the Labour Party’s Finance Spokesman David Cunliffe has slammed the Budget not unexpectedly, saying that, “this is really an old-fashioned National party budget that rewards the few at the expense of the many”.

Cunliffe is particularly concerned about cuts to government spending over a number of sectors. He believes that “the quality public services Kiwi families depend upon—like good healthcare when illness or accidents strike, and a great school for the kids—will all come under huge pressure from the cuts to spending”.

Green Party co-leader Dr Russell Norman has also raised concerns that the Budget tax trade-offs will effectively “widen the gap between New Zealand’s haves and have-nots”.

“The tax cuts in this National, ACT and Maori Party budget will go mostly to the well-off, while raising GST hits those on low incomes disproportionately. It punishes those who already struggle to make ends meet. And the punishment falls most heavily on Maori and Pacific peoples. So this Budget will increase inequality and increase the social deficit.”

These various interpretations have been repeated time and again in both pre- and post-Budget analyses, press releases and news segments. So how does this Budget actually measure up in terms of fairness?

Boston believes that “from a static point of view, it is slightly regressive; that is to say, the distributional shifts favour to middle to high-income earners, at the expense of low-income earners. Essentially the changes are likely to increase inequality, rather than increase equality”.

However, he says it is important to recognise that from “a dynamic point of view, the changes may not be quite so regressive, and so over the medium to long run, and from a life-time earnings point of view, the changes may not be significantly regressive”.

A ‘tax swindle’?

Professor Robert Buckle, chair of the Tax Working Group who devised the changes in taxation as announced in the Budget, points out “you really have to pin down what people mean by fairness”.

In contrast to Boston, Buckle thinks that from a static perspective, “it is fairly well recognised that, for salary and wage earners, the combination of the cut in personal tax rates plus the GST increase, means that right across all income levels, people will have more disposable income after tax”. Buckle also believes that “in a dynamic sense, there are quite widespread benefits”.

Buckle says that there were a lot of “loopholes in the tax system that were advantageous to some people—particularly people who had opportunities in accumulated wealth, and could invest them into certain types of savings vehicles”. Therefore, “If the tax system had been left alone, the after tax distribution of income would have been possibly unfair. I don’t think a lot of people appreciate these kind of issues.”

This underscores what Buckle outlines were the aims of Tax Working Group, in ensuring New Zealand was facing the future with a tax system that was fair and sustainable.

“The international research, which is pretty robust, has emerged over the past twenty years as a result of quite sophisticated micro-econometric research and as a result of econometric panel estimation studies of different tax structures across different countries, and it suggests that taxing company incomes, and taxing personal incomes tends to be more damaging for growth, entrepreneurship and innovation.”

Buckle explains further: “The IMF have simulated this tax switch, very much along the lines we advocated, and it reinforces the argument that this sort of tax switch can lead to higher savings rates, higher investment, higher employment growth, and higher real wage growth. Therefore, those who are unemployed will benefit by stronger employment growth. Those on salary and wages will benefit from higher labour productivity and real wage growth, so that’s how these things come through.”

Analysing the benefits of changes in what is taxed, and with the hike in GST central in most people’s minds, Kiwiblog’s David Farrar outlined some benefits of increasing GST, illustrating that, compared to income tax, GST is easier to administer, difficult to avoid and covers a wider base.

Far beyond adhering to what Labour Party leader Phil Goff refers to as a tax swindle, the results of this tax switch could see reductions in both incentives and the distinct abilities for the wealthiest in New Zealand’s society, to avoid paying the correct tax rates relative to their earnings and overall wealth. New Zealand thus may be facing a tax system that is indeed fairer across the board.

What about education?

So what did the Budget hold in terms of funding for the tertiary sector? While the cuts in income tax and increases in GST affect every New Zealander, one would hope that the government’s commitments to tertiary education would be of particular interest to readers of this particular publication.

As reported by Salient straight after the Budget announcement, there were really no surprises. Tertiary Education Minister Steven Joyce outlined that “while we are committed to interest-free student loans, it is important we are fair to taxpayers and remove any perverse incentives from the scheme as it stands”.

Joyce says that in the face of the increasing costs of the student loan scheme, the government is intent on improving accountability and boosting performance within the tertiary sector.

The initiatives announced in the Budget include a focus on performance, which will require students to pass more than 50 per cent of full-time courses over a two-year period, in order to be allowed to continue borrowing. Furthermore, the government has placed a “lifetime limit” on access to student loans, outlining that there is to be a seven-year borrowing limit for an undergraduate degree.

The fees around borrowing have also increased, with the Student Loan administration fee increasing from $50 to $60, as well as the introduction of a $40 annual “account fee” to be applied at the completion of studies. It was this fee that led Green Party tertiary education spokesperson Gareth Hughes to accuse the government of trying to “charge interest by stealth”.

Addressing the costs of increasing enrolments, highlighted by Victoria University’s inability to accept further domestic admissions for the remainder of 2010, Joyce has said that “Budget 2010 will build further on last year’s record number of student places and ensure access for young people who are keen to succeed and committed to New Zealand”. However, there has been no increase in funding to cover this. The package includes ensuring 1735 additional full-time places at universities, but as Labour Party tertiary spokesperson Maryan Street explains, “These are not 1735 new students. Most of them are already in universities but being carried and funded by the universities themselves.”

Street continues, saying “This goes nowhere near meeting demand in these institutions, and certainly goes in the opposite direction from other countries like Australia, which is investing heavily in very real terms in its tertiary education institutions.”

In light of this, one might argue that the tertiary sector got dealt a fairly raw deal. However, compared to the cuts in funding for early childhood education—a sector which has been proven to offer the most bang for the buck in terms of educational effectiveness—as Boston explains, politics was on the tertiary sector’s side this round.

“The government could have decided to charge interest on student loans, if not for students currently studying, then for those who have finished their studies—but with half a million New Zealanders having student loans, that would have been very unpopular. I suspect a modest reduction of funding to early childhood education was easier than some other policy choices would have been.”

Before you complain about how unfair the lack of funding in the tertiary sector is, do keep in mind that by cutting back on the funding for early childhood education—in what is arguably children’s most crucial developmental stage—perhaps John Key is simply ensuring there will be significantly less competition for YOUR job 20 years down the track? Just saying. Maybe it ain’t so bad after all. But then again, only time will tell.

Well cry me a fucking river. When I finally moved into a flat in second year, my sole income was from a StudyLink allowance of $150 per week. Rent was $100. This left $50 for food and power. Putting aside a bit of money each week for the inevitable power bill, this would leave me with roughly $3.50 to spend on food each day. And I had a 9am class on one day of the week.

Problem solved.

If you think you’ve got problems, then this should put things into perspective. Hungry, cold and skinny perspective. It sounds impossible, even to me. But I did this for a good part of the year. I survived, and even did well at uni.

Me at uni.

Think of this as your worst-case scenario. You have to cut back on everything. You will have to make some extreme lifestyle changes. As a student, this will bring you down to three main areas of expenditure, which will be your absolute necessities just to keep you breathing while studying.

Parmesan, Gruyère and Havarti.

1. Food and drink

My diet during this time consisted mainly of two-minute noodles (pre the discovery of Mi Goreng, so this makes my story infinitely more tragic than yours), eggs, bread and cheese. Cheese is expensive, but strangely delicious. It was probably the one good thing I had going in my life, and it’s versatile.

a) What to eat
 i) Buying food
You will need to spend your $3.50 wisely. Buy versatile foods in bulk so they’re cheaper and will last you a while, such as rice, potatoes and pasta. Use these to bulk up your meals, even more than you otherwise might, so that they last longer. Take leftovers to uni the next day. Remember that flavour is a luxury. You will need to budget, find the discounts and specials, spend only what you absolutely need and make sure you don’t waste your food.

 ii) Cooking food
Think about communal cooking: Has your flatmate got a can of tomatoes? With your bread you’ve got the basis for tomatoes on toast. Bonus points for saving power too.

b) What to drink
Water. It’s free.

c) Alternative sources of food
 i) Free stuff
When things are desperate, you should always be on the lookout for free shit, and know where you can get it regularly. Go to VUWSA in Kelburn on a Wednesday or Friday morning and get some free bread, and check out their Food Bank while you’re there. The free bread once kept my entire flat fed for a week.

Ant, Mark and Bella.

Remember that every little bit counts. Don’t be afraid to scrounge off your richer friends, and wear plastic bags instead of shoes for maximum pity.

 ii) Relatives and friends
If you have relatives in town you should try to organise a regular home-cooked dinner or meal with them. You’ll get at least one decent and hopefully nutritious meal out of it each week, and they’ll be happy helping you out when you need it most, and can’t find language.

 iii) Live off the land
Growing your own veges will result in a lot more street cred, nutrition and inflated self-worth than playing Farmville. It also makes you statistically less likely to be murdered in a library.

Other than growing your own food, getting back to your hunter and gatherer roots is another option. Know your natural environment and what foods it may provide.

Nutrition!

If things are so desperate that you have cut back to the bare basics, then you will need to make sure you are getting enough of the right nutrition in your diet. Food plays a more important role in your general mood—and entire life—than you may realise. Without the right nutrition you will be in a bad mood, unable to concentrate, and have low energy levels. With poor nutrition you will also be more susceptible to sickness, which will just plain suck.

Especially as a student, you will need lots of Omega 3. This is a fatty acid commonly found in fish that is needed by the brain to promote neuronal growth. Basically it makes you smarter and more likely to remember things. Eat fish before and during important study periods to make the most out of them, or if you don’t eat fish, think of other ways to please her get Omega 3 tablets on special from a pharmacy.

2. Shelter

Note: An important factor in keeping your shelter costs down is cooperation from your co-dwellers.

a) Keeping your power bill down
My flat was so cold I had to put a jacket on when I went inside. Keeping in the same room as your flatmates helps heaps. If you can all cook, eat, socialise and study in the kitchen, then you can get it warm easily during the cooking and then keep it warm, rather than all going off to use separate heaters.

When things got really cold, we would warm our hands inside the fridge. Instead of a hot-water bottle or electric blanket, take a hot shower before bed. This, along with a sheet, duvet and three blankets, keeps me warm during the night. As a bonus I wake up with awesome hair.

Another tactic I used when things got cold was to just be at university as much as I could, because it was so damned cold at home I would wake up and breathe out, and my breath would freeze and hit me in the face. It’s really warm at uni. Staying there later has a few other benefits—you get in some more study, and the university pays the power bill.

I hear finding a spoon also helps.

b) Keeping other flat costs down
You will need to cut down on luxury items. This will be expensive showering items, the good toilet paper, makeup, etc. Stuff you don’t actually need. If you need things repaired or bought that your landlord isn’t responsible for, do it yourself if you can. I built a letterbox for my flat. It was shit and we also blew it up once, but it was free and better than the brick.

3. Transport

Do you really need to catch the bus? In my opinion, if you’re fit you should be able to walk for at least an hour to get to uni. Your legs are the cheaper and more reliable option anyway. Or, if you can get the funds together, a bike is a good investment. Me? I skate on my skateboard to uni now, instead of using my legs like a sucker.

If you do need costly transport to get to and from home, then consider crashing at a friend’s place close to uni occasionally. Each night will save you two trips. Get someone from one of your classes and turn it into a study session. You can also steal their spoons to warm you later.

Conclusion

Don’t be afraid to ask for any sort of help in these areas. Think about who may be able to help you. Read Zoe Reid’s column in Salient, ‘Yo Mama Shoulda Told You This’—it’s brimming with useful advice, especially on things that will save you money. If you get into financial trouble, ask for help. Talk to your parents and friends. These fellows may also be able to help:

VUWSA
StudyLink
Student Services

Fail that, get a haircut and get a fucking job.

To clarify, in keeping with the views of the Polynesian Panthers themselves, Maori are included under the term ‘Pacific Islanders’. Unless stated otherwise, all references to Pacific Islanders in this text includes Maori. In the words of Tigi Ness, “We are living on the biggest Pacific Island.”

While many of you may not have heard of the Polynesian Panthers, hopefully you will have heard of the Black Panthers, a now (arguably) disbanded African American revolutionary left-wing organisation that worked for the self-defence of black people. Over time, the Black Panthers’ initial stand against police brutality in black neighbourhoods became a call for staunch black nationalism for all African Americans. The strength of the movement spawned generations of strong African Americans, to whom the Panthers provided basic human rights—such as their free breakfasts and education for children programmes—and, importantly, personal strength and pride in their heritage.

The Polynesian Panthers group was founded on 16 June 1971, borne from a large mix of Pacific Islanders, including Samoans, Tongans, Niueans and Maori. Tigi Ness, a New Zealand-born Niuean, describes the founders as “former gang members and students”, mere “teenagers in response to the racism we were experiencing in Auckland”. The majority of the founders were high school students, not university students or adults; most were from working class families and inspired by Black Panther founder Huey Newton’s concept of black unity.

The Panthers were mostly first generation New Zealanders. Their parents reaped some of the benefits of New Zealand’s economic boom in the 1960s, when they were encouraged to migrate to New Zealand to provide cheap labour. The government turned a blind eye to expired working visas and illegal migrant workers until the production boom dwindled in the mid-1970s. Although wages were higher, living conditions were often poor and Pacific Islanders were often subject to racism and police harrassment. The fortunes of many Pacific Islanders, who had uprooted their families and lives to work for wages less than the average New Zealander, took a turn for the worse as the economy started on a downward spiral. The government aggressively targeted overstayers—that is, people who illegally remained in the country past their work visa, or failed to get one in the first place—and these first generation New Zealanders were at risk of being sent back to a country, and society, they never knew. The problems many Pacific Islanders already faced in New Zealand were only compounded by this episode in New Zealand history.

On top of fears for their families, many Pacific Islanders lived in dangerous neighbourhoods, with many young people feeling their only options for survival were to join a gang or simply hide at home. The Panthers formed to provide the young with another option. They were searching for something positive—the life their families moved to New Zealand to create, as opposed to the oppressive policies and poverty keeping their cultures and communities downtrodden.

The reasons for joining the Panthers were relatively diverse. Some, like Will Ilolahia, were looking for a better way. Will remembers being a member of the gang ‘Nigs’ (because they were often called ‘niggers’), but he was trying to find something more meaningful in life. He began reading American books about the Black Panthers and soon “woke up”. Some chose the Panthers initially for its more aesthetic appeal—as Tigi Ness did—with “black leather, berets, Island shoes, raising their fist”. Once initially formed, the Panthers knocked on doors of people they felt had the same ideals.

The Polynesian Panthers challenged discriminatory practices in areas such as unequal pay, unsatisfactory working and housing conditions, education, police harassment, legal rights and prison visits for families. The extent to which the Pacific Island communities felt these injustices is shocking. Before the Panthers, it was often the norm for Pacific Islander houses to have only cold water. In addition to minimal pay, they were expected to work through all breaks, including unpaid lunch breaks, to keep their jobs.

Police harassment of Pacific Islanders was common from 1974 to the late 1980s. Some were picked up by police and those who weren’t holding papers showing their legal status in New Zealand were arrested. The extent of police harassment was such that Pacific Islanders made up 86 per cent of all prosecutions for overstaying. Police began ‘dawn raids’, knocking down Pacific Islanders’ doors in the early hours of the morning, demanding passports from all occupants. In response, the Polynesian Panthers began “dawn raids” of politicians’ houses by banging on the door with floodlights, demanding to see passports, and running away as politicians came to the door. It only took a few weeks before the Polynesian Panthers effectively stopped all dawn raids on Pacific Islander communities.

Much of the Polynesian Panthers’ work was in empowering the Polynesian community to raise their quality of life. The Panthers organised strikes in factories with substandard working conditions, and the Tenants Aid Brigade (TAB) boycotted and protested outside sub-standard housing. To combat failing grades at school, the Panthers organised homework centres—locations simply with tables, chairs and a quiet space so students could do their homework. Many Pacific Islander families simply did not know their rights or entitlements, and the Panthers ensured that knowledge was passed on and utilised.

The Panthers provided much needed assistance to Polynesians caught up in legal wrangles. Pamphlets were distributed advising individuals of their rights, such as being able to ask police whether they were being arrested, and what for. Legal aid was often provided to individuals needing court representation. One of the most successful initiatives was organising buses to prisons, so families could visit, and further support was provided to prisoners who had no family on the outside. While this was a free service, prisoners gifted the Panthers substantial amounts of the money earned in prison to show their gratitude.

The Panthers, along with many Pacific Island youth, also supported Maori causes and political events, such as the 1975 Land March and Bastion Point occupation. The Panthers became adept at political lobbying, which became apparent during the dawn raids in the 1970s, and the Springbok Tour of 1981. Tigi Ness was jailed for his actions during the tour, but was eventually released without charge. Will Ilolahia, along with Hone Harawira and others, was on trial for two years, only getting off the charge after Bishop Desmond Tutu flew in to be a character witness.

Many of the Panthers voiced concern that the government’s way of control was to divide and conquer the minorities, and as a result they banded together to fight the threat to their cultures and communities. Miriama Rauhihi-Ness remembers a time when being Maori and embracing Maori culture was “literally… cut out of you at school, all of it”. She cites the 1975 Land March as a turning point, where New Zealand society began to be more accepting of Maori culture, both within Maoridom and in Pakeha society. Nowadays, all Panthers encourage Maori and Pacific Islanders to remain strongly banded together as whanau, with pride in their heritage.

Lessons for today

The Polynesian Panthers are adamant that everything they fought for over the past 30 years is just as relevant now. Pacific Islanders are still significantly over represented in school dropout and prison admission rates. As the reoffending rate is so high, the Panthers feel the only point of the current prison system seems to be to provide jobs for guards. Now that there is talk of privatising prisons, their concern is greatly increased.

Will Ilolahia points to “complacency” as “the real battle”. We perceive there to be less racism from individuals, yet we are failing to address institutional racism—racism within the government and other institutions. Another related concern is that we are simultaneously more and less connected, talking to many people online and over text message daily, yet we no longer say hello to people we walk past on the street.

The Polynesian Panthers are still empowering generations of Polynesians. Records company Dawn Raid, Che Fu and Scribe all cite the Panthers as an empowering influence. The Panthers’ take home advice to wannabe movers and shakers at Victoria? Stay at uni, get your degree, and get into a position to make change—their experience, knowledge and passion are here to help, as strong as 30 years ago.

It is the end of the trimester. Assignments are due. Exams are coming up. You probably have an immense dislike for university right about now. Stress. Pimples. Eye twitches. Sleepness nights. A lot of this probably due to the fact you’ve exceeded the recommended number of energy drinks to consume in a 24-hour period.

Nevertheless, it is at times like these that it is comforting to remember why you’re at an establishment like Victoria University—you’re here to get a tertiary education, an education that will one day hopefully improve your employment prospects and see you contribute positively to New Zealand society. Or, at least that’s the lofty, idealistic reason why you’re at uni that you may not have thought of.

The relatively open access to tertiary education that New Zealanders have enjoyed seems to be under threat. In recent weeks both Victoria and the University of Otago have implemented measures to manage enrolment numbers for the rest of 2010. Vic has closed all new domestic admissions for 2010, while Otago has capped enrolment numbers across a number of programs. Other universities are looking to introduce similar measures to deal with increasing numbers of students in the current limited funding environment.

But why has it come to this? Why has Vic been forced to shut the door on new domestic students, a decision that the University Council itself said it was reluctant to make? A number of factors, including the economic recession, increased demand and limited funding from the government and other sources, have prompted universities to consider new measures to cope with the challenges facing the tertiary sector.

And the door was shut

As has been reported in Salient, the University Council decided not to accept any new domestic undergraduate admissions for the rest of the year at a recent public meeting. The decision came in the wake of predictions that student numbers were going to reach 110 per cent of the cap funded by the Tertiary Education Commission (TEC) under Vic’s investment plan.

Following the council meeting, Chancellor Ian McKinnon explained: “The university has no further capacity for new undergraduate applicants this year. In simple terms, if they [student numbers] go above 100 per cent, the university forgoes funding and incurs costs, and this has an immediate impact on the quality of the university.”

Vice-Chancellor Pat Walsh told Salient after the meeting that “There is no enthusiasm for this decision, it was made to meet our legal obligations and to protect the interests of current students and staff.”

Salient reported that Vic enrolments are 20 per cent higher than they were at the same time last year. Increased student numbers has been a common trend across all tertiary education organisations (TEOs)—not just Vic. To an extent, this increase in student numbers could have been forseen: not only are the products of a baby boom in the early 1990s hitting uni age, job losses caused by the recession have led to many people heading back to tertiary study to upskill. Unfortunately, it appears that the current government has not provided universities with adequate additional support to cater for this influx of students.

Chair of the New Zealand Vice-Chancellors’ Committee (NZVCC) and Auckland University of Technology Vice-Chancellor Derek McCormack understands why Vic made the decision.

“New Zealand universities are committed to maintaining the international quality of their teaching and research,” says McCormack. “That is why they have, unfortunately, had to restrict student numbers—in order to maintain quality.”

Co-President of the New Zealand Union of Students’ Associations (NZUSA) David Do says Vic’s decision is unfortunate, given its impact on prospective students.

“We feel that on a practical level they shouldn’t have done it this way, because students had not been given proper notice that the entry requirements were changing, and that’s going to affect their plans for moving into education.”

VUWSA President Max Hardy, student representative Conrad Reyners and former VUWSA President Fleur Fitzsimons voted against the motion to close admissions. Hardy was reported in Salient as saying that “such an unattractive decision should not have been made without first having all the appropriate information”, while Fitzsimons said the decision “felt very panicked and lacking detail”.

The fact that New Zealand universities are feeling forced into making such decisions has raised concerns about current levels of tertiary education funding. How does the government fund our universities in the first place?

So where does Vic get its funding?

The majority of the university’s funding comes from government grants, with the next greatest proportion coming from domestic tutition fees—then international tuition fees. Figures in the 2009 Annual Report show that Vic received about $137 million in government grants last year. Domestic tutition fees made up almost $65 million of the university’s revenue, while international tuition fees accounted for about $25 million. The university’s total revenue for 2009 amounted to approximately $281 million. The figures show clearly, government funding makes up a significant portion of the univerity’s total revenue.It is the role of the Tertiary Education Commission (TEC) to oversee the allocation of government funding to universities, in accordance with the policies implemented by the government of the day.

The role of the TEC

Established under the Education Act of 1989, the TEC operates the tertiary funding system generally, while also overseeing the planning process and the performance of tertiary education organisations. According to its Statement of Intent, published online, the primary aim of the TEC is “to give effect to the government’s Tertiary Education Strategy (TES)”. The government is required to publish the TES under the Education Act. The TES provides a basis for all the government’s decisions relating to tertiary education. The TEC is bound to ensure that these are implemented across New Zealand’s eight universities, 20 institutes of technology and polytechnics, and hundreds of other tertiary education providers, such as training organisations, wananga, and schools.

The TEC’s board of commissioners provides guidance to the Minister of Tertiary Education about how best to allocate the $3 billion that the government commits each year to funding the tertiary education system.

In order to receive funding, a tertiary education organisation must have an Investment Plan, which it devises in collaboration with the TEC. The plan must outline the following four details: how a TEO will work towards achieving the government’s priorities as outlined in the TES; the TEO’s mission and role in the tertiary sector; the programmes and activities it runs or undertakes; and its proposed outcomes, including performance indicators.

Tertiary Education Minister Steven Joyce says that in terms of allocating funding for places for students at universities, “The TEC will work with universities (and institutes of technology and polytechnics) to determine the areas of high demand. In doing so, the TEC will seek to allocate according to the priorities of the Tertiary Education Strategy.”

In the event a TEO is found to be shirking its responsibilities, outlined in its investment plan, or it is behaving in a manner contrary to agreements made in the plan, the government is within its rights to restrict funding.

The impact of Investment Plans

The limitations placed on Vic by the investment plan with the TEC were one of the reasons behind the decision to close new domestic admissions for the rest of 2010. Vic was rapidly approaching the enrolments cap it was allowed for 2010.

Walsh explains that all universities have an investment plan, which outlines enrolment targets on “not only how many students [can be enrolled], but also how many of those students the government will fund”.

“In our Investment Plan, we give an undertaking to manage domestic student enrolment numbers between 97 per cent and 103 per cent. We will not receive government funding for any domestic students we enrol in excess of 100 per cent.”

Basically, if the university exceeds its cap, it carries the burden of funding those students itself—without extra funding from the government. Walsh reiterates that universities have a legal obligation to implement their individual investment plans.

Through the implementation of individual investment plans with universities and other TEOs, the government effectively manages how many New Zealanders can access tertiary education each year. In the past this appears not to have posed significant problems. However, it seems the government has not adequately prepared for the recent influx of students entering into tertiary education.

Walsh says that universities will have to seek funding from elsewhere in order to deal with the greater numbers.

“Because we are working in a capped funding environment, revenue from the government will be relatively fixed, and this means universities will need to look for additional revenue sources to meet any increase in expenditure.”

Walsh does say that New Zealand has “one of the most generous student support funding arrangements in the world.”

“The government spends a lot of money on tertiary education but it’s about finding the balance between money spent on students and funding for the institutions,” he says.

“Policy frameworks need adjusting to get that mix of funding right. Interest-free student loans, open access and capped funding don’t mix in a recession. In addition, universities work within a maximum fee system which limits how much they increase fees.”

McCormack says “the current system is far from ideal”. He points out that most tertiary programmes take more than one year to complete, “but funding is only secure for one year at a time”.

“The investment plans that universities agree to with the government [via the TEC] are three-year plans,” he says.

“Any decision by a university to accept additional students must take into account the pipeline consequences into subsequent years, in a situation of funding uncertainty over those subsequent years, with no guarantee of funding beyond one year at a time.”

President of the Tertiary Education Union (TEU) Dr Tom Ryan says that the TEU believes that the investment plan cap should be lifted, to allow greater numbers of enrolment into universities and other TEOs during the recession.

“We note that across the ditch in Australia, the government has said clearly that it wants more people getting degrees,” says Ryan. “It’s one of the policies they’ve introduced during the recession as part of their $1 billion extra spending on tertiary education. So it’s a pity that the [New Zealand] government has maintained the cap.”

The Budget: an exercise in treading water

Joyce points out that the changes announced at the recent Budget have allowed for the creation of more places for students at universities.

“We have refocused tertiary education funding to create approximately 4900 EFTS [equivalent full-time students] above previous baselines from 2011—a record number of core tertiary places,” he says.

“For universities, this means 1,735 additional full-time places compared to what was previously budgeted. As a result, the number of places in universities will be 765 greater in 2011 than this year’s record number.”

Joyce adds that the government has also increased spending on tuition subsidies—the Student Achievement Component (SAC)—which is the government’s contribution to the direct costs of teaching, learning, and other costs driven by student numbers.

“Around $40 million per year will be invested to increase tuition subsidies by 2.2 per cent, with approximately $23 million of this funding going to the university sector. The increase will support quality tertiary education.”

Also announced in the Budget was the end of the fee maxima policy, which allowed course fees to increase by a maximum of 5 per cent a year. The policy has been been replaced with the Annual Maximum Fee Movement (AMFM), which will allow TEOs to increase course fees by up to 4 per cent—but it only applies to fees for 2011.

Joyce says the change should give students more certainty about future study costs. He says AMFM removes the “distortive effects of the previous policy, which meant that providers with higher cost courses (with fees at or above the maxima) were unable to make increases in fees to offset the increases in the cost of provision”.

Do points out that AMFM gives no indication of what system will be in place for 2012.

“The minister has only set a fee limit for next year, and I think a lot of students are worried about how high their fees could go if there are no limits.”

Despite Joyce’s reassurances that the government is prepared for the influx of future enrolments, some remain unconvinced.

The 2009 Budget saw a number of cuts made to the tertiary education sector. Finance Minister Bill English backpeddled on prior commitments to increase funding made under the previous Labour government, and various scholarships and other funds were cut to save money.

The cuts have continued in this year’s budget, says Ryan.

“To a large degree, what was announced specifically in this year’s budget continued what the government introduced last year,” he says. “So it’s more the general government’s direction [that] has reduced the spending in tertiary education.”

McCormack agrees. “The 2010 Budget has primarily been an exercise in re-allocating existing money to achieve a limited number … of additional places at our universities.

“At the same time, per student funding is declining in comparison with university cost increases, and money for initiatives to make up for this shortfall, such as the tripartite salary funding, has been withdrawn—as announced in Budget 2009,” he says.

“The cumulative impact is that funding has been decreasing in real terms over time, and this most recent budget does not turn this trend around. Holding the line—or indeed going backwards—makes it harder for universities to prepare their students to be able to make the valuable contributions to New Zealand that are needed to ensure future growth.”

Do says New Zealand is beginning to fall behind Australia when it comes to tertiary education funding.

“The Australian government has put a significant boost of investment into universities and also student support,” he says.

“In contrast, last year’s budget in New Zealand saw cuts to several funds in tertiary education. So we feel the government should be actually increasing investment, and not keeping it stable or reducing it.

“We would have hoped that the government would do further work on addressing underfunding and student debt, but, unfortunately, this budget treads water,” Do says with a sigh. “It’s fairly lacklustre.”

‘Less’ can only go so far

Many in tertiary education have called for increased government investment in the tertiary sector, particularly given the recent emphasis placed on increased funding to be invested in research, science and technology.

McCormack comments, “As New Zealand’s universities constitute the most important part of the research sector, this funding may lead to new opportunities for university research. But is does beg the question, why hasn’t the government also matched this investment with direct funding for university research and teaching capability?

“If knowledge leads to prosperity then surely universities, as creators of knowledge, should be key drivers in the government’s plan. [Instead], the government has been talking about financial constraints, doing more with less, driving efficiency, holding the line, etc. with respect to the budget for our universities.”

NZUSA agrees with the NZVCC about the need for increased public investment.

“Even though the government wants ‘more from less’, there’s only so much you can do with the same amount of money,” Do remarks.

If government funding is not increased to match the demand for places at universities, access to tertiary education could ultimately be restricted, with universities unable to fund places for more students themselves.

NZUSA believes that this denies New Zealanders a basic ‘right’ to access tertiary education. Over time, this will result in fewer skilled graduates emerging from the tertiary education system. Do also points out that limited enrolments will likely affect minority students, or those from lower decile schools or lower socio-economic backgrounds.

“We need to think about the people who might be put at risk,” he says bluntly. “We think that the government is making the wrong choice when it comes to what way it is spending its money.

“It should have increased overall funding so that more New Zealanders can access education.”

The search for a sustainable solution

Joyce defends the actions that have been taken by the government in the tertiary education sector.

“All universities have informed the TEC that they will continue to manage their enrolments according to their current funding levels throughout 2010,” he says. “There is no extra funding available in 2010 and TEOs are all committed to managing within their means.

“In Budget 2010, the government provided a price increase to tuition subsidies. This will mean that universities will receive $23 million more in government funding in 2011 than in 2010.”

Regardless of the Budget’s immediate impact on tertiary education, it’s clear the government still needs to find a viable long-term solution to the continued calls for greater direct investment in TEOs. Universities are already turning to alternative sources of funding to try to cope with the demands of increased student numbers, while maintaining a high level of quality.

If more funding is not forthcoming, will universities be forced to consider more drastic measures to ensure they live within the means outlined in their investment plans? The fact that Vic and Otago have already taken reluctant steps should be a clear signal to the government that action needs to be taken to ensure that New Zealand’s universities are adequately funded—so that those who want to take up tertiary study can do so without worry of restriction.

Not only does this tell of the way in which technology has assimilated itself irretrievably into our daily lives, it is also testament to the convergence of that technology. Media is no longer restricted to its original platform. Instead, we watch television on our laptops; use our cellphones to connect to social networking sites, and make international calls over the internet. Every major newspaper—and many of the minor ones—uploads its content to a location online, from where it flows through to websites such as Twitter and Tumblr. Convergence has combined our once-separate roles of readers, spectators and internet users: consumers are now able to both produce, and participate in the media.

Well, that’s the simplified definition of the concept.

“There are two images of convergence,” says Dr Angi Buettner, lecturer of Media Studies at Victoria University and co-editor of the New Zealand Journal of Media Studies. “One is that a lot of things overlap, but they’re all there. The other is that a lot of things converge together to be filtered, and what you have coming out is one thin line of a lot of things.”

Dr Buettner thinks that the former premise is “our wishful thinking about convergence”, and that the second is the more realistic model. I ask Dr Buettner whether she anticipates that this “thin line” will decrease the number of sources of information or viewpoints on a particular issue that are available to the consumer.

“Potentially, it might increase the number of voices,” she says, “but which item is going to be picked up and pushed through the different platforms of publishing? Pragmatically, it will be the best, nicest-looking little story. Someone has to re-circulate it and what’s going to be picked up is something that’s already successful with audiences.”

However, Fairfax Digital’s Social Media Editor and Stuff.co.nz blogger Greer McDonald believes that above all, convergence increases access to different opinions and information.

“Fairfax has more than 780 journalists spread out across the country, and convergence means that readers don’t have to be living in Southland or Taranaki to access that region’s news,” she says. “Readers are getting their news in new ways—and from a larger number of sources—rather than becoming limited.”

Social Media is Big Business

That Fairfax Digital—part of Fairfax Media Group, which owns a significant proportion of New Zealand’s newspapers, magazines, and community newspapers—deemed it beneficial to appoint a Social Media Editor is testament to the importance and influence of Facebook, Twitter, and other social networking sites.

“All those platforms are just opportunities to have an outpost, really,” says Tarver Graham, of Auckland-based web design company Gladeye, which produces interactive work and digital strategy “for companies that want to make their brand come across super-cool online”.

With an official website, staff blogs, and Twitter, Facebook, and Vimeo accounts, Gladeye has considerable online presence.

“We try to keep our main website reasonably profesh, but with Twitter and Facebook, we can show a bit more of who we are, and be a bit more relaxed,” says Graham, who maintains that social media allows companies to take care of their supporters.

“If your brand or company shows some love for their supporters, that loyalty is often returned, and loyalty and genuine passion for a brand is not something that you can fake or buy,” he says. “With social media, it’s really important to be genuine, because people will see through it otherwise.”

Luke Appleby, a multimedia journalist who writes Stuff.co.nz’s ‘Connector’ blog, lists the benefits of Facebook and Twitter as “building and maintaining contacts, generating instant feedback, and crowd-sourcing.

“Twitter has also proven its worth in our newsroom for monitoring breaking news, especially internationally, through a number of feeds.”

McDonald testified to this on Radio New Zealand’s Media Watch programme, broadcast on 25 April 2010. Earlier this year, the New Zealand Press Association reported that the fires at Titahi Bay were under control, but McDonald’s Twitter told a different story.

“Basically, through Twitter, I was able to provide a blow-by-blow account of what was happening, which was contrary to what the Fire Service was informing other news agencies,” she told the show’s host, Colin Peacock.

An energetic Tweeter herself, McDonald is drawn to the service’s immediacy. She describes it as “the virtual pulse of communities around New Zealand, and the world”.

“People discuss personal issues and business ideas, all in the one space,” she says. “Where once you would head to the local pub to find out what everyone was talking about, you can now jump online and connect with that same information—and on an even greater scale.”

A More Interactive Experience

Of course, this exchange of information is just that—an exchange, as both Appleby and McDonald have experienced first-hand. Readers can comment on Stuff.co.nz blogs, which, in Appleby’s words, “can allow the reader to become a part of the post themselves”.

“Having comments on everything you write can make you more cautious, and more accountable,” says Appleby. “If you get something wrong, you’ll be told about it, and I have done a few times.”

McDonald’s blog, ‘Lady in the Red’, documents her bid to take control of her personal finances. One post, in which she admitted buying a pair of boots instead of replacing her car’s worn tyres, attracted 147 comments, in any of which, readers admonished her for her “frivolous, un-thought-out purchase” (K, #44).

This would suggest that media’s newfound interactive element can position readers a little too close to journalists—although McDonald is unfazed. In fact, she says she writes “in a way that encourages the reader to respond to me and my ideas”.

“In terms of what and how I write, blogs allow me to write more creatively than what most print media models are set up for,” she adds, citing the sometimes-controversial, often opinion-based nature of the medium.

This increased participation also applies to news. Stuff.co.nz, which receives 115 million page impressions a month from 3.9 million unique browsers, engages its readers with interactive quizzes, games and video. The site’s current opinion poll asks readers to determine “who would win in a fight” between Dame Kiri Te Kanawa and Susan Boyle. (At time of writing, it’s 388 – 371 to Kiri.)

“Many journalists are now waking up to the fact that most audiences love—and expect—more than one form of media from some news outlets,” explains Appleby. “You can effectively combine print, audio, video, data and audience input into one, rapidly updating article, available from anywhere with internet access.”

Just as businesses have added Facebook and Twitter to their arsenal of marketing tools, several are turning to online outfits such as Gladeye to provide them with interactive advertising applications. Gladeye created the House of Travel mixandmatcher Facebook competition, which attracted 44,000 players in the fortnight it was active.

“I think our trademark attention to detail helped make the game satisfying to play for a long period of time,” reflects Graham. “We worked on the physics of the [spinning wheels], and the look of the dials. Also, the soundtrack added a layer of mood, and that helped with the generally satisfying character of the game.

“I really believe that if something seems real, you can trick the brain into thinking that it is real, even though you know it’s not.”

Form and Function

Dr Buettner points out that according to Sherry Turkle, Professor of the Social Studies of Science and Technology at Massachusetts Institute of Technology, an increasing willingness to take technology at face value is one of the features of convergence culture.

“So what we see here,” explains Dr Buettner, gesturing to her desktop Apple Mac computer, “does not show us in any way how a computer works, how visual programming works… and the news doesn’t show you anything about the news production, news gathering, the editing process, or how it’s visually pulled together.

“You don’t get that, because everything is absolutely smooth in its flow.”

Dr Buettner believes that the Apple iPad, once it becomes more widely used, will change the character of computing and social media.

“News will be converted into a very smooth application that looks good, and basically gives the audience what they want,” she predicts.

McDonald says that the iPad will have an especial appeal for New Zealanders.

“Kiwis have that fantastic quality of being affected by ‘new and shiny-itis’—we love to be included in the latest technology that the world is using, and we enthusiastically promote products that improve the way we do things.”

Appleby is more cautious.

“It’s easy for us in the developed world to proclaim that the iPad will eventually help us to consume all forms of media, but what of those who can’t afford, or simply don’t want one?”.

A Place for Print

Buettner points out that not long ago, it was predicted that the book was going to disappear—“but it hasn’t”.

“People have an enjoyment of reading something on paper which cannot be substituted by any electronic device,” explains Appleby. “Everyone likes to consume different forms of media in different ways. We still have people using HAM radios and Morse code, speaking Latin, and creating traditional art with paper.”

Graham agrees—but to a certain extent.

“There’ll always be a place for print, just like there’s a place for painting even though we’ve had photography for a century and a half already,” he allows. “But these brands, and the companies behind them, will evolve in a digital landscape. They need to think of themselves as selling content, not paper. Paper is a mugs’ game. Paper is a commodity, whereas words (stories, ideas, opinions, or whatever) have a unique value.”

Dr Buettner predicts that books, newspapers and magazines will turn into a “niche market, geared towards people who like having the paper on their coffee tables–people who want that medium.

“It will not be [media’s] main platform. Print won’t be the form that will make the money. I don’t think news will be on the internet, I think it will be on even more mobile media, and I think it will get more of a print-type character.”

“What is the new beast going to be?”

Of course, the nature of journalism—both as an occupation and an industry—will have to change accordingly, and Dr Buettner maintains that in the future, the job will be very different.

“A lot of journalists will have to take on more things that the editor would have used to have done, and that they’ll have to become even quicker—so it will be a question of time management more than anything,” she says, recalling McDonald’s flat statement that the speed of online media means that “deadlines don’t exist”.

Appleby, who was trained in multimedia journalism (“I can confirm that it has proven useful so far”), believes that journalists will need to be multi-skilled in areas of print, online and television journalism in order to increase their chances of gaining employment, and McDonald agrees.

“I think reporters will be expected to be more open-minded in what the future of their role may require them to do,” she says. “New journalists who can adapt quickly will be the ones that find the most success.”

Dr Buettner maintains that the industry is currently in a state of change: “There’s a question of ‘what is the new beast going to be?’.

“I think it can really go in two directions,” she elaborates. “News industries are quite aware that now is the time when decisions are going to be made that affect how the industry is going to look like, so I think it’ll be a really interesting time to watch. And if you go into that business or field of the media over the next five years, you can probably participate in what it’s going to look like.”

On 13 January this year, a group of Chinese internet users converged on Google’s Beijing headquarters bearing flowers and candles. Google had announced the day before that it would no longer comply with Chinese internet censorship laws—a decision which, the group suspected, would result in a ban on the popular search engine. Upon reaching Google headquarters, however, they were informed by a neighbourhood security guard that they would need to apply for a permit before laying their flowers on the company plaque. If they did not, they would be committing an “illegal flower tribute”, and would be liable for persecution.

Illegal flower tribute. Put together, those three words seem about as much of an oxymoron as “Microsoft Works”. Yet they also happen to epitomise the very same logic that is used to justify internet censorship. The act of censorship is defined as the examination of an information medium “for the purpose of suppressing parts deemed objectionable on moral, political, military, or other grounds”. When a government takes on this responsibility, it is effectively deciding what information should or should not be made available to its citizens. This is an immense power to wield and, to quote Superman, it can have a devastating effect when placed in the wrong hands.

So how does internet censorship affect people? How has internet censorship been employed by governments, and how have those affected managed to get around it? Is there an acceptable form of internet censorship? This article will address these questions by looking at three recent examples—Google China and Operation Aurora, the 2009 anti-government protests in Iran, and the Great Firewall of Australia.

China: Flower Tributes and Cyber Attacks

Google China has a controversial history. When it was founded in 2005, it announced that it would comply with China’s existing laws on internet censorship. It later justified this position by arguing that “while removing search results is inconsistent with Google’s mission, providing no information … is more inconsistent with our mission”. The fact that Google would come to hold 29 per cent of the search engine market share in China may also have influenced their decision.

The extent of internet censorship in China is substantial. “The Chinese government has undertaken to limit access to any content that might potentially undermine the state’s control or social stability,” writes the OpenNet Initiative.

“[It does so] by pursuing strict supervision of domestic media, delegated liability for online content providers, and increasingly, a propaganda approach to online debate and discussion.”

The Chinese government, according to OpenNet, censors anything that is considered to be “endangering national security and contradicting officially accepted political theory, conducting activities in the name of an illegal civil organization, or inciting illegal assemblies or gatherings that disturb social order”.

The type of material that is censored varies from the potentially subversive (such as searches on Tianamen Square, Falun Gong or the Dalai Lama) to the potentially offensive (such as criticisms of national leaders, distortions of Chinese culture, and material that is “sexually suggestive or provocative”).

Google China received heavy criticism for its policy of compliance with such strict censorship laws—collectively titled the ‘Golden Shield Project’—for so long. Therefore, it came as a shock when, in January 2010, Google suddenly announced that it was “no longer willing to continue censoring [their] results”.

“We will be discussing with the Chinese government the basis on which we could operate an unfiltered search engine within the law, if at all,” the announcement continued.

“We recognise that this may well mean having to shut down Google.cn, and potentially our offices in China.”

Even more surprising was what had led to the change of heart. “In mid-December, we detected a highly sophisticated and targeted attack on our corporate infrastructure originating from China that resulted in the theft of intellectual property from Google.”

Google believed that “a primary goal of the attackers was accessing the Gmail accounts of Chinese human rights activists”.

Operation Aurora, as the attack came to be named, had not only been directed at Google. It had begun as early as the middle of 2009, and had been directed at dozens of major companies around the world. Along with search engines, Aurora appeared to have targeted aeronautical firms like Northrop Grumman and antivirus developers like Symantec. McAfee concluded that the operation had been intended to steal “highly valuable intellectual property from its victims”.

So what does this extreme bout of cyberspace fisticuffs have to do with censorship in China? “Censorship, such as the blocking of websites, is fairly crude but effective when combined with targeted surveillance and attacks,” explains Nart Villeneuve, senior fellow at the Citizen Lab, Munk Centre for International Studies University of Toronto.

“The objective is to influence behaviour toward self-censorship, so that most will not actively seek out banned information of the means to bypass controls and access it.

“[This] nexus of censorship, surveillance and malware attacks … is the key to China’s information control policies.”

Iran: Social Networking and the Green Revolution

When the results of the June 2009 Presidential election in Iran were announced, many Iranians expressed disbelief. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, conservative fundamentalist and political firebrand, had been re-elected in a landslide, gathering almost twice the number of votes as his closest opponent, Mir-Houssein Mousavi. Almost immediately, supporters of Mousavi took to the streets, alleging widespread fraud and vote-rigging. This initial demonstration would escalate into a widespread protest movement called the ‘Green Revolution’, named after the colour adopted by protestors from Mousavi’s campaign.

The internet played a crucial role in the unrest. All internet service providers in Iran must go through a single government-managed gateway, providing the government with a single point of access for monitoring and filtering internet usage. This allowed the government to block access to all major foreign news outlets during and after the elections, as well as the websites of several opposition parties.

“The Internet censorship system in Iran is one of the most comprehensive and sophisticated in the world,” states OpenNet. “[It is] rooted in its constitution, which declares that ‘the media … must strictly refrain from diffusion and propagation of destructive and anti-Islamic practices’.”

“Efforts to control online speech by the Iranian government have relied primarily on large-scale internet filtering and the threat of targeted legal action,” continues OpenNet, adding that the government has a strong focus on developing its own web monitoring tools in order to reduce its dependency on Western software.

Despite the Iranian government’s attempts at censorship, the protestors made extensive use of social networking tools to get information out to the world. “Any democratic movement in a totalitarian state needs as much international support as it can get,” states Homy Lafayette, author of a blog titled ‘Iran News in English’.

“Hence, the choice of language I use for my blog. I want to influence, in my own humble way, international public opinion.”

Blogging in English became one of the most popular ways for Iranian protestors to bypass internet censorship due to the fact that censors targeted blogs written in Farsi. “I blogged for years at my Farsi weblog,” writes Jadi, author of ‘Inside Iran’, “but these days I’m filtered in my own country so I have to write here in English.”

Video sharing websites such as YouTube allowed for the direct uploading of amateur footage from the protests. The video showing the shooting of a protestor named Neda Agha-Soltan was later termed “the most widely witnessed death in human history”.

Twitter and Facebook proved invaluable for organising protests and disseminating information within Iran, with the former even postponing a scheduled network upgrade during the protests so as not to disrupt its service. “We have no national press coverage in Iran,” tweeted mousavi1388 during the protests, “[so] everyone should help spread Moussavi’s message. One Person = One Broadcaster.”

“Part of the efforts of those who oppose the regime is concentrated on overcoming state propaganda,” agreed Lafayette.

“It is ironic that someone in London is usually better-informed of what is truly occurring in Tehran, than someone in Shiraz.”

Lafayette indicates, however, that attempts to bypass internet censorship were merely part of an overall campaign by protestors to bypass government crackdowns. “In the first days of the post-election unrest, for example, I would argue that SMS messages were much more effective than websites,” he says.

“CDs and DVDs containing video files showing the regime’s brutality have been distributed around the country to people who do not necessarily have broadband or Internet know-how. In some rare cases, I know that important statements and speeches have been photocopied and distributed hand-to-hand on good old paper.”

Lafayette asserts that these methods “not only convey information, but also set the tone and maintain resistance.”

Australia: Where the bloody hell are ya, internet?

The debate over internet censorship in Australia had never been a particularly vocal one before December 2009. Up until then, censorship laws were comprised of a smorgasbord of state- and federal-level legislation aimed mostly at preventing unsuitable material from being made available to minors.

On 15 December 2009, however, the incumbent Labor government introduced a new piece of federal legislation titled ‘Measures to improve safety of the internet for families’. This legislation proposed to introduce, for the first time, a set of mandatory internet filters for all Internet Service Providers. The subsequent furore over the proposal led to it being dubbed the ‘Great Firewall of Australia’.

So what does the legislation propose, exactly? In the media release for the legislation, the Minister for Broadband, Communications and the Digital Economy Stephen Conroy stated that it was intended to block “child sex abuse content, bestiality, sexual violence including rape, and the detailed instruction of crime or drug use”, as well as subject matter related to terrorism. This material, collectively referred to as Refused Classification (RC) content, is “already illegal to distribute, sell or make available for hire … [in] films, computer games and publications.”

Upon first glance, Conroy’s proposal might seem fair—a measure aimed at applying the same standard to the internet that is applied to other communication media. However, the legislation has evoked intense opposition from both the public and from private organisations. “This plan will … waste millions of taxpayers’ funds in a bid to enforce a level of censorship that will set human rights in Australia back several decades,” argues the Digital Liberty Coalition (DLC).

“[It] will impact legal as well as illegal material.”

The DLC concern over the impact the legislation will have on legal material seemed to be confirmed by a leaked copy of the Australian Communications and Media Authority blacklist of Refused Classification sites. Among other innocuous websites, the list included the URL of a Queensland dentist, a tuckshop convener and a kennel operator.

“506 sites would be classified R18+ and X18+, which is legal to view in Australia but would be blocked for everyone under Labor’s mandatory censorship scheme,” wrote The Age.

Critics have also pointed out the lack of transparency in both the creation and ongoing maintenance of the blacklist. “This scheme was implemented without public consultation,” argues the DLC. “Even the advisory board for this scheme is closed-door and by invitation only … All minutes of meetings and information as to goings-on within this advisory panel have thus far been kept out of the eye of the public.”

Anti-censorship campaign group GetUp agrees. “Under the plan, the government can add any ‘unwanted’ site to a secret blacklist.”

They add that testing of internet filters demonstrates that they “will slow our internet by up to 87 per cent, make it more expensive, miss the vast majority of inappropriate content and accidentally block up to 1 in 12 legitimate sites.”

To censor or not to censor

When it comes to the examples of China and Iran, the case is fairly clear-cut—when you are suppressing domestic criticism and preventing the flow of news in and out of your own country, it’s a pretty fair bet to say you are abusing your power. But is there an acceptable level of internet censorship that can be agreed upon? The concept of ‘net neutrality’, which runs deep in most Western countries, would suggest otherwise.

The ‘Great Firewall of Australia’ presents an interesting case. On the one hand, the Labor government’s desire to prevent children from being exposed to material that almost everyone would consider offensive—child pornography, racism, bestiality and sexual violence—would seem to be a logical, even noble one. On the other hand, the mechanisms by which they are pursuing this goal—mandatory censorship, secret blacklists, inability to distinguish between what should and should not be blocked, and unproven technology that affects internet speed—are questionable, to say the least.

But if the idea of internet censorship is to be seriously called into question, should it not also logically extend to other forms of censorship? If it is considered unacceptable to sell Refused Classification material in movie or video game form, should it not also be unacceptable on the internet? Or, as the ‘net neutrality’ argument goes, is the internet a special case where the free flow of information—however corrupt and perverse at times—should not be interfered with? Alternatively, do ALL forms of censorship strip citizens of their personal liberties, as the libertarian argument goes? Does stripping individuals of the right to figure out for themselves what is and is not questionable material make them less well-rounded human beings?

At the very least, we should all be thankful that we live in a country where we can have these debates without being in danger of persecution. Nobody should ever have to fear reprisal for making an ‘illegal flower tribute’.

This action, on the part of the producers of the movie, comes in the wake of The Hurt Locker’s disappointing US$16 million takings in the United States, especially considering the film’s reported $15 million cost, and the fact the film won six Academy Awards, including Best Picture. The Hurt Locker is now relegated to the position of lowest-grossing Best Picture recipient of all time.

It is in the face of these attempts at punishing file-sharers in the US that New Zealand continues to review its digital copyright law with the Copyright (Infringing File Sharing) Amendment Bill, soon to go under review by Select Committee.

Section 92a: the original proposal

The original Section 92a amendment, scrapped by Prime Minister John Key in March this year, called for a three-strikes policy, which would see violators have their internet services disconnected in the case of continued infringements. This required the cooperation of Internet Service Providers (ISPs) in identifying and punishing offenders. As intellectual property expert John Katz QC explains in the May ’09 edition of Intellectual Property Journal, “Nobody who respects copyright and the creative inputs it protects could reasonably object to putting into place measures to prevent the avalanche of illegal downloads and the like, all of which impact heavily on creative industries.” However, he says “A solution such as s92A is a blunt instrument and shifts the policing from the owner of the copyright to the operator of the pipe through which the illegal activity is channeled—the (ISP) or similar utility.”

In addition to charging ISPs with policing their own customers, Katz explains that they would have also been forced to absorb any costs associated with the legislation: “The purpose of provisions such as s92A is to ensure that the problem can be laid off so that it becomes not the problem of the rights owner, but the problem of the ISP. This then means of course that the costs of compliance are those of the ISP and the costs of compliance will inevitably be passed on to ISP customers.”

This led TelstraClear, one of New Zealand’s largest ISPs, to refuse to back the disconnection of alleged file-sharers as outlined by that bill, which basically meant the law could not be effectively introduced as it required approval from all ISPs in order to see implementation, leading to its eventual retraction by the Prime Minister. Keith Davidson, then-chairman of InternetNZ, a non-profit organisation dedicated to protecting and promoting the internet in New Zealand, commented at the time: “Terminating an internet account was always a disproportionate response to copyright infringement, and to force ISPs and other organisations to be copyright judges and policemen was never an acceptable situation.”

Despite the failings of the original amendment, Matt Sumptor, a partner at the law firm Chapman Tripp and lecturer at the University of Auckland, also writing in the New Zealand Intellectual Property Journal, recognised that “The only way you can stop people ripping off works is for piracy to have predictable and unwelcome penalties for those on the wrong side of the law.

“If there is one unifying policy initiative in copyright law, it is the need to confront and address the piracy problem on the digital frontier.”

Cue Commerce Minister Simon Power and the 2010 Copyright (Infringing File Sharing) Amendment Bill.

Section 92a: revamped

While there are a number of similarities to the original proposed legislation, Power’s bill does differ significantly in the requirements imposed upon ISPs. The new bill would see a three-notice policy, similar to the original three strikes, which Power says is to “educate and warn file-sharers that unauthorised sharing of copyright works is illegal”. Rights holders have the ability to request ISPs to issue these infringement notices to offenders; the first informing the user that infringement has occurred, and the second and third acting as repeat warnings. If an offender continues to infringe, the rights holder can then seek a penalty at the Copyright Tribunal for up to NZ$15,000, relative to the damage caused.

The bill also includes a provision that would see the suspension of internet accounts for up to six months, but it outlines that suspension will be processed by the courts in order to ensure both parties are heard, and the action will only be taken in cases of serious infringement.

The crucial difference here is that ISPs are only required to issue infringement notices due to their holding access of account holders’ personal information, removing the burden of having to negotiate process and penalties with rights holders.

While InternetNZ has stated that they welcome the bill, seeing it as a step forward, they have still raised a number of concerns, especially with regard to the suspension of accounts.

Jordan Carter, InternetNZ’s policy director, says “InternetNZ opposes account suspension as a remedy. It is both disproportionate, in that the penalty is too severe given the activity, and futile given that the public won’t put up with no net but will instead get a new account with their ISP or another.”

Carter has said that InternetNZ will argue against the account suspension provision in the select committee process, as well as suggesting “the notice system should simply be about notices going to alleged infringers, and giving them the right to reply back to the alleging rights holder”.

Furthermore, Carter believes some “technical changes” need to be made before implementation. “The definition of ‘ISP’ needs to be clarified; there are some details about how the notices process will work that could be clarified. There is also the need to clearly set out what it means to ‘suspend’ an internet account. The legislation should not create a ‘strict liability offences’ for account holders.”

The Creative Freedom Foundation has also raised concerns over the proposed punitive measures. Bronwyn Holloway-Smith, Director of the Foundation explains, “We’re strongly against internet termination as a penalty, and the lack of detail defining the scale of fines, among other things. We’ve always been opposed to the inclusion of internet termination as punishment. Due to New Zealand’s geographical isolation, the internet is a vital tool for artists to connect to the rest of the world—to organise international exhibitions, plan tours, or send movie files overseas for time-critical post-production work.”

Furthermore, Holloway-Smith questions the enormity of the proposed $15,000 fines. “We initially suggested a $1000 limit on fines but they’ve gone for $15,000 to match the Disputes Tribunal and, really, we think that’s excessive. We have no information on whether that limit will be reached for one movie or 1000 movies, so we don’t know if the fines will be reasonable.”

So… can file sharing actually be stopped?

Carter believes that “The educative side of sending notices will have an effect, and it should reduce file sharing. Many people just don’t know that it is illegal, or if they do, they assume nobody knows they are doing it. Receiving a notice will make it clear that their assumption is wrong on both counts. Overseas experience points to considerable reductions when notices begin.”

The scope of the effectiveness has to be questioned, however. In an interview with Salient earlier this year, Katz said, “Quite frankly, whatever steps are ultimately enacted I cannot see that it will bring an end to the problem of illegal file sharing. It may well help but I think the problem is too wide-spread and too enormous for there to be a truly effective 100% catch-all solution.”

Google trends appear to back this up, illustrating that while some file-sharing sites have experienced significant drops in usage, for the most part there has been a steady increase in usage trends worldwide despite the introduction of laws designed to deter users, and legal actions such as those being taken in The Hurt Locker case.

While we will have to wait and see whether legislation in New Zealand, be it the current bill or some future incarnation, will have any effect on deterring Kiwi offenders, Carter speculates that “The better response is to develop new models for the commercialisation of audio and AV content. Rights holders should be focused on making stuff available to the public in a fast, user-friendly and affordable way.”

Holloway-Smith agrees. “Many studies have shown that the primary cause of illicit file sharing is unsatisfied customers, so ultimately the business models need to change. The Hurt Locker was released in US theatres on 26 June 2009, and on DVD on 12 January 2010. However, the movie wasn’t available in New Zealand when it was nominated for the Oscars, or even when it won the Oscar. In fact, it took another month to be released to cinemas in New Zealand and we’re still waiting for the legal download.”

She adds, “Movie companies are behaving like it’s 1995, with staggered international and regional cinema releases followed by DVD/Blu-Ray releases, and months or years later legal downloads are offered, if at all. For a globally connected world that makes no sense, and so—when it comes to the hysterical claims of millions of dollars of lost sales from piracy—we’ve got to ask whether these supposed lost sales have actually occurred when these businesses fail to fulfill consumer demand.”

InternetNZ will be hosting seminars at the end of the month aimed at assisting submissions to the Select Committee. These seminars will “provide for sharing of information and enable critical analysis of the Bill”, and will be held at the Intercontinental Hotel in Wellington on 25 May, and at the Aotea Centre in Auckland on the 26 May, both running from 9am-1pm. The Creative Freedom Foundation’s website creativefreedom.org.nz will also offer a full analysis of the proposal in the coming weeks. Select Committee submissions are due on 17 June.

Geoff Stahl, a lecturer in advertising and sub-cultures in the Media Studies department at Victoria University, says that the internet is a “triangulation of market, audience and participant”. Which is a fantastic way of saying that at times we are targeted as a seller’s focus point, sometimes we sit back and watch stuff go on in front of us, and sometimes people watch us do our thing. Kind of like the real world. So what’s the difference between the internet and the real world?

We are all very aware of the massive scale of the internet, so perhaps it would be easiest to indulge in the petty vice of metaphor to gain insight. Bear me with me, if you will.

The Looking Glass

The internet, as mentioned above, is a repository for the brain farts of the most privileged people on earth. At some point or another, each person on the internet has decided, this is the time for me to leave a little piece of myself in the public domain. You can find it there if you’re willing to look hard enough. So it is essentially the world, as it relates to the privileged few. To dip into metaphor, the internet is a lot like the Wild West was a little over one hundred years ago. There are a few laws in place, but essentially you can get away with anything until you commit an act in a jurisdiction where it would be deemed inappropriate or illegal.

The internet is the last truly free ideological domain. It is a place for the learned and the intelligent to converse, share, idealise and realise. We are without restriction and can remake ourselves to be anything we want. We can research and discover the highest flights of intellect that mankind has reached. We can sate our deepest, darkest and most depraved desires. There is a place for us to revel in our most fringe interests and hobbies. The internet brings us, intellectually at least, closer to those who we never imagined were just like us. Stahl refers to this idea as “…an evolved ethos stemming from a commitment to a collective. It also, in some ways, rests on an idea of exclusivity.”

Each of these communities is, online, called a forum. Often there are numerous forums devoted to the same subject or the same collective interest. Within a forum there are numerous threads, each dealing with its own specific area of esoteric debate. Within these there are often sub-threads. Let’s think about it like this:

Each forum is a town. A town is made up of a number of different kinds of buildings. So the main part of the forum is going to be the town hall. Then you have the church, the store, the school and various specialty businesses. In order, you generally have a thread about the canon (or accepted truth of a matter), a thread about merch, collectibles or stuff associated with your interest that you can purchase, a thread for those who are new to the interest or who are looking to expand on their knowledge base, and then a whole bunch of other threads about everything else associated with the focus or focii of this town. Sorry, forum. Some of them might actually have nothing to do with the focii, they just happen to be things that like-minded people (in one area) want to discuss among themselves.

The players in this little farce

There is an enormous misconception surrounding people on the internet. Of course it’s funny to make jokes about how you were chatting to this super hot chick from just down the road and she suggested you meet up. So you toddle down to the carpark outside Pak’n’Save and wait, wearing the red hat and polka dot scarf you said you would. Suddenly a dirty grey panel van pulls up next to you with “Free Candy” poorly hand-painted on the side and a shadowy pot-bellied figure mutters through the open window, “Hey you going my way? I was just talking to you online.” Yeah don’t bother lying, everyone has a story like that.

It is imagined that somehow the internet allows you to be less authentic than you are in real life. But this is fundamentally not true. Unless you are some sort of psychopath, you constantly pretend things about yourself. Stahl sums it up well: “Real life is not necessarily more authentic than online life. We are constantly performing a version of ourselves that is situationally appropriate.” That pretty much says it all. You might not be pretending to be a 14-year-old girl when in fact you’re a 23-year-old guy, but you’re definitely pretending to like your boss even when you’d rather choke the life out of them with your bare hands. Or when you pretend to be civil with your boyfriend’s dropkick mates when you’d rather cuss them out and smack them in the head with the ugly fry-pan you got given by that weird chick who used to live in your hall of residence, but now lives in a possession-free commune.

All the internet does is lift the restraints of what we are physically capable of dissembling. As long as you can keep a decent thread of continuity running through your stream of lies, no one will ever be any the wiser. Or maybe you’re just letting loose the beast that dwells deep in your chest, but no one sees it IRL (in real life).

So where does this fit into our carefully crafted metaphor? In the glory days of the Wild West there was relatively little communication between the towns. So it was pretty easy to completely change your identity between towns and ride into a new one being someone utterly different. Of course it’s a little more than that on the internet, but for the purposes of this particular metaphor it will suffice.

The existential paradox

Of course into every life must fall a little rain, and in every good Western myth there is a bad guy. The spectre of privacy invasion looms large on the horizon here. Let’s have a look at a case study. At the moment the single most popular community site on the internet would arguably be Facebook. It exploded across the public consciousness, sweeping with it a whole new way of interacting. It also made the seven degrees of Kevin Bacon game a whole bunch easier ’cause suddenly you could see exactly how many steps removed you were from anyone else. So why is Facebook the villain of the piece, or at least the villain of this particular case study?

It has become more and more apparent in recent months that there are some glaring flaws in the privacy settings on Facebook. Not only that, there are some truly disturbing inadequacies in the terms and conditions of the Facebook user agreement. It turns out that none of the information that you upload onto Facebook actually belongs to you once it is uploaded. It becomes the sole property of that nebulous entity called Facebook. “But!” I hear you cry, “What’s so nebulous about Facebook? What can I possibly have to lose here?” A fair question indeed, intrepid user. It turns out that Mark Zuckerberg, the former Harvard student who graced us with his system, was perhaps a little less than forthcoming with his intentions. In documents very recently brought to light, he outlines his laissez-faire attitude towards the privacy concerns of the users of Facebook. This instant messenger conversation from 2004 highlights this particularly disturbing facet of this informational powerhouse’s personality with alacrity:

Zuckerberg: Yeah so if you ever need info about anyone at Harvard

Zuckerberg: Just ask.

Zuckerberg: I have over 4,000 emails, pictures, addresses, SNS

[Redacted Friend's Name]: What? How’d you manage that one?

Zuckerberg: People just submitted it.

Zuckerberg: I don’t know why.

Zuckerberg: They “trust me”

Zuckerberg: Dumb fucks.

An incredibly cavalier and distressing viewpoint from a man who runs a website that has somewhere in the region of 450 million users. I think the character of villain quite nicely fits Mr Zuckerberg in this particular metaphor.

We are anon and we are legion

Before you start tearing your clothes and covering your heads with ash, weeping and mourning for your lost privacy, we should first examine the curious heroes of our metaphor. Oddly enough, and as is so often the case, we find them where we would least suspect. The heroes of the internet are the oft-spoken-of but little-understood trolls. Their community exists within a forum called 4chan. In the main, the surface of 4chan and the sub-forum /b/ seems to be little more than degrading bigoted and inflammatory rhetoric. It sets out to instantly offend those with tender sensibilities and to hound the hypocrite and the outspoken status quo supporter. But with a little patience and some careful digging it is possible to begin to understand a little more of the denizens of this seemingly lawless town. Perhaps it is best to let them speak for themselves on the matter of their own psychology:

“Behold, a public Bulletin Board, Built of Both Brilliance and Barbarity By Bastards with Boners. This Bastion, no mere Bulwark of Boredom, is a Brutal Barrage of Blistering Bullshit, Barely Benevolent…But Behind the Bigotry and Boobs, Beyond the Bitter Broadcasts of Bragging Buffoons; here be the Body Politic. A Brotherhood of Blasphemy, Blessed with more Balls than Brains, Battling the Bland, the Bogus, the Benign. Bedlam? Bring it on.”

Within this touchingly poetic self-assessment of their own mentality lies a fundamental truth. While to all intents and purposes they appear to have only their own interests at heart, they do in fact have a decidedly rigid code of ethics. They wreak havoc on systems that they deem to be fundamentally imbalanced or unfair. When roused by an example or expression of injustice they take it upon themselves to rectify the situation. When this wrath is brought to bear, the sheer weight of numbers and varied areas of interests among the members ensures that most problems are resolved swiftly, in vengefully vigilante-esque fashion.

So within our metaphor they take the role of the group of unknown gunmen riding only for justice in its most primary of forms—the most fascinating thing about the Anon movement, for that is how they refer to themselves. Which is, in itself, a fascinating insight into their psychology, for it ensures that no one member can be found or singled out to be more important or above the rest. But as I was saying, the most interesting thing is that every time they exploit a flaw, they scrupulously document in a publicly accessible database. Every time they find a weakness in a website or seek to wreak havoc on a chain of stores that have unethical employment standards, they document every step of the process. This puts them in an entirely separate class from run-of-the-mill troublemakers and mischief seekers. But the essential fact remains that they work for the benefit of people rather than institutions.

All good things must come to an end

So there it stands. An examination of the internet through metaphor and discourse. It’s still not a friendly place to go, but interesting places are rarely completely safe. I have no doubt that for the most part you will continue on in the vein you have already, by perusing Facebook and occasionally swooping through Google to do some last-minute revision. But in the words of many, many generations of hard-toiling prospectors: “There’s gold in them there hills.” All that remains is for you to summon your courage and find it. And rest assured, if it all becomes too much for you and you find yourself at the mercy of the wicked denizens of the internet, if you seek honestly and fairly, there will be those who will help you.

Best of luck. It’s a wild frontier out there.

“You’ve done too much, much too young,
You’re married with a kid when you could be having fun with me,
You done too much, much too young,
Now you’re married with a son when you should be having fun with me.”

—The Specials, ‘Too Much Too Young’, 1979.

They sung it in ’79, and we’re singing it even louder today.

It’s 2010 and we live in a secular, progressive society. We are Generation Y, with a passion for individualism and ourselves. We have contraception, not to mention a healthy cynicism for love. The average age for marriage in New Zealand is 28 years plus, and rising.

And yet we all seem to have those mates who have been dating since—it seems—forever. Now they’re deciding to get married. Many of us would react with a “what the fuck?” or at least an “oh my god”, but for some marriage is still the natural next step to take.

What is causing some young people to buck the current trend and decide to marry young? Is it just a small town phenomenon: religion, boredom, something in the water? Are small town folk still adhering to old-fashioned values? Just why, for God’s sake, are people doing it?

Is it weird now?

Information from Statistics New Zealand released just this month confirms that Kiwis are choosing to get hitched later. The median age for first marriage is 29.8 and 28.1 years for men and women, respectively.

In 1971 it was a different story—the majority of New Zealanders marrying for the first time were aged between 20 and 24. Today, based on recent statistics, only 16 per cent of men and 23 per cent of women decide to tie the knot that young.

And why would you? These days there isn’t much you can do in a marriage that you can’t do in a romantic relationship—unless you’re a devout Christian. As a result, we have seen the marriage rate decline to a mere third of what it was at its peak in 1971.

Statistics New Zealand suggests many factors have contributed to the decrease, such as a rise in de facto unions, a general trend towards delayed marriage, and an increasing number of Kiwis remaining single.

Sandra Johnson got married at age 21, and has been married almost 30 years. She agrees that times have changed—in the late 70s a lot of people did marry young in her hometown of Invercargill, and in other small towns all over New Zealand.

“I had just finished my nursing training when we got married, and in my class of nurses probably half of us got married soon after graduating,” she says.

“In small towns then we still held on to family values that had been instilled in by our parents. If you wanted to live with someone you got married, and had a family—just got on with it.”

These days, things are different. There is no norm to say that we should get married at any specific time, if ever. In fact, we are encouraged to pursue travel and careers before settling down. The women’s liberation movement was a contributing factor in the change in society’s attitudes to marriage.

Pill poppin’

Despite the fact the contraceptive pill became available 50 years ago, it was not readily available to single women from that time. Elaine Tyler May, Professor of American Studies and History at the University of Minnesota, says that of the 6.5 million women who were using the pill by 1964, the vast majority of them were married.

Johnson agrees that a lack of opportunities for women, both contraceptive and career-wise, led to more young marriages.

“Contraception was not so available as it is today, nor was abortion, so if someone got pregnant they got married. Smaller towns were more traditional in their values, travel was not as accessible and it was expensive, and job opportunities for girls were still a bit limited.”

Politics and gender roles also play a huge role in public attitudes towards marriage. For example, Susan Williams met the father of her children in the 1960s, when she was just 21. In the midst of the sexual revolution and women’s liberation movement, she made the conscientious decision not to get married, just to play her own part in the movement.

Now that women can choose to have a career, have sex without getting knocked up, and travel to almost anywhere in the world, marriage seems less and less relevant.

Melanie the escapee

It is hard to imagine Melanie Williams, 21, as a married farmer’s wife in Murchison—population 555 at the last census count. The tall, slender, red-head looks as though she has just stepped, gazelle-like, off the stage of a glamorous cabaret in New York. She studies architecture in Wellington, and plans to travel—but her life could have been very different if she had not broken up with her fiancée in Murchison at age 19.

“We had been going out a year and a half. I wasn’t planning on getting married young, I wanted to live together first and travel. He would have preferred that maybe I didn’t go to uni, and become a farm wife—which I didn’t want to do.”

When asked how she thinks her life would be different if she had ended up tying the knot, her reply resonates more with the sense of ‘dodged bullet’ rather than ‘lost love’.

“I would feel a little bit ripped off. Because I was still studying, I hadn’t achieved my various life goals that I wanted to pursue. Getting married, there is the expectation that you settle down and have children. It would have come too quickly.”

Melanie describes Murchison as a small farming community with very traditional values. A place with routine and ritual where it was fairly common for people to marry young. A place where you would go to a tea room and have a custard square.

“A lot of people were stuck in a previous time. Even the sayings they use… and the industries are less cutting edge. Even the way they dress, I really stood out. There was a strong sense of community and more traditional values, which translated in to marrying young.”

Small towns are like Greeks

Studies show that rural communities, like Murchison, do have more of a tradition of marrying young. The small town culture is similar to those cultures with a collective focus, such as Greeks or Indians, where there is an expectation to continue the family traditions or business and look after your elders.

City slickers can be compared to individualistic societies, of which most Anglo cultures are an example. These families encourage individual uniqueness and self-determination. Kids are cheered on to leave home, go flatting, and make a career for themselves. Marriage is postponed until you’ve done everything you want to do.

In collective societies marriage is an important marker in the life cycle, especially where there is a family business to continue. It signifies adulthood, and the succession of authority. If you’re not married by a certain stage in a collective culture, you become something else—a spinster, or that old guy who is always in the pub by himself.

Melanie noticed the difference between attitudes of those in Murchison to those in larger cities who are looking for love in the Hollywood sense. In Murchison, marriage is as much a model of practicality as it is of love, especially in a town where many girls leave because the main industry is farming.

“You’re going out with someone and, hey, there’s no one else, and you’re not gonna leave so you may as well marry them—to put it bluntly. Most of the people are paired up, and if they aren’t then you’ll just end up alone. There are a lot less girls in a community like that, so once they get a girl they stick with them.”

The Religious Model

Another reason people might marry young is religion. It is a common belief that the rule stipulating “no bonking before an eternal oath” has driven many a young Christian down the aisle.

In some countries sex before marriage is an offence punishable not just by eternal damnation, but also by a cane to the backside. Vice Magazine reports that “fornicators (people who fornicate but aren’t married) are flogged all over Asia”, with the number of lashes corresponding to how much of a fornicator you are. This is also the case in countries like Afghanistan, Iran, Sudan, Nigeria and Pakistan.

Thankfully we live in a society where we can “fornicate” as much as we like without fear of not being able to sit for a week—depending on what you’re doing. But are some young Christians still getting married just so they can get in the sack?

Mike and his wife Laura are Christians from Feilding and Gisborne, respectively, who decided to tie the knot young. Mike was only 21 when they got married last year, but he insists that sex had hardly anything to do with their decision to get married.

“Because of our faith, Laura and I didn’t go for the ‘try before you buy’ option, you know, live together first,” he says.

“It’s difficult, but that’s how much we believe in our faith… It’s so much more to us than just following some ancient rule… Sex is just one—awesome—part of marriage, and so when we decided to get married, sex was just one part of our decision.”

So Christians like sex too, but they also like God—fair enough. But with an increasing trend for citizens of Western nations to marry later in life, it’s fair to ask what exactly the benefit is of marrying young, if it’s not to bonk.

The “We found each other young” Model

For Mike and Laura, marriage was just the logical next step in their relationship, he says, as well as a commitment in the eyes of God to be together forever.

“We felt we had reached a point in our relationship where we were ready to make a serious commitment to each other. It kinda felt like things had ‘plateau-ed’ and marriage was the next step for us.”
Catherine Sparks and her partner are both 21, non-religious and from Tauranga. They decided to get engaged a year ago. Cat says that from age 17, they were both pretty sure that they were going to get married.

“The idea of being married and sharing everything and making a family with him is so exciting. It is a lifelong commitment… but not in the eyes of God for me, as I am not religious,” she says.

“I have had the best role models in terms of a happy marriage, my parents have been together for almost 30 years and still madly in love.”

Nicola, 23, married her partner both as a “celebration of love”, but also as a legal recognition of their relationship. As the couple want to live overseas at some point, this aspect of marriage was also important to them. Being a non-religious couple, this was the deciding factor between getting a civil union, and getting married.

“Civil unions are not as widely recognised overseas, so that was something we weighed up before we decided between marriage and civil union. I know people who have had to get civilly united and then get married later on because of visa requirements.”

The reasons for young marriage are more plentiful than we might think. But whether because of religion, because you have good role models, or because you want to be legally united, the decision to get married boils down to one thing: love. These couples really like each other, and plan to do so for a really long time.

A really really really long time

Getting married young means that you have promised to spend the rest of your life together, which—if you are smoke-free, eat healthy, and exercise—is a really long time.

The life expectancy for New Zealanders is around 82 years for women and 78 years for men. If you marry at age 21, you can probably expect to be with that one person for over 50 years. Which is a bloody long time—a long enough time to set off a siren of cynicism in most young people. It’s so long that it makes me feel like lying in bed with a ciggie burning in one hand and the grease from a chicken drumstick dripping down the other.

Yet some people have gone the distance, and still believe in the institution of marriage whole-heartedly. Barbara Johnston, an Invercargill girl, was 20 when she met Gus, a central Southland farmer.

“We had only known each other a year when we married and now we are coming up 30 years of wedded bliss,” she says. “When it’s all boiled down, what we want out of marriage is love, commitment, security—and it doesn’t just happen, you have to keep working on it.”

Today, with divorce rates being what they are, some couples are choosing to go in to marriage with more ‘realistic’ vows. Instead of “till death do us part”, one might say “as long as I love you”.
Take our celebrity friend Peaches Geldof, British socialite and daughter of rock royalty Bob, as an example. She was married in Vegas at age 19 to 23-year-old musician Max. After six months the couple separated, with Peaches revealing that she was always realistic about her marriage.

“You can’t ignore divorce rates. Every friend of mine has parents who are divorced. I didn’t go into it with Max thinking, ‘This is going to last forever,’ but I did go into it thinking, ‘I love him right now and I know that I’ll continue to love him for a long while.”

Just a few months after her 23rd birthday, Britney Spears married her childhood friend at The Little White Chapel in Vegas, ironically the same chapel where Peaches was married. The marriage lasted 55 hours.

Perhaps marriage is not the infinite vow of love that it once was. Perhaps there is now room for young people to toy with the idea of marriage for as long as it suits them—much to the Pope’s delight, I’m sure.

The Verdict

Despite the changing attitudes to marriage, all of the young couples I spoke to absolutely believed they would be together forever. All admitted that married life is not going to be easy, but that they were committed to it.

It might be true that people from small towns get married younger, but small-town values have well equipped these young people for the long haul—AKA wedded bliss.

Though young marriage may not be for everyone, a background of community, parents who have been together forever, a small, strong support network and an optional dash of faith can’t hurt when one finally decides to take the leap. Just don’t expect to see me walking down the aisle any time soon.

When I was about six or seven years old, I remember going on a road trip with my dad around New South Wales. As we headed north from Newcastle, he suggested that I might want to look out the window, for there was something big ahead of us. When I asked what it was, he told me that it was Ayers Rock. “Not even, Dad!” I replied, full of the cocky self-assurance of a child with a second-grade education. “Ayers Rock isn’t even in this state!” “I’m telling you, it is!” he replied with a laugh. “You just wait and see!”

And sure enough, another kilometre or two later, there it was—a giant, plastic eyesore, shaped and painted to look like Uluru. “The Rock Restaurant,” I read, groaning at my dad’s attempt at being cool. “But that’s not really Ayers Rock, Dad!” “No,” he replied, “but it is one of Australia’s ‘Big Things’.”

And so I was introduced to the common Australian practice of small things writ-large. Since then I’ve seen many more of them—the Big Ant, the Big Oyster, the Big Gold Panner. I even had the privilege of going to university in the town famous for the most sexually suggestive of the big things—the Big Banana. But what about New Zealand? As it turns out, you Kiwis have a few big things of your own—but surprisingly few people have written about them. This article is dedicated to small towns in New Zealand and their ‘big things’.

A long and lively history

The year was 1967. The Vietnam War was raging, the Space Race was at its height, and the hippies of the world were taking their first tentative puffs from the doobie of youthful rebellion. All of this paled, of course, to the preparations for the Christmas celebration in the small Kiwi town of Paeroa. In front of the town Post Office was erected a seven metre-high replica of a space rocket, topped by a loudspeaker that would blare music and announcements throughout the festival. The theme proudly proclaimed that “Paeroa was to rocket into Christmas”—and so it did.

The following Christmas, the rocket was reassembled and painted in a familiar pattern of brown and yellow. Thus was the ‘Big L&P Bottle’, world famous in New Zealand, born.

Most of New Zealand’s big things have similarly humble origins. Ohakune’s ‘Big Carrot’, for example, was conceived by Peter Hammond, a local grower of the Ohakune Growers’ Association. “The opportunity arose from the ANZ Banking promotion on [television] in the 80s as a prop from their advertising,” explains Bruce Thompson, Deputy Chair of the Waimarino-Waiouru Community Board.

“[It] was officially ‘opened’ by the King Country MP Mr Jim Bolger, and our mayor at the time Mr Bill Taylor.”

The operators of ‘Kiwi360’ in Te Puke—home of the ‘Big Kiwifruit’—stress the harmonious nature of their icon. “[It] is the shape of a kiwifruit slice, made up of Maori canoe paddles (waka hoe).

“The inclusion of Waka Hoe symbolises the land’s Maori heritage, the Mana Whenua of this land to the Tauranga Moana Iwi, and the orderly cooperation between peoples which has resulted in the success of our business.”

Big things also serve as a focus for ongoing pageantry in small towns. “Since 1984 a Carrot Festival has been held in the town featuring the large machinery for harvesting, floats and stalls,” says Thompson.

“It has [also] featured on the New Zealand postage stamp.”

It’s all about the produce

Big things typically represent the staple produce of their hometown. Apart from carrots, kiwifruit and bottles of soft drink, New Zealand’s other big things include a Big Crayfish in Kaikoura, a Big Salmon in Rakaia, a Big Trout in Gore, and a Big Sheep and Sheepdog in Tirau.

“[The Big L&P Bottle] represents our branding,” says Paeroa ward councillor Julie Bubb.

“We have flags down the main street with the L&P theme. All the food outlets in town have L&P painted frontages. We even have the L&P Cafe, which has a replica plastic bottle in front.”

Thompson proudly asserts that “the town of Ohakune was known as the carrot capital of the North Island”, and that the Big Carrot “stands proudly today promoting Ohakune and its wares”.

Martin Svehla, Ministry of Tourism Senior Communications Adviser, agrees that ‘Big Things’ are representative of what small towns have to offer. “Personally, I see them as a bit of fun. An exclamation point on what’s important to that town or area—something the community is proud of.

“There’s a big trout in Gore, and I understand that fishing on the Mataura can be spectacular.

“In terms of town branding I’d have to say I love what Tirau has done,” adds Svehla, referring to the Big Sheep and Sheepdog. “That’s a real feature, and I bet it makes people stop and have a coffee and slice of cake.”

A bit of fun

The people of Paeroa are “definitely proud of our local icon,” says Bubb. “The ‘bottle’ has become one of the most well known and photographed structures in New Zealand.

“There must be million of photographs of it around the world.”

Not everything about the icon has been effervescent, however. Before 2002, the bottle presented a rather unique problem in that the best place to take a photo of it was from right in the middle of State Highway 2. “There was naturally a concern about accidents, so the bottle was shifted at great cost to its present location where some bollards prevent the photographers from going on the busy highway.”

The biggest problem that the Big Carrot faced was of a more ideological nature. “Opponents were concerned at the anti-feminist nature of the ‘phallic symbol’,” explains Thompson.

“[They] suggested that two big swedes would be more appropriate.”

Quality over quantity

While New Zealand’s ‘Big Things’ may be few and far between, they are just as cherished by their small town patrons as their Australian counterparts. They present a light-hearted celebration of local industry and produce, as well as an unashamedly cheesy tourist attraction.

And just how do our ‘big things’ rate against their cousins in Australia? “I’m sure Australia has more,” admits Svehla. “I heard they’ve really embraced the whole ‘big thing’ idea on a large scale over there.

“[But] we really focus on quality here in New Zealand. I bet ours are made better. Probably using the latest America’s Cup fibreglass technology and the like.”

I’m from a family with a background in farming. Although I lived in town, and my parents aren’t farmers, there’s no way of escaping the agriculture sector when you live in a rural service town like Feilding. Heck, my dad is a rural contractor, not to mention I spent a great deal of my childhood at my grandparents’ farm not far out of town. I fed lambs in the backyard, I trudged through paddocks in gumboots, I collected eggs from the chook house. My rural roots run deep, however, they don’t run so deep that I feel compelled to turn my back on life in the city to become a farmer’s wife. Visions of green grass, hay bales and fuzzy white sheep may seem appealing for a fleeting moment, but the romance of the countryside isn’t enough to compel young people to ditch everything to pursue a life on the land.

Farming has never been the sexiest of professions, nor has it gained popular acclaim among primary school children in the “what I want to be when I grow up” stakes. Nevertheless, it is farming, and land-based industries more broadly speaking, that have been the backbone of the New Zealand economy for decades. The agriculture industry generates 64 per cent of our merchandise export earnings—making it New Zealand’s largest and most important industry. Further in this vein, New Zealand is the world’s largest dairy and sheep meat exporter.

Agriculture Minister David Carter acknowledged in a speech last June that the agriculture and horticulture industries are “the only two major industries in which we have sufficient scale, market share and supply chains to be truly competitive in international trade”. If the New Zealand economy is so dependent on agriculture, then why are we seeing declining numbers of students enrolling in agriculture-related qualifications, at both secondary and tertiary level? Why are young people turning their backs on the profession that is the very lifeblood of our nation?

The economic reality

When it comes down to it, it is upon agriculture that the New Zealand economy relies. It is an industry where New Zealand excels, and can excel further in the future. However, there appears to be a turn away from promoting agriculture and other land-based industries as a cornerstone of our economic development. This is not a recent phenomenon, says David Rose, Health and Education spokesperson for Federated Farmers.

“In the 1980s and 1990s there was a real push at government away from the [agriculture] sector in the belief that tourism and services were the ‘new black’. They haven’t been, as agriculture has increased in importance.”

It is plain fact that agriculture rakes in far more money for the New Zealand economy, compared to glamour industries like film or tourism.

“The creative industries received exposure far beyond their capacity to offer careers or employment,” Rose says.

“The fact is that agriculture is not just being on a farm, but covers all aspects of a $24 billion industry and encompasses [everything from] wine (horticulture), cheese (agriculture) to mussel fritters (fisheries) and even that roof over your head (forestry).”

Figures provided by Federated Farmers last year clearly illustrate the ongoing importance of the agriculture sector to New Zealand. Farm productivity has outstripped every other sector of the economy for many of the last 27 years. Much of this economic success is down to the work being done in Crown Research Institutes, universities and by companies like Fonterra.

Need further proof? Federated Farmers again stated last year that the total estimated spend of all inbound tourists for 2008 represented a mere 31 per cent of Fonterra’s revenue for the year ended 2008. Agriculture is important, alright?

The problem of education

Despite the economic prosperity and promise associated with New Zealand’s agriculture sector, there is no avoiding the fact that the sector is failing to attract desperately needed young people. In October 2008, the Primary Production Committee presented a report to parliament on the declining numbers in agriculture education. The report states in its introduction that the committee was “concerned about what appeared to be a drastic decline in students” in the agriculture sector.

The committee was informed that between 2003 and 2007 “the number of students studying agriculture and horticulture at a secondary school level dropped by 13 per cent”. You can study agriculture at NCEA Levels 1, 2 and 3, and as of last year, agriculture is offered as a scholarship subject. The problem is, however, that agriculture is offered in less than half of New Zealand’s secondary schools.

At a tertiary level, numbers are looking a little more hopeful. The report states that the number of students studying agriculture and related subjects have “increased substantially” since 2000. However, much of this growth has been at the certificate level, as a result of new requirements associated with purchasing agriculture compounds. At the diploma and degree levels, the report paints a slightly different picture: “diploma enrolments have fallen by almost 30 per cent and degree-level courses by about 12 per cent”. A study by Massey University around the time of the release of the report found that graduate numbers in the “agriculture, environment and related studies” category fell between 1999 and 2005, but numbers have been on the rise again since 2006.

Certainly, a number of problems face the agriculture sector in terms of attracting people to study the subject. These problems are in need of a solution, as the sector potentially faces a future shortage of qualified graduates who can take up research, scientific, finance, consultancy and other related positions that are essential to the development of the agriculture industry in New Zealand.

Farming’s just not cool

Those who haven’t spent much time on a farm, or have little to no knowledge of what agriculture actually involves, may have a slightly skewed idea of what is actually entailed in a career in agriculture. In fact, there’s a lot more to agriculture than just being a farmer, milking cows and shearing sheep, says John Beech, the Head of the Agriculture Department at Feilding High School.

“[That’s the] perspective that we’ve had over the years—that [agriculture] is just for dummies to go in to,” Beech says.

“It’s more than that, and there’s a huge opportunity out there in the academic scene for students, not just milking cows, but in academic stuff like university, consultancy, Fonterra and all those sorts of places.”

The Primary Production Committee also acknowledged in their 2008 report to parliament that the agriculture sector suffers from a few image problems. Poor public perception could potentially be one of the factors putting young people off taking up study in agriculture.

“There is a widespread perception that a career in agriculture is unfulfilling, involving too much hard work for little reward, and a farming career in particular is better suited to non-academic people,” the report states.

This perception is largely incorrect, but it does have a popular following.

Current Vic student Aggie Galloway says that agriculture is seen as “a bit of a bum subject”. Galloway studied agriculture at Feilding High School, and was awarded an NZQA scholarship in the subject last year.

“I don’t think [agriculture] appeals that much. I suppose it doesn’t really seem like a hugely viable way to make money, even though it is,” she says.

Many of those who end up studying agriculture at Feilding High School come from farming backgrounds.

“A lot of kids who [study agriculture] come through from the hostel, a lot of them come from farming backgrounds, and of course Feilding is a rural community—it is a service town for a rural area,” Beech says.

Chelsea Hirst is also an ex-Feilding High School agriculture student, who is now studying first year Agriculture Science at Massey University in Palmerston North. Although she doesn’t have a farming background, many of her classmates do.

“The majority of people doing the agriculture papers that I’m doing, they’re from farms. The people who are getting into [agriculture] have had experience in some way or another, whether that be on a farm or at school.”

It seems that agriculture is a field that those who are unfamiliar with it are put off dabbling in. Misconceptions about what a career in agriculture involves, and an ill-informed assumption that it is “for dummies” is doing little to attract people to undertake study in the sector, ultimately hampering the development of the industry in our green isles. So what can be done to buck the trend?

Attracting people to the paddock

Agriculture is given little to no status by secondary schools in New Zealand. Generally, the subjects chosen during high school will go some way to determining future study and career options. Agriculture barely rates a mention on the lips of careers advisors, thus it comes as little surprise that students are uninspired when it comes to thinking about a potential career in the sector.

Rose says that there is “a real lack of knowledge about agriculture among careers advisors and parents, who do not consider the career as they have no personal knowledge of it and do not talk about it”.

The introduction of agriculture as a scholarship subject has given it greater academic standing at a secondary school level. Beech says teachers of the subject pushed hard to get scholarship introduced, but there is still some way to go in terms of providing support and resources for teachers.

While agriculture is a subject that is pushed and encouraged at Feilding High School—the school owns two working farms—Beech says it is left in the dust by other schools.

“I guess it comes down to teaching staff,” he says.

“If you’ve got someone with a passion, then it gets pushed, and if you haven’t, it just gets forgotten about.

“I haven’t got any silver bullets or answers for the problem, but maybe the government needs to put some more resources into making an awareness that it’s out there and doing a bit more marketing of it.”

Of course, agriculture is just one of many subject choices available to secondary school students. Given the smorgasboard of options on offer, some who decide to head into agriculture at the tertiary level may find themselves without the basic subjects that are a foundation for agriculture.

“There is also the reality that agriculture is science, so needs preparatory subjects, which some students have failed to acquire,” Rose says.

Federated Farmers has also endeavored to encourage young people to get involved in the agriculture industry. Rose says many of the initiatives currently in place are only a few years old. Considerable promotion work is being undertaken by levy-funded industry organisations, such as Dairy NZ and Beef and Lamb NZ, in schools. The Federated Farmers Farm Day is targeted at urban-based primary school children to widen their horizons towards agriculture.

“We have others like Jacqueline Rowarth from Massey University, who visit secondary schools to talk with passion about the exciting agriculture industry and how students could be involved,” he says.

“More should be done to promote agriculture from the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, as there is only a finite amount of time and resource we have as individual farmers. We can only do so much.”

A host of scholarships are also available to young people looking to undertake agriculture-related study at a tertiary level, Beech says. Hirst has received two scholarships which will go some way to funding her studies at Massey.

“If you want to do a tertiary qualification in agriculture, or horticulture, or forestry, or any of the primary industries, you’re just about guaranteed to get your degree paid for,” Beech says.

Equipping young people with all the correct information and subject options will ensure, at the very least, that students are aware of the study and career opportunities in the agriculture sector. Failure to attract more students to agriculture will only worsen the current shortage of graduates facing the sector.

What next?

Given the importance of the agriculture sector to the New Zealand economy, it is essential that the workforce is rejuvenated in the coming years. If this does not happen, the consequences are dire. If New Zealand is to remain a world leader in agriculture, the sector needs to attract the best brains this country has to offer.

“The age profile for farmers is growing and productivity improvements have helped, but the simple fact is we do not have the number of skilled entrants coming into the industries to sustain performance,” Rose says.

“A strong New Zealand must have a strong agricultural sector, as everyone’s standard of living depends upon it.

“Think of it like this—12,000 dairy farmers directly contribute a quarter of New Zealand’s exports. We are truly lucky that our temperate climate allows our world-leading unsubsidised farmers to export our top-quality food to the world.”

Beech also has concerns about a potential shortage of graduates for the future of agriculture research in New Zealand.

“I suppose when you think of the agriculture industry at the moment, it’s facing a few hurdles. There are issues with effluent, there are issues with carbon trading, there are all sorts of different things, animal welfare and stuff like that.

“Now if we haven’t got the bright young people to research in those areas and find some answers to some of those challenges, then we are going to struggle,” he says.

“A lot of countries out there are concerned about the environment, and if we’re not doing it right, and we haven’t solved some of these problems to make our agriculture industry a bit more cost-effective and yet environmentally friendly, then these countries are not going to take our [exports] and that’s going to be a problem.”

If your BA isn’t going so well for you, perhaps it’s time to consider a change. Maybe there’s a career for you in agriculture? Agriculture graduates are in demand, and are likely to be far more employable in a whole host of different aspects of the industry. Remember, there’s more to farming than just milking cows and shearing sheep. In the end, agriculture is the lifeblood of the nation. It is one of the few industries where we are a true world leader. If interest in agriculture among young people continues to decline, where does that leave our most profitable export industry?

Job prospects for graduates of agriculture-related tertiary qualifications:

• Research, science and technology. Fonterra, for instance, employs 350 researchers here and abroad.
• Banking and financial products.
• International trade.
• Trade diplomacy.
• Infrastructure, for example, water storage and broadband.
• IT.
• Industrial applications.
• Retailing—the multi-billion dollar support industries.
• Fertiliser. Ballance and Ravensdown, both cooperatives, are involved in exports too.
• Shipping, distribution and logistics.
• Food technology.

Primary school was fine, mostly because I was too young and naive to get the politics surrounding it. Upon returning there over the years (I’m the eldest of 5 to attend the quaint, yet terrifying Fairhall School), it has slowly revealed itself to be a poor, small-town imitation of a private preparatory school. You have the self-absorbed mothers, hell-bent on making sure their son/daughter is in the right volleyball team, or harassing the principal because their child didn’t win the prestigious Villa Maria scholarship. I’m not kidding. You could throw down a medal for ‘Most Promising Five-Year-Old’ and incite a fucking riot between permed 30-somethings attempting to live vicariously through their children—when they’re not buying Oprah’s favourite things.

That was only my school. For the ‘edgy’ 11 and 12 year olds, Bohally was your institution of choice. Situated right beside Marlborough Girls College, this place was notorious for pre-teen weed smoking and the start of the road to DUIs and teen pregnancy. I know at least two who started in my primary school class who have gone down this exact road. Not that it was all bad—it has churned out many a golden child who has gone on to complete high school. With Merit!

Entry to high school was an important time for those in form two with any hope of a hasty escape from the clutches of Blenheim. Many of my friends managed to scramble away to schools in Nelson or Christchurch, myself included, leaving once-beloved childhood friends for the firing line of fourth form resentment. You know the type—the ones who, after enduring a year of torture at the hands of sadistic fourth formers, deem the only reasonable option to be to pass on the legacy of pain. There were stories of daily firing squads, the hurling of apples at any third former who dared eat their lunch in public. I was fortunate enough to miss this sadism, as I was holed up in Christchurch, but regularly returned to Blenheim during holidays to view the town through my somewhat opened eyes.

Essentially, what makes Blenheim so soul destroying is its near-complete lack of anything to do. The council set up a skate park, but that was soon taken over by hoodlums and boyracers. It was situated right next to the train station, which was the unofficial home base of the boyracer tribes. Their favourite pastime? Parking up next to their friends in the carpark, and sitting there, getting high, talking about their cars and other times they were high, for hours on end. Two Cars, One Night, minus the innocence, thrown into Groundhog Day. There was the sporting option too, but even that only managed to fill a Saturday afternoon.

The easiest way to keep yourself occupied in Blehneim, short of going to Top Town Cinema 3 constantly, was to get into drama. At least, that’s how I saw it. For one thing, productions in Blenheim were the unofficial breeding grounds for awkward boys and girls. I saw many a love blossom from the middling-to-terrible choruses of ‘Man of Steel’ or ‘Fame’. But the best part of small-town theatre was, of course, the drinking. If you’re from Blenheim, there’s a 50 per cent chance your parents either work in the wine industry, or are close friends with someone who does. There’s your ticket. Stealing bottles from the pantry, going to stay at someone else’s house after the ‘Production After Party’, and unleashing 15 years of pent-up boredom in a series of ridiculous teenage singalong drinking orgies. Unfortunately, even this gets tired quickly. People never give up their houses for drinking, and there are only so many drama friends to ‘pash’ before everything turns into monotony. Especially when said thespians are addicted to a steady diet of Pink Floyd, Zach Wylde and musicals. Even the most positive outlook is shaken when you show up to a Blenheim ‘party’, only to find your friends sitting in a dim room listening to a friend covering ‘Comfortably Numb’.

When this becomes the highest point of your week, you realise the sad truth for those stuck in Blenheim for their formative years: there really is nothing you can do to escape the soul-sucking boredom of a town whose idea of ‘creating activities’ is to build a tacky amphitheatre that has been almost completely unused in the five years since its creation. All you can do is find a niche, crawl into it, drink wine and read books until your day to escape comes. Leave as soon as you realise you can. DON’T STOP BELIEVING.

My initial response, when asked to write of my hometown, was to refuse. When I first moved into a Vic hall of residence, I was ridiculed about my origins. I was mocked by a girl from Waipukurau. A guy from Wainuiomata literally pointed at me and cackled. The people on my floor thought they would display their superior wit by pinning the name of my hometown to my bedroom door, to ensure that any mere passers-by could participate in the humiliation. It would be an understatement to say that I was in no rush to re-embrace my past.

However, after pondering the request a little longer, I decided that it was time to come clean. Surrounded by others who were revealing their origins, in an issue dedicated to small towns, I felt that I was in a safe environment. It could be cathartic, I told myself. It could prove invigorating. *Deep breath*

My name is Franchesca and I come from Feilding.

Feilding has a bad reputation. Not in the ‘you-will-probably-get-beaten-up-by-12-year-olds-in-the-square’ way like Palmerston North, but more in the ‘you-will-probably-die-of-boredom-before-you-reach-12’ kind of way. For some reason, a community that labels itself ‘Friendly Feilding’, and has won the title of New Zealand’s Most Beautiful Town umpteen times, doesn’t garner too many cool points nationwide.

During my teenage years, this was exacerbated by the fact that the Holy Trinity of Feilding consisted of Rugby, Farming and God—generally in that order. When I attended FAHS—Feilding High School, the 1st XV rugby team were at their peak. The Whitelocks—a local rugby-playing family dynasty, three of whom now play for the Crusaders—were attending the school and, as a result, the team dominated almost any opposition they faced. Assemblies became little more than a bi-weekly wank-fest, where the principal proudly recited who made what representative team, who scored what try and who kicked what conversion. For many Feilding residents, a ‘cultural experience’ involved putting on the school colours, slipping on some gumboots and attending a rugby game. When the team met their arch-nemesis, Palmerston North Boys High School, 5000 people attended the match. Unlike the Crusaders, the 1st XV never had to drop their ticket prices to entice people to their game.

Feilding is a farming community. You can tell, because each Friday an unpleasant smell permeates the town as stock is transported in for the weekly sale. My farmer grandfather once told me that it was the smell of money. It put me off ever wanting to become a millionaire. When I first started high school, it was named Feilding Agricultural High School in honour of the school’s two working farms. While we didn’t have the numbers to sustain a Classics course, enough students were interested in the reproductive system of the school pigs to justify numerous Agriculture classes. For those of us who chose to take the bedrocks of Western education such as History, English, French and Geography, we were assured that our working farms were to our benefit as well. They gave us an edge over other schools, we were told. It showed the school’s diversity in the cut-throat world of secondary education. However, such justifications didn’t really help as we were being accused of bestiality at every inter-school sports exchange we ever attended.

For the 18 years that I lived in Feilding, it was generally accepted that if you were a true member of the community, you went to church. Despite the large question mark that I had hanging over my religious beliefs (aided, no doubt, by the fact that my mother had scorned institutionalised religion during my childhood in favour of the Spiritualist Church, where my siblings and I received new ‘spirit names’), the lack of local entertainment also drove me to God. Until my friends realised that if they kept inviting me, I would continue to argue with their pastors over the divinity of Jesus, my Friday nights were spent at various youth groups. Religion is so central to Feilding residents, that in a recent visit to the town I counted four churches in a one-kilometre stretch of road.

Yet, given the confessional nature of this article, I must admit that I loved growing up in Feilding. My childhood was literally a cheesy American family movie. Days were spent biking along tree-lined streets with the kids from next door, making forts and terrorising our younger sisters. We walked to school, spent the summer swimming in the river and played mini-golf at the Rotary-owned golf course. Feilding was a town where you could leave the door unlocked when you popped down to the supermarket. It was safe and, apart from the dairy owner who used to yell at us for taking too long to choose our one-cent lollies, everyone was cheerful. Despite the Holy Trinity, it can’t have been all bad. What I am today is a product of Feilding; and I think I turned out all right.

So, for the wellbeing of your children, and your children’s children, we examine and rank Disney’s most famous female protagonists based on their ability to promote gender equality and feminist ideals.* Hold on to your nostalgia folks, you’re in for a bumpy ride.

8. Wendy Darling—Peter Pan (1953)

Coming in dead last we have Wendy. I hated Wendy when I was little. I thought it might have been because she had cooties, but now I know the truth. Wendy is so docile and submissive to Peter’s white male privilege it’s sickening. Peter’s only recognition of her worth is domestic, after she sews his shadow back onto him when he crash-lands into the loft of the Darlings’ bourgeois London townhouse. His view of her changes little as the story progresses.

Constantly the damsel-in-distress, Wendy’s only purpose appears to be as the surrogate mother to Peter’s Lost Boys, a rag-tag group of children forced to wear animal skins for clothes, clearly suffering the consequences of a neglectful single dad. Wendy, you fail at life—and at feminism. The second-wave revolution was just around the corner, and by God I hope you were the first against the wall.

7. Jessica Rabbit—Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988)

Yes, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is a Disney movie. Look it up. Jessica Rabbit is characterised as a huge-chested, tiny-waisted femme fatale. Only she’s married… to Roger Rabbit. This is weird for several reasons. First, I don’t consider femmes fatales the epitome of empowerment. The modern femme fatale is a character model popularised by Raymond Chandler novels and films noirs adapted from Raymond Chandler novels. Unlike the femmes fatales of times passed (Lilith from Jewish folklore, for example), these incarnations suggest that women who have full control of externally enhanced sexuality aren’t to be trusted. It doesn’t matter how transgressive these troubled broads appear, they’re still objects of desire and are still defined entirely by the whims of the male protagonist. Case in point: Jessica Rabbit.

Now that I think about it, she’s not even a true femme fatale. She’s happily married; the protagonist’s desire for her does not lead him into mortal peril; and her unattainable desirability drives no one insane, nor does it lead to her own tragic death. She just talks huskily and is ogled by all male characters (and audience members). Her most famous line is fitting: “She’s not bad, she’s just drawn that way”.

6. Megara—Hercules (1997)

Any female lead destined to hook up with a demigod is bound to be relegated to stereotypes and clichés. This is a shame, because they almost scored a home run. Hercules characterises Megara as a witty, curiously detached femme fatale-wannabe with romantic musings and strangely Yiddish mannerisms. That’s cool, but no amount of witty banter will distract from her damsel-in-distress-ness. She does make a deal with Hades to save Hercules though—like how she made a deal with Hades to save her ex-boyfriend before the film began—except she dies and has to have her soul rescued from the underworld. If I’d made Hercules I would’ve had Megara be the demigod with super strength and had her spend the whole 93 minutes engaging in verbal ructions with James Woods’ Hades. Then I could call it HERcules. Genius. Ancient mythology be damned.

5. Princess Jasmine—Aladdin (1992)

Jazz rocks. Despite being royalty, she is grounded, level-headed, and falls in love with Aladdin for who he is, not what he is (which is, technically, Scott Weigner, who played DJ Tanner’s boyfriend in Full House). While a damsel-in-distress for a teensy part of the movie, the extenuating circumstances are both elaborate and awesome. I will excuse mildly stereotypical gender role situations if giant fucking hourglasses are involved.

The failing of Aladdin (and others) is what I like to call Idiot Single Dad Syndrome. That is, any narrative where the main conflict arises solely due to the patriarch’s stubbornness or pride, a situation that can only logically precipitate because there is no mother figure around to tell said patriarch to shut the fuck up and stop being such a proud self-righteous douchebag. This is the case in Aladdin where the Sultan adheres stringently to the law that Jasmine must marry a prince, only to have a change of heart and abolish this law at the film’s dénouement. Well la-dee-fucking-da, why didn’t you decide that earlier on? Oh that’s right, then there wouldn’t be a movie. Fail.

4. Pocahontas—Pocahontas (1994)

Pocahontas is a bastion of independence and Native American spirituality and values in the pale face of white European colonialism. Idiot Single Dad Syndrome plays a subtle role, but on the whole things are grand, if a tad historically inaccurate. Pocahontas is the noblest of savages, following both tangible objects (her heart) and the intangible (the wind), while talking to old willow trees and perching on high places as feathers and dandruff swirl around her, an effect that James Cameron would eventually steal (along with the basic story) for Avatar.

I should write more about her but I feel uncompelled to do so. Maybe it’s because Mel Gibson was the voice of John Smith, or because the only comic relief came from a raccoon and a hummingbird, but the movie as a whole just isn’t very memorable. Still, Pocahontas is a well-rendered character, and the story ticks all the right boxes required to attempt to retroactively assuage white male guilt. Thus, I place it commendably, a feat that retroactively assuages my own white male guilt.  

3. Mulan—Mulan (1998)

Mulan is the most overtly feminist tale Disney put to celluloid in the 90s. So why doesn’t it place higher? Sure, she rejects the rites of domesticity reserved for females in her society, and poses as a male in order to have her skills and attributes appreciated on an equal level. However, by fable’s end, the status quo doesn’t appear to have significantly changed. After running rings around 90 per cent of the idiot males in the story, she returns home as a hero, yet the society that forced her to change her appearance in the first place shows little signs of reform. The audience doesn’t notice this—they’re too busy wondering if she’ll get together with the hunky Li Shang. Mulan becomes the exception, not the rule, and this rousing tale leaves a bitter aftertaste.

2. Jane—Tarzan (1999)

I love Jane. She’s one of Disney’s most fleshed-out and realised heroines, helped in no small part by Minnie Driver’s wonderful voice acting. Jane earns the silver for several reasons, chief among them being her relationship with her dad, who is totally gay. Don’t believe me? The signs are there: Jane’s father is voiced by the late great Nigel Hawthorne, most famous for his role as Sir Humphrey Appleby in the sitcom Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister. In 1995, Hawthorne was outed in the lead-up to the Academy Awards. Though sexuality of an actor does not dictate sexuality of the role, Jane’s mother is absent, yet there is no Idiot Single Dad Syndrome here. Jane’s father is loving, sensitive, and easy-going. Traits which lead me to believe he isn’t heterosexual. Unless of course the story is just, you know, well-written.

Jane is independent and inquisitive, constantly seeking the natural beauty in her surroundings. She also becomes Tarzan’s teacher, educating him about all aspects of his origins. Tarzan becomes enamoured with her, fully appreciating her qualities without a hint of the sexual inequality present in his gorilla family. Finally rejecting the patriarchy of Victorian England, Jane gives in to her love for Tarzan, becoming the new member of the Gorillaz. Her father comes too, yet is not subject to the Hollywood Law of Cliché Coupling (where all sympathetic characters pair up and find love or companionship before the end of the story), furthering the gay rumours. Unless he shacks up with Tarzan’s gorilla mother, which, let’s face it, would be totally hot.

1. Belle—Beauty and the Beast (1990)

Belle wins. To date, Beauty and the Beast is Disney’s greatest achievement, and one they will never better. I’m not going to explain the plot, or how Belle is beautiful both inside and out—you all know it. Any movie with dialogue like “It’s not right for a woman to read. Soon she starts getting ideas, and thinking…” is a winner.

What I do want to talk about is the feminist debates surrounding the film. Critics point out that Beast abuses Belle by roaring at her when she enters the West Wing, as well as throwing objects around in her presence, equating to an abusive relationship that serves to marginalise Belle when she decides to conveniently ignore these incorrigible actions and fall in love with Beast anyway. (Beast saving her life is not an adequate reason for forgiving these actions, apparently.) This is a fair point to make, but I must point out a curious nature of the Beast that sometimes goes unnoticed: he’s a beast.

As Belle begins to fall for Beast, he becomes more human, standing upright and wearing progressively more and more clothing and no longer losing his temper. While I am hesitant to justify anthropomorphised creatures when they act in an animalistic manner, how else was the Beast supposed to appear beastly? Be voiced by Colin Firth and say “I say, I do object to you being here, you must leave with utmost expediency, please”? Nonsense. It must also be pointed out that after breaking the spell, they don’t get married. Suck it, institution.

Disqualified: Princess Ariel—The Little Mermaid (1989)

Princess Ariel fails to achieve a ranking on account of her being both feminist and anti-feminist in equal measure. Permit me to explain: Ariel sacrifices her voice so she can walk like a human and seduce Prince Eric, betraying two integral aspects of her identity for a man. She later leaves her Merpeople completely by permanently transforming into a human and marrying Eric. Not very feminist.

Ariel is also the only female Disney character (as far as I’m aware) to be portrayed naked, her nudity alluded to by shadows and well-placed long red hair. The villain, Ursula, is portrayed as an old woman with a provocative, sexual nature (assisted by the fact that she’s a cecaelia—half-human half-octopus), hinting that if you’re old and ugly but sexually aware, you are a disgusting witch. Not very feminist.

It’s worth nothing that The Little Mermaid kick-started the Disney ‘renaissance’ of the 90s, and was, to a new generation of children, a film where the titular character was female—showing young girls that yes, they could be the star of their own story, unlike Aladdin, Hercules, The Lion King and Tarzan. They would only repeat this with Mulan nine years later. For these reasons, I feel like I cannot rank The Little Mermaid, and must leave it as a separate entity unto itself. (Also note the heavy Idiot Single Dad Syndrome in this movie, and don’t get me started on the Haitian characterisation of Sebastian the lobster.)

This rank is not necessarily to say what you should or shouldn’t watch. Rather, it’s for the sake of awareness, role-models, posterity and a better tomorrow. It’s my hope that, in time, a deep understanding of Disney will bring humanity into a whole new world, with a new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we’re only dreaming.

*Please note that only human characters are ranked. I don’t care how feminist Nala from The Lion King or Bianca from The Rescuers or Lady from Lady and the Tramp are; they are fucking animals.

This feature was also published in the Auckland University Students’ Association’s women’s magazine Kate.

 
Growing older, one’s own skin and body too easily become templates for all sorts of projections. Culture, as they say, gets in. I learned, as one does, that vaginas are political. They mean something, and that meaning is mapped out by their functions and uses, most prominently those related to heterosexual relations. (The word ‘vagina’ comes from Latin. It means sheath. As in, for a sword.)
 
I also learned that women’s genitalia are as varied as their faces. Some are frilly, some flare out, some are voluptuous, some are dainty. There are ‘innies’ and there are ‘outies’. Their colours range over pinks, mauves and browns, and each responds to touch differently, each a loveliness unto itself.
 
I was taken aback for a moment when I learnt that cunts too could be cosmetically enhanced by plastic surgery, and have been for the past fifteen years at least. In hindsight, it isn’t that unthinkable that cosmetic vaginal and vulval reconstruction happens. Upsetting, maybe. But not unthinkable. After all, the scene has been set: we have braces, boob jobs, eyelash extensions, penile augmentation, skin grafts, hair grafts, the reassignation of gender, brazilians for men and women alike—and that’s just naming a few. Over time, more and more aspects of the human body have come under vanity’s gaze and become candidates for perfection.
 
If vaginal rescaping was once deemed impossible or unpalatable, times have certainly changed. Put it down to the mainstreaming of pornography: these days, even straight women and monogamists of whatever sexual preference can see the genitalia of lots of other women. The bulk of these anatomies have been digitally or surgically airbrushed, but for those of us who have not had the pleasure of bedding many ladies, they are the point of reference and, by default, they shape expectations.
 
Elizabeth Haiken, author of Venus Envy: A History of Cosmetic Surgery, remarks that “before crotch shots were published, nobody was interested in this”. Dr Gary Alter, the fittingly named plastic surgeon famously associated with vaginal ‘rejuvenation’, calls it the ‘Penthouse Effect’. His clients allegedly come in wielding glossy porn magazines, demanding that he “make mine look like that”. 
 
Like many of you, I’m not one to pander slavishly after genital ideals propagated by porn. Big dicks, big tits: big deal. But possessing a pussy, one is bound to wonder (hopefully casually): what’s good? Am I okay? Even people who first hear of vulval reconstruction through criticism of it are startled into wondering how their goods measure up to what’s ‘good’. It goes to show how easily seeds of ‘what to want’ and ‘what to tolerate or change’ can be sown.
 
Judging by the before-and-after shots boasted by plastic surgery websites, it seems what everybody wants is the same: slim, straight and narrow, minimal ornamentation.
 
Reduction of the labia minora, the inner lips of the vulva, is the most requested procedure. Other procedures on offer include: trimming elongated or uneven labia, scraping excess skin off the clitoral hood, plumpening of the labia with a fat transplant, liposuction of pubic flesh, tightening of the vagina walls and surgically creating new hymens. To warrant these measures, age, human diversity, childbirth and active sex lives are cast as traumas. Their physical effects—larger labias, relaxed vaginal muscles and what have you—are held responsible for great discomfort, plummeting self-esteem, and thwarted sex lives by proxy.
 
Take a look at these testimonies from Shine and Cosmopolitan:
 
“My sex life has improved so much since the operation—we have more sex now than ever before. I’m much more into my boyfriend and now that I’m tighter, I’m much more confident about initiating sex. Even better, my boyfriend is enjoying sex with me more, as there’s much more stimulation for him too.”
 
“I was so thrilled by my new vagina. Dan and I ‘tried it out’ after just four weeks. What a difference—it was like my whole sex life was beginning again. Suddenly I discovered how amazing oral sex can be because I could finally relax and be myself during sex. I didn’t have to worry about my boyfriend seeing me naked.”
 
Reading between the lines of these and other testimonies, surgery salves sex-lives by modifying psychological outlooks via the modification of flesh. When it comes to sex, the body is mind incarnate. Our thoughts embodied in hands, necks, mouths, throats, cocks, cunts and sphincters. Feeling appealing means being appealing. It really is all in the mind. Most of the women getting the procedure recognise this. “Once you get a hang-up it just grows and grows. It’s all mental,” comments a woman interviewed by
Salon.com’s Louisa Kamps. “If you see something affecting your relationship, then, yeah, save yourself the head trauma and get it done.”
 
There are still risks, though. Dr Alter insists that he avoids cutting near the clitoris to guarantee your orgasm’s safety under his knife. But according to Dr Norman Schulman, chief plastic surgeon at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York, Alter’s logic is impossible: “There are women whose nerve centers are collected at the clitoris, women whose nerve centers are collected at the labia, women whose nerve centers aren’t even in the genitalia.”
 
Needless to say, beautifying the human body is not a contemporary phenomenon, neither is it culturally exclusive. Somewhat ironically, vaginoplasty’s West African cousin comes to mind. FGM (female genital mutilation OR modification, depending on your diplomacy) is more or less demonised in popular media. It is outlawed in several American states by a constitution that relies on FGM’s specific tribal and cultural context to distinguish it from plastic surgery of the same region.
 
FGM takes a variety of forms, but basically the clitoris is scraped down and the lips sewn up. The idea is to wrench physical pleasure from sex in an effort to keep women chaste. The oppressive motives in this are blatant. But cultural expectations—however subjugating—have an interesting way of sneaking in and making themselves at home in people’s ideas about what they want to look like. Case in point: an Egyptian mother whose daughter awaits excision expresses passionate distaste for the appearance of long labia in a nineties documentary, Hidden Faces. “Do you want her to be like a boy with this floppy thing hanging down?” she asks, painting the offending feature in the air with her hands. “It should be straight. Shhh. Smooth as silk.”
 
Anthropologist Christine Walley discovers something similar among the teenage girls she teaches in West Kenya. Her students display neither ignorance nor naivety when she gently asks them about the pain and loss of sexual sensation their infibulations entail. They assure her they are aware, already, of these consequences. They are also well familiar with criticisms of their custom (which has been illegal in Kenya since 1982), and on some levels, they concur with these. But much to their teacher’s mystification, their inductions to ladyhood make them feel prouder and prettier all the same.
 
The Egyptian ladies, the Kenyan girls, and the women confessing to Cosmo may come from very different cultural backgrounds. But in their differences lurks this sameness: ‘beauty’ precedes politics and is a way out of shame. It is conformity to populous ideals and it is also a state of mind. It’s a pity a person’s notions of beauty and ugliness cannot be resculpted as easily as a vulva can. Dr Nada Stotland, president of the Association of Women Psychiatrists, acknowledges that energy should really be used to help people feel proud of their bodies. “But at the same time,” she adds, “you can’t entirely denigrate the idea that a body feature could cause a person enough psychic pain to warrant surgery.”
 
With vaginal alteration, we are up against a philosophical knot: the freedom to opt out of ‘psychic pain’ seems to be part of the family of freedoms fought for by feminists and humanists alike. Labiaplastologists obviously think so. And the delight attested to by women who’ve had their bits surgically prettified cannot be denied. The technology exists, after all. As does the need to use it. The market has spoken and who am I to tell it to shut up? Even if the ‘freedom’ it speaks of feels tainted.

Rachel Bowlby brings intellectual relief to my vague sense of ill-fit between liberation and labiaplasty. She points out that the feminist’s freedom to choose and the freedom to choose as a consumer are two very different creatures. Either one may be intended when that gift-horse ‘choice’ is evoked, but one springs from an ethos of equality and the other from dissatisfaction and greed.
 
The onus to resist buying into the ‘Penthouse Effect’ doesn’t rest solely with women. Or with men, for that matter. Many people as horrified by labiaplasty as I might disagree, as they link its injustices to the long history of males designating feminine form and behaviour through art, literature, medicine and politics. This dynamic cannot be denied, but both genders must take responsibility for perpetuating ideas about what twats should look like. Beauty—said to be the harmony of form and function—loses something spectacular when its essence is sought in appearances alone. If there is a social divide here, it seems it is not between men and women, but between those who understand that aesthetic beauty means more than what is prescribed by popular culture, and those who have yet to figure this out.
 
Culture can’t be unlearned. The ideas drawn upon to formulate it, however, can—and must—be elaborated beyond those we are fed. Women’s genitals are tricky in this respect because they get so little airtime outside of porn and seduction. So inform yourselves: if a show and tell session with girlfriends doesn’t take off, I suggest beginning with porn made for lesbians and the book Femalia by Joani Blank, which compiles several photographs of female vulvas without conferring values onto their different forms.
 
Perhaps saying this to console someone whose self-loathing collects between their thighs has a smidgen more weight than having your mum vouch for your coolness? I don’t know. I can only hope their reasons for feeling how they feel are considered and well-informed.

This feature was also published in Kate, the Auckland University Students’ Association’s women’s magazine.

Wellington-based designer Alexandra Owen makes succeeding in the cut-throat fashion industry look easy. Upon graduating in Fashion Design from Massey University in 2005, she launched her namesake label in 2006. She made her public debut at Air New Zealand Fashion Week the following year, and opened her flagship store in Wellington last year. When listed, Owen’s achievements look effortless, much like the classic tailoring of her designs—but both are the results of a combination of clarity of vision and hard work.

How would you describe your designs? Who do you design for?

Sculptural, tailored, classic and elegant designs, for mature, sophisticated, thinking women.

What appeal did fashion design have you for?

The seasonality, freshness and ability to work on something new every day.

What influence did your education in Fashion Design at Massey University have on your career? Do you consider it important that those interested in pursuing a career in fashion study it formally, and at tertiary level?

I think it is important to have formal training as a base for working in the industry. It gives you a basic toolkit, but it is really character, courage and determination that helps you in the real world.

What designers inspire you, and why?

I love Dries Van Noten for his idealism, and humble beauty aesthetic. I loved Alexander McQueen for his cutting and drama. Locally, I love Zambesi for their enduring and wearable beauty.

How did you manage to make a name for yourself in such a notoriously competitive industry? What were your biggest obstacles in doing so?

I always think of Winston Churchill’s quote “Never ever, ever, ever give up”, or something to that effect. A lot of succeeding is believing in your cause deep to the core, while maintaining a good perspective on how what you do can remain relevant to your audience. Obstacles come every day in business, and come in many forms—but I have found they are there to teach us not to make the same mistake twice!

What have been your biggest successes, since your debut at Air New Zealand Fashion Week 2007?

Going to New York Fashion Week this year was a highlight. Opening a second store in Auckland. Continuing to do work we all look to work on here at the workroom.
What’s your opinion of the fashion scene and street style of Wellington?

I don’t get out much, but people here are far better dressers than those in Auckland, and even Melbourne for that matter. Wellingtonians have soul.

How do you explain general society’s fascination with fashion, and especially, the appeal it has for women?

At the end of the day, there are few women who could deny the attraction of an exquisitely designed garment. It is part of our nature as humans to appreciate visual beauty, whether it be a painting, piece of architecture or a Balenciaga dress. The French see fashion as relevant as any design form. I find it disappointing when society does not look beyond the fashion clichés to truly appreciate artists like [Yohji] Yamamoto, or Comme des Garçons, who have changed the way everybody today dresses.

How do you connect your designs, and fashion design in general, to art?

Fashion is still an applied art, and has to have a function, so its relevance is more rational on a day-to-day basis. The best fashion designers throughout history are just as relevant to modern society as Le Corbusier or Picasso. Women would not be wearing pants today if Gabrielle Chanel had not been truly radical in her day.

Would you ever consider designing menswear?

Menswear is another set of rules, complicated tailoring and different values. It is not for me right now, but never say never!

What advice would you have for students who want to work in the fashion industry, or start their own business?

It is vital that you know exactly what you want to do in the industry, to be clear about it as early as possible, plan it—even if it is over ten years, set goals and know what you want. Fashion offers many careers, so I think it is important to do as much work experience in the industry whilst studying to define what sort of roles appeal.

What are your plans for the future?

To continue showing our collections overseas, become a brand that is successful offshore, and to continue to make good collections.