Honi Soit Week 4, Semester 1, 2020 / First printed 1929
Remembering my grandfather / p. 13 Campus and the coronavirus / p. 7
Christchurch, one year later / p. 9
Women of the HIV/ AIDS epidemic / p. 11
Acknowledgement of Country Honi Soit is published on the stolen land of the Gadigal People of the Eora Nation. For over 230 years, First Nations people in this country have suffered from the destructive effects of invasion. The editors of this paper recognise that, as a team of settlers occupying the lands of the Bidjigal, Darug, Gadigal, Wangal and Wallumedegal people, we are beneficiaries of these reverberations that followed European settlement. As we strive throughout the year to offer a platform to the voices mainstream media ignores, we cannot meet this goal without providing a space for First Nations people to share their experiences and perspectives. A student paper which does not acknowledge historical and ongoing colonisation and the white supremacy embedded within Australian society can never adequately represent the students of the institution in which it operates. We seek to resist colonial violence and the racist power structures that serve to oppress those who are Indigenous to this land. Sovereignty was never ceded. Always was and always will be Aboriginal land.
Contents What’s on / 2 Gossip / 3 News / 4 Analysis / 6 Opinion / 8 Perspective / 9 Culture / 10 Feature / 13 Multilingual / 16 Reviews / 17 Creative / 18 SRC / 20 Comedy / 22
Editorial Editor in Chief: Angad Roy Editors: Nina Dillon Britton, Matthew Forbes, Zhiquan Gan, Robbie Mason, Angad Roy, Lara Sonnenschein, Ranuka Tandan, Chuyi Wang, Madeline Ward, Lei Yao Contributors: Victoria Cooper, Genevieve Couvret, Marlow Hurst, Alexander Ishac, Jenae Madden, Aiden Magro, Layla Mkh, Angelina Nguyen, Shania O’Brien, Claire Ollivain, Jordi Pardoel, Kate Scott, Prudence Wilkens-Wheat. Artists: Shrawani Bhattarai, Emma Cao, Ash Duncan, Janina Osinsao, Kate Scott. Cover artist: Jocelin Chan Back cover artist: Tyronne Gietzmann, xtgrx.com.au
I wrote a very sentimental, introspective essay in this week’s edition. It’s rare the opportunity comes to divulge parts of our personal history to others, even rarer to have that plastered across a widely read paper in words and images. I do acknowledge though, that any inkling of egoism might seem escapist or arrogant amidst a world where the liberals could see coronavirus as a welcome solution to their ageing population problem; where stupid, personality devoid whitepeople culturally appropriate the Hindu religious festival, Holi at a fucking tragic gathering called ‘The Colour Run,’ or where the skeletons of two leucistic giraffes are found in Kenya, having been killed by poachers. Maybe these other examples of self-interest made it easier to flaunt my own. How virtuous I am! Yet, there is good that can come from looking inward and there are some beautiful examples of this in our edition: Layla Mkhayber’s reflection on the Christchurch massacre (pg. 9), Aiden Magro’s poignant insight into the HIV/AIDS epidemic (pg. 11), and Claire Ollivain’s poetic exploration of the linkages between photography and memory (pg.18). I find it very uplifting to read such nuanced perspectives
on the world and I am in awe of how poetically and strikingly such topics can be written about. It feels pointless to say, but there are a lot of issues that should cause concern and rumination. I felt some of these bearing down upon me when I sat down to write my piece. It’s hard sometimes, to ignore the vicissitudes of the world around us. We feel helpless and insignificant like an ant under the magnifying glass of a humoured child. But amidst these problems, being selfish is important. It’s important to take time for reflection and important to take some time out once in a while. And so in that vein, let me humour myself and maybe humour but probably annoy you with a nonsensical acrostic poem:
Mathletics AUD Slither Sextegenarian Alimony Moo-moo Asafoetida Nutcase
Yours, in escapism, Angad Roy
Disclaimer: Honi Soit is published by the Students’ Representative Council, University of Sydney, Level 1 Wentworth Building, City Road, University of Sydney NSW 2006. The SRC’s operation costs, space and administrative support are financed by the University of Sydney. Honi Soit is printed under the auspices of the SRC’s directors of student publications: Maia Edge, Peiqing Fan, Nina Mountford, Roisin Murphy, Mikaela Pappou and Maxim Vishney. All expressions are published on the basis that they are not to be regarded as the opinions of the SRC unless specifically stated. The Council accepts no responsibility for the accuracy of any of the opinions or information contained within this newspaper, nor does it endorse any of the advertisements and insertions. Please direct all advertising inquiries to publications.manager@src.usyd.edu.au.
What’s on this week For those in self-isolation! Watch The Bold and the Beautiful When: I don’t know. I don’t care. Where: In your sterile isolation chamber Price: Free with a television!
Fish & Chips Catered Lunch When: 18th March, 1:00pm - 2:00pm Where: Catholic Student Centre Price: Prayer
If you ever wondered how your grandparents survived without smartphones or Netflix, then here is your answer! The tackier cousin of Love is Blind has been a stalwart of afternoon TV entertainment for decades. Trust me, it’s the perfect way to forget the fact that you can’t restock Sour Straps.
If you successfully binged the infinite amount of Bold and the Beautiful seasons, come eat some blessed Fish and Chips! In Mark and Matthew, Jesus fed 4,000 with seven loaves and two fishes. There aren’t four thousand people attending, so prepare to be FED! It’s a proven fact that eating fish and chips in the glory of Jesus prevents you from contracting coronavirus, so it’s definitely in your best interests.
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LETTERS
Letters Peace and love to you also!
This letter also came with a laminated card, both sides of which are reproduced above.
Direct your complaints at CrossSoc This weeks sudoku took me 5 hours. After a certain point in the sudoku there were no more leads to allow any further boxes to be confidently filled in with numbers. I spent a total of 4 hours “guessing and checking”
numbers into the remaining boxes. May I suggest that someone should check the sudoku prior to printing it in the paper. Thank you.
- Annie Lewis
What did he do wrong? :( “Fire Matthew Forbes he is a JACKASS”
-Mike Ho (in our DMs on Facebook)
Nudes, declarations of affection and hate mail may be sent to: editors@honisoit.com
Weekly The word of God Honi was #blessed to receive word on an official Sydney Archdiocese letterhead this week, delivered by a messenger who can only be presumed from the Lord himself. SRC Enviro Officer, Shani Patel blocked our heavenly messenger trying to sneak through the SRC back door, describing him as a vision from heaven: “he was a pretty ordinary looking white dude.” Not only does the letter absolve us of our sins, but it enclosed a collectable trading card of the Virgin Mary’s bitties. Noice. You can peruse the full letter above.
Real housewives of Woollahra The University is selling its home at 77 Wallaroy Road, Woollahra
where VC Spence and his wife, Jenny have resided for many years before buying a house in Roseville last year. Public viewings are available on Wednesdays and Saturdays from 10:30 - 11am. Treat yourself to a dip in the pool, a look through the drawers, and a suit jacket from the wardrobe!
Ladies, cast off your Gorman, you have nothing to lose except not looking like shit The Honi editorial team would like to thank brave, crazed middleaged women around Australia for reminding us this week of the real goal of feminism: wearing ugly clothing. We were enlightened by the knowledge that not only was the writer a “judgemental” “internalised-misogynist” but also
an “insecure” “loser” and a “bitch.” The article, which was written by a hungover 22 year old in half an hour and points out that the clothes produced by a multi-million dollar corporation are kinda fugly, was in fact so damaging that it required swift condemnation by a recipient of the Order of Australia. Needless to say, the writer was quickly taken out back and shot.
reported rampant election breaches in the online elections for the Undergraduate Fellow of the University Senate, sparking fears that online elections would be rorted by opportunistic hacks. But it’s unclear whether there are viable alternatives. Will they be moved online? Will Colonial Connor Wherrett remain supreme leader? Send your thoughts to us at editors@honisoit.com!
This is democracy manifest With the first case of the coronavirus at USyd being reported by Honi on Sunday, the possibility of a campus closure seems almost inevitable. But that casts doubt on what will happen to SUPRA and the USU — which are both constitutionally bound to hold their elections in Semester One. Honi has previously
Who wouldn’t want to live in Spence’s old house?
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NEWS
USyd cancels graduations, begins preparations for potential campus closure Nina Dillon Britton and Lara Sonnenschein report. The University of Sydney has announced it will begin moving many units online in order to reduce the risk of COVID-19 spread. “Whilst for now, our campuses are open, new advice from the NSW Chief Health Officer is to try and avoid, where possible, using communal facilities where lots of people congregate,” an email from Vice Chancellor Michael Spence to staff and students states. All student, academic and public events and conferences on campus will also be cancelled from Monday,
16 March. The cancellation does not affect regular classes or research, but does include graduation ceremonies. Affected students will be able to graduate in absentia, with the option to attend a graduation ceremony at a later date. Spence also encouraged clubs and societies to cancel or defer events “for the time being.” It is unclear when events will be able to proceed as normal. Experts estimate that Australia will see a peak in COVID-19 cases in July or August this year.
The decision comes amidst uncertainty for staff and students as to whether the University will close campuses, moving teaching online. On Wednesday, the Sydney Morning Herald reported that University staff had been asked to prepare online class plans for the rest of the semester. Several American universities, including Harvard and Columbia University, have already closed their campuses seeking to curtail the spread of COVID-19. The University has already cancelled
several exchange programs in response to the virus. It is unclear whether this ban on campus events would extend to events not hosted by the University itself. This includes the planned National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) rally protesting the University’s austerity measures in response to the coronavirus, due to be held on Wednesday 25 March.
University students strike for climate justice Nina Dillon Britton reports. About 100 students from across several Sydney universities left class today to call for action on climate change. The strike, organised by Uni Students for Climate Justice, saw a contingent of more than 50 University of Sydney students meet outside Fisher Library and March to Haymarket to meet with contingents from other universities. SRC Co-Education Officer Jack Mansell opened the rally, telling protestors that the summer’s fires were an unprecedented climate disaster. “Neither Albanese or Scott Morrison are going to take the action we need on this emergency.” The importance of Indigenous justice in climate justice was a key theme for rally speakers. Muruwari and Budjiti activist and founder of the Water for Rivers campaign, Bruce Shillingsworth, told the crowd of the government’s abandonment of Indigenous peoples. “Our rivers have now become toxic. The taking and poisoning of our waters is hurting Indigenous peoples. Our government has never done anything for Aboriginal peoples, they have taken
our lands, our rivers and children.” “We are heading down two roads, one is a road of destruction, the other a road of survival.” SRC Co-Environment Officer Prudence Wilkins-Wheat reminded the Sydney University contingent that the rally is being held on stolen Gadigal land. “There is no climate justice without justice for First Nations peoples.” Activists also criticised lack of action from both major parties. Chants of “Scomo/Albo fuck you, we deserve a future too” were chanted as the contingent made its way down Eastern Avenue. Greens members for Newtown, Jenny Leong, criticised the Labor and Liberal parties for failing to commit to no new coal. “What an incredible opportunity for a stimulus package it would be to invest in publicly-owned renewables and emissions free public housing.” On the relationship between capitalism and climate change,SRC CoEnvironment Officer Lily Campbell told the crowd that COVID-19 is showing
the world what climate activists have long known: “No one’s coming to save us. This is the crisis of capitalism.” Rail, Tram and Bus Union member Damien, told the crowd that “corporate greed has caused climate destruction.” “This is a system that puts profit before any other climate consideration.” Several unions have plans to conduct climate strikes on 1 May this year. For some speakers, this summer’s climate disaster was very close to home. Environment Collective member James Sherriff , whose family lives in the Blue Mountains , told the crowd that he had to watch his “family pack up their homes again and again and again” as unprecedented fires passed through the region. The rally also saw an outsized police presence. “I think there are better things our police can be doing than trying to intimidate climate activists” Leong noted in her speech. As Honi reported this week, today’s strike was subject to controversy between campus socialist groups Solidarity and Socialist Alternative, the former arguing the strike should be labelled a “rally”
and changing the name on posters promoting the event. The climate and ecological crisis is the biggest crisis humanity has ever faced but for now (of course depending on where you live) we’ll have to find new ways to create public awareness & advocate for change that don’t involve too big crowds - listen to local authorities. 3/4 You can join the #DigitalStrike for upcoming Fridays- post a photo of you striking with a sign and use the hashtag #ClimateStrikeOnline !#fridaysforfuture #climatestrike #schoolstrike4climate 4/4 Whether upcoming climate strikes planned for May will go ahead is unclear. Scott Morrison has today announced an effective ban on all events of 500 or more people over COVID-19 concerns. On Wednesday, Greta Thunberg called for an end to in-person climate strikes as a response to COVID-19. She has called for students to engage in a “Digital Strike” instead.
COVID-19 financial impact sees university freeze funds for faculty-based societies Kate Scott reports. With a large number of University students affected by the coronavirus travel ban, the financial impact of the outbreak has seen the University of Sydney (USyd) freeze funds to several faculty-based clubs and societies. As a result of the COVID-19 outbreak, current estimates suggest that USyd will face a minimum $200 million shortfall of its $2.8 billion budget. In a bid to reduce costs, the University has introduced temporary savings measures, which includes reducing funding to several faculty societies. In a statement from a University of Sydney spokesperson, they confirmed that financial support for the 65 facultybased clubs and societies on campus may be impacted to varying degrees;
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whilst some have already been advised of a funding reduction, others will be informed once a decision has been made. Whilst the largest societies on campus; the Sydney Arts Students Society (SASS) and the Sydney University Law Society (SULS), are still yet to have their funding confirmed by their respective faculties, both presidents reiterated that their priority was to protect members from being inadvertently affected and to continue providing what programs and services they could. One society who has received confirmation of a temporary funding freeze was the Sydney University Business Society (SUBS). However, SUBS President Finn Kingston
clarified that no planned events should be financially impacted, due to the society’s large network of sponsors. Although, with recent health recommendations coming from the Australian Government, the University has asked that all student, academic and public events and conferences (including graduations) hosted on campus from Monday 16 March to be cancelled or deferred. The University of Sydney Union (USU) has also seen their own funding impacted due to reduced student numbers on campus; USU outlets are reporting impacted revenue, and all capital funding projects have been put on hold; including the proposed refurbishment of Manning House.
Similarly, the university asked for all SSAF contestable projects, including the Know your Rights and Racism Sux campaigns, to be put on hold. Whilst the SRC responded that they were “certainly disappointed with this freeze, and shocked by the abruptness of the decision”, President Liam Donohoe emphasised that their financial situation was stable, meaning that all staff, office bearer stipends, and department funding should remain unaffected. Nonetheless, with the University preparing for the possibility of a temporary campus closure, it is clear that student life this semester will not operate as usual.
First publicly confirmed case of COVID-19 at USyd Nina Dillon Britton and Lara Sonnenschein report. The first case of COVID-19 has been publicly confirmed on campus, with a first year student contracting the virus. The student is well and is currently receiving medical care. Honi understands the student attended firstyear lectures and tutorials in psychology, maths and education on campus between 24 February and 11 March. An email from an EDUF1018 lecturer
states that the student had a tutorial in the Education Building, on Wednesday 9AM - 11AM. The unit’s lecture takes place in the Holme Building, which houses the popular Courtyard Cafe, on Monday 9AM - 11A M. NSW Health and the University of Sydney have identified approximately 80 students and staff who attended tutorials with the student, and are
considered to have been in ‘close contact’. All have been instructed to self-isolate for 14 days from the last date they attended a class with the student. 6 locations on the University of Sydney campus are being intensively cleaned today after the diagnosis. These include the Physics Road Building dry lab LG03, the Education Building seminar room 618, Carslaw room
452 and 355, Old Teachers College psychology computer lab 403, and the Brennan MacCallum building room 110. At the time of writing, Honi is unsure what other classes the student went to, however, we will provide updates as they come in.
The #LetHerSpeak fight continues Ranuka Tandan wants to throw student support behind Sandra. THIS ARTICLE DISCUSSES RAPE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT.
This week, Australia learned about another woman’s fight to speak out about her sexual assault. Sandra* shared her story with journalist and director of End Rape on Campus Australia (EROCA) Nina Funnell, who last year created the #LetHerSpeak campaign in partnership with Marque Lawyers. Sandra is now following in the footsteps of Grace Tame and Tameka Ridgeway, who both won their right to tell their stories in the media using their full names through the Tasmanian High Court last year. Archaic gag laws in the Northern Territory currently prevent her from doing so but they are coming under attack again, and rightly so. Sandra is a nursing student from Darwin. She has been through an ordeal to get to this point. In 2017, she was raped at a buck’s party by an attendee while she was working as an adult entertainer. She reported her rape to the police and they charged the offender, but it wasn’t until two trials later – the first resulted in a hung jury – that she finally got justice. Her rapist was found to be guilty and was sentenced to three and a half years in jail but was suspended after nine months. Because of the sexual assault gag laws that still exist in the Northern Territory, any journalist that spoke out and named Sandra even with her permission would face six months gaol time. So would she. This law that still exists in the Northern Territory is outdated and offensive. It’s a law that benefits perpetrators and harms victims, who are not able to tell their stories or humanise themselves in any way. The public are always suspicious of people who speak to the media anonymously; when you can’t put a name or face to the story, it’s easier to doubt it, to make nasty comments, to humanise the perpetrator instead, who has the power to do interviews and control the narrative. At the time, local media called her rapist a ‘larrikin’ and a ‘family man’ while she was referred to as nothing more than a stripper. Sandra must know the potential for further public backlash and the mainstream media because of her profession and because of the
misogynistic, victim blaming attitudes that are rampant in Australia. That she wants to do it anyway is indicative of the importance of this issue to her, and of the strength and resilience of her character. For Sandra, the benefits of speaking publicly far outweigh the personal cost. Sandra wants to be able to speak publicly for two main reasons. Firstly, she wants to educate women – and especially women like herself – about
consequences of these outdated laws. The Northern Territory has the highest rate of sexual assault per capita in the country, and police in the Northern Territory are less likely to pursue a sexual assault report than police in any other state or territory in Australia. The laws there systematically gag survivors en masse, to the point where it is not even possible to engage in public discourse about the issue. This law is more dangerous again
Sexual Offences (Evidence and Procedure) Act 1983 11B Revealing identity of person (1) A person commits an offence if: (a) the person intentionally publishes or makes a statement or representation; and (b) the statement or representation is not in a report mentioned in section 6 or 7; and (c) the conduct mentioned in paragraph (a) results in revealing the name, and dress, school or place of employment of the following, and the person is reckless as to the result: (i) a complainant, at any time; (ii) a defendant, before the defendant is committed for trial or sentence upon a charge of having committed the sexual offence to which the statement or representation relates. Maximum penalty: 40 penalty units or imprisonment for 6 months.
their rights in the adult entertainment industry and more broadly. Secondly, she wants to lead the charge in combating victim blaming attitudes across Australia. Neither of these are easy tasks, but they’re essential in protecting women and creating real change. Sandra is by no means alone, and is not the only woman who suffers the
because it silences Aboriginal women, who make up over 50% of women in the Northern Territory that have faced sexual assault and harassment. It’s impossible to emphasise how problematic this is; the gag law perpetuates a systematic inequality that allows external bodies to speak on behalf of Indigenous people, and permits them no autonomy to tell their own stories.
However, both Tasmania, and the Northern Territory, the last two states to have these archaic laws, are in the process of doing something about it. Last week, Tasmanian Attorney-General Elise Archer introduced a bill to reform the archaic gag laws of section 194K of the Evidence Act. This reform which would allow sexual assault survivors to speak publicly about their assault if they are over eighteen and provide consent to being named in paper. The catch however, is that survivors still cannot be named until all other possible avenues of appeal have been exhausted following the conviction, which could take years, and which still allows the defendant to speak publicly and control the narrative throughout the proceedings, while silencing the victim. In the Northern Territory, the process has just begun. The government is calling for submissions from the public about the change of legislation. But survivors in the Northern Territory will face the same problem as in Tasmania. They would only be able to speak once all other avenues of appeal have been exhausted. The #LetHerSpeak campaign took off last year when Grace Tame won the right to tell her story. It’s such an important campaign because it’s a way to support survivors while spreading the movement to change the laws. The fact that these laws still exist says something about us as a country. The fact that women in New South Wales are not impacted by it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be joining the fight. In fact, we should be at the forefront of it because we do have the right to speak and we can take some of the burden on our shoulders. The best way to support Sandra is to take a selfie and upload it to social media with the hashtag #LetHerSpeak. Sandra* is the name which this woman is using to tell her story. If you or someone you know has been impacted by sexual violence support is available by calling 1800 RESPECT on 1800 737 732. Photo credit: Mariel Thomas
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ANALYSIS
A class act: The USyd fallacy of inclusion Jenae Madden explores the impossible fete of accommodation for low SES and rural students on-campus. The University of Sydney (USyd) is notorious for its ethos of elitism and privilege. With some of the worst numbers of low socio-economic status (SES) and rural enrolments in the country, it’s not hard to see why. Though, it is more than culture and class keeping rural and low SES students from a high-class education. Even before disadvantaged students experience the blue-blooded culture on campus, they face the exclusivity of the University’s on campus accommodation. USyd’s superficial endeavours to increase diversity are yet to fix the problem. With an onslaught of negative PR following the dangerous culture of privilege shown in the 2018 Red Zone Report, and criticism from the Bradley Review calling for a 20% increase in the enrolment of low SES students by 2020; USyd focused its 2016-2020 Strategic Plan towards ensuring students have the ability to thrive “whatever their social or cultural background.” Though existing in the heart of the country’s most expensive city, USyd has a difficult time reconciling a tradition of exclusivity and classism with the desired image of diversity on campus. The prices of accommodation on the cheaper side still skyrocket above what a University student can make while efficiently working, studying and finding their feet in a new city without daddy’s financial support. The most well known accommodations are that of the private
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residential colleges, which average around $1400 a fortnight, as well as the less costly Regiment and Queen Mary, which range upwards from $720 a fortnight. If a student works a casual job at $19.49 an hour, it would take 20 hours of work a week on top of studying needed to cover the cost. This doesn’t include money for food, travel or any other unexpected or leisure expenses. While being a “poor uni student” is an expected part of the university experience, disadvantaged and low-SES students are disproportionately excluded by the effects of cost-of-living. And as a consequence these kids are turning their
Islander Accommodation Award within the program offers a fixed rent of $50 a week for nominated University owned accommodation, including the affluent residential colleges. It also waives application fees and bond. The low SES and rural equivalent is yet to exist, which is unfortunate considering the success of the program with First Nations students. Currently, to access equity scholarships available through USyd’s accommodation services, non-Indigenous rural and low SES students are made to pay any bond and application fees when applying.
While being a “poor uni student” is an expected part of the university experience, disadvantaged and lowSES students are disproportionately excluded by the effects of cost-of-living. backs on a high-class education. Efforts have been made by USyd to increase social inclusion, pouring money into volunteer programs to encourage disadvantaged student engagement, which has led to positive results for Indigenous students. Indigenous education programs like the Wingara Mura-Bunga Burrabugu have seen a 36 per cent rise in First Nations student numbers. The strategy includes pre-tertiary outreach programs, admission pathways and, crucially, scholarships and rent support. The Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Applicants must go through the process as normal full-fee-paying residents and are notified about the success or failure of their scholarship application days or weeks later. This can mean paying hundreds of dollars in non-refundable bond, application fees and cancellation to get out of accommodation contracts. All of the University’s residential colleges require scholarship application fees. Low SES or rural students applying for an equity scholarship at Wesley College, for example, would be made to pay $1000 in bond and another $100 for
each different scholarship applied for. There are no application fees for the more affordable Regiment or Queen Mary accommodations. Though, once students are green-lighted for equity scholarship subsidies, they are forced to pay a $200 acceptance fee, a four week deposit and two weeks of rent in advance, all before they receive their financial support. This leaves some of the most vulnerable of students out of pocket before they are even notified of whether their application was successful or not. It’s a costly risk and many low SES and rural students cannot afford to apply for and accept the scholarships meant to ease the financial burden of studying at USyd. If the University is as dedicated to increasing on-campus diversity as outlined in the 2016-2020 Strategic Plan, then attention should be turned towards housing one of the most disenfranchised groups on campus. There is a need for better programs and more practical funding for accommodation subsidies for low SES and rural students on campus as seen with the success of the Wingara Mura-Bunga Barrabugu program. Because currently, these disadvantaged students bear witness to USyd’s entrenched class divide before they can even step foot onto the green manicured lawns. Art by Shrawani Bhattarai.
ANALYSIS
Campus and the coronavirus Lara Sonnenschein and Nina Dillon Britton investigate the impacts of the coronavirus on university life. Uncertainty is penetrating all areas of campus life, as students, staff and workers come to terms with the impacts the coronavirus will have on the University. On Sunday, Honi broke the news that a first-year student was diagnosed with COVID-19, before ViceChancellor Michael Spence notified students. Two days before, on Friday, the University announced preparations for a potential campus closure, and over the weekend many students have been notified by lecturers and tutors that their courses would be shifted online. With over two weeks until the census date on 31 March, contracts on hold and thousands of students stuck overseas due to travel bans, the campus community is right to be worried about the future of University life. Staff University staff are on the frontline of the impact the coronavirus will have on campus life. The National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) secured a win from the University on Friday for casual staff, who will be guaranteed special paid leave for any work they miss in a ten day working period. This includes staff who contract the virus, or need to self isolate. Several casual staff members have already been asked to self-isolate following contact with the student who tested positive for COVID-19. But there are a myriad of other ways staff have already been affected by University cutbacks that have been made in response to falling student numbers that the staff union has labelled as “austerity measures.” Due to an expected $200 million shortfall on expected student fee profits this semester, the University has announced a freeze on all new staff appointments, and on the renewal of fixed-term and casual contracts. Over half of the hours worked at the University of Sydney are worked by people on fixed-term or casual contracts, the freeze set to leave many staff un- or under-employed as their contracts run out over the coming months. If the freeze on contract renewals for fixed-term staff is maintained, hundreds of jobs are likely to be lost. According to Kurt Iveson, President of the NTEU Branch at USyd, “staff have worked above and beyond for the University over the last 6 weeks to make arrangements for students affected by the travel ban. Many of these staff have been casual or on fixed-term contracts. To now be told that their contracts will not be renewed is a slap in the face for their efforts.” Importantly, similar cuts have not been announced at similarly placed universities, such as UNSW, leading the NTEU to question whether the coronavirus was being used as “cover” for staff cuts. Staff have also complained they’ve been left unsupported in the shift to online courses. “We’re very concerned about the amount of work that will be
required to shift everything online,” Iveson told Honi. “This will require more work, right at the time when VC Spence is imposing austerity measures including a freeze on new appointments and renewals of fixed-term contract.” The University also agreed with the NTEU at the local Joint Consultative Committee that the University would stop their attempt to use labour hire in the Student Administrative Services department, which they then broke without telling the staff union. The NTEU is planning a rally against the austerity measures on Wednesday 25 March at 1pm, however, it is unclear whether the event will go ahead at this stage, given that all student, academic and public events and conferences on campus will be cancelled from this week, as well as the looming possibility of a campus closure. Student Organisations The effects of the coronavirus on the University’s bottom line are certain to hit student organisations, which are either funded in part (SUSF, USU), or almost entirely (SRC, SUPRA) by the Student Services and Amenities Fee (SSAF). With an estimated 12,000 University of Sydney students stuck in China as a result of the travel ban, with most likely to defer or leave before the 31 March census date, student organisations are set to lose approximately $1,848,000 this semester, or more than 10% of last year’s funding. That is before considering drop in student numbers, as some students have begun dropping units or deferring due to poor quality online classes or to avoid classes with mandatory attendance. Importantly however, the decrease in SSAF will not impact student organisations uniformly. Whereas only $4 million of the USU’s more than $30 million budget comes from SSAF, with most of its profits coming from food and drink outlets and corporate sponsorships, SUPRA and the SRC are entirely reliant on University funds to remain afloat. As noted above, however the organisation faces losses on two fronts, as a result of a potential campus closure and less money being spent already at USU outlets, as a result of less students being on campus and increased levels of social distancing. Whilst the SRC’s base funding is secure, meaning all staff salaries, office bearer stipends and collective funding remains unaffected by the changes to SSAF, the contestable projects the SRC was planning on delivering this year look likely to be impacted by the decrease in SSAF. These include: the provision of a part-time solicitor with a focus on dealing with sexual and interpersonal impropriety, an SRC food bank, information workshops, and constitutional and regulatory reform, which would require extensive legal advice before being put to a council meeting.
It also remains unclear whether student support services will be delivered face-to-face. At the beginning of the year, the SRC ceased in person appointments with the casework and legal service for two days due to staff concerns about contracting the virus. Whether monthly council meetings will continue also remains unclear, as with the student general meeting scheduled for 1 April, where students are set to vote on going on strike for May Day on May 1, and the school strike on May 15. However, the school strike for climate in mid May was cancelled on Saturday. Sydney University Sport and Fitness (SUSF) is also being affected by the decrease in SSAF funding, although its operations will likely not be impacted to the same degree as other student organisations, considering it relies largely on membership and passes fees, as well as external funding sources. In 2018, the organisation was allocated $5 million in SSAF funding, whilst also generating over $14 million in revenue, on top of donations from “Hockey Donors” and “Boatshed Appeal Donors.” The University has also advised students not to go to sporting or gym facilities. SRC President Liam Donohoe anticipates that “there is likely to be a significant drop in enrolments next semester, and also possibly in the longrun if international perceptions of Australian universities decline.” “If enough were worried by the sudden travel ban, or there is a broader social backlash against globalism in the wake of the COVID-19 outbreak, there may be far less international student enrolments, which is seriously worrisome for SSAF.” Casuals Though the University announced on Friday that it would be granting up to two weeks sick leave for casual staff who need to self isolate due to the coronavirus, it is unclear if staff at bars and outlets would be granted the same. University of Sydney Union (USU) President Connor Wherrett declined to comment on whether casuals employed in campus cafes and bars would be granted paid leave for isolation, which is not currently available on their contracts. That is particularly concerning for casual staff employed in campus cafes and bars who come in close contact with large numbers of people through their work. But the greater concern for staff is a potential campus shut down, which for many appears inevitable. As Honi reported on Friday, the University has begun moving units of study online and asked faculty to prepare online class plans in preparation for a potential campus shut down. Several American universities, including Harvard and Columbia, and several Southern Cross
COVID-19’s effect on student organisations The SRC • Funding suspended for a sexual assault focused solicitor and a free food bank. • Caseworkers and lawyers may stop in-person meetings with students. • Uncertainty over how monthly council meetings would be run. SUPRA • Elections, scheduled for this semester, may be delayed or moved online. The USU • Funding suspended for the planned “Racism Sux” and “Know Your Rights” campaigns. • Loss of funds from campus food and drink outlets with less students on campus, which would get worse if campus closed. • Clubs discouraged from holding events. • Uncertainty over elections scheduled for this semester. SUSF • The University encouraged cancellation of sports events. Though no public announcements of any cancellations at time of publication. • Possible losses in SSAF.
University campuses and schools in NSW and Victoria have already closed to curtail spread of the virus. Profits from campus outlets are the USU’s main source of funding, with a 2018 financial report stating they made almost $27 million annually. According to Wherrett, the USU has already seen diminished profits this semester due to lowered student numbers on campus, as coronavirus fears mean students avoid campus and thousands of students remain in China due to the travel ban. In the event of a campus closure then, it’s possible the USU will lay off staff or not pay them. Casual staff remain in the dark about what will happen to their roles in the event campus is closed. “I know myself and others are really stressed about the impact COVID-19 will have on our employment,” one USU employee on a casual contract told Honi. “We don’t have the same support as full time and part time employers, so many of us are left questioning whether we should be looking outside for work or talking to Centrelink.” “You trade a slightly higher pay check for lower security and irregular shifts as a casual employee so you can brace for the loss or gain of between five and ten hours per week, but no one casual employee can adapt to absorb a loss of more than 20 hours a week,” another USU casual said.
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OPINION
Why fighting anti-strike laws is part of the climate struggle Jordi Pardoel on why anti-strike laws are the first barrier to action on climate change. School student led climate strikes have put striking back on the map as a protest tactic. Though historically workers’ strikes have been one of the most powerful methods of protest, many don’t realise the draconian restrictions on workers’ rights to strike in Australia. Winning real climate action and taking back the right to strike must therefore go hand in hand. The restrictions placed on Australian workers’ ability to strike are some of the harshest of any developed country. The Australian Fair Work Commission enforces anti-strike laws that criminalises any industrial action outside defined “bargaining periods.” Even inside this bargaining period, actions like striking in solidarity with other workplaces, and striking for political reasons — like for climate action — are illegal. Individual workers risk fines of up to $12,600 for taking illegal action, and $42,000 for construction workers. During bargaining periods, unions are also forced to jump through bureaucratic hoops before industrial action is approved. In January 2018, despite following all procedures required to take legal industrial railroad workers were not allowed to strike, the Fair Work Commission ruling it illegal
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on the basis that it would do “significant harm to the economy,” taking away the only source of leverage workers have in demanding better conditions. Since then, almost all railroad strike action has been declared illegal. These laws are designed to keep bosses’ profits made as high as possible, rather than serving the interests of those who actually keep society running. But, there are examples of unions defying the law and winning without penalty. In 2017, construction unions broke the law by enacting illegal nationwide rallies against the Liberal government’s proposed introduction of the Australian Building and Construction Commission, an antiunion industrial regulator that had been awarded unprecedented coercive powers over construction unions and workers. But mass, often illegal, strike action is not only crucial for protecting workers’ rights, but for enacting mass political change. Strike action was central to ending Australian involvement in the Vietnam War, stopped the expansion of uranium mining and nuclear power, fought for First Nation peoples’ rights and protected public park lands in Sydney.
On 1 May in Sydney, several unions plan to challenge the anti-strike laws in their thousands, demanding “Workers’ Rights, Social Justice and Climate Action.” This is a much-needed step forward that reconnects the union movement to its historic roots of resistance and willingness to defy the law. But 1 May will also be the first coordinated workers’ strike for climate action in Australia. Workers not only have every interest in fighting for jobs and an economy that doesn’t destroy the planet, they also hold the power to grind our economy and business-asusual to a halt, and win a just transition to 100% publicly owned renewables. The Students’ Representative Council (SRC) will be holding a Student General Meeting (SGM) on 1 April at 1pm in MacLaurin Hall. We will vote to support workers’ action on 1 May and call on Vice-Chancellor Michael Spence to publicly commit to not penalising staff and students who join the May strikes. In response to the COVID-19 outbreak, the University is asking that events and conferences are cancelled or deferred until “advised otherwise,” even though teaching and research continues
on campus. “Collective action through unions is a fundamental political right. If the university isn’t shutting down entirely on public health grounds, then it shouldn’t just be up to managers to decide which activities can go ahead,” lecturer and National Tertiary Education Union member, Nick Riemer, has responded. “Responsible collective organisation to defend workers’ rights is essential at a time when coronavirus will be used as grounds for violating them. As long as the University remains open, union members must be allowed to voluntarily meet if they think it’s important to do so.” Student climate actions have already inspired workers to mobilise. We need to continue to help build the confidence of workers so we can smash these draconian anti-strike laws. The only way we are going to force our government to phase out fossil fuels and make the investments needed for publicly-owned renewable energy is through mass strikes. If the University remains open, we encourage you to attend the SGM on 1 April and vote “yes” to stop class and stop work to stop our planet burning.
PERSPECTIVE
One year on Layla Mkh reflects on the Christchurch massacre as the world reaches its anniversary. Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim. In the name of God, the most-Gracious, the most-Merciful. One year on and my mother has called me 30 times in one evening. I have been offline and without communication for two hours after I said I would be home, and she assumes the worst. Anyone would. One year on and the Christchurch Massacre haunts me. It is all but a forgotten memory to those who will never know what it is like to be a visibly Muslim person in this country. 51 people murdered, and after the initial month of mourning and shock and horror, it seems as though everyone has moved on. Yet still, one year on, and it lingers in the minds of my mother, my grandmother, my sisters, my aunty and my uncles. Two hours without any communication and my mum thought I had been kidnapped. Why? On Friday the 15th of March 2019, I attended one of the largest rallies I’d ever been to. At that point in my life, I normally worked on Fridays but I had taken it off for the long awaited global climate strike. I remember being in awe at the hundreds of thousands of people that marched globally, at the warmth of solidarity, and at the sheer strength in numbers. Once the strike had come to a
close, my mum began calling me. She is quite a stressful and protective woman. Many have known her to call and message me often, asking for an update on my location, or an estimated time of arrival home; this call was different. I remember hearing the tremors in her voice, begging and pleading for me to come home. Chills immediately overtook me and I left a whole group of friends without saying goodbye. On the long commute home, I kept refreshing relevant news outlets and social media apps, each time the death count growing, my heart aching and my senses going numb. I still think about this day often. Because while others have moved on, I can’t shake the memory of my family huddled in the lounge room staring at the television. I watched testimonies from families, distraught yet so full of forgiveness, wondering how they did it. How could they forgive, when one year on, I have not yet? That night I stayed up for hours, shedding tears for lives that I did not know, who still felt like kin to me. In Islam, all Muslims are brothers and sisters, bound together by faith, and allegiance to the oneness of a most-Gracious and most-Powerful God. We are driven to live and love in this life, knowing that this is not the end
for us, and our lost loved ones await us in the next realm. I find comfort in this. In my life, grief and mourning are not something I have been a stranger to. As an Arab woman I have witnessed death and murder at the hands of colonialism and western intervention from the moment I could put a name to a place. My mother and my mother’s mother have taught me that heartbreak is not foreign to a Muslim woman. We have all endured islamophobic attacks ourselves, our hijabs making us walking targets, and we live on despite this. We have no other choice. One year on and I can recognise that the grief and anguish that has been expressed by the Muslim community post-Christchurch massacre, is one that is collective. This is due to the fact that incidents like this do not and have not existed in isolation. It was not even a day after the massacre in New Zealand that a man rammed his car into the gates of a Queensland mosque while shouting offensive words to worshippers inside. It was not even 6 months after the massacre, that the name of the Christchurch shooter and a phrase from a Serbian anti-Muslim song were sprayed onto the outer wall of a Brisbane mosque. It was 10 months after the massacre that a heavily pregnant
Muslim woman wearing a hijab was brutally attacked, punched and stepped on by a man yelling islamophobic hate speech in Sydney. All this, and it is not just these violent attacks that permeate our everyday lives. It is consistent microaggressions, isolation and antirefugee sentiment. It is silence. It is complacency. It is calm. It is calm. It is calm. When we are all storm. It is the fact that exactly one year on, and my mother still worries that I will end up another statistic in Documenting Oppression Against Muslims, and then forgotten by the rest of the world. One year on and my mother and I are trying to remember peace. I hope we find it someday. One year on and we remember the 51 lives taken on Friday the 15th of March 2019 in Christchurch in New Zealand. Two consecutive shootings were committed at the hands of an Australian far-right white supremacist in two different mosques during Friday prayers. May their souls rest easy, and may their families find the strength they need to live on.
The Lebanese-Australian in 2020 Alexander Ishac asks why Lebanese-Australians are still the butt of the joke. Lebo, wog, or the staple “cuz” — a colourful swatch of endearments drizzled into a conversation by your non-Lebanese friends. While vapid attempts at appearing “in the know” may earn the favour of those who have transcended intergenerational marginalisation, an image still lingers of a migrant community caught somewhere between two worlds. Where is the line drawn between owning one’s heritage and resisting assimilation? Despite suspicion around Irish migrants at the time of Federation, and Greeks and Italians in the 1960’s and 70’s, many once-vilified migrant communities have nestled into a comfortable space in Australian society. But why has it proven so difficult to dismantle the image of the terrorising anti-social Lebanese “other”? Call it our coping humour, but perhaps we are part of the problem. Do we enjoy dwelling in all two dimensions of a tired caricature? How much do we find ourselves bending to such stereotypes in our dress, manner and speech to the point where an accent manages to skip generations beyond where the Arabic language could ever reach? Recurrent caricatures of our migrant community — particularly their disadvantaged children — are something that Lebanese-Australian youth often cling to in an attempt to embody relevance and slide in to a comfortable place in the ethnic-
Australian landscape. We can look to Fat Pizza and The Footy Show where Arabic terms of endearment like “habibi,” once used affectionately by our mothers to us as children, are repurposed for identifying an individual with very little prospect in life. We’ve ritualised shrugging and laughing these stereotypes off, perpetuating a caricature of the Lebanese-Australian as little more than a meme, as though our ancestors did not toil to protect their volatile
oriented and drowning our food in olive oil. While “wog” remains a derogatory term, in the year 2020 this slur still feels more manageable than being called an “Arab.” In a post-9/11 Australia, the ethnic identity of 430 million people seems to carry more stigma than a curse word. Little wonder so many LebaneseAustralians are resistant to identifying in such a manner. It’s perhaps time to move beyond rehashing old wounds in a society that struggles to separate bad
We’ve ritualised shrugging and laughing these stereotypes off, as though our ancestors did not toil to protect their volatile homeland and then leave it all behind in better hopes for us. homeland and then leave it all behind in better hopes for us. While it might make onlookers more comfortable for us to laugh along with humorous portrayals of our community, we should not let ourselves be the butt of the joke. At what stage did “being Lebanese” begin to mean skirting the rules? Since when did our ethnicity mean an old-fashioned take on life? Why does a “Lebanese job” seem to infer a haphazard effort? Perhaps all that negative self-talk is no longer worth punchline. At one point the Lebanese-Australian identity would fall into a backdrop of what it meant to be a “wog”, sharing attributes with our EuropeanMediterranean neighbours of speaking loudly with our hands, being family-
eggs from a batch of good ones; an incapacity to move beyond the mention of the Cronulla Riots in a sociology class, or to set aside race from the actions of the 2000 gang assaults in a Criminal Law lecture. Lebanon is a vibrant corner of the globe, home to 18 different religious sects. A bustling nightlife and a breathtakingly green mountainous terrain, Lebanon has been the safe preserve for Maronite Catholics, Sunnis, Shiites, Antiochian Orthodox, and Druze for centuries. With migration dating back to 1857, it bares difficult to speak of the challenges that face fifthgenerational Lebanese-Australians from the village of Kfarsghab as we would first-generation migrants from the city
of Tripoli. It’s important to realise that minorities exist within our own minority, predicated on geographic, religious and generational parameters. It’s time we dropped sectarian tensions and banded together in recognising that we are first and foremost united as Australians, and it’s through organisations like Young Australian Lebanese Association (YALA) that we find our strength. YALA, which takes it name from an Arabic word which loosely translates to “come on,” “let’s go” or “Alex come downstairs and speak to your aunt on the phone,” aims to make our voices heard. The Lebanese-Australian community is a proud and diverse diaspora. We have a lot to show for our community: the first female Governor of NSW Dame Marie Bashir, former Premier of Victoria Steve Bracks, sportsman Hazem el Masri, fashion designer Steven Khalil and Aussie Home Loans CEO John Symond. We are a community that values hard work and reveres determination, encouraging entrepreneurship and admiring our most innovative minds. LebaneseAustralians are students, we are mothers and fathers, we are doctors and lawyers, we are politicians and tradesmen, we are traditional or fervently progressive, we live in the suburbs or by the sea, we are Muslims, Christians, atheists and everything in between. But above all we are Australian, and we are bloody proud.
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CULTURE
What’s in a balcony? Shania O’Brien on how the balcony in Romantic literature frames women. When I think about towers, I think about Rapunzel locked in one, surveying an alien landscape, driven half-mad by her desire to escape into the configuration of space before her. I envisage Robert Louis Stevenson’s dark tower in the House of Shaws, with stairs ending halfway to the top. I see black ivy creeping up the Tower of Flints, its sinister long shadow in daylight a bad omen. When I think about balconies, I think about Verona. Juliet Capulet standing on Thomas Otway’s balcony, moonlight illuminating her skin, Romeo Montague looking up at her with a yearning desire. I picture Florence, Prince Padema sitting desolated as he curses everything. I see the French Quarter, Stanley Kowalski calling for his wife with heaven-splitting violence. When I think about windows, I think about the lagoon outside Jean-Paul Sartre’s Venetian window. I hear In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, the song exploding from a boombox below Diane Court’s bedroom window. I see Ted Mosby triumphantly holding up the blue french horn, yelling about his love for Robin Scherbatsky. When I think about towers and balconies and windows, I think about love. As architecture and human culture evolved, so did symbols of romance. With the process of adaptation, appropriation, and revision, the tower turned into the balcony, which turned into the open window. Essentially, all of them serve the same purpose and form the same narrative. The History and Fall of Caius Marius is a tragedy written by Thomas Otway, the man we are indebted to for Shakespeare’s infamous balcony scene. There was no balcony in Romeo and Juliet, and there was no balcony in Shakespeare’s England. How, then, does the balcony, the visual synecdochic for the play, tie in so tightly with a scene that existed for a century without it? Audiences are less concerned with specifics of the source text, and more with modern adaptations that evolve to place themselves in the current era. That being said, Otway borrowed so heavily from Romeo and Juliet that David Garrick used the way he staged the appropriated scene in the mideighteenth century for Shakespeare’s tragedy. He immortalised the visual iconography of the balcony scene with the sketch of actor Spranger Barry from his adaptation, suitably titled ‘Two Lovers Courting.’ And from there sprung forth the countless creations and recreations of it; from blurry pictures of cats to travellers visiting Casa di Giuletta in Verona, the pseudo-balcony built to appease tourists.
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It is interesting to note that audiences prefer Juliet on the balcony instead of by her bedroom window. Windows, unlike balconies, allow people to watch without participating. But balconies put people on display: they can be viewed during their act of viewing, they are accessible. Juliet believed she was alone and spoke of her true feelings into the night, not knowing that Romeo was in the garden below her, gazing at her delicate form, listening to every word she said. The balcony parallels the pedestal, elevating virtuous Juliet
thirty metres he can see before him. But Naples is different. In a letter to Olga Kosakiewicz, Sartre reflects on the balconies in Naples, calling them streets that simply existed in the air, little pieces of boulevards lifted to the second story. He believed them to be respiratory organs, not ornaments nor luxuries. Balconies allow people to live, in part, outdoors. They eat and sleep and vaguely watch the spectacle of people passing by. There is open communication between the balcony and the street; the need to go inside is
above Romeo, continuing the extended religious metaphor of her being a saint he worships. Juliet’s balcony is liminal yet open; a means for Romeo to enter it and start what they believe will be a long and loving life. In comparison, Sartre’s Venetian balcony restricts him. In Venice from My Window, Sartre experiences a crisis of existence. He is sitting, looking out into the world, disoriented because Venice doesn’t seem to have a horizon. The view confines him, prevents him from projecting, condemning him to short-sightedness. He is captive to the
almost redundant. The first windows were small and dingy. They allowed limited light and were mainly used in sacral architecture, as daylight was perceived as divine presence. This religious vision of the art world was established by the Church in the Middle Ages, tying the symbol of the three windows in the Church to the Holy Trinity, as shown in paintings like Scenes from the life of St. Catherine by Giuseppe Arcimboldo and Holy Family by Lorenzo Costa. But this changed with the intellectual revolution of the Renaissance. Italian
glass blowers began to produce large tripartite (or, “Venetian”) windows which were viewed as the frame of a completed landscape, ready for examination. Following this, windows in the background of portraits became very popular. The soft, domestic interior lit by natural light became a key motif for romantic artists; the person peering longingly outward awaiting a lover to appear below the best-loved character. Most times, the window was positioned as a light source, such as in Woman reading a letter by Pieter de Hooch. Still, at other times the window was the focus of the piece, as in The Return of Odysseus by Pinturicchio, all the action taking place through an open window. The window itself is the sole motif. The romantic innovation of the pure window-view contrasts a vast landscape and domestic interior with each other. Together, this brings the confinement of the indoors with the incongruous limitlessness of the space outside. The aesthetic position of the window turns us into observers rather than passive watchers. In doing this, the window also exposes the character behind it to vulnerability. It is an insight into their home, their routine, a window into their soul, if you will. A person looking out the window may sometimes see themselves reflected in the glass, the unexpected image offering insight into their own self. While large windows are incredibly revealing, they are also a tool in the hand of the observer. They let light in from the heavens, and allow people on the inside to be active participants in interactions with the outside. A small window yields more privacy but restricts the view of the outside world. The balcony and the open window remain prevalent motifs in literature and art, because it is there where all the amorous peripeteia occurred: where grand gestures of love were made by lovers forsaking their names and blasting boomboxes, where people waited silently for a spared glance, where serenades were sung and hands asked for in marriage, where everything could change. The symbol is so well-embedded in romance that it is hard to attribute it to a particular source. Such movements tend to sprout from collective attitudes and forms of expression, rather than an individual’s cry of a eureka moment. It is a rare motif where art, literature, and film borrow from each other to create whole worlds of meaning.
Art by Janina Osinsao
CULTURE
Remembering the women of the HIV/AIDS epidemic Aiden Magro looks back on the friendships that sustained the AIDS community during the 80s and 90s. There are many things we remember from the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 80s without failure. For those of us who witnessed it first hand and for those of us who understand it through the pictures, stories and, more arbitrarily, a profound and indescribable connection to our lost chosen family whom we never met, there is a lot that we will never forget. We remember the faces of people who lived with HIV/AIDS pictured in sensationalist media. We remember that it took President Ronald Reagan nearly six years to even mention AIDS publicly and we remember subsequent inaction from governments all over the world. One thing we seem to forget about this tumultuous time for our community is women. There are probably a few reasons why we do not remember the women who found themselves in the middle of an epidemic that seemingly targeted gay men. In 1981, medical professionals almost completely overlooked women in research on the disease, aiming all their focus at symptoms that presented in men rather than women. This limited access to information and treatment has not only led to the rise of cases of HIV/AIDS in women but has also contributed to the lack of understanding of what it was to be a woman living with the disease during the epidemic. Despite the fact that women living with HIV/AIDS in the 80s in the continent of Africa far exceeded the amount of men and by 1997 women accounted for more than half of cases of HIV/AIDS globally, we have nowhere near as many personal accounts or memories passed down by women. The homophobic framing of the epidemic as a gay-related immune deficiency or “gay cancer” resulted in the redirection of fear of HIV/AIDS itself to the people thought to be most at risk of contracting it - a narrative which caused discrimination against the gay community and neglect of the women who lived with HIV/AIDS. In a world where the epidemic was treated as a universal issue, we may have had stories from women who lived with HIV and who died of AIDS-related illnesses. What is perhaps most worrying is the number of undiagnosed women whose stories, because of homophobic panic and reactions to the epidemic, remain untold. Another way in which women are forgotten is in the way we assume the fear of gay communities and homophobia was a universal feeling during the epidemic. Despite the divisive narratives medical professionals and governments created in order to create fear in seemingly unaffected demographics, many heterosexual HIV negative women were instrumental in the fight against the epidemic and homophobic discrimination. Some of
these women were more visible than others. For instance, Elizabeth Taylor ran an illegal distribution of powerful but unapproved drugs to treat HIV/ AIDS out of her Bel Air home. She even shamed President George Bush stating, “I don’t think President Bush is doing anything at all about AIDS. In fact, I’m not even sure if he knows how to spell AIDS.” Some lesser known stories of HIV negative women’s involvement in the epidemic are outlined by Victoria Noe in her book Fag Hags, Divas and Moms: The Legacy of Straight Women in the AIDS Community. She highlights the work of Rosa E. Martinez-Colon who helped educate people of all demographics in Puerto Rico about the challenges that people who lived with HIV/AIDS faced. Noe also writes about Trudy James, who aimed to bridge the divide between people living with HIV and religious groups. Noe herself appeared on the front lines, working with AIDS service organisations. One story in particular alerted me to the importance of women in the HIV/AIDS epidemic and this is the friendship of Nora Burns and David. Nora met David in a gay club in Boston in 1979, standing on top of a speaker with no shirt on. The two struck up an instantly fierce and intense friendship, and they moved to New York City together after graduating from college. Through her friendship with David, she found her home in the gay community of New York. However, what is most important about their friendship was her undying loyalty not only to David but to the community he welcomed her into. Nora did not turn her back on this
community when the epidemic began and, after David died of AIDS related illness in 1993, she remained a fierce ally of the AIDS community. This story is particularly striking for many reasons. It demands the visibility of women in the gay and AIDS communities and also asks us to
remember the solidarity that women have historically shown for these communities. It is also striking because she continues to tell this story to this day. Through her Instagram, she archives not only her intensely important friendship with David, but also other gay people during the epidemic. Through sharing intimate photos and stories from a past we’ll never truly fathom, she brings to the foreground the importance of friendship between women and gay men during the epidemic. She also has performed a one woman show titled David’s Friend which, among New York, disco music and sexual liberation, discusses the importance of her friendship to David and others in the community she was adopted into. Remembering Nora’s and many other women’s involvement in the HIV/AIDS epidemic is vital in dealing with a past we may never come to terms with. It is in remembering these slightly less visible but undeniably important memories and stories that we can truly honour the women who, when they weren’t burying their loved ones, comforting them when no one else would and leading education on the epidemic in order to eliminate misinformation, were our friends in a time where it was dangerous to be. Photos taken from Nora’s Instagram, @noraburnsnyc
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CULTURE
Goodbye to hello Marlow Hurst has some things to say about greetings. Pssst! Over here! Yes, over here. Quickly now, there are eyes everywhere. Eyes and ears which would very much like to get their hands on the many curios I peddle. Why is that you ask? Well, funny you should say. A greeting is a powerful thing: kings, mountains, and cities may fall before it. A well chosen greeting is like a well honed knife. It can do all sorts of things. But like any knife, a dull blade does very little at all. Saying hello does as much good as a glass hammer. And “hi” and “hey” leave a recipient feeling uninspired. These greetings have been bounced back and forth between generations of people, and while once they might have meant something, now their power is all but extinguished. But with death, comes life. New greetings
hold sway in these lands. Greetings of a dark and terrible power. I dare not speak their name — but if I must, I will. Chief among their ranks: “howdy.” Hailing from the west, over the vast plains of the most northern America, “howdy” is a sharp blade indeed. From the ancient tongue of the Cow Boys (thought to be an evolutionary precursor to our current race, though scientists are divided on the subject), howdy was originally a casual greeting issued from horseback. Certain arcane gestures are thought to have accompanied it, such as the forward angling of one’s hat or the crack of a whip. These are of course not necessary to the greeting, but it is theorised they lend it further power. Today it is used by those wanting to appear cool, casual or country. It
is perhaps the most powerful of the ancient greetings. Beyond the dusty deserts and frontier lands of the far west lies the sea. A vast expanse of water where nothing can be taken for granted...except this. The greeting of choice for all honourable seafaring people is “ahoy.” It should only be issued while wearing a captain’s hat, a blue woolen turtleneck and a black overcoat. Failure to do so will result in plank walking which is thought to be some kind of carpentry challenge. We know that these sea dwelling people utilised a piece of ancient technology called “boatery” which they used to transport bananas across great distances and at the time a bunch of bananas was called a “hoy.” The phrase therefore originated from a captain’s customs
declaration where they would claim to be transporting “a hoy” or multiple hoys. The greetings explored so far have been specific to a certain location or circumstance. “Salutations,” on the other hand, is perfectly acceptable in any situation (or at least we are led to believe this by translations of ancient text found on what the predecessors called “laptops”). This greeting is suitable everywhere and anywhere. It maintains a balance between formality and joviality, which is a difficult thing to do. Not much more is known about this particular phrase as many records of its use were destroyed in the great flooding of the GFC. These three are but a taste, my complete collection is in the back.
Five ways to make use of your unnecessary hoard of toilet paper Victoria Cooper Hey, you filthy animal. So, you’ve been hoarding toilet paper and you’re feeling kinda guilty. Well, fear the repercussions of your selfishness no more! Here are five ways to make the most of that pesky panic bought TP:
1) Use it to wipe your endless tears when you remember the ineptitude of the current leadership
4) Write an extravagantly long love letter to your dog
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2) Hide single pieces in the bags of your friends to remind them who’s boss
3) Shred a roll into small pieces and make it rain
5) Bribe your friends into doing the housework
Remembering
my grandfather: music and stories
Words by Angad Roy Art by Kate Scott
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FEATURE “It was 3am in the morning, Easter Sunday. All was silent except for the tingling sensation of the music from the evening’s concert in my mind with the streaming moonlight casting its shadows. I was feeling exhilarated, inspired and moved. I was in the sleepy town of Bendigo, Melbourne in 1986 and I recall finding my home in his music. This was my first meeting with Pandit Ashok Roy. This quote comes from the creator of a WordPress dedicated to my grandfather. I would have preferred to recount his delicate, visceral performances, to have sat in crowds and felt liberated by the sense of community that typifies any potent music but his memories, for me, are shaped, transformed and deceived through the stories of my family and his passionate supporters. You could read the above recount after any show, whether that be techno-heads drifting in and out of their bodies, watching lights being mutated into abstract shapes through trees, on the floor, in the faces of others; whether that be giddy teenagers exiting arena shows adorned in glitter or punks dwelling in the after-glow of bruised bodies and frail necks from a metal show. But reading the words, “this was my first meeting with Pandit Ashok Roy,” makes my stomach heave – a lumpy, murky, scrambled feeling of weight and indirection, like a helpless object entangled in seaweed. We perceive most artistic mediums through images. Stories especially are grounded in their ability to help us bring them to life. Images are coherent and objective, words transform the way they are represented. But words can be misleading. Your own garden is different to the Garden of Eden. A few other mediums like music aren’t imagist and instead rely on symbolism. Music is a language in and of itself but one that is somewhat esoteric and for the most part, very personal. Thus, to attempt to listen and moreover to appreciate this foreign language, we rely on our ability to be open and welcoming enough to digest its various intonations, deceptions and eccentricities. If we can do so, music has the ability to shed some sort of revelatory light on our own ability to accept difference, to see the world in a way that deforms our preconceptions, to realise things that may have gone unnoticed before. For many people, my grandfather’s music was the catalyst for this defamiliarisation of their worlds. I never got to experience that; I experienced baba in a slightly fractured, more impersonal sort of way. There were many times that my brother and I went to his house. We went there for no other reason than to eat my grandmother’s chicken curry. The place was two stories with tinted windows and a strong, mahogany door on the outside. Inside, the carpets were tattered. Walls cracked with water damage. The house reeked of spices and ash. My grandmother’s black cat, ‘Gopi,’ came occasionally to say hi but I’m sure she could sense my trepidation at her discomforting yellow eyes and the slinky way in which she lurked in cobwebbed, dark corners around the house There is one photo that I have of me as a toddler, seated beside my grandfather as he plays the sarod. I wonder whether this is the only one. I’m sure he greeted us when we arrived for those lunches but as soon as my grandmother’s amicable personality took over, he would retreat quietly upstairs and play his sarod, a 17-stringed instrument which is one of the most popular Indian classical instruments along with the sitar and tabla. I recall a story my father once told me about the intensity of baba’s practising habits. He recounted it while looking outward, seemingly searching for baba’s presence amidst the slow-moving clouds, or the shallow blues of the sky. Apparently, and this happened more than once, my grandfather would light a cigarette just before the beginning of a raga and as he slowly became controlled by the whims of himself and the song, he would forget about the cigarette. It would burn to a stud and hang languidly from his mouth as the raga, often more
“To be honest, baba/Ashok’s memory belongs more to the world than it does to me, or maybe even my family.” than fifteen minutes, reverberated inside the cramped walls of his practising room. I try to picture his hunched over posture, eyes closed and flickering, in some sort of in-between space, ephemeral like the fleeting moment before we fall asleep. I try to picture the delicate way that his fingers pluck the thick chords, the pinky nail, forever long, that mutated into a pick. Sometimes, I try to feel the stiffness of his back, the ache that shies away after it is ignored for hours on end, the totalising vibrations of the intricate and whimsical sounds echoing from his equally whimsical fingers. I try to imagine what it might have been like to drift away from my body the way he might have done. To drift and be thrown around and suspended amidst the concoction of sounds spinning, crashing and exploding around the room like the frenzy of a beehive kicked by an irreverent child. I try to imagine these things but every time I do, hand wash, white lights, and sterilised smells try to unravel them. Baba’s penchant for cigarettes and dedication to his craft led to a leg amputation, numerous bypass surgeries, failing kidneys and
Ashok with his guru, Ali Akbar Khan. Khan, nominated for five Grammys, was awarded a MacArthur Fellowship and alongside Ravi Shankar was a key figure in popularising Indian classical music in the West. the consistent accompaniment of a blood glucose monitor for his diabetes. By the end, in 2007, I think I was at home fast asleep. Years later, my parents recall that he died as soon as they left the hospital in the early hours of the morning, as if he waited for the to leave so that he could finally succumb. It’s easy to think that baba was a shell of himself when he died - deteriorated, weak, skeletal, even partially human because of his amputation – but the way in which he seemed to exercise self-control, even over his death, suggests a sense of exaltation that typified the sentiment people attached to his music. As easy as it is to create a shopping list of the physical detriments to his body, it is also easy to do one of his musical achievements. In 1987, the Sydney Morning Herald said, “Ashok Roy is one of the great exponents of the Indian Sarod.” He won the All India Radio (AIR) Instrumentalist of the Year Competition in 1960, toured Europe and the UK as part of the UNESCO Collection of Musical Sources, held a position with the Indian Council for Cultural Relations (ICCR), was an artist-in-residence at Monash University, taught at the Victorian College of the Arts (VCA), became the artistic director of the Australian Institute of Eastern Music (AIEM) and recorded two albums of traditional music with the ABC. Arguably, the culmination of his glittered career came when he was nominated for a Best World Music Album award at the 1997 ARIA Awards.
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It was an unintended consequence of my thought-process that the halfway point of this essay is defined by baba’s significant physical and musical moments because, for all the people that enjoyed a deeper connection with his music, these are the seminal moments that define the way in which I reason, understand and engage with his life. In the same way as I perceive him through sickness and his formal achievements, I could have easily circumvented any misrepresentations in defining my relationship with him by filling the essay, like the opening, with a long-winded collection of other people’s remembrances of him, his music, his personality and his teachings. To be honest, Baba/Ashok’s memory belongs more to the world than it does to me, or maybe even my family. Ashok the man is trumped by Ashok the musician, and his presence throughout the world lives in minuscule moments of inspiration and nostalgia. Some dwell in the fact that his music was enchanting and a momentary transportation into a fantastical, heavenly world. Some remember him for his foresight, his ability to facilitate multiculturalism through music before it was a political fetish. Some simply appreciate his passion, his tactful teaching ability. Some bask in his artistry and indifference to popularity. Others see, hear and feel him just as one remembers a lover or a place: through random, abstract and often invisible smells or sounds, which bring a sudden and unusual sense of comfort that surrounds you like a coffin before vanishing as lightly and as insignificantly as a bird lifts of a branch.
Sometimes I wish I could tell my friends, or other interested people about a personal story I have with him, or a moment when I saw his performances in the flesh rather than recounting the aforementioned list of his achievements. I can’t, and I’ve decided that it is ok. In fact, it is sometimes nice to have your memories, your emotions dictated by others. In a way, they feel more trustworthy and real, not tinged, like my other memories are, by the deceptive way in which perspective changes with age and the haphazard, nebulous and illusory way in which we picture moments of our past. When people ask me what my earliest memory is, I say it was when I rode for the first time without training wheels. Aside from the cracked concrete outside my house, the maybe blue colour of the wheels and the manic churning of the pedals I remember nothing else. I sometimes think I hear the support of my mother, or the scrape of the surface, maybe even what the sky looked like but it is foolish to think that these are genuine. In the same way, I would hate to have the memory of my grandfather defined by gangrene, townhouses, long finger nails and curry. I need the memories of others to shape my memory of him and to allow the pervasive nature of his influ-
ence to seep into some of the actions of my own life. It’s okay to be selfish in our remembrance. It’s okay to manipulate and to plagiarise thoughts that aren’t ours and to shape them in a way that provides us comfort. There are so many things that cause us discomfort, so is there any harm in occasionally deceiving ourselves to believe something that we weren’t ever in a position to believe? For me, the idea that my grandfather favoured artistry over commercial success is inspiring. When asked about him in an article for the ABC, my father said, “it doesn’t matter whether you are playing with an unknown musician in a café in Enmore, what matters is that when you play together you should feel something in your heart. The feeling and love is what matters the most.” If I read that quote in any other interview or magazine, I would have found it reductive and cliched. It’s different when, for a very rare moment in life, I have an insight into the logic behind a cliché. Someone told me that the work of a writer, or any artist for that matter, is to express what can’t be expressed in words. I am sure my grandfather did that but it is the task of his audience to accept and to translate what they hear. At times when the intention of the creator is abstract, the onus falls on a responder to carry the work forward, to facilitate its transferral and to find relatability in its incomprehensible construction. Very few people will know the intricacies of strings, the way they fuse together, the purpose of the chikari, the technicality of slides and the only way to mitigate this lack of understanding is to lean on words like ‘feeling’ and ‘love’ that don’t really mean anything in isolation but require something unexpected and so defamiliarising to what we know that we suddenly realise their true meaning.
Ashok Roy performing in Fiji with Bhagwan Pandey, as a cultural ambassador for India. When I was contemplating writing this, I received some hesitancy from my parents. They asked me why any Australian student would want to know about an Indian classical musician who spent his life dedicated to an instrument that they probably never heard of. Most people probably don’t and to be honest, I don’t think I would have read something similar. I wrote this for myself and I only can write this for myself because I have nothing else tethering me to our relationship. It is a collective endeavour to commemorate but an individual one to relate. My story is singular, my relationship probably fractured, but it is via the nature of his music that this story unites with so many others. A mosaic can only find clarity when all the jagged bits are put together. I think my grandfather would have been proud to know of all these jagged geographic and mental interconnections formed by his life’s passion and to know that his memory lives on through words that try to understand a language that he crafted on his own.
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REVIEWS
Review: Kill Climate Deniers SUDS’ new play gave Prudence Wilkins-Wheat a few ideas. Kill Climate Deniers is as radical in style as it is in theme. Directors Ange Tran and Matthew Forbes took this starkly relevant dialogue-heavy script and energised it. What could have dragged, actually became an animated, moving commentary on one of the most politicised topics in modern times: the climate. This satirical black comedy involves a group of eco-terrorists led by Catch (Serena Dalton) who take hostage a group of politicians and journalists in Parliament House until they put in place an immediate solution for climate change, by threat of death. It becomes a show-down between the climate terrorists and Environment Minister, Gwen Malkin (Margaret Thanos). Partial to the title and plot, I had a suspicion that I was going to like this play. On entrance, audiences are presented with a set over-taken with activiststyle graffiti, introducing the anarchic character of the radical play. The set updates David Finnigan’s 2014 play to fit its 2020 Sydney audience. Familiar Climate Strike protest chant “keep your carbon in the soil” is graffitied next to an infamous black and white shot of now-Prime Minister Scott Morrison clutching a lump of coal, wheat-pasted onto the wall. The production deftly blurs the lines between current climate anxieties and activism and the absurdity of the play’s world. Indeed, one of the great successes of the play was the relationship
established with its audience. We’re welcomed into the world with various USyd specific in-jokes (this rag gets a brief appearance) and immersive acting. One of my favourite moments was when the audience melts into the crowd of the captured parliamentarians and we are addressed as hostages. This thrilling destruction of the third wall was in part introduced through Finnigan’s metareferences to the production of the play itself, referencing the public outcry he experienced over such a “dangerous” title – to quote one question posed by the narrators: “is the play an act of terrorism?” This delightful self-awareness was guided by the Finnigan duo, played by Declan Coyle and Tom HetheringtonWelch. These two regularly improvise with audience and cast members, at one moment accusing an older gentleman in the front row of being a possible right-wing stooge, making us all laugh, keeping the energy up and the transitions smooth. Their witty banter and cameos were a welcome highlight that elevated what could have been a this-that kind of debate into an entertaining and layered discussion with a rule-breaking style that reminded me of The Big Short or Vice. Are Tran and Forbes the new Adam McKay? Many cues seem to have been taken from film, including the use of soundtracks during tense moments, fight scenes or moments of triumph. If the music directors could release
the soundtrack on Spotify, I would appreciate it. But a particular innovation that audiences enjoyed was the creative use of multimedia. Two projectors mounted on the set allowed directors to subvert on-stage discussions. It was used to explore the role of social media in dramatising perspectives on climate activism and for the hilarious satire of mining company propaganda. Innovative and true to the modernity of the topic, I congratulate AV director, Charlie Hollands. However, particularly outstanding was the calibre of acting in this play. The performances were intense, funny and perfectly styled for theatre. I was particularly impressed by the chemistry between pairs, including Malkin and her social media director (Abi Coffey) whose comedic back-and-forth was a crowd favourite. However, the person most everyone remembers with commemoration was Zoe Hinton as Beverly Ille for her science monologue. Flitting between on-camera pantomime and nervously shaking as a climate activist threatens her with a gun, she gave the audience pause in the play’s darker moments, which may otherwise have been lost between musical numbers and comedic monologues. She stole the show, making the argument that “scientists suck” seem oddly convincing. I also particularly loved the hilarious Annie McDonalds as Fleetwood Mac, whose singing and acting were of equal star quality, and Serena Dalton
as Catch, who brings all the charm and cool rage of a cult leader on the edge. The only fault, if I had to name one, was the message in the writing, which is more my note to Finnigan than to SUDs. I was rather confused by his commentary. He didn’t treat this climate issue with subtlety or detail but instead straw manned both sides by placing two caricatures, from opposite ends of the political spectrum, in one closed room. It was not about activists, but communist eco-terrorists and it wasn’t about big businesses, but evil climate deniers. In the end, we’re left most sympathetic towards a politician in the pocket of big business, who we’re repeatedly reminded has compromised on real action on climate change. However, Finnigan does not promise a nuanced stance on one of the most complicated issues of our time, but a daring commentary challenging the trust we place in either side of the political argument. Indeed, I wasn’t just taking notes for Honi Soit. This play lived up to my expectations, presenting something modern, fun and a little mad — it experimented and succeeded in presenting a new twist on a topic that thousands are trying to talk about. Kill Climate Deniers is set to play until 21 March, but unfortunately might be another casualty of COVID-19. See the Facebook page for the latest updates.
Review: All Our Relations Ranuka Tandan reviews Tanya Talaga’s new book. Last week Tanya Talaga’s book All Our Relations was released. A Canadian author and journalist of Polish and Ojibwe descent, Talaga has spent much time researching, educating on and advocating for Indigenous peoples in Canada. All Our Relations is a book concerned with the utterly horrifying rates of youth suicide in Indigenous nations and communities around the world. It explores the central issue of intergenerational trauma,, and the solutions that are needed if there is any hope of changing the statistics. Talaga focuses on Indigenous nations in Canada, while providing snippets of stories about Native Americans, the Sami of Norway and Finland, the Guarani of Brazil, and of course, Aboriginal and Māori peoples. It’s a heartbreaking book. It is impossible to read about families that have lost three or four children to suicide, about people who die from preventable diseases like strep throat, about those who die in gaol, without shedding tears and feeling an ache that lodges itself deep in your heart. It’s an ache which won’t leave as long as Indigenous peoples around the world suffer the ongoing violence of colonisation, which they always will. I cried in All Our Relations when Talaga wrote about
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David Dungay Jr. I always will. Talaga tells stories with little recognition of the lines between past, present and future. In one sentence, she will be writing about the horrifying nature of the Canadian residential school system and in the next, she has connected it to why she’s “cruising down the Albany River in a freezing day in July.” Similarly, the development that is encroaching on the land she walks is deeply connected to the Cree who took care of the land thousands of years ago. She weaves the stories she tells in such a way that it matters very little what time she is in. There is one main distinction: before colonisation, and after. She tells stories of the fight though, and the progress. She writes about the Quiet Riot of 1987, where Rance Christianson from Kingfisher Lake First Nation alongside his friends at the Residential School were arrested for confronting the teachers who were physically assaulting their schoolmate. She tells stories of the activism, the conferences, the First Nations led People’s Inquiry which identified issues first hand and put forward actionable solutions for reconnecting people to land and culture. Indigenous peoples around the world have suffered alongside one another.
The similarities are too intense to be remarkable. The Residential Schools and the Indian Act reek of Stolen Generation tactics. The Aboriginal Protection Act invokes the same, cruel assumptions that Indigenous people need to be taken care of, taught what to believe in, how to assimilate. “These policies were influenced by theories of Social Darwinism that portrayed Indigenous people as an inferior race.” Talaga describes these policies as “an invisible anchor around their necks.” She doesn’t hold back in her terminology, using phrases like ‘policy of extermination’ consistently. There are places where Talaga falls short however. While it makes sense that the deepest knowledge and the greatest focus of this book is to do with the Indigenous peoples of Canada – Talaga being of Ojibwe descent herself – it comes at the expense of proper representation of Australian Aboriginal peoples, who she consistently refers to as “Aborigines.” It’s common knowledge that this is an outdated and offensive term; it shouldn’t have slipped in. Perhaps the most notable problem however, are the generalisations she makes. A topic which requires such deep, nuanced understanding needs more detail and context than Talaga
provides. She writes about substance abuse, petrol sniffing and sexual assault without addressing deeper research that contradicts some of these generalisations, and without addressing the way the mainstream media present issues like these through a lens that doesn’t judge the equivalent behaviour of white Australians as harshly. She simultaneously fails to provide context for the different – not wrong – ways that children are raised in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, when she writes about the Stolen Generation, and ongoing removal of children from their families. In all other aspects, Talaga is to be highly commended. Her writing style is clear and easy to read, and she has a way of telling the reader what they need to know about policy and history by telling stories about people and communities, who are at the heart of this book. Tanya Talaga begins and ends the book with four questions. Without them, there is nothing that ties you to the world, and therefore, nothing stopping you from leaving it. “Where do I come from? Where am I going? Why am I here? Who am I?”
MULTILINGUAL
缘何自主团体不应排外 Nina Dillon Britton 报道/ Yue Ma 翻译 悉尼大学学生代表委员会发起了一系 列可供积极分子们组织针对特定话题 展开讨论的团体。虽然其中不乏对普 通大众开放的诸如环保团体和教育行 动小组之类，其它的则属于自主性 团体，换言之，即只允许具有特定 身份的人群参与。这些团体的自主 性充分体现在其命名上，比如女子 团体（WoCo）,反种族歧视独立团体 （ACAR）,同性平权行动团（QuAC）, 国际学生团体，原住居民联合会和残 障团体。笔者认为应该取消这些团体 在会员资格方面的自主权。 该论调来自于发起这些团体时的 初衷，即为女权主义者、反恐同主义 者、反种族主义者、原住居民与残障 人士维权活动者在校园中开创出一片 阵地。这些团体脱胎于SRC，而SRC本 身就是一个积极分子联盟，这些团体 的成立亦是势在必行。此外，历史原 因也是促成其发展的因素。而对于许 多团体来说促使他们成立的就是他们 所承担的使命，正如它们名字中所写 的那样。 尽管可能事实并非如此，但笔者 斗胆言之：在尊重这些团体社会活动 历史的前提下，将其转化为具有一定 政治身份的社交群组是可行的，参考 USyd 和WoCo. 同时，笔者也希望再次澄清这一观 点中的两点保留意见。首先，这并不 是对这些团体拥有自主空间的讨伐， 而是对其运行模式的优化。举例来 说，接受直男直女并不会影响同性平 权运动的正常运行。其次，这也不是 针对所谓身份政治或社交的批驳。 那支持这些团体自主的论点有哪些 呢？笔者所见如下。首先，不可否认 团体中那些具有特定身份的成员的确 更有立场为整个团体的权益而战。其 次，在激进主义者看来，将其他人排 除在外很重要毕竟他们没有过现实经 验以真正理解这些特殊群体的挣扎，
并持立场为他们发声。再次，如果真 的将目前被排除在外的诸如男性，非 原住民，白人，正常性取向者和当地 学生吸收进来，最坏的情况是其他 成员甚至是广义的斗争会受到负面影 响，或者最好的话也需要成员们花费 力气向他们解释自己的经历。 即便对团体自主本身并不认同的 人来说，前两条论点的前提也看起来 无可置疑。不过在笔者看来，自主团 体应当要求成员们尊重相关身份群体 的经历并且能够理解，在几乎任何情 况下，他们都应做到与之并肩而战。 身份政治在当代左翼组织中的崛起显 示那些少数的外来的活动家们适当地 表现出了顺从并且在团体内部很少掌 权。比如许多校园外的难民组织已经 向不同背景的人们敞开了大门，但是 通常延续难民身份的领导人以及原有 发展方向。如果你接受这样的参与方 式，那么恐怕你也会意识到开放会员 身份而导致这些团体的自由空间受到 威胁的可能是很小的。 另外笔者对所谓培训非特定身份加 入者会给成员造成不公负担的客观性 亦不乏质疑。理由如下。 首先，作为一个活动家，其身份职 责之一就是为其所代表的群体所遭受 的苦难而奔走呼告，故而笔者看来培 训非特定身份加入者也是情理之中。 还有人指出这侧面反映出所谓新自由 主义框架下的问题，什么时候向别人 诉苦也要收取劳务补偿费了。 其次，培训不是布道。比如说，一 个希望加入WoCo的男性，很大程度上 已经是一个女权主义者了。他很可能 对一些涉及敏感话题的观点持开放态 度，甚至乐于得到更多信息。这种培 训，更像是一种交流与宣扬的过程， 而非死板的说教。 再次，团体本身也保留对加入人员 的自由裁定权来防止心怀不轨的人趁 机而入。比方说，无论性别，有女权
主义政治背景或参加过相关示威活动 的人才可以加入WoCo之类。 又次，由于每个人都具有多重政治 身份，团体内部的交流实则也会促进 文化交融。一个白人女孩与一个有色 人种女孩在WoCo里就女权主义愉快地 交谈，不正是反种族歧视的最好例子 吗？虽然由于政治立场不同而发生的 矛盾也时时存在，毕竟同为QuAC 成 员并不能代表他们在Mardi Grass是否 接受商业赞助上意见也一致，但事实 证明，这些问题并未给自主团体的正 常运行造成困扰，正相反，人们在这 里找到了可供交流的缓冲区。 基于以上讨论，笔者提出观点---排 外性为独立团体带来诸多问题。 首先，这显然缩小了运动参与者 的基数。这对于希望团结因阶级、性 别、性向或种族而受困的人群并组织 大型活动的活动家门而言无疑是个麻 烦。但对于大多数自主团体来说，这 是不可避免的。具有特定身份的人数 本就不多，再除去那些政治无感和不 了解团体、无法参加团会的，就所剩 无几了。统计数据显示，学生中同性 恋者仅为10%，在悉尼大学原住民学 生人数不超过两位数。 会员人数过少对这些自主团体自 身的生存也构成威胁。没有足够的人 手来推广，团体就无法吸收新会员， 当老成员们毕业之后，团体便无以为 继。悉尼大学原住民联合会如今已经 停止运营，这意味着能支持其组织运 行的学生群体已经消失了。 此外，这也显示那些任劳任怨作者 幕后工作的人员减少了。即便在那些 规模庞大的团体中，能有机会走上街 头游行，挥舞喷漆标语的人数比例也 是少之又少。失去后勤保障，这个数 字还会下降。 其次，许多活动家已经意识到独立 组织的局限性并且开始尝试包容性地 组织。WoCo的海报上已经出现了男性
的形象，上周三的旅行禁令抗议活动 也是由国际学生和本地学生共同举办 的。这些现象的出现，表明自主团体 的排外性正在遭到冲击。 再次，抛弃排外性能为那些所谓特 权阶层参与运动一处屏障。活动家们 总是倡导创造改变的重担不应该只落 到那些受迫的人们肩上，而团体排外 性似乎使这些行动家们显得有些言不 由衷。 最后，自主团体排外本身就包括 一个棘手的问题—如何界定谁属于这 些团体谁又不属于呢？就像一个无性 恋者很难说他具有同性恋者身份还是 异性恋者，阿诗肯纳滋犹太人遭到不 公正对待好像也和反白人至上主义有 直接的联系。尽管有些关于区分的观 点存在其价值，但大部分是无效的。 这反映出自主团体用那些已经过时的 朦胧的社会学概念定位入会标准的问 题，更糟糕的是其中不少概念被定义 的初衷是为了将特定的人群边缘化或 用来描述他们所遭受的压迫。 那么，一个非排外的自主团体看起 来应该是什么样子的呢？笔者看来首 先领导权应当保留在团体内部具有相 关身份的成员手中。集会时也可以由 团体内部成员先确定好计划和目标， 或者在会议开始时仅由相关身份成员 发表短暂发言。这一点不同很可能会 带来很大的改变，而且不会有什么安 全方面的困扰。毕竟让白人参与者们 突然克服他们的种族包容暴起反对反 种族歧视抗争并控制 ACAR 大部分 理事席位也不是件容易的事。对大多 数团体来说，取消排外性意味着更多 人能够拉他们一把，帮助他们发展壮 大。而这些帮助对那些希望让改变发 生的人们来说，意义重大。
展望历史未来：尼科尔森博物馆的迁徙之途 Becky Barlow 报道/ Fiona Zhang 翻译 2020年2月28日，悉尼大学尼科尔森即 将关闭迄今已有160岁高龄的历史大 门。这一座藏匿在Quadrangle四方高 墙内的博物馆是南半球最大规模的文 物收藏馆。它将会与周泽荣博物馆融 为一体，且与去年迁址而至的麦克利 与大学艺术藏品共创新章。 尼科尔森博物馆的迁徙之路刷新了我 们对悉尼大学与众不同特色的整体印 象。这一颗曾紧紧镶嵌于皇冠上的明 珠，如今已成为心怀抱负的考古学家 与历史学家征路漫漫以上下求索之 源、声名远播的游览学习圣地与致敬 生死存亡的文化苦旅。 这次历史性的迁徙将翻开古老的 尼科尔森博物馆凤凰涅槃、浴火重生 的新篇章。待八月下旬大门重新开启 之时，澳大利亚土著历史文物收藏将 被纳入众多藏品之中，以及埃及、希 腊、中东、塞浦路斯及意大利等文物 收藏亦将占据一席之地。这次迁徙象 征着大学由古代历史文化转向全球历
史文化的聚焦点拓展、对外国文化的 重要认知，同时通过具有历史定义性 的收藏对游客完成再教育。 为更进一步探索博物馆的新旧址与 聚焦点变迁的背后故事，我诚挚向已 担任尼科尔森博物馆三年高级策展人詹姆斯.弗雷泽先生进行了请教。可 谓“身在其位，必谋其政”，在此可供 其“肆意挥洒策展人才华”的弹性职位 所带来的拓展享受，詹姆斯.弗雷泽先 生称时任三年策展人为“梦寐以求的 工作”。据弗雷泽先生回忆，尼科尔 森博物馆享有极高的公众参与度，每 年接待游客数量高达80,000至100,000 ，且其中10,000为在校生。他进一步 提出，其深远意义并不局限于悉尼大 学，而是对悉尼市乃至整个国家都是 不可或缺的研习资源。 追溯至三年前，弗雷泽先生经历了 担任策展人期间最有意义的事：他和 同事们发现了一具来自第26位埃及王 朝的雪松棺材内盛有木乃伊。这具雪
松棺材曾由尼科尔森先生于1850年购 入，且一度被认为是空棺史物。这一 新发现引发了长达数月的争议，最终 通过众人一致决策采掘遗体、于棺中 重新加以处理，进而以更显尊崇的方 式进行展示。经象形文字表明，此木 乃伊为埃及大祭司默.尼思.伊斯的遗 体。待尼科尔森博物馆重新开放，此 具木乃伊将被迁至周泽荣博物馆且对 外进行展示。 在周泽荣博物馆创建之前，想要参 观原住民，托雷斯海峡和太平洋岛民 的文物材料的游客，须顺小巷而下、 穿梭于零星垃圾桶间、继沿蜿蜒楼梯 而上，最终抵至位于埃奇沃斯.大卫大 楼顶楼的麦克利博物馆。如今，悉尼 大学将古代文化与全球文化贯穿融合 于这独立且易被访问的博物馆新址。 尼科尔森博物馆最后一次改建是由 亚历山大.坎比托格鲁翻新于1960年， 此举将其从维多利亚时代风格的博物 馆转变为现代大学博物馆。尽管它与
我们间的关联平凡如学子间情谊，但 他作为最大、最多样化古物收藏的重 要意义已远超出大学校园层面，而其 丰富的演变史更反映了澳大利亚的道 德与教育发展。 追根溯源，尼科尔森博物馆由查尔 斯.尼科尔森先生于1860年建立，其目 的是通过向英国人展示自身所具有的 截然不同的文化，从而为新南威尔士 州殖民地创造开明研习的氛围。从此 以往，大学虽已革新了它的当代文化 环境，但激发那些参观与研究其文史 藏品的人们对知识的渴望仍是博物馆 金匮石室的精神要塞。 直至2月28日，尼科尔森博物馆的 开放时间为周一至周五上午10点至 下午4：30。弗雷泽先生将于四月离 开，成为大英博物馆内黎凡特馆和安 纳托利亚馆的策展人。
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CREATIVE
Do photos replace memories? Claire Ollivain ponders our fixation with documenting fleeting moments. It’s my last day with my paternal grandmother in the alps, France, and we are sitting side by side in the car on the way to the airport. The last time I was here was 5 years ago, and I remember these emotional drives to the airport more clearly than other drives we’d been on, each one evoking the memory of the last. The knowledge that a period of time is about to end seems to make it go on for much longer, especially when it’ll be a while before you see a loved one again. I remember the sun brightly illuminating her face as she leant on the headrest, eyes closed and smiling. Frost-covered fields, distant hills and decaying châteaux rushed past through the window and the radio emitted the background noise of morning news — signs of the blazing reality I was returning to were unavoidable. I thought that the light was beautiful on my grandmother’s face and hesitated before asking to take a photograph, remembering she had been upset when another relative had posted photos of her without permission. She has no computer or phone, so to her the internet is an unfamiliar place, not to be trusted. I reassured her the photo was just for my memory and focussed the lens the best I could in the shaky car, then released the shutter. I thought about how in a month’s time when the film was developed this photo would prompt memories of our walks in the countryside, already thinking that it would be special to me given that it
wouldn’t be posted on social media for other’s eyes. Why do we have this urge to preserve memory through photos? In a few years, the photos I took and the words I wrote will form the outlines of what I remember from this trip. Photo albums, digital or otherwise, are abbreviations
lived experience — they deaden it. Roland Barthes wrote that figures in photographs are “anesthetized and fastened down, like butterflies”. Is our obsession with picture-taking the manifestation of a kind of anxiety? An anxiety about mortality that prompts us to fasten down time and space, as
of memory that eventually supplant its content the more we return to them. When remembering my childhood, often I remember photos of it before my own memories, as if the photos were somehow more truthful. Held up as records of something that happened and bestowed with a special sense of authority, photos don’t preserve the impreciseness and fluidity of
if everything could be turned into an article of consumption and nostalgia? Our assumption that photos are in essence memory, rather than countermemory, drives our tendency to forget first-hand impressions of experiences. It is the mindset we bring to photos and our faith in their indexicality — that they are signs of something that was there, that depreciates lived, malleable
memories. By rethinking photos as fragments rather than as documentation of the real, we discover new potentials in the medium that rupture ways of seeing reality as consumable, exchangeable property. Almost everyone uses a phone camera now and photo-taking at graduations, weddings and overseas trips often replaces events themselves as important. Yet there is always something aggressive about taking photos — the reason I hesitated in the car — it treats reality as something to be symbolically possessed and controlled. By turning experience into images, we create a substitute world that is increasingly felt as more real than reality. We may cherish the subjects we photograph but often it becomes the reflex of our anxiety about loss, a way of closing our eyes and creating distance rather than experiencing life fully. Photo-taking provides a reassurance that even though this car journey will soon end and that nothing lasts forever, I can have a piece of it in a photograph and look at it one day expecting a revelation. Not a revelation that I can own a trace of the light on that morning in a photograph, but that the most important interactions don’t need a lens in-between them and can simply be, in the ever-shifting murkiness of memory, and that I can return to them differently every time. Photo by Claire Ollivain.
The ever-present bullshit in reflective writing Angelina Ngyuen promises she isn't bullshitting this reflection. If my life’s writing portfolio were to be exhibited in a gallery, I would find myself gravitating to one particular work. It is not large in scale, intricate in its detail and seems, at first glance, to not belong at all. Although tucked away, displayed in a slightly less lit section of the space and ignored by any other, it shares an unlikely origin story for an equally unlikely skill that I have come to acquire. This artefact is a memory from 2013, etched right after I had just finished a mentoring session with the senior students in my high school. I could not for the life of me remember what the session was about but I do recall more vividly how excited I was to dive into a new act of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. When I headed into the classroom, notebook in one hand and a post-itnoted play in the other, I was instead handed a survey by my English teacher and asked to review how I found the mentoring session I had just come from. After mindlessly circling some multiple choice bubbles, I wrote with absolute confidence for the final question “Today’s peer support lesson was very beneficial because I was able to reflect on why time management is important to having good study habits.”
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The plot twist in my reflection is that there was next to no truth in what I had handed in to my teacher that day. I already knew what time management was, how to study effectively, and all of its advantages. What was intended to be a meaningful, thought-provoking task ended up being met with an internalised groan that I had masked by a determination to simply get it done. Although most students would have shrugged their shoulders at it, I was left with this overwhelming sense of guilt. I was ashamed of myself - was it not my duty to write what I believed? Vowing to myself that I would strive to write with truth and critical judgement from then on, I nestled my head back into the comforts of printed Shakespeare. In hindsight, I cite this as the first of many instances where an alwayscleverly-concealed, but nonetheless ever-present, amount of bullshit has been embedded in my writing practice. Whenever I am asked to write reflectively, I am always struggling to understand a range of experiences I had not consciously been engaging with. My thoughts are always isolated, scattered and disassembled, never a whole entity, let alone one with an exact meaning. Bullshit is what organises
my subjectivity — noisy, angsty and unclear — into comprehensive units and patterns of speech. The bullshit is always there, lurking behind those sophisticated phrases and decorated expressions. Despite this, my reflective writing does not mock, condescend or offend. More than any other aspect of my writing, it seeks to appease, charm and enlighten instead. This deceptive tendency in my writing has become far more apparent in my university experience than at any other stage in my academic career. In my first year, I had reflective writing tasks set as assessments, ranging from weekly journal entries imploring me to contemplate on the usefulness of my lessons, to critical evaluations of research literature. When reflecting on classroom discussions, I once isolated a certain remark made by my lecturer and glorified it as an “inspiring perspective, worthy of adoption” when I had not even given it a second thought after hearing it. I also bullshitted to downplay my criticisms out of politeness, writing about the “excessive and bewildering nature of the author’s metalanguage”, as opposed to saying that reading it was essentially a waste of time: both because of how long I spent on Thesaurus.com
trying to make sense of it and how little relevance it ended up having to anything within the course. When I had not been paying attention, listening in and gathering my thoughts actively, these fabricated idioms were reliable substitutes. For a long time, it almost made me feel like a fraud in my own craft. However, I have come to accept that it was in the nonsense, lies and total bullshit I conjured up that I grappled with some kind of meaning from my studies. Whether it is an art of the highest order, to be mastered and manipulated, or really nothing more than a whole load of crap, the bullshit does instigate the very thing it ends up colouring, residing and thriving in: reflection. It is only when I bullshit my way through the burden of an assignment in the late hours of the night, or through a simple survey back in Year 7, do I reach a closer understanding to who I am. That, before all else, has legitimacy to me. As you step back from that artwork, I encourage you to continue thinking. I hope you register it, reimagine a value for your own and perhaps see what sort of bullshit you've been coming up with yourself.
The Cynicism of the Wind
(or "I've ruined wind for you")
Genevieve Couvret
Watching him walk away Was like watching the rain start to fall on a perfect day He was "error and fantasy"; tears and laughter He was every windy day thereafter: Storms have eyes but they cannot see, I didn’t know, and nor did he, Like the sky I opened, like the rain, I fell And blew away in winter’s spell The green in his eyes was a trick of the light He was the worst hangover from my best nights The first time I got high — couldn’t sleep but was dreaming Making worlds out of words, language into feeling Sometimes I think I smell him in the air On the breeze, on the ends of my hair But as the summer sun crests, as I watch springtime rescind, I have to remember — it’s only the wind. Art by Emma Cao
Lei Yao
Art by Ash Duncan
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SRC REPORTS
President
Note: These pages belong to the Office Bearers of the SRC. They are not altered, edited or changed in any way by the editors of Honi Soit.
Liam Donohoe
with the latest health advice. We anticipate that the University of Sydney will shut soon, and we are likely to do the same once they do. While online classes may continue, it seems almost everything else planned is currently up in the air: the SRC General Meeting on April the 1st, National Tertiary Education Union’s Anti-Austerity rally on March the 25th, and even May’s climate strikes will depend on whether public gatherings are permitted, institutions remain open, and how intense the community outbreak is. It is imperative that we remain vigilant and politically active amid these challenging circumstances, holding the government to account and registering our dissent as best we can. The SRC will continue to work on our major projects even if there’s a shutdown. Among other things, we will plan and finalise the food bank, prepare every aspect of our information sessions, and continue with our reforms to the constitution and regulations, so that each are ready for implementation once life returns to some semblance of normality. In addition, we will continue to facilitate and encourage activism inasmuch as it is logistically possible, so that we can deal with the extensive economic, social, and biological fallout of this unprecedented emergency situation. Our usual services will be provided in some form, with as little quality loss as we can feasibly achieve. Despite the uncertainty and fear brought on by the COVID-19 outbreak, the SRC nonetheless had a busy and successful week. On Tuesday night we had a well-attended, efficient, and politically robust Council
meeting. On Wednesday night the SRC held a banner paint for Sunday’s (now-cancelled) rally in solidarity with victims of Modhi’s fascist regime. The Environment Collective and Education Action Group both had wellattended meetings, and on Friday a small but forceful crowd gathered at Fisher library and marched to Henry Dean Plaza as part of what may well be the last climate protest for a few months. Beyond those initiatives, I attended a number of meetings with the University, including a discussion about a campaign around educational integrity and a Board of Interdisciplinary Studies meeting. I have also maintained frequent communications with the University to keep on top of their response to the COVID-19 outbreak and ensure they’re aware of student concerns. Though the next few weeks will likely see a pause in in-person activity, the need to organise politically and support students will be larger than ever. It is essential that the University prioritises safety and fairness over profits. Among other things, they must not unnecessarily delay shutting the University down past the Census date, they must make appropriate accommodations for and give compensation to students who are faultlessly disrupted, they must support staff financially, they must ensure conditions are sufficient for learning, and they must ensure that the overall experience is priced fairly. And, even more crucially, the government must respond with an urgency and thoroughness normally uncommon and difficult in a Western liberal democracy, particularly one run by self-interested anti-
through without genuinely engaging with, the latter of which is all that the University currently runs. We will be running more regular Consent 101 workshops throughout the semester as part of our work against sexual violence on campus. We believe that everyone will benefit and learn from regular consent education, and we especially encourage men to come along. In Week 4, WoCo will be running a reading group alongside the Enviro Collective to discuss ecofeminism, and why it is important to understand the intersections between environmental and
feminist activism. As a grassroots organising space, education is fundamental to our work. This reading group is the first of many that we plan to run as the year progresses. Keep an eye on our Facebook pages to find out when the reading group will be taking place and to stay in the loop for future events. We intend to run all of our educational events non-autonomously, so everyone is welcome. In more exciting news, Women’s Honi will be released in Week 8! Women’s Honi is autonomously written and produced by women and non-cis men and will reflect the anti-colonial, anti-capitalist and
intersectional feminism that WoCo stands for. If you are interested in contributing to Women’s Honi, fill out the form in the pinned post on our Facebook page. WoCo run weekly meetings at 1pm on Wednesdays and Thursdays on alternating weeks. If you want to get involved in the collective, join our Facebook group (search: USyd Women’s Collective 2020) to find out when and where our meetings are. We hope to see you there.
measures, pushed through at an opportune time in order to cut costs that management have wanted to cut for years. The Education Action Group stands in solidarity with the NTEU’s anger at these austerity measures. We have started to organise the student response to these attacks; holding organising meetings and producing an informative video which has been sent around the NTEU members, and posted on our Facebook page. We are happy to see that the University has announced
that casuals will have access to a special two weeks paid sick leave in response to the pandemic. However, we would like to see this provision extended so that all university employees have access to extra sick leave. Going forward in this health crisis we call for action that does not throw vulnerable people and precarious workers under the bus. In other news, activism has continued pretty much as per usual. Over the last few weeks we have engaged in a variety of activities and organising; Jazz spoke on a
Climate Justice Alliance forum panel, Jack spoke to the crowd at the Uni Students for Climate Justice walk off. We submitted a motion to council opposing the austerity measures management are pushing through, which passed. We have engaged in the revitalisation of the Concession Opal Card campaign, and are continuing to organise with Students Against Unpaid Placements. Follow our Facebook for more regular updates; The University of Sydney Education Action Group.”
on any of the Collective’s pages. Simultaneously, we have been organising a rally in solidarity with Muslims in India as they face increasing violence from Modi’s fascist regime. Held in front of the Indian Consulate in Sydney on Sunday, March 15th, we hope that our message of solidarity will reach those in India, especially after the recent riots in Delhi. The riots consisted of Hindu communal mob violence against
Muslims which saw fifty dead, and hundreds injured. They were a result of the ongoing developments as part of the Modi regime’s to turn India into a Hindu ethnonationalist state. If you would like to keep up to date or get in touch, you can find us on our Facebook page, Twitter, or Instagram.
N& TATIO RSE ORIENNTERCOU COU DBOOK HAN
2020
The COVID-19 outbreak remains the most pressing concern of the SRC, just as it is for the rest of society. With the number of local infections growing, and a University shutdown likely, the SRC has been quieter than usual. While there were banner paints, rallies, and even a few meetings, by the end of the week it was clear that the next few weeks, or maybe even months, would bring profound disruption to all our lives. I am seriously concerned about what the next few weeks / months will entail for people, particularly students. Universities are going to have to deal with enormous revenue and funding loss, as shutdowns, pre-Census Date deferrals, and travel bans conspire to choke the sector. This will lead to worse learning outcomes, greater financial uncertainty for staff, and significant cuts to operations and provisions. The upcoming recession will significantly reduce demand for goods and services, meaning less shifts for casual workers and limited disposable income. Countless students will be left without any source of income or safety net, with many of us employed in demandsensitive industries like hospitality, retail, tutoring, sex work, childcare, sports / activity coaching, call-centre work, and the like. Many of us will be infected, or have family and friends who will be infected, and social institutions will effectively be paused as we each siloise inside our quarantine zones. The SRC implores all students to exercise caution and to be as safe as possible in the coming weeks. Please follow all selfquarantine directives and keep up-to-date
COU COU NTER RSE
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intellectuals with a facile festishisation of small government and limited spending. More specifically, they need to take steps which defy the logic of late stage neoliberal capitalism: rents must be frozen; the government must immediately start expanding hospital capacity, establishing quarantine zones, and distributing medical products; and welfare payments (particularly Youth Allowance, Newstart, and Rent Assist) must be expanded and increased to cope with the significant decrease in shifts for casual workers and ensure citizens have basic subsistence. I have very little confidence that any, or at least enough, of these things will be done, and it is precisely this negligence which will do the most damage in this scary epoch. The SRC, at least, will do our bit to push the University and government to respond the right way, and fill the lacuna of care that their negligence will create.
Wom*n’s Officers
Vivienne Guo and Ellie Wilson Last Thursday, WoCo ran an interactive Consent 101 workshop which was facilitated by activist Holly Brooke and Kimberley Dibben, a Sexual Harassment Officer. The workshop involved discussions around the nuances of consent, coercion, and community strategies to address sexual violence. Consent education is assumed to be basic knowledge, and yet we still see incredibly high rates of sexual assaults on university campuses around Australia. Face to face education around consent and sexual violence is proven to be more effective than online modules that people can click
Education Officers
Jazzlyn Breen and Jack Mansell Over the last two weeks we have seen a rapidly changing world. With the outbreak of COVID-19, huge changes have been made to the university sector. Unfortunately, the changes that have been made are not in the interest of you, your teachers or your education. Hiring freezes, outsourcing of casual labour and other attacks on the hard won rights of university staff and academics are being pushed through in response to the economic losses caused by COVID-19. The NTEU has described these as ‘austerity’
Ethno-cultural Officers Altay Hagraber, Kedar Maddali, Virginia Meng and Anie Kandya The Autonomous Collective Against Racism has had a very busy first few weeks since we kicked off the semester. We recently attended the coronial inquest for Eric Whittaker, a 35-year-old Kamilaroi man who was killed in custody. Although the findings concluded that he was treated in a negligent manner, the inquest produced little to no productive results for Eric’s family and there was no justice to be found. Throughout the course
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of this year, we will continue working with ISJA to make sure Indigenous issues are fought for. Alongside the other Collectives, we helped raise almost $750 to go towards Indigenous families impacted by black deaths in custody through a bake sale. If you would like to contribute to the cause, a Facebook fundraiser is still running (almost reaching its goal of $2000), and can be found
SRC CASEWORK HELP STUDENTS’ REPRESENTATIVE COUNCIL, UNIVERSITY OF SYDNEY
Do you need help with CENTRELINK?
Ask the SRC! The SRC has qualified caseworkers who can assist Sydney University undergraduates with Centrelink questions and issues, including: your income, parents’ income, qualifying as independent, relationships, over-payments and more. Check out the Centelink articles on our website or book an appointment if you need more help. srcusyd.net.au/src-help/
Students’ Representative Council, University of Sydney Level 1, Wentworth Building (G01), University of Sydney NSW 2006 PO Box 794 Broadway NSW 2007
p: 02 9660 5222 e: help@src.usyd.edu.au w: srcusyd.net.au/src-help
/usydsrc @src_usyd
Do you have a legal problem? We can help you for FREE!* Police, Courts Traffic offences Immigration & Visa Fines Employment law Consumer rights ...and more
Taming Centrelink: Tips for Students
Centrelink is a difficult place to deal with at the best of times. The bureaucratic hurdles are so high that many people walk away without getting the payment they deserve. It may benefit you to know the basics on how to deal with Centrelink. Centrelink deals with thousands of people everyday, each with dozens of pieces of paper and screens of computer information to process. It is not unheard of that something might go missing, or a mistake be made. For this reason, keep copies of everything that you give them. Everything. If you have a phone conversation ask them for a receipt number. Email it to yourself and keep it until you graduate. Do this for every conversation. You will probably never need to recall that information, but if they lose one of your payments, or misplace one of the documents you have submitted and cancel your payment, or if they accuse you of being overpaid, you’ll be very glad you keep those records. The delay on getting your first payment can be months. That means a long time without money. Talk to an SRC caseworker about your options in the meantime. Centrelink workers are overworked and underpaid and sometimes not very well trained. Try to be patient with them. It is not the workers’ fault that you have to wait up to two hours just to get through to them on the phone. Plan ahead and have something else to do while you wait. The same applies when going to your local office. Always report changes in your circumstances, even if this means a reduction in your payment. This includes moving house, changes in your study load, getting a new housemate, going overseas, or changes in your relationship status. Anything that happens that you do not report can be used as a reason to give you a breach (a fine), or cut
off your payment. Make sure you keep proof (e.g., a screenshot) that you reported these changes, just in case they make a mistake in processing it. Again, you could email it to yourself for future reference. Always report income when it is earned. It does not matter to them if you’ve been paid yet or not – it’s all about when you earn the money. If you are working while studying, have a look on the SRC website for the leaflet on the Student Income Bank (Your Income: Effect on Payments). This way you can calculate how much your payment should be, so you know if they have calculated the amount correctly. If you notice any mistakes, talk to an SRC caseworker about how to address that mistake.
Always report changes in your circumstances, even if this means a reduction in your payment. This includes moving house, changes in your study load, getting a new housemate, going overseas, or changes in your relationship status. Read everything they send you. We know they send many, many letters and emails, about many, many (sometimes irrelevant) things. However, you have to read them. You are assumed to have read them when it comes to challenging Centrelink decisions in courts. If you have any questions at all about Centrelink send an email to help@src.usyd. edu.au. The SRC Casework Service is happy to offer independent, confidential advice.
Ask Abe SRC caseworker help Q&A
Tenancy: Eviction Rights
* This service is available to USYD undergraduate students.
Appointments: Call us to make a booking. p: 02 9660 5222 Drop-in sessions: No appointment required. Tuesdays & Thursdays, 1pm–3pm
Level 1, Wentworth Building (G01), University of Sydney NSW 2006 PO Box 794 Broadway NSW 2007
We have a solicitor who speaks Mandarin
法律諮詢
Hey Abe,
Hi Daphne Deposit-back-please,
I paid a two-week holding deposit on a rental property. Now the agent says the landlord wants to sell and showed me another property in the same block which I don’t like. I have asked for my deposit back but they only want to return one week’s holding deposit. Is this legal?
The agent must return the deposit back to you as the property you paid it for is no longer available. You can apply to the NSW Civil & Administrative Tribunal (NCAT) to get your full deposit back. Abe.
法律アドバイス p: 02 9660 5222 int: 12871 w: srcusyd.net.au
Thanks, Daphne Deposit-back-please,
Contact an SRC Caseworker on 02 9660 5222 or email help@src.usyd.edu.au
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Quick
PUZZLES
ACROSS 1 5 9 10 11 13 14 17 18 20 23 24 25 26
Biased (6) Residential areas (8) Final comment bringing closure (8) Doric, Ionian and Corinthian (6) Performance style associated with hip-hop (5-7) Latin prefix meaning all (4) Detached part (8) Member of a governing cabal (8) Invalid (4) Classic breakfast combo (5,3,4) Olivia Newton John & ELO smash hit collaboration (6) Group at the forefront of innovation (8) Toilet paper replacement in the Stallone classic Demolition Man (8) Disinclined (6)
DOWN
2 3 4 5
6 7 8 12 15 16 19 21 22
Retained (4) One’s prosperity (4-5) The piece of paper we come to uni for (6) Utterance following a coincidental appearance (5,2,3,5) Retreat (4,4) Historical item of interest (5) Very soon (10) Unite as one (10) Very small (9) Precious booty (8) Underlying intention (6) The national Women’s basketball team (5) Greek goddess of the rainbow lending her name to a part of the eye (4)
Target
Soduku
18 Words: In the zone 27 Words: Entranced 36 Words: Out of your mind!
Y M O S T P I H N
This Way That Way 1
2
2
3
4
ACROSS / DOWN 1 2 3 4
Evanesce Not present Stupefy Observers
3
4
Week 3 Edition Solutions Get It: Farewell
Target: Vocalists Film Quick
Cats Quick
Sudoku
Puzzles by Ms Eel Kink. Solutions next week. Crossword Society meets in the ISL at 1pm on Mondays and 3pm on Thursdays.
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THE
RODENT REVIEW Fierce, independent journalists controlled by the rats on our heads!
Underground “Sight Club” uncovered at USyd Sarah Jasem, Eyeballs Editor
Students’ overwhelming unresponsiveness in tutorials and seminars is largely due to the thriving “Sight Club”, an underground studentled staring competition, an investigation by The Rodent has found. Seminar and tutorial groups across faculties have been competing against each other during lessons via social media. The uncovering comes after years of investigative reporting by student journalist Betty, 45, who states that “Being the loudest voice in the room makes you wonder if all of the students are actually struggling. Then I noticed they were livestreaming themselves. Kind of related actually, when I left Tassie I was a monk in Malaysia for quite some ti-” This quote has been shortened for clarity. The controversial “Sight Club” is being viewed by some as a low-level cold plaguing the University for years. Vice Chancellor Michael Spence, soon resigning to publish his poetry, agrees stating: “They look like turkeys, Or big wagyu cows in drought, Oh woe is the smart.” Postgraduate lecturer Mark emotionally delivered his gratitude to the investigative team. “I don’t cry after every tutorial anymore.” Here he gestured to his skin. “More hydrated now.” Considering the alleged goal of Sight Club is that the winning seminar /tutorial group are somehow lifted up the ranks of the University’s mental health service waiting list, there is no sign of the club stopping anytime soon.
SULS cruise quarantined Ethnic parent regrets due to coronavirus outbreak forcing kid to study Nina Dillon Britton, Boats Boats Boats Editor medicine now Bob He, Mum Stop Shouting at Me Correspondent
In this issue: First human-topotato transmission of coronavirus confirmed / p. 4 North Shore teenager despondently culls 500-person party invite list / p. 10 Triple J celebrates International Women’s Day by playing Sticky Fingers again / p. 13 Biden: “How about that swine flu, huh?” / p. 19.2
First case of SAlt petition clipboard to human coronavirus transmission confirmed by the Department of Health Marlow Hurst, Trot Junior Editor
The Sydney University Law Society Cruise has been quarantined due to an outbreak of COVID-19, to the delight of everyone else on campus. Emergency supplies of boat shoes, Sydney Law jumpers and torts notes have been shipped over by NSW Health. “We’re horrified,” a SULS spokesperson told The Rodent Review. “Who could have foreseen virus spreading on a cruise ship, of all places? Especially one full of black out drunk law students fingering each other?” On board, reports emerge that things are turning dark. Militant factions of MOOTers vye for power against Clayton Utz paralegals, the two groups looking to dominate the rapidly depleting supplies of Smirnoff and smuggled on Little Fat Lamb. Appallingly, The Rodent can reveal that the University has offered Arts students $500 dollars to clean the now putrid ship. This is a “good opportunity to earn good money”, an email from Vice Chancellor Spence states. “We doubt that it is any more likely that students will contract COVID-19 on the boat than elsewhere in our infested campus.” But despite everything, many remain positive. “I have coronavirus and haven’t eaten anything except stale Doritos in two days,” one first year Arts/ Law student said, “but this is still better than that fucking SASS Welcome to Uni party.”
In a shocking twist of events, first generation migrant and local ethnic parent Min Hong expressed her regret at forcing her son David to study medicine. After pleading with her son for him to stay home instead of going to the hospital he is interning at, which has been at the centre of the Coronavirus outbreak, Hong told The Rodent that she never thought being a doctor would be so dangerous. “I always told my son that he should have studied law or engineering or even commerce but he never listened to me. And now because of his bad decision, I can’t even sleep at night.” David contradicted his mother’s claims, stating that he never wanted to study medicine, but was guilt-tripped into it after his mum told him she “wouldn’t be able to sleep at night” if he didn’t.
In an announcement that shook the world proletariat today, the University of Sydney’s Chief Medical Officer revealed that a petition clipboard pertaining to climate change was the first case of a petition clipboard to human coronavirus transfer. The Rodent is uncertain at this time if this will affect all of Eastern Avenue’s petition clipboard population, but in their statement today the Chief Medical Officer advised anyone who is easily guilted into providing contact details or has a compromised immune system to avoid Eastern Avenue entirely. Vice Chancellor Michael Spence is refusing to rule out implementing travel restrictions for political hacks attempting to travel outside of Eastern Avenue, but has strongly encouraged all SAlt petitioners to consider guilting students from home and perhaps via an online platform. Updates will be provided as the situation develops.
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