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By Emily Johnston When we were fish, it wasn’t practical to love. Fish need food, fish need to reproduce, fish need to swim, and then fish die. To bother with any sort of romance would be to willingly bump yourself down the food chain. But we aren’t fish anymore. We buy our food by the bag, we fuck for fun, we drive in fuel powered steel matchboxes and then we are shipped away to retirement homes to knit tea cosies and yell at customer service. Somewhere between fish and human, the goals got muddled, survival now sits at the bottom of a brown paper bag, between some loose fries and a Big Mac.

By VUW International Socialists / ISO Is there any point in voting in local elections?  Yes! And  let’s stay active in other ways too. Voting won’t fix all the problems we face, nor is current local government a desirable vision for working-class democracy. But it does shape the political terrain for the next three years.  The purpose of local government is to enable democracy on behalf of communities and to promote their social, economic, environmental and cultural well-being ( Local Government Act 2002 ). But what we are witnessing is the coalition government centralising power and undermining the capability of local government. How can local government structures uphold this stated purpose when democracy is under attack from above? The coalition is tightening constraints and imposing an agenda on local governments through both legislative adjustments and direct interference:  At the Local Government New Zealand July 2025 conference, central government representatives  communicated a message of council “efficiency”, a need to cut “unnecessary projects”, and a potential cap on council rates. This is despite council representatives saying they are already operating efficiently, focusing on “basics”, and spending their budget on essential services.  We can see central government interference and control efforts in the appointment of a “Crown Observer” in October 2024 by the minister for Local Government Simeon Brown. Supposedly to ensure “the council is able to function as a governing body”, this observer was appointed after the council voted to retain shares in the Wellington Airport. This was a successful campaign by Unions Wellington , a body of the Council of Trade Unions.  Another example is the coalition’s 2024 Local Government (Māori Wards) Amendment Bill , one of the many ongoing direct attacks on Māori by National, ACT, and New Zealand First. Māori wards (in councils where they have been established) effectively ensure at least one seat at the table will have been elected by Māori. This Bill is the central government imposing their agenda and disempowering communities through the forced referendum.  ACT itself has a multi-pronged approach: the party’s  46 local candidates are campaigning to “take race out of local politics“ with a “push back against ideological agendas like co-governance”, “scrapping wasteful spending”, and “lower rates”. Reading between the lines, this means anti-Māori and broader racist politics and prioritising property owners. Considering their millions of dollars in donations , and the devastating effect ACT’s presence in central government is having, this poses a very real threat to local politics across the country.   It’s important to acknowledge that the fight doesn’t end with defending Māori wards. As is the case with all government institutions under capitalism, simply defending “a seat at the table”, when that table exists to maintain the existing exploitative, racist, and capitalist system - is not enough. By solely voting, right wing and racist agitation will continue, and capitalism will remain in place. So let’s get out and vote—but more importantly, let’s get out and organise.  This piece has been adapted from   “New Zealand's Local Elections: What’s At Stake?” by Serah Allison, an article published in our magazine The Socialist  and online at https://iso.org.nz .

Te Urukeiha Tuhua (he/they/ia, Tūhoe)  “ We pray for our elected officials and for our MPs May they let themselves see the suffering and violence engulfing Gaza May their eyes be opened with compassion. ” - from   ‘Prayers of Solidarity and Lament’  On September 15 a group of priests chained themselves to the door of Nicola Willis’ Johnsonville office and stayed overnight, demanding sanctions on Israel.  Initially they sought a meeting with Willis, to ask if the government would provide a timeframe for when they would impose meaningful sanctions on Israel, recognise Palestinian statehood, and uphold international law. After being turned away and told to return another day, they chose to remain at her door in protest. “The people in Gaza don’t have another day,” said Reverend Andy Hickman.  The group of priests—five Anglican and one Catholic—held vigil and spent time in prayer. They were linked together at the wrists by chains, and intended to remain outside the office overnight. A second group comprising of Anglican and Baptist priests staged a sit-in at Simeon Brown’s office in Auckland with the same intention, and left without incident after being trespassed by police. In Johnsonville, police approached the clergy but didn’t take any action against them.  Hickman said that they received an outpouring of support from people in the community, who brought them food, blankets, and medication. “There was no one here pushing an agenda, they just cared. It was not about anyone, it was about the cause, and about aroha.”  Nicola Willis described the protest as “disruptive”, and said that it was “intimidating” to members of the public coming to her office to meet with her. However, the scene outside her office told a different story, with various members of the public approaching the priests to express gratitude for their action.  Hickman told Salient that he’d had discussions with multiple Johnsonville residents who described the list MP as hard to reach; some reported almost daily failed attempts to meet with Willis. Some expressed skepticism that Willis was ever inside her office; many said they had never seen her face. University Chaplain Reverend Mel McKenzie said that their protest aimed to be “redemptively disruptive: Disruptive, but not for the sake of causing disruption.” She mentioned the work done by organisations like Falastin Tea Collective, the attempts of the Freedom Flotilla to break the siege in Gaza, and the ongoing global conversations happening about recognising Palestinian statehood. She said that her and the other priests aimed to direct attention to these issues and push governments to take action.  “No more statements. We’ve got to push governments to make commitments, and if not then we’ll hold them accountable at the ballot box, or by more acts of civil disobedience.”  The clergy settled down for the night outside the office, still chained to the door. Throughout the night people continued to show up and offer support in various ways, some bringing hot tea and freshly baked cookies. McKenzie said they had been gifted so much food they would need to donate leftovers to a local foodbank.  The priests reported similar accounts of the night, and were touched by the amount of support they received. McKenzie described her experience, and the support she required: “[being chained] gives you that sense of really restricted movement … You rely on the help of everybody else, and if they don’t help you, you’re stuck.”  According to Hickman, a group of people had set up a Whatsapp group chat to ensure that there would always be a dozen people keeping watch over the priests so they could sleep. “We effectively had full-time security on a rotation,” he said.  “Surely this is how the world should look?” McKenzie said. “That we offer that level of care, and that when we’re really vulnerable, others should watch over us.”  At 10am the following morning the clergy held a communion service outside the office, attended by around 50 people. An invitation was extended to Willis to join them for the service. She declined.  Reverend Christopher Kirby reminded everyone to keep their focus on Palestine. He read aloud a message he’d received from a person in Gaza: “The situation is extremely dire and catastrophic. A series of violent airstrikes are hitting our people right now … Please pray.” Kirby then led the congregation in a waiata, followed by karakia and prayer.  While Willis failed to make an appearance, a caucus from the Green Party met with the clergy.  Of the priests’ actions, Green Party co-leader Marama Davidson said: “From love and a duty to the true teachings of Christ—they call for sanction, for humanity, for enduring peace through justice. I know who I would rather choose as role models for my children. Certainly not MPs who bury their heads in the sand while being apologists for genocide.”  Prior to Parliament sitting, the clergy held an extended prayer session.  “We pray that it would make the people who have the power squirm, and that they would know that there is focus on this and that the mood is shifting,” Kirby said. “We pray for sanctions, and pray for them to take action now.”  Davidson, having spoken to the priests that morning, brought a sign from the protest, reading: “Sanctions Speak Louder Than Words”, into Parliament that day. During question time she asked for Christopher Luxon’s “response to the Christian priests protesting outside Nicola Willis's office, who say ‘it is clear New Zealand is not doing all it can to intervene and put pressure on Israel to uphold international law’?” Luxon responded by citing travel bans placed on Israel’s Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich and National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, and on extremist settlers in the West Bank. From there the question was rapidly derailed by attempts to recenter Hamas, and the release of hostages.New Zealand has leveraged no financial sanctions against Israel. By contrast, we have to date sanctioned ~1,800 individuals and more than 450 Russian-affiliated companies and state bodies in response to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine—a fact noted by other members of the House during that session.  Luxon also hasn’t provided information on whether foreign minister Winston Peters will recognise Palestinian statehood at the United Nations meeting, set to take place in New York at the end of September. “We are working our way through a cabinet process to arrive at a final decision about our position.”  After 32 hours chained to Willis’ office, the priests concluded their vigil. They may have been leaving the office, but Hickman was adamant: “We’re not going away.” “None of us are going away. We’re here, we are the people, we are the community.” He said that they wouldn’t feel guilty for feeling that they’d reached their limit, and that they needed to go see their whānau and fulfil their other commitments.  The vigil ended with prayer and a closing karakia. The priests left a bouquet of flowers outside the office door, and said that their offer to meet with Willis for coffee remains open.

By Ryan Cleland “One in ten people in New Zealand live alone.” These were among the first words spoken at A Show for When You Feel Lonely , a recent solo performance by Dr. James Wenley, a senior lecturer in Theatre at Te Herenga Waka. Presented as part of the Tahi Festival of Solo Performance, the show unfolds entirely within Wenley’s own apartment — where he lives alone, one of those ten.  Lasting just over an hour, the performance draws the audience into this intimate space, which Wenley admits “rarely receives visitors.” Here, he reflects on sixteen years of living alone, interwoven with  the story of his mother, recently widowed and experiencing solitude for the first time in her seventies.  Wenley is at ease in this setting. Having premiered the show earlier in the year at the New Zealand Fringe Festival, he commands the space with the confidence of both performer and a teacher. The audience responds in kind — speaking with him, engaging in conversation, and lingering afterwards to chat or write in his guestbook. Leaving felt less than exiting a theatre and more like saying goodbye after a warm stay in an old friend’s home.  When I met Wenley to discuss the piece, I arrived flustered and late. Yet he greeted me with the same warmth that characterizes his performance. He explained that staging the show in his apartment was a deliberate choice, reflecting its themes of loneliness, connection, and his personal experience. The narrative also includes stories of his mother and the “52 Hertz whale,” often called the world’s loneliest whale.  Wenley is careful to distinguish between being alone and being lonely.  “It's not to say that living alone equals loneliness.” He tells me. “It doesn't. But it can kind of impact the experience.” His father passed away in 2023, and ever since then, his mother has lived alone for the first time. Her experience was a catalyst for the show. “I think it was looking at my mum and how her life has changed since my father, her husband, passed away.” The other central figure is the 52 Hertz whale — also known as 52-Blue — a mysterious creature whose call,  at an unusual frequency,  goes unanswered by other whales. Wenley uses this metaphor to explore how solitude can feel like calling to the void, hoping someone will hear.  Throughout the performance, Wenley reflects on the relatively recent phenomenon of living alone, noting that “living alone is a uniquely 20th-century invention.” He invites the audience to unpack stereotypes often attached to solo living — introverted, social ineptitude, or fierce independence —and how those labels shape perception. Much like 52-Blue, Wenley positions his own experience of solitude as a voice slightly outside the usual rhythms of social life — distinct, but still reaching outward in search of connection. By inviting the audiences into his private space. He mirrors the whale’s call: putting something deeply personal into the world and seeing who responds.  Music plays a central role in the performance, delivered through a single, distinctive instrument—the Omnichord. “It came out in the ’80s,” Wenley jokes, “just like I did.” This harp-like electronic instrument allows prerecorded beats and chords to be layered in real time, creating a rich, meditative soundscape. It evokes whale songs and reinforces the show’s themes of loneliness and connection. The lighting is minimal—mostly standard house lights with a few blue LEDs to suggest the ocean. Yet Wenley masterfully immerses the audience. “People have said this is the perfect instrument for someone who might be lonely,” he explains. “You can jam and make lots of really cool sounds.” The Omnichord becomes more than accompaniment—it’s a character in its own right, drawing the audience deeper into the performance. At the end of the show, Wenley presents a guestbook.  Everyone in my cohort contributed kind words, many reflecting how they felt less lonely after the performance. Wenley sees the guestbook as another space for connection. “ [Some] people don't want to share verbally or have more things that they're kind of thinking about to write in the guestbook. And every performance is unique because of the people that are in the room. And it's so cool to kind of hear other people's stories about whether they also are people that have lived alone or if there's something that they haven't really kind of thought much about in their lives so far.”  Wenley's solo performance provokes meaningful conversations around loneliness and connection.He tells me the post-show engagement is “really meaningful”. A sentiment made clear as the audience lingered and spoke—an uncommon occurrence in conventional theatre.  When I left Wenley's apartment I called my girlfriend—just to say hello.Then I called my mum. It was nice to catch up and tell them both I loved them. The show reminded me to reach out to those close to me and to always take care of the connections I have with the people who matter most to me. After all, we’re never truly alone.  The only other voice in the performance, aside from Wenley’s, was a brief audio recording of his mother. Who offered a short reflection on what to do when we feel alone. Her words were simple but heartfelt, reminding us that solitude is not permanent. Today we may feel isolated, but tomorrow—or perhaps the next day—we may not. The feeling will pass.

Nā Taipari Taua (Muriwhenua, Ngāpuhi) It’s that time of year—exams are looming, lecturers are breathing down your neck, your to-do list is starting to look like a medieval scroll. E hoa, don’t forget to look after yourself! Here are some tips to keep yourself alive this study period according to Te Whare Tapa Whā—a Māori health model developed by Sir Mason Durie. He nui ngā mahi ā-kura kia tutuki i ēnei wā. Nā tēnei āhua, kāore e kore kua pokea koe e ēnei mahi. Kaua koe e wareware kia tiaki i a koe anō. Nei rā he kupu āwhina, hei tā te Whare Tapa Whā, hei hāpai i ā koe i tēnei wā pukumahi. Taha Tinana - Physical Health Tama tū tama ora, tama noho tama mate! He nui ō mahi, kāore e kore kua roa tō noho ki tō tēpu mahi ai—kia kaha tonu te nekeneke i tō tinana. Hīkoi, torotoro, hākinakina. He pai mō te tinana, he pai mō te oranga. Staying active is so important, even though it’s so easy to get comfy and stay inside all day. I totally get it, sometimes it's tempting to just lock yourself in your room or in the library, but a quick walk or a few stretches can be a real rongoā for your energy and mood. Trust, a little movement goes a long way, and you'll feel so much better afterward! Kaingia i ngā kai hauora kia pakari ai tō tinana, ā, nā konā ka pakari te whakaoti mahi. Kia kaha te kai hauora, inarā ko ngā pēri, ngā nati, ngā hēki, te ika hoki – ērā momo kai. Try to eat well and keep your meals regular to stay fueled throughout the day. Having consistent meals helps keep your energy levels steady, so you’re not crashing mid-afternoon. Don’t forget to snack in between either! Easy things like fruit, yogurt, nuts, or even a muesli bar are perfect to keep you going. Little healthy snacks can actually help maintain your focus and mood, so you’re slaying all day long. Taha Wairua - Spiritual Wellbeing He mea nui te karakia kia tutuki pai ai ngā mahi. Kāore he mea tū atu i te karakia kia whakawātea ai te ara kia aro tika koe ki āu mahi. Ākina te mauri o ō tūpuna, o ō atua, aha raini. He karakia kei te ipurangi mēnā horekau he karakia āu. Karakia can be such a game changer for locking in. There’s nothing like a good karakia to clear your mind and your path forward so that you can focus clearly on the tasks that lie ahead. Manifest that mauri from your tūpuna, your atua, whatever source you like. If you don’t have any karakia you like there are some you can find online. He hoa haere ki te karakia, ko te whakangā. He mea pai kia whakarauora i tō mauri, kia hohou te rongo i ēnei wā kūnakunaku. Whai wāhi ki te taiao, whakarongo ki ō tino waiata, hā ki roto, hā ki waho, e hoa. Similarly to karakia, meditation can replenish your mauri and help you find peace in such a chaotic time. Spend time outside, listen to the birds, listen to some waiata, and try some breathing exercises. Taha Hinengaro - Mental Health He mea nui te whakatā mō te hinengaro. He māmā noa te taka ki te nono pukumahi mo te wā roa, heoi, ka hua ake te hēmanawatanga i te kaha pēhi i ā koe anō. Kia kaha tō whakatā, ahakoa te roa. Ina pēnei ai, ka whakatā, ā, ka whakakaha i te hinengaro. He nui ngā momo whakatā, he hīkoi, he rapu kai, he tākaro ki te wāea pea hoki. Taking breaks and resting while studying is super important for your mental health. It’s easy to get caught up in locking in for ages, but pushing yourself non-stop can lead to burnout and stress. Taking a step back, even for just a few minutes, gives your brain a chance to reset and recharge. You could grab a snack, stretch, go for a short walk, or just scroll for a bit, small breaks can actually help you focus better when you get back to it. Ko tō tino hoa i ā koe e whakaoti mahi ana ko ngā wātaka, ko ngā rārangi mahi, ko te mahere i ō haepapa. Mā te āta wāwāhi i ō haepapa, ka ngāwari ake te mārama i ngā mahi me mahia, ā, ko te āhua hoki nei ka nui ake ngā mahi ka tutuki i te mea he rārangi tāu o ngā mahi kua oti, nā, nau mai te haumāuiui. Plan your study! Make your to do lists, update your schedule, and most importantly, break everything down. It’s like chewing your workload, breaking it up into smaller pieces to make it more digestible. Breaking things down into lists makes it so much easier to understand, and you feel accomplished when you have a tangible list of tasks you’ve completed.  Taha Whānau - Social Wellbeing Kia rapu hoa koe hei mahi tahi ki tō taha. E taea ana kōrua, koutou rānei kia wānanga i ngā mahi, kia whakaniko tahi i ā koutou mahi, ā, kia tautoko koutou i a koutou anō. Kia tika tō kōwhiri hoa mahi, kei toha kōrero paki nahe koutou. Body doubling can be super helpful for when you need someone to bounce ideas off, someone to check your work, and someone to hold you accountable. Make sure you choose the right study buddy, lest you spend all your time yapping! Kia kaha hoki tō whai wāhi ki ō hoa me tō whānau. Āe, he nui o āu mahi kia mahia, hoi, kia mau ki ō hoa, ki tō whānau kia tautoko i ā koe i ēnei wā kūnakunaku. Me mahara hoki, mātāmua he tangata koe – he mea nui te whanaungatanga kia ora ai te tangata. Hold on to your friends and family. Yes, there is so much work to do, however, you have your friends and whānau there to support you, so try not to isolate yourself. Remember, you are a human before you are a student—human connection is important for your wellbeing. He aha te mea nui o tēnei ao? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata. The most important factor in every pillar of your whare tapa whā is sleep! Do yourself a favour and make sure you get enough of it, as a lack of sleep can really affect your focus, your attention span, learning, and generally every cognitive function. Kururaki! Good luck!

By Dan Moskovitz (he/him) The debacle over Wellington’s City to Sea bridge, which links civic square to the waterfront,  has been going on for a year now.  In lieu of paying for costly earthquake strengthening, Wellington City Council (WCC) announced demolition plans for the bridge at the end of the last year. Work began, only to immediately pause due to central government reviewing the earthquake building standards.  The pause was widely welcomed, as there’s huge public support for the bridge. It’s easy to see why. In a city which has lost its library, the town hall, reading cinemas, and so much more, losing another publicly accessible piece of infrastructure is just another blow. The cost of this restrengthening, and our inability to pay it, lies with previous councils prioritising low rates over investment in infrastructure. As more recent councils have played catch-up investing in the city’s pipes, roads, libraries, and bridges, and more, the result has been massive rates rises. These are tough to swallow in a cost-of-living crisis, and most mayoral candidates are running on keeping rates low.  So you’d think demolishing the bridge for a wide pedestrian crossing, which has been estimated as the cheapest option at $36 million, would be favoured by the ‘keep rates low’ candidates.  Not so. Diane Calvert, Ray Chung and Karl Tiefenbacher are the three leading center-right anti-rate mayoral candidates, and all support saving the bridge. Council officers have conservatively estimated that would cost up to $86 million.  (Mayoral front runner Andrew Little also supports keeping the bridge. However, he is not running a solely ‘keep rates low’ campaign). Considering how the aforementioned trio have all (fairly) blasted cost blowouts at other council projects, you’d think they’d have some apprehension towards funding bridge strengthening.   All three were asked why they did support keeping the bridge while running on a keep rate low campaign. All three said they lacked confidence in WCC’s numbers. This does appear to be a widely held view—even in left-wing circles—but no one is providing any other costings. These are the numbers we have.  It’s easy to see why these three and more are rallying behind the bridge. It’s a popular, beautiful, and convenient spot, and important in a pedestrian-oriented city. Demolishing the bridge will lead to short term grief and pain.  But no one is talking about how WCC officers favour building a new bridge in the long-term. Its costs have been estimated at $13 million, on top of the existing $36 million. Which is still cheaper than $86 million.  The irony of putting a pro-austerity argument in a left-wing news outlet is not lost on me. But at a certain point we have to cut costs, and our losses. Wellington is already hamstrung by huge infrastructure upgrades, like our leaky pipes. Central government support isn’t coming, and rate rises are already at record levels.  Doing nothing is not an option. If an earthquake strikes, the bridge falls, and people die, then those deaths will be the fault of the council.  So, smash the damn bridge.

“You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time”—Angela Davis For the past few months, I was having a crisis of faith. Not of the religious or spiritual kind, but that of identity. As someone who believes in kindness and goodness and every cringy ‘ you can do it! ’ motto you can think of, I felt as though I fell short. Like I was not doing enough to live by these values and beliefs. I needed to do something. Something that said: there is goodness in this world because I am doing good. It was at this time I was introduced to Home Ground. It was a Wednesday morning when I volunteered at Home Ground for the first time. Surprisingly warm on a winter's day, I hitched a ride on the 29 bus to arrive at Newtown Park Apartments, where their office resided. Inside, I was met by two other volunteers and the welcoming faces of Jacqui and Vane, the director and co-faciliator, respectively. There was art covering every inch of the walls, from crochet garments folded over chairs to papercrafts stuck to the walls, woven harakeke arranged neatly on a side table to sticky notes plastered on the windows and whiteboard. It felt like walking into art class in primary school and I cannot describe how comforting that felt. I forgot how much art was missing from my life until I walked into that room. They kindly served me a hot cup of earl grey tea as we sat around the table and made introductions. One volunteer was studying addictions counselling, the other was a burgeoning artist; I was much younger and unsure of what I wanted to do in life, but they welcomed me anyway. They discussed their expectations, the importance of our work, and set us to task. That day, we were compiling packages of art supplies with stickers, colored paper, and activity sheets. Packages which would later be sent to various women inside corrections facilities across Aotearoa.  Today, Wellington, and Aotearoa at large, face a worsening crisis as the arts and culture sector is continuously defunded, undervalued, and undercut. Where art is perceived as a frivolous and unnecessary expense in our city, it is important to remind ourselves of the importance of art in our lives and nowhere demonstrates it better than Home Ground. Home Ground is a creative wellbeing project co-founded in 2019 by Jacqui Moyes and Anita Grafton as their response to the systemic challenges women, wahine, and those who identify as  female face within the justice system. They believed in using the creative arts as a way for women to learn more about themselves, to tell their life stories; to nurture hope, social change, and help these women create better lives for themselves and future generations.  According to Jacqui, the Creative Director of Home Ground, this project truly began in university. She studied education and gender studies; during one of her criminology courses, a guest lecturer came in discussing the gender inequality found within the justice system. Inspired by this lecturer, Jacqui found herself working in men’s prisons, eventually becoming Arts in Corrections advisor at Arts Access Aotearoa, partially overseeing the national network of creative arts programmes being delivered in corrections facilities across Aotearoa.  However, much of the network was gutted under National government terms and her work experience informed her that much of the gender issue was not being addressed enough. To put it simply, men’s prisons are given more resources, economic opportunities, and support compared to women’s prisons. Additionally, men are more consistently ‘inside’ compared to women who are more transient; in and out and frequently shipped around. As a result, many support systems were built in response to the men’s static experience, instead of the women’s. This dynamic means most work within corrections facilities, and the Arts in Corrections network by proxy, was primarily male-centered and informed by male experiences. This is what led to the creation of Home Ground—Jacqui and Anita wished to provide additional support to women who have less opportunities within this system, as well as to create a place for them to belong. A place shaped and informed by their lived experiences, because: “women are in the justice system right now. Women are processing trauma right now. Children are being taken away right now.” A quote by Jacqui I still think about after our interview. This is why she does the work. This is why Home Ground is so important today.  When some of the women were moved from Rimutaka to Christchurch’s Women’s Prison, they booked multiple flights down to Christchurch so they could continue working with those women. When they send a package, they make sure to include handwritten notes in the shape of hearts addressed to each woman to tell them that someone was on the other side sending these notes.  When that package arrives, it is stuffed full of pink paper; when the institution strips the femininity away from these women, a sparkling cupcake sticker stuck to the grey cell wall helps reclaim a little of that identity back.  In the face of diminishing art funds and closed down city galleries, Home Ground continues to do the work they do because it matters. It matters for the women ‘inside’ and for them, art is not as accessible as it is for you and me. They rely on Home Ground for their resources and support. Through art, they are able to express themselves, reconnect with parts of themselves that the institution has stripped away, and be able to simply create.  In a system built on punishment, Home Ground asks the question: ‘what if there was another way?’ and makes the effort to see that question through. They are doing the work and showing the world that we don’t have to deliver ‘justice’ this way because what Home Ground does works. Many women have expressed gratitude towards Home Ground because it has changed their lives for the better. Art has helped them more than any prison cell. That is why they do the work they do. That is why we need art. That is why I am writing this article as my own love letter to Home Ground. I have not volunteered with them long but they have reignited a passion in me. For the arts, for volunteering, for doing good. Change is possible because Home Ground exists.  And I hope this article inspires you, the reader, to pick up a pen and doodle on this magazine like you did, sitting bored in class, in primary because it's not silly or distracting, it's essential. I hope it heals some forgotten part of you and maybe you’ll decide to pick up that pen or marker or crayon again because everyone should have access to art including the most disadvantaged of us.  This is not a full picture of every aspect of Home Ground or the Arts in Corrections network at large: it is only a slice. If you are at all inspired by their work, I encourage you to look into it yourself. Home Ground has some amazing resources on their website and are always open for volunteers. I highly recommend their article: How to Combat Institutionalism .  Arts Access Aotearoa also has some great resources, including their recently published guidebook: Te Ara ki Runga . Their Arts in Corrections Advisor, Neil Wallace, also runs semi-regular workshops and lessons on how to become an Arts in Corrections educator if you wish to get involved in the work more directly, as contractor or volunteer.  Now, I shall leave you with one final quote from Jacqui: “I was there once and I couldn’t do much. You gotta follow your heart and stake it in the community. That is where change happens… I’m very hopeful [about your generation].”

By Sophie Cook I look back fondly on a time when smoking was gross and pokies were cringeworthy. For years, attitudes in New Zealand have been shifting: smoking and gambling were increasingly seen as embarrassing, costly vices—on their way out for the next generation.  But in this late-stage capitalist hellscape, corporations have rebranded those curses into something we’re into. Vaping morphed from the thing your friend’s weird older brother did into something your mate pulls out in the school bathroom. I always thought smoking and vaping were gross—and yet I became that person pulling the bed away from the wall to find a missing vape.  Gambling made a similar leap: once a gag on a night out, it’s now just another thing you see on someone’s phone at pre’s. The difference? Marketing. It’s working, and it’s working hard.  Marketing in Student Culture  Student media like  Salient  and Critic  have both reported on uptake in youth gambling and the culture forming around it. The latest trend, though, is sponsorships: companies like RainBet are paying students to create TikToks and reels set in flats, lecture halls, or battered couches that look exactly like the ones we know.  These clips usually don’t carry the AD  tag or watermarks we’ve become accustomed to with influencer brand deals. They are not shiny, glamorous—or even necessarily well-made advertisements. That rawness is the point: companies know we'll trust what looks “real.” Worse, this content plays on student struggles. Can’t afford heating? Spent your last grocery money? The “solution” presented is to load up online blackjack and “win it back” or “get it free.” Some videos explicitly include the study link living costs payment on the government agency website and then using that direct amount to gamble.  It’s distressing to see that students sponsored by gambling companies are creating this sort of content, with us as the target audience. Students are already dealing with increasing financial difficulties, with rising costs of food, public transport fares, electricity and rent prices. So why are we the target?  I reached out to a handful of these accounts to ask if companies were directing them to make student-specific content. Most ignored me. A few hesitated to talk, even off the record. I’ve found at least a dozen accounts clearly run by students, openly encouraging gambling as a supposed fix for systemic poverty. Memes, Games and Other Gateways  It’s not just sponsorships. You’ve probably seen memes watermarked by companies like Stake. Occasionally the watermarks even make the joke funnier, like when a post reads: “I’m not an introvert or an extrovert… I’m a pervert.” We have become so used to perfect PR approved postings from brands that this sort of content has been like a breath of fresh air in comparison. It does irk me a little bit that they have wormed their way into meme culture, even though they aren’t the first brand to try it.  Gamers, you aren’t safe either. A study in New South Wales found that young people who bought loot boxes and played games with gambling-type features were more likely to eventually gamble in a monetary form.  It’s easy to rationalise loot crates as harmless—they’re “in game,” not “real.” But functionally they’re lotteries: chance-based, rewarding and addictive. And in some games, you can even cash out your winnings… sound familiar?  The Vape Glow-up Vaping is unfortunately a similar story. Smoking was once seen as disgusting—a gross habit that conjures up images of ruined teeth and blackened lungs. Then big tobacco regrouped and rolled out vapes: pastel devices that taste like Chuba Chubs.  Youth smoking rates were dropping thanks to years of anti-smoking campaigns and government intervention. But no one can deny that designing vapes to taste like lollies and fit discreetly in your pocket is marketing to younger people.  For me, I was able to get on board with vaping because it slipped through the cracks of taboo. It didn’t smell, didn’t require stepping outside or fumbling with a lighter. It tasted like pink lemonade. What was there to lose? That’s exactly why vaping has been able to plant itself so vehemently in our generation.  Where’s the Government?  But wait, where is the government in all this? Surely they have our best interests in mind, like usual? The government has tabled the Online Casino Gambling Bill, which will require offshore gambling companies to become licensed and operate under a set of parameters. This sounds great, however it doesn't require the minimum that New Zealand companies have to do, which is to contribute a portion of earnings to community groups as is required of sports gambling companies.  As for vaping, the government has FINALLY banned disposable vapes and made the move to ensure that vapes cannot be advertised from the view of outside of the store. This, however, does nothing for those of us who have already become addicted to/reliant on vaping…. Too Little, Too Late Here’s my tinfoil hat theory: these companies saw smoking and gambling rates falling and decided to get us while we’re young. Hook us now, and when we eventually earn money, we’ll keep spending it on their products.  One of the accounts I contacted was under investigation by the Department of Internal Affairs, and deleted soon after. That’s something , but overall the government feels permanently one step behind. Every time one loophole is closed, a new one opens. That vape in your pocket or Spinbet app in your phone is deliberately designed to be there. And in using them, we’ve become no different to the auntie glued to her pokie machine or the smokers clustered outside the RSA. It's just been repackaged and marketed to be intentionally detached from those stigmas.  Future generations will be able to acknowledge that we fell for the same schemes as our grandparents. Remember how they used to try and market cigarettes as being good for your lungs? One day, our pink-lemondade vapes might look just as absurd.   But don’t worry— I’m not blaming you. Because if I blame you,  then I have to blame myself. And god forbid.  If you or someone you know is having issues with gambling-related harm, please contact the Gambling Helpline anytime – free text 8006 or call Māori Gambling Helpline - 0800 654 656 Vai Lelei Pasifika Gambling Helpline - 0800 654 657 Youth Gambling Helpline "In Ya Face" - 0800 654 659 Gambling Debt Helpline - 0800 654 658

By Martha Schenk ( she/her) Is Turnitin really using our submissions to train its commercially generative AI? Hot on the trail of this burning question, my incendiary investigation was quickly snubbed out by the Director of Academic Development: Professor Stephen Marshall. While Marshall assured me that the universities contract with Turnitin explicitly prevents the plagiarism detection provider from utilising student work for the training of artificial intelligence systems since mid-last year, he raised another more poignant, less considered AI issue: “The biggest problem in all of this presupposes that everybody has equitable and equal access to these tools and technologies”. It turns out that, in the wake of AI’s swift inauguration to the education sector, some students are being left behind. Similarly to the introduction of personal devices like laptops in learning environments, accessibility to AI programs due to financial constraints is predicted to become a substantial issue in the coming years. “People with the resources to spend $50-$100 a month can get access to reasonably better AI tools, meaning that they use their time more productively, and the superficial qualities of what they produce in terms of writing will be better”, Marshall explained. “We know those things will have an effect on peoples’ grades, their capacity to be successful in their courses”.  Unlike the introduction of personal devices — the gradual development of which has allowed for decades of adaptation — AI is advancing at breakneck speed. “Everything’s compressed, we’re having to respond to these things much more rapidly”, was the message. This means that in today’s unprecedented technological era, swift action is required to ensure that vulnerable students are not disadvantaged in current and future educational settings. Marshall stresses that “every student should have an equal opportunity to demonstrate success in our courses” and that the university has “a responsibility as a formal education provider to provide a learning environment where that is achieved”. But what exactly is the solution?   One approach being considered is that of a revisited cyber-commons model. The university could host its own AI locally, making educational software both free and readily available for both students and staff. Marshall believes that there will be “some collective effort by the universities in New Zealand to find a way where we can have locally operated AI environments that will make it possible to put tools into courses equitably” but admits “I don’t know what that will look like yet, it’s complicated and will involve spending a lot of money”.   While this could make basic AI tools more accessible, the approach negates the imminent presence of better and more advanced outside programs that will always be purchasable by those with the resources to do so. Think, you’re sitting in lecture haggling with VicGPT, which may or may not be about to explode, while your neighbour flaunts their subscription to a program which can transcribe your lecturers’ thoughts, probably. While your classmate works away with infinite knowledge at their fingertips, your laptop is still booting up.  Worries about the environmental, employment, and ethical elements of AI use aside, the forecasted lack of equity in educational AI might seem enough to tip you over the edge. But all hope is not lost.  While many believe that artificial intelligence in education is not a matter of ‘when’, but rather ‘how’, and indeed programs like Grammarly, ChatGPT, OpenAI, Google Gemini, Duolingo, and even Kahoot! can already be considered mainstream in educational spheres, English Programme Director Dr Adam Grener says it’s important to remember that we have agency. “Part of the thing that worries me is the assumption from society, or certain leaderships, that AI introduction to learning spaces is somehow inevitable”, he explained. “Teaching is about interacting with people and ideas”, and “the more we automate things and outsource thinking, we aren’t considering the purpose of the actual university”.  Grener isn’t alone in his stance. A press release from August 1 st  published by a network of New Zealand academics working in Communication and Media Studies across Aotearoa universities claimed that “there is a tendency in our universities to be resigned to AI as an unstoppable and unquestionable technological force” and that “AI is not an inevitable technological development which must be incorporated into higher education”. Their reasoning included arguments of intellectual property theft, research integrity, student anxiety, techno-capitalism, data-sovereignty, clashes with Te Tiriti, and even data colonialism. Equity issues could just be the beginning. As AI gains traction in the educational sector, it’s vital to remember that we have the power to shape its path. Sources: ( https://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/ED2508/S00002/statement-on-ai-in-universities-from-aotearoa-communication-media-scholars-network.htm#google_vignette )

By Henry Broadbent (he/him) On Tuesday, September 23, the Academic Board of Te Herenga Waka met in the Hunter chambers. The Board—our university’s highest level of academic decision making—advises the University Council on matters from scholarship to accreditation. Members include Te Hiwa/senior leadership, all professors and deans, and seven student representatives (from the student exec), and it is convened by Nic Smith, the Vice Chancellor. It meets monthly, with varied attendance from members, and typically little to no attendance from the student body; the fare is often dry (though not unimportant). Last Tuesday’s historic meeting broke that mould. The public gallery was full to standing-room with staff and students, many holding placards and wearing keffiyeh; the testimony of Board members was personal, direct, and often moving.  The cause of this display of public support and emotion was the successful motion—passed by an overwhelming majority: 55 in favour and one abstenstion—to ensure boycott of and divestment from Israel, for their ongoing genocide against Palestine, is placed into policy at our university.  Driven by Student Justice for Palestine (SJP), the successful vote means the University has now been directed, by the Board, not to build ties or collaborate with any Israeli academic institutions, nor to engage with institutions known to be researching military technologies. SJP hopes that, by forestalling the possibility of academic collaboration, Te Herenga Waka can do its part to pressure Israel to comply with international law, and respect Palestinian rights.  Now, and for as long as the scholastacide and genocide in Palestine continues—should the university fully implement these objectives—Israeli research institutions can not be legitimised by partnerships with our university.   The success of the motion was far from a foregone conclusion. Ayah, an organiser from SJP, told Salient “it was really gratifying to have such a warm reception from everyone”, describing anxiety during the vote count, and “a huge moment of relief when that was read out.” Ethan Rogacion, VUWSA Academic VP, who observed the vote count, echoed this, saying “it was just incredibly moving to be going through that pile of paper and just keep adding and adding and adding to the ‘yes’ pile.” It is clear that the events of Tuesday's unprecedented board meeting were a success for SJP; it seems the meeting was also a much needed place for solidarity and care between staff and students at what is an incredibly distressing time. Rogacion described “a sense of community between students and academics” forming on the day, all those present aligned by a deep sense of empathy and compassion, and an awareness of injustice—academics on the day found it entirely appropriate to speak emotionally on the genocide in Gaza, in deeply personal kōrero.  Testimony from the Board, by all accounts, was affecting. Professor of Health Annemarie Jutel was among Board members who spoke passionately of their perspectives as Jewish academics; Jutel discussed the loss of family members to the Holocaust, and how that fact drove her to stand up against present genocide. Whole school endorsements were provided by the heads of schools, like Rewi Newnham, Head of the School of Science in Society, and Mike Ross, Head of Te Kawa a Māui. Tears were shed by Board members and those in the public gallery alike, across an hour of moving submissions. Universally, academics and board members stressed the importance of the fact the motion was brought before the board by students, and showed a genuine pride in the student body.  Despite the wins of the day, it is clear this is merely a first step. A clause in the motion advising the University Council to “divest from corporations known to be complicit in Israel’s violations of Palestinian human rights … and pledge not to enter into new agreements” was removed by the office of the Vice Chancellor. This action was taken on advice from Legal Services (and a second opinion from Buddle Finlay) that financial matters such as the University Foundation lie outside the remit of the Academic Board. The removal of this clause was argued against by student representatives on Tuesday, but was ultimately accepted after liaison with SJP.  A possible future avenue for discussions around ongoing divestment may be the Finance Committee of University Council.  Further, a clause advising the council to endorse “the use of boycott, [and] divestment” was similarly removed. Concrete commitments are also needed with regards to supporting at-risk Palestinian scholars (though there is clearly a desire to do so, and suggestions were heard at the meeting).  Tuesday marked a powerful expression of solidarity with Palestine, spearheaded by students and passed with the full support of the Academic Board. It is a historic chapter in the history of our university; it is also just a beginning. This is not a salve for our collective conscience—it is a call to action. Let the backing of your institution give you even more drive; don’t stop showing up for a free Palestine.

Dating in Wellington Sucks By Georgia Wearing It’s nearly post-break-up season in Wellington — that time of year where warmer days and later sunsets allow for more time to swipe, go on dates and imagine the potential for a hot summer fling. If you’ve survived break-up season, I commend you. If you haven’t, brace yourself: dating in Wellington sucks.  It’s truly an amalgamation of factors: the city’s large student population is still figuring out what they want — lexperimenting, navigating attachment styles,, and surviving the trenches of situationships. Wellington’s“intimate” nature means you can’t walk down Cuba Street or show up at San Fran’s weekly Eyegum without bumping into someone you know. Word travels like wildfire. A date,  a DM, a dancefloor makeout —nothing goes  unnoticed. And with so little happening, conversations often circle back to the same tired topics, including the gritty details of your relationship with a stranger at a house party.   From workplace friend groups that rotate romantic partners,  to flatmates who can’t resist hooking up, to the mutuals and crossovers that span every niche and social circle —the overlap is relentless. Want proof? Here are some testimonies.  Arlo* says the hospitality industry can’t seem to function unless there’s at least a couple people hooking up on the downlow. “You go out for drinks with your coworkers and then the next minute one of them is in your bed,” she says. “It’s awkward for the first shift back, but hospo moves so fast that other staff will start hooking up and everyone will move on to talking about them.”  Jay* describes dating in Wellington’s LGBTQ+ scene as being full of overlap. “I’ve noticed that whenever you follow someone you’re interested in, you’ll have five plus mutuals and they are all people you’ve been talking to or had a thing with.” — “With everyone knowing everyone, you can’t have something lowkey, which sucks because it’d be nice to go out with someone and if things end badly, not have literally every uni student finds out.”  V* has had a similar experience: “In my early uni years, my friends and I talked about the cities’ queer dating scene being an 'incest circle', everyone you date has dated someone you know already, and so many dates ended up with one-sided or mutual ghosting!”  Dahlia* found the scene frustrating. “I struggled with getting ghosted, which sucks because I am so sexy! But I also did a lot of ghosting too, I think everyone in the cool tier of the dating apps have inflated egos because there’s a lot of meh and weird around.”  So there are other options, sure but most daters don’t want them. If you can ghost, you ghost. If you can’t, it’s because that person is in your immediate circle and the fallout is inevitable. And if you do ghost someone, expect punishment: like  passing them on Cuba street and having to pretend to be so engrossed in your phone that you don’t see them.  When I was in the dating scene, it felt like war. I can’t even begin to count the  “Hey girly. DM’s I got. Friends sacrificed our friendship to  hook up with someone I was actively seeing or had history with. I’ve comforted girls locked in party bathrooms crying over the paradox of friends sleeping with each other. Some were ousted from their friend groups entirely for not playing along.  And if I could humbly extend one piece of advice: don’t date musicians.  The local music scene in Wellington is incredible and so full of talent…anyway. A musician I interviewed for this piece put it best:  “As someone in the music industry, the best piece of advice I could ever give to anyone is don’t! Don’t date in the music industry.’  I’ve dated or “fooled around” with eight musicians. Only one turned into a good relationship. The bleeding hearts, the tortured underdog artistiques glowing under stage lights — they always seem to scan the crowd for something better. (IMO, skip the ones near the front of the stage and pursue the drummer. Your odds of having your heart broken are slightly lower).  Dating in a small city does have its perks. If you’re cheating, your secrets are not going to stay secret for long.  Thalia* recalls discovering she was dating the same guy as another girl. “I’d just started dating a member of a band. I went to one of his gigs and noticed he was talking to another girl quite a lot, but I assumed they were friends. But then I saw her at the next gig I went to and bumped into her in the bathroom. I asked her who she was there to see, and she revealed she was dating the same guy I was! He saw us moshing together afterwards and asked to see me  at the bar later, but I just walked out. My only regret was not telling the girl we were actually dating the same guy!” Millie* admitted she got caught out quickly. “I was in a pretty bad relationship, bumped into my crush on the Ivy dancefloor and just went for it. I kid you not, the next morning, word had already got around. Serves me right for letting a couple of tequila sunrises convince me I could get away with anything.”  In Wellington, you never run out of gossip. Whether it’s beating a dead horse or hearing the gritty details of a stranger's relationship at a house party, it’s the gift that keeps on giving — whether you like it or not.  There’s nothing wrong with casual dating; hell, it’s my preferred style of dating, but in a small city, it’s inevitable for things to get messy.   Still, dating in Wellington doesn't have to suck. You don’t need to settle for the bare minimum or fish from your immediate friend group or workplace. That chance to hook up with your friend’s ex or crush? It’s not worth the fallout. Wait until your relationship is over —or, actually, open—before making out with whoever you want.  Because in Wellington, everyone knows everyone, whether you like it or not.  *Names have been changed for anonymity

Student Justice for Palestine Pōneke CW: Genocide, Crimes Against Humanity Israel’s genocide in Gaza is fast approaching the two-year mark. As we watch the mounting horrors—the mass killing, the starvation, the occupation—through our screens, it is easy to feel hopeless. It is easy to be convinced that there is nothing that can be done when a genocidal state is given impunity, despite a global popular movement in support of the Palestinian cause. But we must not let our anger and disbelief become apathy.  The struggle for Palestinian liberation has been going on for decades, and its leaders past and present have articulated many modes of solidarity. One of these is BDS: an effective and accessible way to make a material difference. What is BDS? “Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) is a Palestinian-led movement for freedom, justice and equality. BDS upholds the simple principle that Palestinians are entitled to the same rights as the rest of humanity.” What is BDS?, from bdsmovement.net The BDS call comes from a coalition of Palestinian civil society organisations, asking individuals, businesses, institutions, and states to boycott, divest from, and sanction Israel. These non-violent actions apply economic and cultural pressure on Israel to end its reign of apartheid of the Palestinian people and comply with international law. BDS and the University BDS requires scale to be effective. That means buy-in from all levels, from individuals to states.  Targeted consumer boycotts with mass buy-in can be effective—check out @bdsaotearoa on Instagram or bdsaotearoa.nz  for a guide on local targeted boycotts. Leveraging our affiliation to institutions can allow for even more powerful BDS action. Last year, SJP Pōneke led a successful campaign urging Te Herenga Waka to divest the ~$50,000 worth of Israeli Government bonds it held in its investment portfolio. It is imperative that the university treats this move away from complicity in war crimes as a commitment, rather than a single action. To do so, the university can adopt a formalised policy to adhere to the BDS guidelines in its investment and procurements.  Beyond severing their financial ties to Israeli war crimes and apartheid, universities have an important role to play in the cultural and academic boycott of Israel. Israeli universities are a key component in legitimizing and serving Israel’s military and settler-colonial interests. The BDS movement specifically calls on academics and universities not to form collaborations with Israeli universities. This doesn’t mean discriminating against academics with Israeli nationality, but severing institutional ties that serve to enable Israel as an occupying force.  Aren’t Universities Supposed to be Politically Neutral? The BDS movement highlights that complicity in occupation is an active choice. This means that there is no politically neutral position for a university to take: either it leaves the door open to having financial and academic ties to Israel, or it makes a commitment to reject complicity in genocide. The University of Canterbury’s Academic Board passed a motion advising UC governance to divest from and disclose affiliations with companies or organisations complicit in Israel’s violations of international law, and suspend any academic or cultural collaborations with Israeli universities. Victoria’s Academic Board can—and must—do the same. What Can Students Do? This Tuesday, Te Herenga Waka’s Academic Board will vote on a motion to endorse BDS at the university. The motion includes a directive to the university’s governance to divest   from Israel and any companies aiding in human rights abuses and suspend   relationships with Israeli institutions.  Students can’t vote on the Academic Board, but we can be a visual presence to hold academics accountable.  ACT NOW: Show your support for the Academic Board motion by attending the meeting in person. Come to the Hunter Council Chambers at 1pm on Tuesday, September 23rd to show your support for the motion. Participate in the Global Financial Strike for Gaza: spend no money on any Thursday  to send a message to global markets that the genocide must end. See  Email MPs urging them to support Chloë Swarbrick’s Bill To Sanction Unlawful Occupation of Palestine