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The mark of a great athlete is his technique. His skill. His championship wins. The mark of a great female athlete is how much scrutiny she faces. How often she’s used for clickbait headlines. How expensive her athleisure wear is. Think about the best female athletes you know: Serena Williams, Simone Biles, Tonya Harding, Alysa Liu. Every single one of them has something in common, and it’s not just the incredibly lengthy hours of work put into their craft. It’s the intense pressure placed upon them. This pressure doesn’t feel like the kind that comes from people wanting you to do well. Rather, it feels like a demand to go above and beyond whatever their male counterparts are doing. For women, the bare minimum is a man’s best. It’s not just the expectations, or countless critiques. It’s astounding how consistently female athletes are told how they should behave, or what they can do to appear more palatable to a wider sports audience. Serena Williams, one of the most accomplished tennis players of all time, has received criticism her entire career for being “aggressive” or “too loud”—things that tennis star Nick Kyrgios is known and often loved for. For Kyrgios, it’s entertaining. It’s part of his charm, what makes him annoyingly lovable. For Williams, it’s unsightly. Novak Djokovic can smash a racket all he wants, and it’s framed as a healthy release of male anger. If Naomi Osaka does the same, she’s hysterical, letting her emotions get the better of her. Male athletes need all the mental health support they can get, since it’s still not talked about. It’s taboo for a man to feel his feelings, so the resources need to be there should they want them. For women, however, the message is different: suck it up. Take, for example, Simone Biles: the most decorated gymnast in history. What is one of the first things that comes up when you search her name? “Simone Biles husband.’ In fact, in a 2023 interview her husband Jonathan Owens stated that he was the “catch” in their relationship and that he had no idea who Biles was before they started dating. The influx of Google searches about Jonathan Owens that followed were mostly due to the fact people had no idea of who he was. One person stated that if Biles’ name had not been in the headline, they wouldn’t have known why the situation—or Owens—was relevant at all. Biles’ determination stops at nothing, especially not for jealous—even if unconsciously so—partners. There is only so much a woman can achieve before, somehow, we are led back to the idea that there must be a man behind her success. Sure, her husband is an okay NFL player, but the idea that the Simone Biles must have his support to thank for her own grit and determination is bizarre. I speak about her determination specifically because another common search auto-fill result is “Simone Biles documentary.” Her documentary details her rise to multiple championship wins, then her so-called “fall from grace” and finally, her comeback. This fall from grace? A much needed mental health break in 2020. After becoming the first gymnast to qualify for all six gymnastic medal events at the Tokyo Olympics, she decided to step down to take care of her mental health. She was greeted by a global response calling her selfish and a disappointment to the American Olympic team. Just goes to show that even 30 World Championship medals—all but seven of them gold—and 11 Olympic medals aren’t enough to earn a woman the grace to take a break. It’s not fair, and it hasn’t been fair in the history of… well, ever. I sat down with Wellington Blaze player Hannah Francis to talk about how female cricket players are treated compared to their male counterparts. “People are always harping on about the difference in standard between the men’s and women’s games in New Zealand,” Francis says, referring to comments on social media. “But the men’s team are fully paid athletes. The women are only semi-professional. To make a living, we still have to study and work alongside our cricket, meaning we don’t have all day to train like the men are able to.” There has always been a big difference in paying male and female athletes. This is no different in New Zealand. Female cricket players at the top of their league will likely still be paid less than the lowest-ranked male cricket player. “Spectators don’t realise that. [Their comments are] harsh as women’s cricket is on the rise in New Zealand and the leaps and bounds being made in the major associations at the moment are great to be a part of. Considering the difference in time and resources between the two games, I’d say the women do a great job, and it would be nice for [the public] to appreciate this too.” World Indoor Cricket Federation Player Bree James and I also discussed the behaviours enabled by men, for men, in the sport. Why is it that the men’s locker room has so many holes in its walls—holes that become the entire organisation’s problem to fix? It’s not the women doing that. Maybe the people we don’t usually think to blame are the ones getting hysterical? James agrees with a laugh, talking about how it’s not the women who are in “cricket court.” My ears perk up, and I scribble something down that I wanted to delve into anyway: disciplinary action in cricket. Every sport has a code of conduct, and most often, it is brought back up after an incident that needs addressing. I’m talking, kindly, about things like male cricket players losing their tempers and getting into fights on the pitch. In November of 2025, the NZ Herald reported on a social cricket game that quickly turned violent, with players smashing cricket bats into each other after a disagreement with an umpire’s call. Cricket Wellington had to contact the clubs involved to find out exactly what had happened and know how to proceed. It’s interesting to see the contrast in the frequency of disciplinary processes involving men and women in sport—especially when women are so often the ones accused of being too emotional, too dramatic, or too difficult to manage. “Most of the time you have two umpires, but sometimes they don’t have enough so they [only] send one,” James says. “The women’s team mostly gets one umpire, but the men’s teams always need two… because they’re mean to the umpires.” Who are we calling hysterical? It feels to me like the reason men in sport need more resources is because they need babysitting. What’s up with that? “Whenever the women’s team bowls a wide, the reaction is always, ‘they must be shit’, " James says. “And then if a guy bowls a wide, it’s all ‘oh my goodness, they’re bowling so fast… it’s okay, they’ll get the next one.’” It all feels like protecting the men’s feelings, making sure none of them are hurt on or off the cricket pitch. You don’t get the same level of care for the women’s teams, so you’ll have to forgive me for being a bit callous here. “At the moment, when we're playing outdoor cricket, men and women’s teams play at the same time. But the men’s teams tend to get covers before us.” Covers are the tarpaulins put over the pitch when it rains. It’s not really something that should be gendered, but maybe something that a “better” team would get priority for. Do the men’s teams get first pick because they’re the better, or because they’re used to a little more princess treatment than everyone else? “Once I asked, ‘where are the covers, the pitch is so wet’,” James says. “And they told me the Premier Reserves took them. And I was like, ‘why did the Premier Reserves take them, they’re below us?’” “It just feels like they get priority,” she says. “Each club gets a home ground, and if you’re in the top team, you’re more likely to have access to the top pitch. The men’s team got that pitch for six weekends, and we got it once.” I sit with this for a second. I mean if it’s for top teams… maybe the men’s team was just better? “Well, no,” James says. “They actually got dropped down a grade.” It would be one thing if this was just about covers, or pitches, or how many umpires get sent to a game. But the smaller inequities start to add up, and eventually they reveal something bigger: women’s teams are constantly asked to prove they deserve the basics, while men’s teams are handed them as standard. That attitude does not stay in the scheduling spreadsheet or the gear shed. It follows women into the clubrooms, onto the pitch, and into the way male players feel entitled to speak to them. A male cricketer once walked up to James out of the blue to say, “You guys are shit.” He was referring to the female players who were in the World Cup team, preparing to represent New Zealand. How much more can female athletes do to ensure a safe and even playing field for themselves? Even when they’re doing better than the men? That’s the most exhausting. After training longer, working harder, accepting that the conditions are worse than your male peers—after all of that, they must smile politely and be civil when questioned whether they belong there at all. They do belong there. They have always belonged there. The problem is not that women’s sport needs to prove itself worthy of respect. The problem is that respect is still being treated like something women have to earn, medal by medal, headline by headline, while men are handed it before they even walk onto the field.

Hunk Unc: Last year I told my friend I had feelings for them and they told me they didn't feel that way about me, I believed I had moved on and recently realised I still have those feelings and hate myself for it, I'm not sure what I should do. Students, today your Unc is pairing up two emotionally shipwrecked souls with the same issue in different fonts. One of you confessed feelings, got rejected, thought you’d moved on, and then your heart did the deeply rude thing of circling back for a second lap. The other has fallen for a neighbour who is also a good friend and, for whatever reason, is off-limits. So today we’re talking about unrequited love. But here’s the thing: you do not need to hate yourself for having feelings. Feelings are not crimes. They’re not assignments you failed. They’re not evidence that you’re weak or pathetic. They’re just feelings. Annoying, inconvenient, badly timed feelings. The trick is not to avoid them. To get over someone, you usually have to go through it, not around it. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be embarrassed. Let yourself have the occasional pathetic little moment. Then get up, drink some water, and do not text them hoping for things to change. Unrequited love is painful because it leaves a gap. There’s you, there’s them, and then there’s this imaginary relationship in your head that never actually got stress-tested in the real world. You know the charming version of them. The good friend version. The neighbour-over-the-fence version. The person who smiles nicely, says the right thing, and makes your brain go, “Ah yes, this is my soulmate, obviously.” But you don’t know the full box. You’re only seeing a few sides. Maybe they’re lovely to you but terrible at communicating. Maybe they’re cute across the fence but have breath that could curl wallpaper. Maybe they seem perfect because you’ve never had to argue with them about dishes, money, jealousy, family, or why they think putting wet towels on the bed is acceptable. So part one is this: stop treating the fantasy version of them like it’s the truth. You don’t actually know what being with them would be like. You know the idea of it. And the idea is what hurts the most. Part two is even more annoying, but more useful: you already have your answer. One of you was rejected. The other can’t be with them. That is closure. Their answer, or the situation, has drawn the line for you. Your job now is to stop trying to negotiate with the line. That means creating a bit of distance where you can. Mute the stories if you need to. Stop engineering little run-ins. Don’t keep checking for signs. Don’t look for breadcrumbs in every friendly message. You are trying to heal, not gather evidence for a case that has already been dismissed. And please, for the love of all emotionally fragile students, do not beat yourself up because the feelings came back. Sometimes moving on is not a clean exit. Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, and one weird dream that ruins your whole morning. Feel the feelings. Accept the answer. Give the fantasy less oxygen. Put your attention back into your own life until, eventually, they stop being an unrequited crush, and just become something you look back on occasionally and go “I’m glad I moved on from that.”

Connections Answers: First Connection Insult: Jerk, Chump, Sap, Stooge Second Connection Ways to interlace strands: Lace, Plait, Braid, Weave Third Connection Public open areas: Plaza, Square, Mall, Court Fourth Connection Last names famous actresses: Knightley, Robbie, Stone, Weaver

They Got It Right This Year (Almost)! Ah, the Ockhams. Or, as Susanna Andrew coined last year, the “Shock-’ems”! Her point was not just that there’s something a little weird and very milk-loving-Briscoes-sale-deck-furniture-Kiwi about our national book awards being sponsored by a massive construction company. Nor was it just that her pick for the fiction award didn’t make the shortlist—though that was true, too. She also thought that, in an industry as small as New Zealand books, it was so unfair that great, steadily-selling books could be passed over, seemingly on a whim, by the awards’ panels of (let’s be honest now) dubiously qualified judges: moreover, by panels whose makeups change every year. A new New Zealand novel might spend a few weeks in storefront displays at bookstores; then it will pass into its section, alphabetised by author’s surname on the shelf; and if it makes the Ockham longlist, perhaps it’ll have another surge in sales and interest; once the longlist is culled into the shortlist, though, half of those novels will be filed away again in their sections; and once the winner is announced, and we have a shiny new book to add to our canon, it’ll be only a few months later that most of what was written here that year, by us and about us and for us, will be falling quickly into obscurity, falling quickly out of print. Of course, the Shock-’ems aren’t to blame, really. It’s no controversy to say that New Zealand doesn’t have a strong reading culture, and that, as our government continues to slash arts, culture, and education funding, our taste for the local—literature, film, TV, music, and so on—becomes admonished by the so-called “market choice” for convenient globalised streaming services like Netflix and Spotify. Look, I’m no elitist, but in the face of such Neoliberal disgrace, you’ll find me happily afloat in my increasingly-niche bubble of “those who read contemporary New Zealand literature.” We’re okay by ourselves—but we want you to join us, dear reader. Earlier I mentioned that the panels of judges—about three per category (poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and illustrated non-fiction; with corresponding “Best First Book” awards given out in each category as well)—change every year. And that’s another difficulty with the awards: their unpredictability. There isn’t really Ockham-bait in the same way that there’s Oscar-bait (although me and my writer friends often joke about it). I’m in two minds about this unpredictability, as on the one hand, looking at a glance across the years, it seems to produce a spread of winners reflective of the diversity in style and content in our literature. On the other hand, there are some really odd picks. And, looking within the years at those writers who were shortlisted, longlisted, or passed over completely, you might find yourself raising an eyebrow at the choices. To get back to Andrew’s point, though, if we direct our frustration at the winners, that feels misjudged and unproductive. We don’t need to phrase it in the negative: it’s not that so-and-so shouldn’t have won, it’s that—holy shit!—we’ve had so many other absolutely stellar local books released this year. And it’s such a shame that that other honours system in the book trade, that of commercial success, isn’t alive and well enough in our country to balance out the choosy awards system. Well, all that being said, I actually reckon the picks this year were pretty good! Here are a few Wellington-specific highlights... and snubs! SUBHEADING Big Wins for Te Herenga Waka University Press (THWUP) Once again our most excellent university and its most excellent press has come out with some truly well-deserved wins. But first, I’m ashamed to say I haven’t read any Ingrid Horrocks, a poet and essayist whose first work of fiction, a collection of short stories called All Her Lives, won the big award of the night: the fiction prize, dubbed the “Acorn” for the name of its sponsor. Judges call her book “Elegant, probing [...] Emotionally intelligent and historically alert,” which is also what my ex-boyfriend called me when he dumped my ass last year, so I reckon this book is for me. THWUP also took home the poetry award with Nafanua Purcell Kersel’s strong debut collection, Black Sugarcane. The poetry is deeply lyrical—it craves being spoken—and yet it also trades in abruptness and hesitation in its streak of poems that remember the 2009 earthquake and tsunami that devastated Samoa. Challenge and difficulty and unvoiceability has an important place in New Zealand poetry, especially poetry that, on our colonised land, needs to account for racial, sexual, or gendered difference—but still I find it so refreshing to hear from a poet who encourages us, in the verbal qualities of her work but also, y’know, in a recent Spinoff interview, to read out loud! And last but certainly not least, beloved writing teacher Tina Makereti took home the non-fiction award for This Compulsion in Us. Best known as a novelist, the judges say that Makereti’s foray into essay-writing here renders an “alternative memoir of one person’s discoveries about her whakapapa and childhood family, and her place in national society and within Māori literature.” SUBHEADING Snubbed! Wellington is currently producing our country’s most significant, accomplished, and widely-read poetry. Three very excellent Wellington poets (full disclosure: I also know them socially) didn’t even make the longlist. If I’m being optimistic, I guess that just says how strong poetry in New Zealand is, that there are so many titles worth your attention alongside the chosen longlist. But really I just think of these snubs as errors. Kate Camp’s Makeshift Seasons will be familiar to readers of this column already. Camp’s a poet of quiet observation and first thought: here’s the world as it comes into contact with her steady mind. But she’s intellectually a lot heavier than the lightness of her touch would suggest, and I don’t know if readers yet have accounted for the metaphysical tilt in her work that this latest book in particular tracks (not to over-egg it, but sometimes I honestly catch flashes of the Keats of 1819). Meanwhile, Cadence Chung’s Mad Diva, a campy romp through the “mad” women of myth and opera past, shows its author’s voice come to first full articulation—Chung has been publishing pretty consistently since she was a tween, but Mad Diva is no accident or bout of beginner’s luck: it’s the result of good and hard work. Nick Ascroft is a cheeky craftsman, a bit of a wordsmith, a dodgy rhymer (and a scrabble champion!). But don’t underestimate his new book, It’s What He Would’ve Wanted, that teases in signature Ascroft lyrics and listicles none other than death itself, a longtime preoccupation, of, well, us all!

It was a dramatic afternoon in the offices of the student magazine Salient, as staff gathered for the final news meeting of the trimester. What was expected to be a routine wrap-up quickly turned tense after senior news writer Ryan Cleland announced his departure from the publication following an alleged disagreement with co-worker Martha Schenk. According to several students present at the meeting, discussions became increasingly heated while the news team debated coverage priorities for the upcoming issue. Witnesses described a “tense atmosphere” as disagreements came to a head, with Schenk reportedly telling Cleland once more, “All you do is look at men's balls! Is that really worth our student levies?” An angered Cleland allegedly responded “It was testicular cancer awareness!” before getting up and leaving the room. “I came here to write stories that mattered,” Cleland told The Horses Mouth. “But lately it feels more like a battleground than a newsroom. And don’t even get me started on our editor, Phoebe Robertson. She just won’t leave the place. And, she’s got VUWSA CEO Matthew Tucker in her back pocket.” The statement was met with silence from much of the editorial team, though several staff members later described the moment as “inevitable,” citing growing tensions behind the scenes. Dan Moskovitz, another member of the news team, told The Horses Mouth: “It all went downhill once Ryan left our think tank and interviewed those darn Bolsheviks.” It is alleged, by other Salient staff writers, that the two of them ran a conservative think tank in their spare time as a way to reportedly “dewoke student news.” “He went all red on me,” Moskovitz continued. Schenk reportedly denied any claim on pushing Cleland out of the publication telling The Horses Mouth “I thought he was going on exchange? Isn’t he going to Canada?” Cleland initially denied the claim. However, upon asking for clarification from Wellington Global Exchange, The Horses Mouth can confirm that he is registered to spend the second trimester in Halifax, Canada. Rumour has it Clelands leaving is merely a ploy by Salient to drum up publicity through dispute—similarly to how VUWSA treats those who complain about their social media strategy. Upon request, Salient editor Phoebe Robertson told The Horses Mouth “Why are you writing a piece about your own leaving? Can you please just do some proper journalism for once?” What that cryptic message meant remains to be seen.

For the past couple of months, I have been on a personal crusade. No, not to get the window fixed in the Salient office (but it was nice that that happened). No, not to victimise VUWSA with overly researched and pedantic hit pieces (but that scratched an itch in my brain I haven’t felt since my last Salient survey). No, my crusade has arguably benefitted students much less: to bring back Bacon Buttys at the Hunter Lounge. Picture this: two thick, crispy slabs of sourdough bread, a bed of tomato chutney, and, on top of it, fresh rocket, salt, pepper, and freshly cooked bacon. All of this on top of a small mountain of fries, served between classes, after exams, to the struggling, sleep-deprived students at Te Herenga Waka. This glorious, beautifully crisp and golden-brown, absolutely not vegetarian-friendly dish has been ripped away by the powers of the Hunter Lounge. When I asked Jack Barber, owner of the Hunter Lounge, why it had been taken from us, I was met by, firstly, surprise that I was actually audio-recording so it would be on record, and secondly, the dreaded journalistic phrase that stops investigations in their tracks: “No comment.” Heartbroken. So, I put up a poll on Salient’s Instagram. Surely, I couldn’t be the only one missing this glorious morsel. And I found this: when polled, 90% of students thought that the Hunter Lounge should bring back the Bacon Butty. That’s 99 individual students. Only 11 said no! Then, I thought that I wasn’t thinking large enough. First-years this year wouldn’t know what a Bacon Butty is. So I did another poll, asking students if the Hunter Lounge sold Bacon Buttys, would they buy one? 112 students said yes. That was 85% of respondents. Now, I am not brash enough to assume that every single student who answered our social media survey would buy one. We are in a cost of living crisis, after all. Though, I think I would trade my position as Editor for a Bacon Butty if someone wanted to offer me that option. But those who responded to our polls were passionate: one anonymous student said the lack of buttys made them “question if God really loves us,” another said, “having just come to Vic I am offended at the removal of a classic that I was unaware existed,” another, our sub-editor, suggested the slogan “#sluttyforthebutty,” which I have taken on the campaign trail wholeheartedly. But what are words with no action? What is text, shouting into the void in hunger, without asking for real change? On 24 April, VUWSA hosted their Drugs Quiz, and guess who was the host? None other than me, your Editor-in-Chief. And you know what I did? I hijacked the quiz that was an educational platform about decriminalising drugs, and turned it into my own personal agenda: to get the Bacon Buttys back. Have you ever been in a room of students, all yelling in time “SluttyfortheButty”? Oh, it was glorious. One of the best moments in my life. A moment which was only beaten when, nearing the end of the quiz, and nearing the end of my jug of Hunter Lager, something came out of the kitchen… It was as if a golden light had come down from the gods above and onto the bar at that very moment. I was brought: a real-life Bacon Butty. I swear, I got two bites of that thing before my friends descended on it like hungry seagulls. At least four people ate that butty, everyone wanted a try, and no one was disappointed. You can see the genuine elation on my face in the photos below (when the butty was intact and freshly served). I write this now, not to run a victory lap over all 112 of you students who did not get a butty, but to call, once more, for collective action. Please, when you’re next in the Hunter Lounge, ask for Jack at the bar, and plead, beg, bargain, do whatever you have to do to get these buttys back on the menu. Together, we can make collective change. Together, we can bring back the butty.

Salient has been a driving force on campus since 1938, and has become a fixture of student life. From infamously helping collect VUWSA funds for both the Viet Cong and South Vietnam in 1972, to setting up the somehow more controversial “Lundy 500” in 2009 where teams of vehicles travelled from Petone to Palmerston North in an attempt to recreate Mark Lundy’s alleged timeline of the infamous Lundy murders, Salient has had its fair share of tumultuous history. Throughout that time, we’ve always had an editor at the helm. Take our lovely Phoebe Robertson, for example, in her third year as editor of Salient. As noted in our ‘Choose your Fighter” Instagram post, she pretty much has a Bachelors in Salient. But long before Phoebe, editors were already cementing Salient’s reputation for boldness and controversy. One standout figure is Bill Logan, the 1968 editor, who took charge of the then-newspaper during a period of global unrest and student activism. I came to Logan’s apartment on a Tuesday. He let me into a house filled with a life lived. Portraits of him and his partner lined the walls alongside shelves of books and an array of paintings and photographs—most notably a hand-painted Soviet Union flag and a photograph from Logan’s unsuccessful run for VUWSA in 1970. Logan is a Wellingtonian, born and raised. He attended VUW in 1966, originally enrolling in the Faculty of Law. Logan described himself as “a Liberal National Party type” before swapping into political science and beginning what he calls his “recruitment into Communism and Trotskyism" by prominent Trotskyist and Dispute magazine editor Owen Gager. In simple terms, Trotskyism is a branch of Marxist-Leninist ideology developed by Leon Trotsky, and remains one of the largest sects of communism to this day. Logan first graced Salient's pages at the end of 1966, when he uncovered the Boshier-Laurenson Affair, in which senior National Party official R. J. Laurenson attempted to use the Security Service to obtain information on young activist Roger Boshier. Logan became the whistleblower, and the incident sparked debate in Parliament. Prime Minister Keith Holyoake defended the officials involved, but Laurenson’s actions were widely seen as inappropriate, highlighting the risk of political misuse of intelligence services. This led Logan to become disillusioned with the National Party, of which he was then a youth member. The year Bill Logan became editor of Salient was a big one globally. In 1968 came the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, The Prague Spring, and the May ‘68 movement in France. The latter was of particular note to Logan, who told me that “even in New Zealand, the radicalism reached a peak.” He said the trade union activism sparked by the Nil Wage Order—a landmark New Zealand Court decision that ordered no increase in general wage levels despite high inflation, triggering widespread union protests—coincided with the student anti-Vietnam War protests of the time. “It was a really good and interesting year to be editor of Salient.” Early on Logan’s year as editor Salient became enthralled in activism, beginning with an editorial call for student power—or, as Logan tells me, “really just a call for a slightly more democratic constitution of the University as well as student reps on departmental committees and the professorial board.” Things we take for granted today. The morning the piece went out, Logan received a call from then-acting vice-chancellor Ian Campbell, who invited him to morning tea. The conversation became Logan’s first real insight into how student publications could affect real-world issues. Campbell told him, “I think if we play it right, we’ll get a committee set up that will make recommendations on the university constitution.” Logan later reflected that, from a liberal perspective, the committee was highly successful, achieving almost all of its original demands. However, he also admitted that the increased student representation made little difference to actual university life and mainly served to “placate student radicalism” within bureaucracy. Still, that did not stop Salient from having an effect on Wellington. Photograph by Sophie Spencer Salient has long been known for its provocative articles and writing, and that isn’t new. Logan tells me that he “ran a Salient which was deliberately provocative. We made sure that we had right-wingers writing columns, and left-wingers.” After quickly skimming Salient’s 1968 publications I found a range of articles, including “The Cultural Revolution in China” written by the aforementioned leftist Owen Gager which promoted the perceived benefits of Mao Zedong’s infamous Cultural Revolution. Another article titled “Black & White Views on Rhodesia” compared and contrasted views on colonial Rhodesia, present-day Zimbabwe. Logan finished with Salient in 1968, but continued on campus. He ran for the VUWSA executive on what was known as “RAT” or the Radical Activist ticket. The ticket failed to produce a VUWSA exec team, and Logan finished his degree in 1970. He spent most of that time within the Progressive Youth Movement, a far-left radical grouping that Logan describes as “a group without terribly well thought-out politics but still committed to action.” From then, Logan joined the New Zealand Spartacist League, a Trotskyist group connected to the Spartacist League of the United States. For a while, he built up the New Zealand communist group before continuing activities in Australia and Great Britain where he helped to build the Australian Spartacist League. The group still exists and has only recently joined the Revolutionary Communist Organisation (RCO). However, Logan was expelled from the Spartacist League in 1979 on the grounds of “gross moral turpitude.” The accusations remain controversial and ambiguous, and they continue to be passionately debated today. Logan chalks them up to “a certain layer of homophobia,” but says the far-left group couldn't be outwardly homophobic. He admits the main motive was that the “tight leadership in America felt under threat by [his] success in Britain.” He told me that it was “a danger to the regime of this petty organization in New York.” Upon his ousting of the group, Logan returned to New Zealand. He “had spent [his] 20s being a revolutionary, and [he] was a revolutionary without a revolutionary organization.” Aimlessly, he returned to Wellington, enrolled in an MA, and became a junior lecturer in Political Science for a while. Eventually, Logan began a bookshop called Capital Books and began to work with the Wellington Gay Switchboard, a helpline for those questioning their sexuality at a time where homosexuality was illegal. He continued to do that for 25 years. Capital Books eventually became “a bit of a center for gay people.” After an approach from Wellington Central MP Fran Wilde, Logan found himself once more in politics, now as a part of the Gay Task Force. Logan says that for the next 16 or 17 months he found himself working on Homosexual Law Reform. Logan ended up debating Cardinal Thomas Williams, a strong anti-homosexual law reform advocate at the time, and came out live on television. He said in an interview for PrideNZ, “I think that's the way all my family and friends learnt that I was gay, was on television.” After the Homesexual Law Reform Act passed in 1986, Logan continued to work within the LGBTQIA+ space and helped to set up the AIDS foundation. However, throughout all his publicized ordeals, he told me he became “rather unemployable.” He began doing a lot of funerals for gay men who had died of AIDS. “It was a pretty terrible time,” he tells me. “And non-religious celebrants weren’t a thing. Funeral directors would say, ‘Hey, could you do this funeral for us?’” Logan began to make a living doing funerals. He told me that, at one stage, he was doing four or five a week. In fact, Logan ended up doing the funeral for Ian Campbell—the acting Vice-chancellor with whom Logan’s student politics had first begun. Funerals became emotionally draining for Logan, and by 1990 he had trained as a counsellor and gone into private practice. Today, he works as a counsellor, funeral celebrant, and wedding celebrant. Nowadays, Logan lives a quieter life. He remains very active in the International Bolshevik Tendency, and you may see him and his comrades at the Hunter Lounge on a Friday, jostling over politics and all sorts of life. When asked how his personal views have changed throughout his life, Logan told me, “values all remain very similar, we all start out wanting to be a decent person and to make a different world; it's how we go about it that changes.” He warns that people are often pulled into their own private worlds, where the need to make a living can overpower a sense of community. Logan argues that “we do not start out corrupted, but are often corrupted by the world. And if you are lucky, you find a way to avoid that.” He adds that he does not believe he himself has been corrupted, before reflecting, “Ah! But how many people believe they have been corrupted?” He looks back on his time at Salient fondly. “The idea that conflict between ideas is really important” was taught to him in the offices, he tells me, and has stayed with him throughout his life. He stressed the importance of all small publications—not just Salient. “They play an extremely valuable part of the political culture.” As I left Logan’s that day, I came away with the sense that student radicalism never really dies. It just finds new editors.

Weekly Pacific Politics with Otis Whinney As these twelve weeks near their end, there is still no shortage of things going on in our sea of islands. So let's hop from island to island and round up some of the interesting and important stories going on in the moana as this trimester comes to a close. The Solomon Islands have been in and out of the news for a while thanks to the ongoing leadership crisis, where Prime Minister Jerimiah Manele was voted out of his seat due in part to allegations of corruption. The Solomons now have the opportunity to turn over a new leaf, as a secret ballot has awarded opposition leader Matthew Wale the role as the new Prime Minister. Every article I can find is painting this as a possible move away from China, as Wale has always been a more vocal critic of how the Solomons have dealt with China in the past. When speaking after his win, Wale said “We take government at a difficult time, given what is happening throughout the world. We are not immune from the impasse of these geopolitical events.” Where this leads, only time will tell. A journalist in Nuku’alofa, the capital city of Tonga, was held at gunpoint in late April, with police still searching for the gunman. Many claim this incident took place in response to reporting on the Comanchero motorcycle gang and their connections with Eneasi Taumoefolau, who is imprisoned in Tonga. Police are still investigating the motivations. This incident shines a light on growing issues with Tonga’s relationship with the press, and the complications brought on by the rising illicit drug trade. Tonga’s has had issues with press freedom in the past, with the military being sent to shut down Kele’a news in 2007 to silence reporters, the very same network that this targeted journalist was a part of. The Tongan monarchy have also been increasing their influence politically as of recent, with their Ministry of Foreign Affairs being replaced by an entity with increased influence from the monarchy before their latest election. The 2026 Reporters Without Borders (RSF) World Press Freedom Index placed Tonga at 51st in the world, lower than last year, and the increasing pressure from all angles puts Tonga’s media in a difficult position. Vanuatu and Australia have ironed out a deal that's been in the making for a hot minute. The Nakamal agreement has been approved by Vanuatu’s council of ministers and is closer to being signed than ever before, after years of a tense back and forth while a similar deal, the Namele agreement, with China was being negotiated at the same time. Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese just has to lay pen to paper, and Australia can give itself another win in its constant battle for allies and influence in the Pacific. Australia has recently released its new aid budget, with a small increase in aid for Pacific nations coming as a result, and deals like Nakamal show how determined Australia is to keep their foothold in the region. Vanuatu’s relationship with China, however, shows no sign of shrinking, with Vanuatu keen to play all sides. And finally, West Papua has faced further violence at the hands of the Indonesian state, with a particularly damning event at a graduation ceremony (among others) forcing many to speak out yet again. The Morning Star flag, which represents West Papuan independence, is effectively outlawed, but Papuans have never abandoned the symbol. Its use at a high school graduation ceremony on May 5 in Kobakma in Mamberamo Tengah Regency drew a response from Indonesian police, who attempted to stop its display. A back and forth with the students ensued and rocks were thrown at police, which was followed by tear gas and shots fired. Obviously, Indonesian police refute the idea that the crowd was fired upon, but Human Rights Watch claim several Papuans between the ages of 17-24 were injured, all over a flag at a high school graduation ceremony. Military operations in Tembagapura and Kembru have also seen the deaths of people as young as 5 years old. All the while, 105,878 civilians have been displaced in West Papua as of the start of this year, most being indigenous, according to the latest Human Rights Monitor Internally Displaced Peoples Update on the region. Pastor Jimi Koirewa, head of the human rights and justice department of the GIDI Evangelical Church of Indonesia in Papua, spoke to RNZ Pacific, where he claimed that the deaths of women and children specifically are “a part of genocide, because the women will give birth to babies, the kids, the children, the youth, they are the future of Papua, and killing them is part of a genocide. They're wiping us out. There will be no more people there standing in Papua.” Indonesia continues to deny this. In my view, this ongoing crisis remains one of the Pacific’s largest barriers to creating a genuinely united region. The indigenous peoples of West Papua cannot be left behind if we are to maintain the ‘Pacific Family’ every leader and their mother claims exists, and the lack of any meaningful response from anyone shows there are many questions to be asked about whether anyone wants to make that family a reality.

Just last week, Te Tai Tokerau MP Mariameno Kapa-Kingi announced her split from Te Pāti Māori and subsequently the creation of a new political party, named after her electorate. Speaking to RNZ she said, “This is about restoring balance, strong local representation, and sending a clear signal that Tai Tokerau political power will no longer be taken for granted.” She said she hoped other candidates would do the same to “promote truly local decision-making and restore power to the people.” The comments appear to have triggered an unprecedented chain reaction within Te Pāti Māori itself, with MPs across the country now reportedly considering launching their own electorate-based political parties. By Tuesday morning, discussions were already underway regarding the formation of Te Tai Hauāuru Party, Waiariki Union, Federalist Hauraki-Waikato Party, Party for Tāmaki Makaurau, Coalition of Ikaroa-Rāwhiti, and Te Tai Tonga Party. Party insiders say the movement has descended into logistical chaos as MPs began disputing which electorates owned the printer, the donor database, and the password to the shared Canva account. New Zealand First leader Winston Peters, a long-time advocate against Māori seats, is reportedly “absolutely delighted” with the development, allegedly describing it as “the first government reform in history where politicians successfully abolished themselves through admin duplication.” Peters later denied involvement, but confirmed NZ First had already purchased domain names for “Māori Electorate Union,” “Upper Hokianga Ratepayers Collective,” and “Ngāti Toa against Ngāti Toa.” In a further split, sources claim several electorate organisers are now advocating for even more localised representation, including separate parties based on suburbs, maraes, and even a proposed “Northland Rural Roads Action List” focused entirely on potholes. Hone Harawira, old leader of the now defunct Mana Party and a prior Te Tai Tokerau MP for TPM, is reportedly furious that someone could do what he could not. He told The Horse’s Mouth “I spent 10 years attempting to collapse Te Pāti Māori, and then this radical comes along and blows the whole thing up in one fell swoop. In my electorate no less!” Political analysts say the development could permanently fracture the strength of MMP, with one warning that New Zealand risks becoming the “the first democracy where coalition negotiations need regional qualifiers with an NBA-style seeding for each seat.” The Electoral Commission has reportedly requested additional funding after discovering next election’s ballot paper may need to be distributed in booklet form.

Across much of the democratic world, a familiar pattern has emerged across various elections: young men, once part of the left’s natural base, are shifting right. In the UK and Germany, young men have been twice as likely than young women to support right-wing populist parties such as Reform and AfD. South Korean conservative parties hold a 30% advantage among young male voters. The same holds true across much of the rest of Europe and Canada, though curiously not Australia. Traditional electoral theory has long treated younger voters as a broadly progressive bloc. But progressive parties can’t win elections if half of their voter base is against them. New Zealand goes to the polls in six months. The question for Labour is whether the same switch is taking root here—and, if it is, how to respond. Labour’s campaign manager and MP Kieran McAnulty is acutely aware of this potential shift. His job is to make sure what’s happening elsewhere doesn’t occur here. He cites the lack of credible left-wing alternatives to right wing politics as a cause of the problem overseas. “If you're working in a low-paid job or an insecure job, and you're getting told that an immigrant is living a good lifestyle because they've taken your job, over time that might resonate if there is a vacuum of alternatives coming from left-wing parties,” said McAnulty. So, what’s the response? McAnulty says it will be to meet, communicate where the young men are, and focus on the solutions to the issues at hand. “It would be too simplistic to say that young men only get their information through social media,” says McAnulty. “But it’s not the mainstream media as much as it once was.” “So YouTube, other platforms where people might get a longer form broadcast, the sort of thing that you'd expect to see on the public broadcaster back in the day, but now in a different format with a very much a right-wing slant.’ “To counter that, we’ve got to figure out a way to get to these voters and offer a credible alternative which addresses the things they care about in a progressive way. You simply can’t get in front of these people and just say Reform or the AfD is bad.” As an example, if New Zealand First is blaming everything on immigrants, McAnulty says the response is less about calling it outrageous and more about offering an alternative. “People might only see us twice a week, and if they see us defending ourselves or criticizing others, then they're not really hearing what we're about.” It’s an interesting counterpoint to the Greens. When asked the same questions last year by Salient, Greens co-leader Marama Davidson said their response would be to double down on the politics of hope to offer a left-wing alternative. Labour’s approach appears more understated, and seems to focus more on where they are messaging. While the race between the left and right (as a whole) remains tight, Labour has consistently outpolled National for the last year, and McAnulty attributes that in part to how the party has reached young men. McAnulty won’t reveal what Labour's internal polling is telling them about their reach with young men, and of New Zealand’s publicly available polls, only Roy Morgan publicly releases voting intentions by gender age. The latest results shows 33% of men aged 18-49 preferring Labour, compared to 22.5% in October 2023. When the Greens’ and Te Pati Māori’s support is factored, Roy Morgan’s poll shows 49% of men aged 18-49 voting for a change of government (though 18-49 is a generous definition of young). What this could suggest is that young men are more antsy for change than they are supporters of the far-right itself. The Republicans, Reform, and AfD are all parties out of power trying to break the system. Here, the right holds power. Similarly, while this government is more right-wing than National governments of years gone-by, there is no true far-right equivalent of the AfD or Reform in New Zealand. NZ First and—to a lesser extent—ACT have, however, been making noises in this space, and NZ First has recently surged up to 15% in some polls. It is unknown whether this can be attributed to young male voters.

CW: Sexual assault, Homophobia An Anonymous Hater The Establishment. MishMosh. Red Square. For years, these were the bars students either avoided on a night out, or only ended up at once they were too pissed to care. But with Red Square set to close its doors, a serious question now hangs over Wellington’s student nightlife: where will students go when they want to party without any standards? On May 10, Red Square announced on Facebook that it would be closing after 23 years of operation. The bar, which is older than most current undergraduate students, is scheduled to shutter its doors on May 30. A venue that has witnessed generations of first-year mistakes, Vodka Red Bulls, awkward hookups, fire alarms, and questionable dance floor decisions is finally calling last drinks. For some, this is the end of an era. For others, it is good riddance. In 2023, Salient surveyed students about safety in Wellington nightlife. Red Square featured heavily. According to the survey, 41% of respondents said they had felt unsafe at the venue, while 24% said they had been harassed there. Only 15% said they felt safe. Eight students surveyed said they had been assaulted at Red Square. The survey is now a few years old, and many current students were not at university when it was conducted. But as Red Square prepares to close, those figures remain worth revisiting. A venue’s legacy is not just built on who danced there, who worked there, or who had their first kiss there. It is also built on who felt unsafe there, who stopped going, and who was harmed. One respondent to the 2023 survey said they avoided Red Square entirely because of fear:“As much as I love to go out, I now avoid Red Square at all times because of how scared I am and because of my friends' experiences there… I’ve also been wanting to send an email to Red Square but have been too scared too.” Another described being groped across several venues, including Red Square:“I was groped in all of these places. There are also lots of creepy predatoryish guys in these places.” One student gave an even more direct account:“No other way to say I got grabbed in the pussy 3 times in a row trying to protect my friends from being shoved off the platforms. Could not see who did it as it was way overcrowded.” This is part of the bar’s history too. Still, Red Square’s closure has prompted the kind of mourning that only a universally dragged student bar can inspire. Unlike other news organisations simply reporting on the Facebook post, or raiding the comments section for content, Salient asked students for their own tributes to the venue. And, unfortunately for everyone involved, you delivered. So go to the Hunter Lounge, order a Vodka Red Bull, and pour one out for Red Square while you read along. One former staff member remembered the place with genuine affection: “I worked there for a year! Man the stories I have, these people are like a family, genuinely.” Another offered a more tactile tribute: “I liked to caress the ice bar with my hands.” Some memories were less sentimental:“I saw a guy I went on a date with from Tinder and hid in the toilet, fire alarm went off and he found me.”—“My friend told me to not under any circumstances buy a drink from there and I had to pull up my bank details to prove that I literally couldn’t afford to even if I wanted one.”—“Started talking to myself in the mirrors they had on the wall and got kicked out.” Several students remembered the venue as a rite of passage, though not necessarily one they would recommend: “Went there as my first club after turning 18 in halls. Had a panic attack. 10/10 would not rec!!” —“Being there when the lights turned on… suddenly exposed by the big light all sweaty and crusty.”— “In first year I got hit on by a 30 year old, average Red Square experience tbh.”—“Went there once with friends and a guy I met off Hinge. He didn’t text me back after.” Others were more blunt: “BYEEE RED SQUARE IS SHIT!! I only went 3 times and each time I was sexually assaulted.”—“Walked in, got harassed, hit him, started a fight, got kicked out. In 5 mins tops, I have never been back.”—“Walked in and walked out.”—“Creepy guys inviting us to the VIP area.” One student recalled homophobic abuse outside the venue, proving that sometimes the Red Square experience began before you even made it through the door: “Someone yelled out ‘POOFTER’ while I was walking by the entrance. It was 11am.” For all its issues, Red Square was also the setting for moments of unexpected sweetness: “I had my first kiss with my now gf there :(” One student described walking in just as everyone else was leaving. Another recalled a dance floor moment that, against all odds, almost sounds beautiful: “Once was at Red Square when I noticed a group of people had formed a circle in the middle of the dance floor and were cheering. I came over to check out what it was and in the centre of this circle was the smallest man I have ever seen absolutely breaking it down. It was like his moves had created their own orbit drawing everyone else in. The fun ended when someone put him up on their shoulders and the security was suddenly not so fond of our little dancing god.” Perhaps that is the most accurate tribute possible: a tiny dancing god, briefly worshipped on a sticky floor, before security brought the night back down to earth. Red Square was many things. It was a first club, a last resort, a workplace, a bad decision, a panic attack, a missed text, a fire alarm, a place where someone met their girlfriend, and a place where many students say they were harassed or assaulted. Its closure does not erase any of that. It simply forces Wellington’s student nightlife to reckon with what will replace it. Will its disappearance mark a higher standard for student clubbing? Or will the same issues just migrate somewhere else with cheaper shots and worse lighting? For now, one student’s tribute may say it best: “Just a general hatred for the place. Too many people who are rude and too close together with overpriced drinks. Good riddance Red Square.”

Antonio Cadavid Member of the Wellington Community Justice Project, a student-led charity at Te Herenga Waka’s Law School When the Government speaks about asylum seekers, language of risk increasingly dominates the conversation. New Zealand migration policy relating to refugees appears to be shifting away from humanitarian protection and toward a risk-based approach, one that makes already vulnerable people even more vulnerable. Rather than treating asylum seekers as individuals seeking protection under international human rights and refugee law, this approach is pushing New Zealand toward “crimmigration.” This is a framework in which immigration law increasingly adopts the language, mechanisms, and punitive assumptions of criminal law. Under a crimmigration framework, migrants—particularly asylum seekers and irregular migrants—are treated less as rights-bearing individuals and more as potential offenders. In March, the Immigration (Enhanced Risk Management) Amendment Bill was introduced to Parliament. This Bill has been presented as a technical reform designed to protect the integrity of New Zealand’s refugee and protection system. But its wording, design, and political context suggest something more troubling: a growing willingness to treat asylum seekers and vulnerable migrants as threats before treating them as people. The Bill has been accompanied by political and media narratives that encourage the public to view asylum seekers through the lens of risk. On the same day the Bill was introduced, an RNZ headline read: “Murderer, sex offenders among current asylum claimants.” The article quoted the Immigration Minister referring to 14 refugee claimants convicted of various offences, including murder, drug-related crimes, and sexual offences. This type of rhetoric reinforces a collective perception of asylum seekers as troublemakers—threats to national interests and public safety. It fuels fear and suspicion. Such perceptions often extend beyond asylum seekers to immigrants in vulnerable situations and, more broadly, to people from particular countries or ethnic backgrounds. The Government is legislating without fully understanding the problem that it claims to be solving. Or worse, it is using legislation as a political tool to reinforce hostile rhetoric toward poor migrants and asylum seekers, effectively creating a problem that does not exist. Among several concerning provisions, the Bill proposes preventing asylum claimants who have been granted a temporary visa from applying for another visa if they withdraw their claim. This is a punitive measure, framed as a deterrent against unmeritorious claims. The Immigration Minister’s public statements, as reported by the media, suggest that most asylum claims are unmeritorious. However, the Government lacks evidence on how many declined claims are abusive, as opposed to simply not meeting the legal test—a distinction acknowledged in MBIE’s Regulatory Impact Statement. The real issue appears to be the sharp increase in asylum applications in recent years, with more than 4000 applications currently in process from people from more than 70 countries. This is a surge the Government seems either unable or unwilling to manage adequately, whether because of incompetence, insufficient resources, poor planning, or lack of political interest. As a result, claims can take years to resolve. There is also limited understanding of the dynamics behind this increase. The global geopolitical context is becoming increasingly volatile, contributing to higher migration flows. At the same time, more than half of the applications originate from just two countries with strong economic links to New Zealand. This is a complex issue that requires complex thinking, research, and solutions—not overly simplistic responses grounded in a punitive logic more akin to criminal law than humanitarian protection. The principle of “balancing” national interests with individual rights, central to section 3 of the Immigration Act, does not allow unjustified limitations on human rights. Before introducing legislative changes that may affect fundamental rights, the government should prioritise understanding the issue, gathering robust data, and designing evidence-based policies that deter abusive claims without harming legitimate applicants. There are many legitimate and deeply human reasons why an asylum seeker may choose to withdraw a refugee claim and pursue a different immigration pathway. During the lengthy and uncertain asylum process, people’s lives continue to evolve. They fall in love, build relationships with citizens or residents, and become eligible for partnership visas. They may secure employment opportunities that allow them to apply for work visas. They may begin studies and seek student pathways instead. Under the proposed reform, asylum seekers would become trapped within a rigid administrative system that can take years to resolve. They would be left suspended in uncertainty, anxiety, and legal limbo, while others remain free to pursue alternative immigration pathways as their personal circumstances evolve. This Bill centred on exclusion and punishment risks undermining fundamental democratic values. Public discourse that increasingly frames asylum seekers and vulnerable migrants as threats to national security, economic stability, or social order also creates broader risks for democracy and pluralism in New Zealand. It fosters fear-based policymaking, legitimises discrimination, and weakens social cohesion by encouraging suspicion toward migrant communities. In the medium and long term, such policies can deepen social division, increase marginalisation, and erode peace and political stability. Ironically, the Bill would contribute to eroding the very values on which the country’s current reputation relies to attract wealthy investors and highly skilled workers. Although the government does not pursue an openly anti-immigration policy, there is a noticeable contrast in its approach. While it supports and attracts wealthy migrants through mechanisms such as the “golden visa,” it simultaneously contributes—through policy and rhetoric—to an environment that fosters aversion toward poorer migrants and asylum seekers. The reality is that poverty, inequality, and unemployment have been increasing in New Zealand. In such a climate, and especially close to elections, asylum seekers and immigrants become easy targets. They serve as a smokescreen that distracts attention from the real causes of the country’s underlying structural issues, while also being cast as the source of those problems. It is a populistic political strategy replicated across many parts of the world. If the Government wants to protect the integrity of the refugee and protection system, it should start with evidence, not suspicion. It should design policy that targets actual abuse without punishing people seeking protection. It can protect integrity without treating vulnerability as a threat. Ultimately, poor legislative design is also a political choice.