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Words by: Abby Saywell She loves me, she loves me not. Swipe left, swipe right—it's a match! When it comes to looking for love, we’ve come a long way from picking petals. Bumble, Tinder, Hinge, Grindr, Christian Connection... the list goes on. The digitisation of dating shows no signs of slowing down either, with mobile dating apps facing the latest craze in tech: AI. That’s right—our most intimate corner of the internet is now being infiltrated by something that can’t even feel.  As someone who’s been single since forever, just the idea of joining a dating app is daunting enough. Now you’re telling me there’s an added risk of being catfished by a supercomputer? To figure out if dating apps are already a lost cause, I sat down with Dr Ally Gibson, senior lecturer in the School of Health at Victoria University of Wellington and online dating researcher, to talk mobile dating apps: the pros, cons, and AI of it all.  Dr Gibson likens joining a mobile dating app to entering a whole new world—and says that this is what draws so many of us in. Mobile dating apps unlock a higher level of sexual empowerment, especially for women, by allowing users to take charge of their love lives in a convenient way. Whether you’re straight, gay, bi, or ace, looking for a relationship, hookup, third, or just killing time, anything’s possible on dating apps. The same can’t be said for the offline world, where heteronormativity dominates and community is hard to come by. “It’s so much harder to meet people… the idea of standing at a bar and picking someone up, or even just starting a conversation with someone, is totally alarming to a lot of people, especially young people.” But what if the idea of starting a conversation with a match online is also totally alarming? (Asking for a friend…). Well, now there’s an app for that. Through her research, Dr Gibson discovered the existence of CupidBot and My Cupid AI, two of the many AI-powered dating app extensions available. Dr Gibson explains that, through these extensions, “AI is used to assist with matching profiles, communicating with potential dates through the chat function—even setting up dates.” These products claim they’ll “filter out the attention seekers,” let you “get several dates a week by doing absolutely nothing,” and offer “instant automated rizz.” (Yes, researching these did make me feel like an incel). Successful or not, these AI technologies are pretty ethically concerning. Dr Gibson’s main worry with dating app AI is “around who you’re matching with—is it AI or a real human being?” And what does this mean for meeting matches in person? After all, “AI just simply can’t replace human experience and emotion... maybe in the future, but it’s questionable.” Though Dr Gibson is generally pro dating apps (“but I am so not a black-and-white person!”), she thinks it’s important to keep a balance between the real and digital worlds. A lot of emotional investment can be put towards matches we’ve never even met (and who might not even be real!)—it’s important to get a reality check sometimes, and to make sure you’re still putting energy into the offline connections in your life. This can be easy to forget, seeing as we were basically raised online—but Dr Gibson thinks this can be an advantage, too. “Draw on those skills and that experience that you’ve already acquired, and apply that to then thinking about mobile dating apps.” So maybe my prince charming is hiding on Hinge after all—I just have to beat all the bots first. Challenge accepted. ♥

Recorded by Will Tickner (he/him) “Oh my god you guys … Will is TikTok famous!”  I choke on the bag of chips I’m wolfing down. I look up from the bean bag I’m sitting on in the common room; my floormate I’ve barely known for a week has her phone in hand and her mouth open like a codfish. She turns her screen around so everyone in the room can see my most recent video that recently surpassed 200k likes. My stomach drops, and a wave of unease crashes over me as she begins to go around the room and gleefully show everyone my account handle. By the end of the evening, everyone on my floor knew me as “the TikToker.” A great start to my year in halls.  I’ve been regularly uploading to TikTok for about four years now. Before I sound like the biggest narcissist in Pōnkeke (a real challenge, I know), I wouldn’t consider myself to actually be “TikTok famous.” I’m nowhere near a celebrity nor an influencer—it’s just a term that people have coined when they see me pop up on their feed. According to my minimum internet research, I’m apparently a “micro-influencer,” as I only have a little over 30k followers. I don’t get perks, I don’t understand the algorithm all too well, and I’m annoyingly not eligible for the Creator Fund, no matter how often I apply. I just make silly little videos because it brings me joy, and it’s my hobby where I can express things creatively. However, the fun of it isn’t without the ugly, as there are both positive and negative aspects to getting recognized for your internet presence in the real world.  It started during lockdown, when everyone had unlimited personal time to browse the internet. I was doom scrolling a week straight, and in my covid-coma brain-rot state, I saw one of those wealthy lifestyle influencers trying to make a funny sketch about the pandemic. They were very oblivious to everyone else's experiences and living conditions, and they flopped so hard their teeth shattered against the curb. I thought to myself, ‘Why are the hot people on here so tone deaf? It’s not that hard to be relatable and funny.’ That’s when it hit me that I might have something most industry-attractive people never have; a relatable and funny personality. I began posting videos in my bedroom to see if it was that hard, and after a few months I found that it truly wasn’t. I’d make videos of myself lip-synching to funny sounds where I’d voice my opinions, beliefs and personal stories. At first I was hesitant to be vulnerable and publicly let anyone know things about me, but after a while I decided that I had too much creative energy to go to waste. I began making videos where I’d practice editing and lighting (some better than others), and I’d end up jumping on a lot of those creative trends that I’m annoyed aren’t as prevalent anymore. Four years later, and I’m still doing exactly what I was doing in highschool!  Part of the reason I post online is because it's something I genuinely enjoy doing, but I'd be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that didn’t revel in the popularity and online gratification. If anything, my presence being enjoyed by a large mass helped me survive the last few years of highschool. You could call it vain, sure, but you’re telling me there weren’t times in highschool where you didn’t need an ego boost? Everyone could have done with social self-assurance in Year 11, especially if your highschool was a field of pessimistic short poppies. It helped me reconsider how I valued what people think of me and if it mattered. Because when Emma from English says you’re “being too much,” it doesn’t mean crap when you’re one of the top results for a song she was just poorly filming a lip-sync to.  What I haven’t gotten used to is getting stopped in public when people recognize me. It doesn’t happen too often, yet it’s a fun interaction to meet and say ‘ Hey!’ on the street or in line for a coffee. Usually it’s someone my age who’s ridiculously nice and I end up following back. Actually, the very first time I got recognized was during a school trip and I was an awkward mess -I kept stumbling over my words and laughing fearfully, thinking I was making a horrible impression…cut to today, and we’re great friends (I love you, Mo). However, I’ve been recognized in countless strange places I would have hoped not to happen: at work in front of my coworkers, on the beach half naked, and on a trip to Auckland with my parents. That was a fun chat where I tried to explain being “media personnel” doesn’t always equate to being a pornstar. But in spite of where it happens, it’s always nice to meet people who enjoy what I do and getting to take a photo with them…Usually I’m always the one asking for a photo with them , though (I’m allowed to be a fan of a fan, okay?)  Despite the great connections I make with my hobby, I don’t go out of my way to tell people about my account. There’s really no way of casually slipping in “Oh yeah, I’m a New Zealand TikToker'' to someone. It only ever feels boast-y and ugly, and the situation doesn’t feel right. They’ll always pull up my account and watch my most recent videos (which are never good ones), and I have to stand there in silence like a total muppet. The best course of action I’ve found is to simply not tell people and let them come across it in their own time. Anyone is more than welcome to tell me they found my TikTok and follow me, after all it is a public account. It just comes down to if you make it a big deal or not. The key is to NOT say it loudly in front of a group of people if you do find out. Sure, I’m an extroverted person, but I’m ungodly uncomfortable when everyone is scrolling through my videos At The Social Function and everyone’s giving their unsolicited criticism on the image quality of my janky iPhone.  Something that I learnt as the years go on is that I need to remember to be careful what I post. I’ve been smart enough to know not to include my personal details, but foolish when it comes to posting content on other people. My most engaging content has been instances from my real life experiences which were usually about other people, as it tended to be the most entertaining and relatable. It was easier in highschool when less people knew that I vented my grievances online, but as of recently I’ve stopped drawing too much on my actual life since a lot of people in my life see my content. It’s not wise to air out your dirty laundry publicly when there's the risk of your dirty laundry seeing it and asking “Is This Fucking Play About Us?” It’s not fair to the other person considering it’s against their own privacy, so I now always ask if I can make a video about/with a person and check if they’re all good with me posting it.  However, the biggest social aspect that I dislike about being “TikTok famous” is usually the way I’m treated when someone finds out. I’ve started noticing the change in recognition people have to me when they find out, and are more invested and intrigued in getting to know me the next day. It’s like a switch is flipped where someone that was colder and standoffish to me discovers there’s an ounce of popularity to me and they begin to grow fonder. All of a sudden, they want me to finish my story about my family trip to Australia, or don’t mind if I rattle on about Dungeons and Dragons for ten more minutes. It made me wonder if these people have the capacity to connect with me and enjoy my company without their knowledge of my social popularity from the internet. So, I just stopped telling people altogether at the risk of relationships I would value being found out to be built on “stardom.” I’d rather know someone likes me for me without it being because of the ulterior fact.  It feels strange to discuss the social aspects of my internet presence. Writing down and publicly talking about my experiences so people can gauge my perspective is weird, especially referring to myself as if I’m some celebrity and airing out my grievances with “fame.” I’m truly just some silly little freak doing what he likes online. However, looking into my account engagement and content I've been producing over time, there’s been a bit of a decline. Not because I’ve started disliking what I’m doing, but partly because I’m increasingly busy now that I'm out of highschool and trying to survive this cost of living crisis (god I could do with that Creator Fund income as of this winter). It’s also because I feel like the current era of TikTok is suddenly getting more…shit? There just seems to be less creative videos and trends occurring than there was during the Covid era, and more shitty AI voice-over Minecraft parkour garbage. I wouldn’t be surprised if I eventually retire from posting. Mark my words, it’ll either be because it stops bringing me as much joy, or because I become an Icarus and become canceled two weeks from now like countless influencers. Best case is the former, but the latter sounds like better content.  Screaming. Crying. Throwing up. Peeing my pants  Will Tickner x

Words by : Dan Moskovitz (he/him) 65 years young, and with a unique voyage to being the advocacy group it is today, Consumer New Zealand is a useful organization to be aware of. Founded in 1959 initially as the Consumers Institute, Consumer NZ was originally a state-run entity to promote (you guessed it) consumer interests. But, in circumstances which could never, ever repeat, 1986 saw government funding cuts yet Consumer NZ somehow carried on. Now they're non-profit, but still with their original modus operandi—they’re here to advocate for the consumer.  Because, as Consumer NZ spokesperson Abby Danem tells me; “These days, being a consumer is being a human.” One of their most prominent features is Powerswitch. It’s a free aggregator of power providers in Aotearoa. You give it your address and some details on your own power usage, and it will give you some options. “You can easily switch providers right then and there,” says Danem. “A lot of people think it’s quite a lot of work and life admin to change power providers but the providers will take care of that for you.”  A recent Consumer NZ study noted the average savings for those who switched providers was $524 a year , while also showing a loyalty tax for those who stayed with the same provider.  Consumer NZ’s reach extends beyond this, however: one of their key areas is ensuring you get value for money for the products you purchase. Under the Consumer Guarantees Act, you’re usually entitled to a reasonable lifespan at reasonable quality for whatever you buy. “Quite often big box retailers will try to upsell you on an extended warranty, but often these don’t offer more protection than what you already have under the Act,” says Danem. “So a fridge should last eleven years. If it starts cracking after four, you might think it’s time to buy a fridge. But, based on our research, you’ve got grounds to say that this lifespan is not reasonable.”  “Government research shows the younger people of New Zealand don’t know about the Consumer Guarantees Act. They don’t know that there’s this secret power which can help you assert your rights when something goes wrong. The older generations do. So there’s this huge knowledge gap.” It’s not just fridges — Consumer NZ   has graphics and research into how long most major appliances should last.  They are also in the campaign business—currently, they have active campaigns tackling greenwashing, domestic flight prices, supermarket specials, and more. Quite often this will result in a complaint to the Commerce Commission  The Commerce Commission is the government organization in charge of regulating the markets and protecting consumers. But a singular, individual complaint is unlikely to get action out of them. So when Consumer NZ targeted the supermarket duopoly’s questionable specials, by collating a number of complaints and experiences from kiwis across the motu, they were able to provide the Commission with a jam-packed submission.  “There’s just so much power in numbers,” said Danem. “But we can gather everything into something really meaty and filled with high-quality evidence, to investigate.”  Everything mentioned up until now is free, but there is a partial paywall at Consumer NZ. Still, Consumer NZ itself will recommend canning subscriptions when times get tough, so they do try to have a lot in front of the paywall.  Behind the paywall is the ability to get advice from lawyers if you feel like you’ve been mistreated as a consumer, alongside expert product tests of most costly appliances and services. This includes lawnmowers, wifi routers, phones, laptops, air fryers and more.

DARCY LAWREY (HE/HIM) As you may not have heard, VUWSA held its election debate on Wednesday in the Hunter Lounge. A modest number of students turned out to hear what the prospective candidates had to say, with renters rights, AI, and uni clubs highlighted as key themes. Here’s a run-down of your candidates for 2025.    Standing for Engagement VP  are Aiden Donoghue and Ethan Reille. Donoghue commentated on the low turnout seen at the Hunter Lounge. He credited this to the fact that “people don’t feel comfortable being in the space” that VUWSA holds. one group’s reasons for leaving the debate: “boring” and “no beer”. A curve-ball question to the Engagement VP’s was how they would make conservative students feel heard at Te Herenga Waka. Donoghue was unphased, saying “conservative people are just like us.”  Reille said he “won’t be a dick” when it comes to conservative students. He also said he wants Ngai Tauira, the Māori students association, to have the same, if not more, resourcing than VUWSA.  Josh Robinson, who is running uncontested for Welfare Vice President , highlighted his focus on renter’s rights. Robinson, described his experience with black mold, and declared “a vote for me is a vote to get shit done”. Liban Ali is standing for President  and faces the tough opponent of “no confidence” on the ballot. One of the sticking points in the presidential candidacy is the potential for an all male VUWSA exec for next year.  When approached by adjudicator Jessica   Ye, VUWSA President in 2023, he stated that he would spend time actively listening to different perspectives from individuals external to the VUWSA exec. He noted that he would reach out to student groups focusing on women and gender minorities. When further pushed for concrete examples, Liban went to use the “women's collective” as an example, before quickly correcting himself that they were no longer operating as a club, and mentioning the “feminist law society” instead.  Candidates Ben Young, Rangimarie Mckay-Maxwell, and Aspen Jackman all made noise about the cost of transport to get students to university. However, all three of these candidates failed to state concrete steps which they would take to lower the cost of transport for students.  Likewise, Equity Vice President  candidates Mckay-Maxwell and Jackman both struggled when asked what their biggest priorities for students would be when the Local Body Elections came up in 2025.  On top of both of them settling with transport as a priority, Jackman stated that she wanted to further the council's plan to “reduce rent through zoning changes.” Closer to home, she wanted to improve accessibility to bathrooms on campus, noting that “doors are weird”, and proposed introducing warnings for loud or flashing content in lectures. She also said she plans on “upholding Te Triti and all of that”. Mckay-Maxwell, when asked about tangible steps towards making the university more inclusive suggested equitable grading, saying “one thing about equity is not everyone has it equal”. Standing for Academic Vice President  are Ben Young and Ethan Rogacion. Young highlighted a need for clear AI use guidelines at the university, with Young suggesting that AI should be “integrated into degrees”. When asked about the environmental and ethical issues presented in AI, he said that these issues should be dealt with on a “case-by-case” basis across faculties.  Young also proposed incorporating printing and software costs into student services fees, but was unsure how he would deal with a push back against increased fees. Rogacion presented a four point plan which included increasing student representation on faculty boards, improving the relationship between VUWSA and Ngāi Tauira, fostering a collaboration between faculty rep groups, and improving training for class reps, which he called “outdated”.  Sole candidate for Education Officer , Aría Lal, like Young, recognises the importance of AI and the need for clearer guidelines on its use at VUW, and acknowledged the environmental impact of generative AI. She also proposed requiring closed captions on all recorded lectures. Three candidates are standing for the role of Treasurer , William Bui, Vipul Patel, and Sanjukta Dey. Reminiscent of National’s election campaign, Bui wants to focus on fixing the budget deficit VUWSA has found itself in, but he recognised the importance of maintaining essential services. When asked how he plans on maintaining services while cutting costs, he suggested consulting with student rep groups. On the other hand, Patel wants to advocate for more funding from the university by showcasing the benefits of VUWSA. Standing for Clubs and Activities Officer  are Hawwa Niyaz, Avi Barpande, and George Baker. When asked how she plans on meeting with all 160 clubs at the university, Niyaz says she “doesn’t have a plan per se” but is “going to try”. Barpande wasn’t to be found at the debate but he says he is “ambitious” about making 2025 a great year and plans on supporting the Women’s Fest and Pride Week. Baker put forward his ideas of a Clubs newsletter and Instagram to bring awareness to the clubs on offer at VUW, and says that there is room for improving the clubs system with better communication.  Hugh Acton is the sole candidate for Sustainability Officer , and he’s keen on starting a community garden on campus, as well as improving composting at the university. When faced with the challenge that compost can be stinky by moderator Ye, Acton was sure he could find a solution. He also proposed a campaign to get VUW divested from fossil fuels, which the university failed to go through with in 2014.  Finally, standing for Postgraduate Officer  are Craig Stansfield and Aishwarya Vyas. Only Stansfield made it to the event, who told a crowd severely lacking in post-grad students that he wants to see a “loving embrace” between the post-grad society and VUWSA in the future. Vyas says she is committed to practical solutions for postgraduate students, including improving mental health services” Voting opens on Monday  23rd and closes Thursday 26th.

Pipiana Coventon | Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Raukawa CW: Racism The increasing use of social media in the past two decades has fostered a cyclical system of indoctrination of youth into the alt-right. Think about how you use social media. You’re bored, putting off an assignment, scrolling mindlessly on Tik Tok, and come across a video laying out some ‘facts’. You don’t check these facts, just absorb them and scroll on. The same day, watching TV with your flatmates, eating dinner with your family, or chatting with your lecture buddy, you may share these ‘facts’—which will be taken as truth. These ‘facts’ could be harmless ; a stupid joke, a celebrity dating rumour, or a product that will change your life . Sometimes, however, these ‘facts’ are not harmless, but are rather damaging items of misinformation: such as the ‘facts’ shared by alt-right profiles. In understanding that fact and opinion are often indistinguishable online—and that youth can take this information at face value—the increasing role of social media in developmental years becomes concerning.  Paleoconservative academic Paul Gotfried first coined the term alt-right in 2008. The group this term describes feel they are a minority, especially when attention is directed towards actual minorities in the face of injustice. Many of their concerns are rooted in the fear of eventually becoming the minority themselves—and so they continue to ostracise and marginalise others in an attempt to affirm their positions of power in the world. In the past decade, the revival of the alt-right and white ethnonationalism has become a predominant characteristic of Western social landscapes. This resurgence has coincided with the aforementioned increasing use of social media, subsequently crafting an online culture that has become entrenched in bigotry. With the rise of the alt-right as an ideology, there has been a simultaneous development in the way information is distributed and consumed. Traditionally, forms of edited media such as print, television, and radio were trusted sources of information. Nowadays, young people have access to and engage with a far wider range of media, much of it misinformation. This development from traditional to modern media has fostered a culture where youth are indoctrinated into the alt-right online.  Young people are ‘digital natives’, and though social media is still used by older generations, it is becoming an increasingly youth-targeted environment. Reports show that upwards of 90% of teens aged 13-17 use social media on a day-to-day basis. Think of the people around you—it is uncommon to hear of a young person who uses no social media at all. Young brains are particularly vulnerable to social media, meaning that the fundamental changes they go through where they are encouraged to seek social gratification can be warped by online interactions. Children are accustomed to social gratification from peers in real life, but what makes online interactions interesting—in comparison to in person ones—is their permanency. As is an integral aspect of human nature, children and teens do what they have done since the dawn of time; seek friends and groups who will accept them with open arms. Young people’s biology, and their susceptibility to intake opinion as fact, makes them particularly vulnerable to exploitation, and as social media remains dominated by youth, they are the primary audience of this exploitation.  Streaming and video-sharing sites have become pivotal in the alt-right’s rise in both popularity and accessibility. While all social media utilised by the alt-right have dangerous potential, YouTube and TikTok have emerged as particularly insidious platforms. Recent studies examining a wide array of videos across various channels and accounts reveal a troubling trend: that users who engage with mainstream right-wing content, such as viewing Fox News clips, are often algorithmically steered towards more extreme alt-right content. Originally created as platforms for sharing light-hearted content—such as dance routines, cute animal compilations, and slapstick pranks—these sites have quickly developed into vast, unregulated repositories where millions of videos are uploaded daily. Amongst this deluge of information lies a disturbing array of content, including graphic violence, misinformation, terrorist propaganda, and radical alt-right viewpoints. The sheer scale and accessibility of this content presents a grave risk, particularly to younger audiences. It is clear that, for a young person navigating the online world, a single click, like, or comment is all it may take to set in motion a trajectory towards alt-right indoctrination.  Whilst it is easy for the indoctrination of youth into the alt-right via social media to front as a purely digital issue, the consequences extend far beyond the realm of social media and have the potential to create catastrophic impact; some of which we have already seen. The presence of the alt-right on social media has the capacity to alter the future of content sharing and online communication, as growing numbers of youth—trapped in a cycle of indoctrination—are pushed towards fringe social media platforms to maintain harmful systems built on confirmation bias and bigotry. The long-term consequences of the alt-right presence online are real-world violence and fear. This violence and fear, if not directly caused then definitely encouraged by the presence of the alt-right online, is a global phenomenon—take the January 6th US Capitol attack, the 2019 Christchurch Mosque Shooting, and more recently the emergence of EDL riots in England for example.  The increasing indoctrination of youth into the alt-right is heavily influenced by the growing prevalence of social media, particularly amongst youth. Social media platforms form echo chambers where individuals are exposed to like-minded views, reinforcing their beliefs through confirmation bias and reducing the chance of encountering and engaging with opposing perspectives. This dynamic has allowed far-right ideologies to gain a foothold in these online spaces, consequently causing them to become normalised in everyday life. The evolution of technology has facilitated this shift, moving away from traditional media toward a globally interconnected online society. The near-limitless communication afforded by social media means that extremist ideologies can spread rapidly and widely, with little resistance. If unaddressed, this could lead to the far-right becoming more accepted in both political spheres and daily life, posing significant risks to social cohesion and democratic values. Efforts to counteract this trend must focus on creating more balanced online environments where diverse viewpoints can be shared and debated, ensuring that the younger generation is exposed to a wide range of perspectives rather than being trapped in insular communities that reinforce harmful ideologies.

Words by Cassia Percival-Day (she/her) Hi I’m Cassia and I’m addicted to Instagram reels. Instead of trying more mild approaches like slowly reducing my screen time or deleting the app, I decided that I needed to go cold turkey. The next time I went to my parent’s house I dug through the dreaded junk drawer. Removing tangled charging cords for obsolete iPhones, half burnt birthday candles & cassette tapes. Shoved in a dark crevice at the back of the drawer I found exactly what I was looking for. The Nokia 1100. I have been using a brick phone on and off for a couple of weeks now. But whenever Saturday rolls around I can’t seem to commit, I switch back to my iPhone and all that comes with it.  I decided this weekend was different. Saturday The event of the evening was a friend’s 21st. One of those events where you only know the guest of honour.  I have noticed as part of this little experiment that the moment people feel socially awkward or don’t want to engage in conversation the trusty iPhone comes out. But you can’t hide behind a brick phone. Pure socialising, no distractions—the way God intended.  I walked into town with one of my friends, musing that my phone was the size of her vape. How technology has advanced. I read the instructions for entering her fortress style apartment building on my laptop and committed it to memory. When I got lost inside her apartment building I realised in most cases with the brick phone it’s quicker to call than text. My main concern on previous weekends was a lack of Uber (which sounds very frivolous having to write it out). Though Wellington claims to be a walkable city, at 2am coming home from a function it does not feel like it. Thankfully there are always a flurry of Ubers available to whisk you home at the touch of a finger. But not on the Nokia. Fortunately, on this particular weekend my solution was to meet my flatmate, who works nights, and walk home together. Sunday  On Sunday I woke up mildly hungover with a desperate itch to get out of the house. I couldn’t bear the thought of walking into town on this day without music to fuel my walk. But the Nokia 1100 does not have Spotify. Instead, I whipped out my iPod nano and got walking. The only songs I have on the iPod are from 2015, like a musical time capsule containing exclusively songs I loved in year seven. The less time I had on my phone the more time I had to notice. There happened to be lots of odd things happening on a Sunday morning. A man was drinking milk straight from the carton as he walked home at 11am, another man walking in front of me had comically long socks on and airing out of a second floor window were a pair of shoes. After not being able to track down a book I was looking for, I decided to get some kai. Upon attempting to order my food at a cafe the old fashioned way, I was faced with instructions to instead order for myself on a screen a few feet away. The cafe worker then followed me to the screen and monitored me as I ordered my food. I’m not sure if it was more prominent due to the phone situation, but I did not enjoy the involvement of a screen in that interaction. The clock struck 3pm and I noticed the horrific sensation of being in town on a Sunday afternoon creep up. I didn’t feel like staying in town for a moment longer. Feeling slightly defeated, I decided to catch the bus home. Without any way of knowing when my next bus was, my only option was going to the bus stop and committing to the wait. Luckily, the 25 was only 12 mins away. At least I had Justin Bieber & Calvin Harris blasting out of my iPod to keep me company.

ETHAN ROGACION (HE/HIM Students at Te Herenga Waka’s Kelburn campus have been left in uncertainty today, as power cuts continue to disrupt services at the top of the hill. Just before noon on Wednesday, lights went out across Kelburn which, according to a University spokesperson, was the result of a “cable fault”. The University has not provided comment on what caused the outage, but has told Salient that it “is working with Wellington Electricity to fix the fault, which may take until the weekend.” Wellington Electricity has recently been undertaking works on the Mount St path, next to the Student Union building, which involves the laying of a new cable that seeks to “increase the reliability of our electricity network and offer increased capacity for future power needs.” Immediately after power was lost to the campus, students and faculty were left in the dark, with one student telling Salient  that they were only evacuated from the Library at 4pm, hours after the initial outage. Campus security staff reportedly circulated the library, telling her “something along the lines of “we have to evacuate the building due to the power outage’.” Loss of power at Kelburn has had impacts on planned classes and event, including to Āwhina’s Rā Mākete and to VUWSA’s Candidates Debate. On social media, the University has confirmed that the Library, the Hub, Maclaurin and Cotton have now reopened on generator power, but has advised students to expect intermittent power and Wi-Fi availability throughout the rest of the week. Te Herenga Waka has confirmed that Old Kirk and Kirk are expected to reopen tomorrow morning, while Maru and Student Union will remain closed for teaching and learning Saturday. The Recreation Centre is closed “until further notice”. The University told Salient that, in order to conserve power in affected buildings and prioritise learning and teaching, “we have advised staff who are based in certain buildings to work from a different location.” “Mauri Ora—Student Health and Counselling on the Kelburn campus remains open in the Student Union Building with limited capacity. All other student support services for continue to run as normal.” The University did not provide comment when Salient  asked why it took so long for it to respond, and whether it is adequately prepared for any potential future disruptions. Keep an eye on the University’s official social media channels for ongoing updates about the power disruption.

Nā Lucy Schrader Manuera | Te Aupōuri Tēnā koutou e te hunga kaipānui,  Tau atu taku manu ki runga i te pinakinakitanga o maunga Tawhitirahi Tau ana te titiro ki ngā au moana, ki ngā mau o te whenua, ki ngā ara tawhito i ahu mai ai ngā tūpuna U ana ai te waka o Kurahaupo Tere whakarunga i nga wai rere o Te Awapoka Whatiwhati o parirau ki Pukemarama Tauhokai iho ki Te Kao Tatu atu ra ki Potahi e āhuru ai te iwi o Te Aupōuri I ōna pārae, ōna māniania, ōna awaawa, ōna maunga  Tāhorahora ana te huanui hei hīkoi mā tātou  Kei runga ko te whetū hei arataki  Kei raro ko te tapuwae hei whai  Pātōtō ana te manawa kia whiwhi  Ka puta ka ora, ki te whaiao ki Te Ao-Mārama! ‘Poipoia te kākano, kia puāwai,’ he whakataukī e whakapūmau ana te motuhaketanga o te taute, o te tiaki i te kākano, kia puāwai, kia hua. He tikanga tēnei kua toitū pūmau i roto i te ao Māori mā te kaitiakitanga me te whānaungatanga.  I te tau 2020, i whakaputa te Manatū Whakahiato Ora i tētahi ripoata, “Poipoia te kākano kia puawai: Family structure, family change and the wellbeing of tamariki Māori.” I tūhono tā rātou whakamahi i te whakataukī ki te taurikuratanga o ā tātou tamariki. Hei tā te ripoata, he hononga tā te rerekētanga o ngā ara whānau ki te hauwarea o ngā hua ā-hinengaro, ngā hua o te whakawhānaungatanga nōki. Hoino, ehara tēnei mea te take matua mō ēnei hua hauwarea. Ko te mea nui, he hononga tā te taha ahurea o te tamaiti ki te whakatairanga i whanaketanga o te whakawhānaungatanga o te tamaiti.  I marohitia e ngā kaituhi o te ripoata te uara, te hiranga o te “rangahau me te āta wehewehe i ngā hononga o te whānau me te oranga o te tamaiti Māori, i te mea tērā pea he nui ngā momo āhuatanga rerekē mo te oranga o te tamaiti e hira ana mā te Māori, he mea kua warea pea i ngā wā kāore mātou e hangāia kaupapa here e arahi ana e te Māori, e aro ana ki te Māori.” Kua kūare ake nei te hangāia kaupapa here kua arahi, kua aro ki te Māori, anō, e te Kāwanatanga nā ngā panonitanga ki te wāhanga 7aa o te Ture Oranga Tamariki 1989. E mataku ana au mo ngā kawenga o tēnei ture ki ā tātou tamariki e kore ā muri e hokia. E mōhio ana au, kua rite te nuinga o koutou ngā kaipānui ki ēnei whakaaro, ki ēnei āwangawanga mō te takahi o ēnei panonitanga i te Tiriti o Waitangi me ōna uaratanga. Nā ngā whakaputanga o te Census, e mōhio ana tātou, tōna 904,100 te taupori o te iwi Māori. Nā te taiohi, nā te tere o te tupu o te iwi Māori, ko nāianei te wā tika kia tiekina ō tātou tamariki.  E ai ki ngā kupu a te māreikura a Whina Cooper, “Tiekina o tātou tamariki. Tiekina ngā mea e rangona, e kitea ai e rātou. Ko te tupuranga o te tamaiti, tērā te tupu o Aotearoa.” Koinei te wā kia tū tātou hei kotahi. Nā tōku whakatupuranga whāmaomao i ōku whenua, kua ngaro te reo i tētahi reanga ō tōku whānau, kua ngaro te nui o ngā momo hononga ki te Ao Māori, me te kore āheinga mo tō rātou Māoritanga te puāwai. Ehara tēnei i te āpōpō e hia ana au mā āku tamariki, mā āku mokopuna, nō reira, me tūhono anō au ki tō mātou Te Aupōuritanga. Mō tātou, ā, mō ngā uri a muri ake nei.

Keiha Nicol | Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Uri o Hau, Ngā Puhi "Ka Whawhai Tonu" These words rang out across the quiet battlefield at the apex of the famous battle of Ōrākau, the last stand of the Waikato Wars… These famous words, belonging to the renowned Chief Rewi Maniapoto, were at the heart of this film, which brilliantly brought us back to that terrible moment in time.  1864, the final year of the Waikato invasion by the Colonial Government and British Crown, saw the unjust persecution of those iwi aligned with the Kīngitanga within the Waikato District. Following several battles, the remaining Waikato Kingites were joined by Ngāi Tūhoe and Ngāti Raukawa fighters set on making a defiant stand against a Colonial force more than four times their size. Their stand at Ōrākau is known famously today as Rewi’s last stand. This is the context for a movie directed by Māori, in Te Reo Māori, as a reminder of the history of Māori. From the start, I was blown away by the reo, the kākahu and the abundance of mataora on screen. The reo, the people and the setting drew me into the trenches at Ōrākau, where most of the film was based. These things set the scene for the battles and the increasing tenseness in Ōrākau as they ran out of ammunition and water. Everything in this story showed the depth and diversity of the people fighting for their tino rangatiratanga and whenua. Not only did the movie tell the story of Ōrākau, but it added to it to make us feel in the moment. The tamariki were at the centre of this movie, and were involved with everything—from the preparation of cartridges and karakia, to the actual fighting itself. They were relatable, having interactions with rangatira wahine Turama and Rewi that reminded me of tamariki with their aunties and kaumātua, and they had complicated relationships with their whānau. But of all the relationships in this movie, it was their friendships that shone the brightest, bringing hope and a wholesome touch to the film. Having tamariki as the main characters for me changed the focus from the fight to the people, and these two kept getting more interesting as the movie went on (no spoilers)! Most of all, these two and their friends represented the next generations that continue to fight and resist for what is right. For me, this film was not only a reminder of the sad history of this time and place but also a reminder of the struggle to fight for our tino rangatiratanga, our mana motuhake and our Māoritanga. The fight by those who fought and died at Ōrākau showed both the defiance of our tipuna and the aroha they had for each other. Not only were they fighting an impossible battle, but the main characters also fought to do it the right way. Those same issues are still relevant, but the tools for colonisation have changed from muskets and swords to pen and policy. We continue to face policies that strip away our reo and our tino rangatiratanga and degrade our whenua and awa. The intent behind these policies is disguised by politeness and politics, but like our tipuna we are adaptable and determined. We only have to look back to our tipuna for answers such as the tono laid down by Rewi at Ōrākau:  “Ka whawhai tonu mātou, Āke!, Āke! Āke!”

nā Keiha Nicol "Ka Whawhai Tonu" I rangona whānuitia ēnei kupu e te whenua mōhū i te akitu o te pakanga rongonui o Ōrākau, te hiku o Ngā Riri ki Waikato…Ēnei kupu rongonui, a tā te rangatira Rewi Maniapoto, ko te nako o te kiriata nei i tau ki te whakahoki i a tātou ki taua wā taurekareka. 1864, te tau whakamutunga o te horo ki Waikato a te Colonial Government me te British Crown, i raupatuhia ērā o ngā iwi o te Kīngitanga o te rohe o Waikato. Mutu ana ētahi putakari, ko ngā morehu o Waikato i honoa atu e ngā toa o Ngāi Tūhoe me Ngāti Raukawa e pūmau tonu ana te whakamīrei ā rātou ki tētahi ope hoariri nui rawa atu te rahi tō rātou ake ope taua. E mōhiotia whānuitia ana i ēnei rā te tū ki Ōrākau ko te tūnga whakamutunga a Rewi. Koia nei te horopaki o te kiriata i tāraia e te Māori, i Te Reo Māori, hei whakamaharatanga ki te hītori a te Māori. Mai i te tīmatanga, i mīharo katoa ahau ki te reo maori, ki te kākāhu, ki te huhua hoki o te mataora i te papa whakaata. Nā te reo, ngā tāngata, me te takiwā i tōia ai au ki ngā maioro keri i Ōrākau, koia nei te takiwā matua o te kiriata. Ko tā ēnei he whakatau i te horopaki mō ngā pakanga me te pupuke haere o te āmaimai ki Ōrākau ka pau i a rātou te hāmanu me te wai. Katoa ngā āhuatanga o tēnei kiriata i whakaatu i te hōhonu me te kanorau o ngā tāngata e whawhai tonu ana mō tā rātou tino rangatiratanga me ō rātou whenua. Ehara i te mea i kōrerohia te riri ki Ōrākau anake, engari i āpiti āhuatanga kē atu e rongo ai tātou i te wairua o te wā. I te rito o te kiriata ngā tamariki i whakauru ki te katoa o ngā mahi mai i te whakaritenga o ngā kariri, ki ngā karakia, ki te whawhai anō hoki. Ka whai hononga i a rāua, nā ngā kōrerorero ā rāua ki te wahine rangatira a Turama rāua ko Rewi i mahara ai au ki tā ngā tamariki me ā rātou whaea, me ā rātou kaumātua, ā, ka pīroiroi hoki ētahi o ō rāua hononga ā-whānau. Engari, ō ngā hononga katoa ki tēnei kiriata, ko te whakahoahoa i tīrama marika mai, e whakatau mai nei te tūmanako me tētahi āhuatanga motuhake ki te kiriata. Nā ngā tamariki hei kiripuaki matua ki a au i panoni ai te aronga matua mai i te whawhai ki te tangata, i kaha tonu taku whakaaweawe atu ki a rāua puta noa i te kiriata. (Kia tūpato)! Otirā, ko tā tēnei tokorua me ō rāua hoa he whakakanohi i ngā tira hou e haere mai nei, e whawhai tonu nei, e ātete tonu nei. Ki a au nei, ehara i te mea he whakamāramatanga noa iho o te hītori raupatu o ēnei wā, engari hoki he whakamōhiotanga o te whawhai mō tō tātou tino rangatiratanga, tō tātou mana motuhake, me tō tātou māoritanga. Ko tā te riri me te parekura ā rātou i Ōrākau he whakaatu i te whakatumatuma a ō tātou tīpuna, otirā te aroha ā rātou ki a rātou anō. Ehara i te mea he mate wheke noa, engari ngā kiripuaki matua i ngana kia tika te kawe o ngā whawhai. Ka whai tikanga tonu aua mate raupatu, engari ngā ringa o te tāmitanga kua panoni mai i te mau pū me ngā taiaha, ki te mau pene me ngā kirimana. Matatū tonu ana i a mātou ēnei kirimana e ruia ana i to tātou reo me tō tātou tino rangatiratanga, e whakahāwea ana i ō tātou whenua me ō tātou awa. Ko te takune mō ēnei kirimana he mea huna e te mana kāwanatanga me te mana tōrangapū, engari pēra i ō tātou tīpuna, ko tātou hoki he tāwariwari, he aumangea. Mā te tiro whakamuri noa ki ō tātou tīpuna e kite ai ngā whakaatu pērā ki te tono i whakatakotohia e Rewi i Ōrākau: “Ka whawhai tonu mātou, Āke! Āke! Āke!”

He pā mataora. He pā kaiao. He pā anamata / A thriving community. A living lab. A bright future. Rhonda Thomson | Ngāi Tahu Planning for the revitalisation of the reawakening of the mauri of Te Tumu Herenga Waka and the opening of the new Living Building is well underway. There is a lot to do to properly facilitate customary rituals and manage people’s expectations. Significantly, the opening is this wonderful opportunity to reaffirm our relationships with mana whenua, alumni, and our wider community and to celebrate all we have achieved.   At a dawn ceremony on the 6th of December this year, we will open the Living Pā, a building that champions people and the whenua. The occasion is open to all, and we are anticipating well over 1000 whānau and guests.  Still, after the opening we will have just opened a building—more work is yet to come.  We cannot stand back and say, ‘Green building, make it happen’.  We will all have to make it work.  The Living Pā’s mission is Mō te āpōpō—For a better tomorrow . We must all share in this dream for a better world with better people to make the vision of the Living Pā bloom.  The idea of authenticity within the space is one of the things we do think about.  The concern is being overwhelmed by people who want to behave transactionally. People who want to book or hire the space because they see it as another building to go to.  As a Māori marae and teaching community, our priority is to operate in a tikanga way internally and to be known for our authenticity.   The marae’s purpose and the Living Building’s architecture will need to be re-translated for people to accentuate the message that this is not just a standard building.  We will have to learn a bunch about ourselves and educate our people too. We need to think through how we are behaviourally based around tikanga and doing the right thing, in this new space. But we must also not stress too much. The reopening of our marae will be a time of celebration, and it is everybody’s responsibility to uphold the standards of the Living Building and the banner of our marae.  Nā Rhonda Thomson | Ngāi Tahu Pou Hāpai and Co-project Manager the Living Pā

Shay McEwan (she/her) | Te Aitanga-a-Mahaki, Te Whanau a Kai, Ngāti Pāhauwera Teaching someone a language isn’t just about words; it’s about weaving a deeper connection to culture, identity, and the future. For Tom and I, that language is te reo Māori. What began as a casual curiosity has blossomed into a heartfelt commitment to fluency, driven not only by the desire to communicate but also by the dream of one day passing on this invaluable heritage to our future tamariki. My partner, Tom, a Pākehā man who works in Cyber Security, and I, a Māori woman studying Education and History, both grew up barely understanding or knowing much te reo Māori. For him, it was due to his life in Ashhurst, a predominantly Pākehā area, and for me, it was due to my family growing up in a time when they were forbidden from speaking the language, so they couldn’t pass it down or try to learn later on. Our journey into te reo Māori started with me wanting to connect closer to my culture, and for him, it was a way to support me on my journey. We began with simple greetings and phrases—a playful "Kia ora!" here and a curious "Kei te pēhea koe?" there. Tom is eager to learn and embrace each new word with enthusiasm, his genuine interest kindling my own passion for the language.  As we delved deeper, we discovered the cultural richness within the language. From the symbolism of whakataukī to the profound meanings woven into pepeha, each lesson became not just a linguistic exercise but a profound exploration of identity and belonging. Tom, with his attentive nature, absorbed nuances eagerly, recognising that language is more than just a means of communication—it’s a vessel that carries the wisdom and traditions of generations.  Our journey hasn’t been without its challenges. Pronunciations that twist the tongue, grammar that dances to its own rhythm, and the vast ocean of vocabulary—all presented hurdles that tested our dedication. Learning te reo Māori together has become an adventure, a journey of discovery that strengthened our bond and deepened our commitment to each other, and our future. Looking ahead, we envision a future where our children will inherit not only our love but also our commitment to te reo Māori. We dream of reading them stories steeped in Māori legends, singing waiata that resonate with the spirit of Aotearoa, and passing down traditions from my culture. Our journey towards fluency isn’t just about us—it’s about nurturing a legacy that bridges past, present, and future generations. Teaching Tom te reo Māori has been more than a linguistic endeavour; it’s been a testament to the power of love, curiosity, and cultural appreciation. It’s embracing a language that embodies resilience, respect, and reciprocity—a language that enriches our lives and strengthens our connection to each other, and to our community. In the end, our journey towards fluency in te reo Māori is a journey of hope—a hope that our dedication today will blossom into a future where our family speaks with pride, understanding, and fluency. With each new word learned and each milestone achieved, we move closer to realising our dream of raising children who are not only fluent in te reo Māori but who also carry forward the values and traditions that make this language a treasure worth cherishing. Together, hand in hand, we continue our journey—guided by love, inspired by culture, and united in commitment to te reo Māori.