The Margins Review · Culture-Centered Approach

In which the Prime Minister Who Fired the Messengers Discovers He Still Needs Someone to Tell Him What the Message Is Somewhere in the Beehive, a lonely photocopier wheezes out another press release that nobody asked for, while New Zealand’s Prime Minister, Christopher Luxon, stands before the nation’s cameras once more, performing the political equivalent of trying to parallel-park a Boeing 787 using only the reverse camera and a strong sense of personal entitlement. The crisis, we are told, is one of “communication gaffes.” A series of them. The kind that arrive not as isolated slips but as a continuous low-level weather system of mangled sentences, accidental policy announcements, and statements that somehow manage to be both carefully prepared and completely unprepared. One week he is explaining three future taxes that were supposed to be hypothetical. Another day he is justifying a Defence Force flight home from a party fundraiser while unemployment numbers arrive like uninvit...

  If We Cared About Our Dignity At a school gate in Palmerston North, a mother tells her son to let it go. He has been called a curry muncher again, the third time this term, and she gives him the words her own mother gave her, the words mothers in our communities have been handing down like heirlooms for three generations in this country. Keep your head down. Work hard. Let your marks speak for you. She says it softly, smoothing his collar, and in her voice you can hear every ocean her family ever crossed to get him to this gate, and every insult she swallowed so that he would never have to, and now he is swallowing them anyway, and she is teaching him how. That boy will grow up in a country where the Deputy Prime Minister told a New Zealander of Chinese heritage to go back to his own country, and nothing happened. No resignation, no censure, barely a news cycle. He will grow up under governments that a certain party keeps entering and exiting like a landlord who owns the buildi...

An Open Letter to the Honourable Christopher Luxon, CEO... apologies, Prime Minister of Corporation New Zealand Dear Mr. Prime Minister, Greetings from one of the more awkward shareholders in the enterprise formerly known as Aotearoa New Zealand. I hope this letter finds you well, ideally between board meetings and that recurring democratic inconvenience known as Question Time. I will keep this brief, because I know your time is valuable and, presumably, billable. Racism is bad for the bottom line. There, I said it. Feel free to file it in the next quarterly report under "Risks to Brand Reputation and Operational Efficiency." You, of all people, should grasp this instinctively. You ran Air New Zealand. Imagine if the airline had started assigning seats based on who looked like they "belonged" in business class. Complaints would skyrocket. The Net Promoter Score would crater. The share price would perform that sad little nosedive that sends institutional investor...

  The Kindness That Silences: Naming the Racism of New Zealand First Three times. In the House of Representatives, the elected heart of this country's democracy, the Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs told a sitting Member of Parliament to go back to his own country. Three times. Dr Lawrence Xu-Nan was born in Tianjin and has lived in Aotearoa New Zealand since the mid-1990s. He has spent more of his life here than many of the people who cheered the remark online. Winston Peters looked at him across the chamber and said, "I know you just came here five minutes ago. Go back to your own country," and then, warming to it, told the House that where Xu-Nan comes from they lie like a flatfish, that this thing we have here is called democracy, unlike what you are used to. When Xu-Nan and Ricardo Menéndez March objected, Peters told them to show some gratitude for being in New Zealand. Shane Jones, his deputy, added that Xu-Nan should know his place, and annou...

  The Garland and the Lawbook: Hindutva, the BJP, and the Making of a Rape Culture On the morning of August 15, 2022, the seventy-fifth anniversary of India's independence, Prime Minister Narendra Modi stood at the ramparts of the Red Fort and asked the nation to pledge respect for its women. Hours later, eleven men walked out of the Godhra sub-jail in Gujarat. They had been serving life sentences for gang raping Bilkis Bano, then twenty-one years old and five months pregnant, and for murdering seven members of her family, among them her three-year-old daughter Saleha, whose head was smashed against a rock as her mother watched. Outside the jail, the men were garlanded. They were fed sweets. Their feet were touched. The Gujarat government had granted them remission under a policy it had no jurisdiction to apply, a fact the Supreme Court would confirm in January 2024 when it quashed the release, ruling that the state had usurped powers belonging to Maharashtra. By then the men had ...