Wanker of the week

Winner: National MP Claudette Hauiti

Thieving politicians are wankers of the worst kind and Hauiti is the latest, and what does it say about a party’s selection process that an utterly contemptible charlatan like Hauiti makes it through? That she remains an MP is an outrage and the government should take all the flack it deserves for protecting her. How many of us could do this with the boss’s money and survive?

Honourable mentions: Gerry Brownlee whose airport antics further reflect the arrogance of a party so incredibly dominant in the polls; and completing a trifecta for National, John Key for looking bored and disinterested when refusing to apologise to Tania Billingsly after being accused of looking bored and disinterested when discussing the sex attack on her - shameful; and the Commonwealth Games because it seems an awful lot of money is being spent on entertaining competitors’ families.

Saint of the last seven days

Winner: The Wellington Phoenix Football Club.

The Wellington Phoenix for inviting West Ham United to town and then beating them. A beautiful result for the beautiful game in New Zealand. Shame about the crowd numbers, though.

Honourable mentions: The people who did a number on US homeland security by swapping the stars and stripes for white flags on the Brooklyn Bridge – kudos; NIWA for discovering tiny marine animal that was thought to be extinct for quite some time – about four million years; and for his tremendous contribution to humor, John Martineze who robbed a Wells Fargo bank in a t-shirt with his name on it. Saints the lot of ya.

I have several arts degrees. That makes me a liberal wanker. But above all else, as a sociologist, I seek understandings without fear or favour.

With that in mind, I am troubled by the use of this term ‘rape culture’ that New Zealand is said to uphold. It seems that every second person among the privileged middle classes, and therefore many of my friends, are throwing it around as if it’s a fact. It’s entering the kiwi lexicon.

Despite its sociological roots in the 1970s where it undoubtedly served an important polemical purpose, many using the term ‘rape culture’ in the New Zealand context today are simply using it incorrectly.

We do not celebrate rape in art nor is it a custom or social behaviour of our society. Actually, we sanction strongly against it. New Zealand most certainly does not uphold a rape culture. It’s a misnomer that has taken on a life of its own.

There are some who victim-blame, and traditionally policing has been far from ideal, but the former tends to be isolated to small, mostly conservative or religious individuals, and the latter has changed dramatically. Even historically, when these elements were more rife, it’s doubtful this ever encapsulated a ‘rape culture’ per se. Furthermore, by overegging the cake the people who use the term do a disservice to the important cause of addressing sexual violence.

This is why many men got upset with David Cunliffe apologising for being a man, or why some turn around an argument about male violence and point out violence perpetuated by women. It’s because the vast majority of men are not violent toward women, sexual or otherwise. I have sympathy with this position of frustration; innocent people don’t like to be labelled. It’s akin to generalising that women are caregivers (though the vast majority of primary caregivers are female) because it’s sexist, perhaps offensive. Although not as offensive as saying that New Zealand’s men uphold a culture of rape.

It has bizarrely become taboo to say it, but not all men are the problem. That is a fact. We are all, however, part of the solution. Men need to speak out and step-up when they see sexual harms occurring. This includes being mindful of sexist language. There are some linguistic examples of engrained sexism in language that illuminate how words affect our thinking. Language is important. And that, in part, is why we need to stop saying New Zealand has a rape culture. It’s not just inaccurate it’s also unhelpful.

*I have donated $100 to Women’s Refuge as part of my commitment to the cause. If all people who read this did that then we’d make their day, I’m sure.

I hate functions. Sometimes, however, I’m forced to attend them. Mostly because of my girlfriend. I always find myself doing what I’m told by women.

Functions are places where for the sin of writing a solitary book, I get to answer the same questions, over and over. And over. Again. I also tend to get drunk and abuse people for being wankers. Although the consensus is that I’m drunk and being a wanker. I hate consensus. Or consensi. One of those.

A couple of weeks back I found myself at a charity auction for something I don’t remember. Mostly because I got drunk. My girlfriend got angry and dragged me to a cab. I’m always find myself doing what I’m told by women. Last night I had another. It was the launch of the programme for WORD, the Christchurch Writers' Festival.

Ordinarily a function that's only purpose is to signal a later function would be enough to raise my ire to levels that would have me screaming with outrage into my pillow from the warm comfort of my bed. Yet this one was organised by author Rachel King who one can only love on meeting and this gave me an ugly and irrepressible sense of obligation.

I scanned the room on my late arrival and saw nobody I knew. I asked the nearest person where the bar was, typical of writers it was surrounded by people and I couldn’t see it from the door. Wankers! I thought. They had my spot. I politely elbowed my way through the crowd. Give me wine. The bottle? Yes, the bottle. There was a pause. Ha ha, only joking, a glass of red please. I wasn’t joking, of course. I just wasn’t drunk enough to tell her to pull her severely hairstyled head in. I mooched away with a mere 150 mils of what I needed.

Before I could quaff it the speeches started. Speeches. The pinnacle of hell at any function. Nobody dares refresh their glass for fear of looking like they’re not listening to some bollocks not worth listening to as people introduce other people who introduce sponsors who introduce other people who nobody cares about. No problem to me, I see an opportunity to take my place at the bar.

I raise a knowing finger and a matching eyebrow. She sees it for what it is. Another one, thank you. Keep the bottle close.

Then something strange happened. I found myself compelled by Joanna Norris, some woman I didn’t know, and Rachael King who were giving what were undeniably speeches. Damn them, I thought. The programme was interesting. I was compelled to listen. I got another drink, of course. But I listened. 

I was transfixed. Arguably enchanted. At a certain point it was said that we must tell our friends. Use social media. Promote the event. Instead of throwing abuse, I wrote this blog.

I always find myself doing what I’m told by women.

The oldest outlaw motorcycle club in the world has established in New Zealand over the weekend, adding another marker to the resurgent scene in this country.

The arrival of the Outlaws means New Zealand now hosts all three of the largest motorcycle clubs in the world. They join the Hells Angels, which formed in the early 1960s, and the recently established Bandidos.

The Outlaws originally formed in Illinois in 1935 but now exist all around the world and are recognisable by their modified use of the ‘skull and cross bones’ back patch, with the bones being replaced by pistons. Known as ‘Charlie’, the symbol was adopted by the club after a similar back patch was made famous by the film The Wild One staring Marlon Brando in 1954.

The Outlaws, which are incorporated as the American Outlaw Association (AOA) have gained its foothold in New Zealand by patching over a club of the same name that was established in Napier, New Zealand in 1968, but up until this point had friendly relations but no formal affiliations with the AOA.

The Outlaws of Australia have a longer history in New Zealand than that, however, having had associations with the South Island based Devil’s Henchmen back in the 1990s, before the groups fell out.

Apart from the patch-over, plans are also afoot to start a supporter club in Auckland under the name Black & White 15 with the goal of forming a second chapter. The name is derived from the colours of the club, and O, for Outlaw, being the 15th letter of the alphabet.

The establishment of the AOA further highlights the growth in the outlaw motorcycle scene in New Zealand generally. The beginning of this upsurge was signalled by the arrival of Australia’s biggest outlaw club the Rebels in 2010 and since then several new groups have formed.


Postscript 10.7.2014

While there are those in Auckland who support the AOA and have Australian connections, any formal support group established there will need the approval of the Napier chapter. Currently, Napier has no plans to establish a Black and White 15 group in Auckland.

Wanker of the week

Winner: Trevor Mallard. 

For thinking that raising the idea of Moa returning to root around in his local bush was a wise move three months out from an election. It’s not like his colleagues in the Labour caucus could scoff with any authority, though, they’ve had fuck-all better ideas.

Honourable mentions: Dunedin Mayor Dave Cull who drained $3,900 of council funds for shackles he thought were used to hold Maori prisoners but turned out to have bound, wait for it, camels; Korotangi Paki, the Maori King’s son, for reminding us that in judging behaviour, class is more important than conduct (and ethnicity); and monarchies everywhere. Wankers each and all.

Saint of the last seven days

Winner: The New Zealand Mars Society.

For educating the public about, and encouraging exploration and settlement of, the planet Mars. Haven’t heard of them? Well you should have, as this will undoubtedly be Trevor Mallard's next policy initiative.

Honourable mentions: Kane Williamson for helping the Black Caps to a rare overseas series victory with classy, patient batting; Dover Samuals for seeing the Korotangi Paki decision for the nonsense that it is; and former escort Gwyneth Montenegro who has penned a book on sleeping with over 10,000 men – well done, if I have to work with even one or two dicks I find it utterly intolerable.