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A flood of TikToks (Image: Bianca Cross)
A flood of TikToks (Image: Bianca Cross)

MediaJanuary 28, 2023

How TikTok decisively won the media coverage of Auckland’s floods

A flood of TikToks (Image: Bianca Cross)
A flood of TikToks (Image: Bianca Cross)

A quirk of timing left all Auckland’s institutions on the back foot. But social media, particularly TikTok, graphically showed just how bad the situation was.

Late afternoon on a Friday is known as time to quietly drop bad news. You have the plausible deniability of it happening during work hours, but knowing that most of the weekend newspapers will be full and journalists will have headed home. That goes doubly so ahead of a long weekend. It’s easy to spot a deliberately timed release, often from some branch of politics or the state.

Yesterday’s torrential downpour came right into that slot and it was just very bad luck. Rain which had been heavy the whole day built into a profound and sustained intensity which was unlike any precipitation event in living memory for Auckland. The data bears this out – Tāmaki Makaurau experienced more rainfall in 24 hours than at any equivalent period on record. This January has now recorded more rainfall than any month prior – and it’s still raining.

The city’s infrastructure collapsed in myriad ways. Motorways overflowed, with buses seen floating away. The airport not only flooded, but rising waters trapped thousands of people within its walls. Multiple supermarkets were inundated. Houses drifted off their foundations, and tragically there are two confirmed dead, with two still missing.

The city’s civic and political apparatus appeared paralysed too. The scheduled Elton John concert was only cancelled less than half an hour before it was scheduled to begin. The tens of thousands who had made it there were essentially trapped, with Auckland Transport having already noted that trains would not be running.

There was an air of political naivety, too. The country’s prime minister had been in office for just three days, and was hundreds of kilometres away in Wellington. Auckland mayor, Wayne Brown, was elected in October, and confoundingly waited until well after 9pm before declaring a state of emergency. Civil Defence and Waka Kotahi have no such excuse, and some channels were silent in the face of what is surely the most severe natural disaster to befall this city in decades.

Because of the quirk of timing, our major media institutions appeared thinly staffed and failed to interrupt scheduled programming. While both Newshub and 1 News had very strong packages, with drenched reporters standing in front of newly made lakes, neither had capacity to switch to rolling coverage, despite a situation unfolding which clearly warranted such a response. At the peak of the storm, when its precise nature was of maximum public interest, TVNZ 1 had Clark Gayford talking a couple through their home renovation.

This is not a critique of those organisations – they covered the story very well with the people they had to hand, and the great shrinking of revenues over the past two decades means that kind of failsafe staffing is fiscally irresponsible now. (Ironically the flooding might have been the best case yet for the RNZ-TVNZ merger, but has likely arrived far too late to alter its fate.) Both returned with 10.30pm bulletins which provided more context and startling imagery. Still, each turned to other stories before the first break.

The NZ Herald and Stuff both covered the story well through live updates, but it was only the following morning that the homepages finally had the density and texture of coverage the flooding demanded. Again, this was not a failure – it was a function of freakish timing and the financial impossibility of staffing in the face of the transfer of the advertising revenue which funds news to the likes of Google and Facebook. Radio might have been the medium which best adapted, with newbie Today FM particularly impressive.

Still, none could match the pace of social media, and this was a strange kind of triumph for user generated content. Each generation and different network had its own key platform. Whatsapp groups hummed with frequently-shared clips, Reddit sorted and elevated adroitly, while TikTok’s extraordinary algorithm immediately figured out that what scared and damp Aucklanders wanted was flood content, and it gave it to them in mass volume. (IG Reels was mainly vintage repurposed viral TikToks, as far as I can tell). While the city’s mayor prevaricated over whether to declare a state of emergency, its citizens watched their phones in horror as Auckland drowned under an unprecedented and vaguely biblical deluge.

This is not uncomplicated. Social media coverage of natural disasters has historically been accompanied by a large volume of viral hoaxes, which shows that the boring work of verifying footage before airing it – a necessity for news organisations – doesn’t happen on social platforms. News organisations also seek attribution, which is often difficult to ascertain at pace. Deprived of context, clips could easily generate more fear and irrational, even dangerous, responses than is desirable.

Yet the floods show unequivocally that we live in a world of immediate user generated coverage of unfolding disasters, and that our official communication infrastructure is a long way from ready to respond at the required pace. Even on the Friday evening of a long weekend, we’re entitled to expect better.

Below are a selection of the TikToks which swiftly achieved massive audiences and showed the unfolding nature of the disaster, while also showing how humans responded to it with humour, heart and horror.

An artist’s impression of Marcus Lush broadcasting live from SH1 (Image: Archi Banal)
An artist’s impression of Marcus Lush broadcasting live from SH1 (Image: Archi Banal)

MediaJanuary 25, 2023

The live saga of Marcus Lush’s missing keys

An artist’s impression of Marcus Lush broadcasting live from SH1 (Image: Archi Banal)
An artist’s impression of Marcus Lush broadcasting live from SH1 (Image: Archi Banal)

Talkback listeners were taken on an unexpectedly thrilling journey last night as the Newstalk ZB host broadcast his frantic search for the studio swipe card.

“I probably sound a bit different tonight,” Newstalk ZB’s Marcus Lush told listeners shortly after 8pm. “Am I feeling different? No. Do I sound different? Yes.”

What was going on? “There has been a situation. I’ve driven to work tonight, sat outside, read all the news. Thought I’d go into work and make a cup of tea and get going. But I found I’ve gone to work with the wrong set of keys.”

Attached to those keys? His all-important Newstalk ZB swipe card.

Lush has found himself locked out of the studio once before, but this time he couldn’t even get into the building. So he began his four-hour broadcast live from State Highway 1, taking listeners along for the ride as he drove back to his Bluff home from ZB’s Invercargill studio to try and find his keys.

He’d been on holiday with his family, he explained, and had taken two sets of keys with him. “We’ve come back from holiday and we haven’t reconciled our keys. So I’ve come to work with the wrong set of keys, which is pretty much a problem.”

He’d already tried calling his partner Vanessa, but she wasn’t answering her mobile or the landline. “I don’t know why,” he said, explaining he hoped to drive by the neighbour’s house, pick up his partner and be reunited with his keys. “It’s not ideal,” he laughed. “It’s not even close to ideal.” He clapped to prove to his listeners that he was on speaker phone. 

“We will have a show. It’s just going to start on the road. I’ve got everything I need. Well, I don’t have everything I need, I don’t have my keys. But I’ve got a clock so I know when the first commercials will be.”

Ever the talkback master, Lush attempted to drum up conversation topics for his devoted audience. “Gorgeous day today… a cruise ship was in… By the way if you are listening and know where Vanessa is – she might have the other set of keys.” A moment of off-air disturbance followed. “Is she at the pools?” 

The first caller of the night, Sharon, suggested Lush’s partner wasn’t at the neighbours, nor the pool. 

Sharon: “She got some last minute tickets – she’s gone to see Elton John in Christchurch.”

Lush: “I think she might be at the pools.”

Sharon: “Pools is code for Elton John.”

Lush: “You’re not very helpful, Sharon.”

Lush drove past the neighbours’. “She’s not at Michelle’s place… I’m going to keep driving and find her.”

As he pulled in outside his own place, he spotted his partner’s car and yelled out: “I’m live, I’m on air. I’ve got the wrong keys. Why didn’t you answer the phone!”

This is where the show took another turn. Leaving the confines of his makeshift car studio, Lush took listeners inside with him to begin a frantic, Uncut Gems stress level search for the keys. “I’m actually crawling around on the floor now”, Lush grunted, “looking, looking, looking.” 

“I don’t think this is going to be an award-winning show somehow. Anything but.”

Newstalk ZB Nights host Marcus Lush (Photo: Supplied)

Through it all, he kept taking calls. Murray suggested Lush should hang the keys on a nail with “studio” written on it. “That’s what you need. I’m just suggesting for later,” he offered. Lush agreed, though sounds distracted: “It’s quite hard doing a radio show when you’re frantically looking for something.”

Murray also suggested hiding a spare key behind the number plate, though Simon, who owns an automated car wash, later chimed in to say that’s a bad move. He has a pile of uncollected spare keys that have fallen out during washes.

“You check the shed, Vanessa?” Lush yelled out. The keys were proving elusive.

Caller Andrew had a suggestion. “My boss once had the Christmas ham and he wasn’t allowed to forget it… and he put his keys on the ham in the fridge. So have a look in the fridge!”

“I’m in the fridge. I’m looking around the dry goods,” Lush replied. There was no sign of the keys.

“Check the washing machine,” said the next caller. “You might have put them in the wash.” Nothing. Lush headed outside and checked the trampoline. Nothing.

About 20 minutes into the broadcast, a triumphant Lush yells out again: “We’ve got the keys!” They were in his Vanessa’s bag. “I’m back in the car. I’m going to reverse and then I’m going to drive into town. And then the show will nearly be over for the first hour and we’ve got three hours to go.”

From the house, back to the car studio, the show continued, with Lush appearing to revert to his days of travel documentary. “Marcus Lush here broadcasting from State Highway 1,” he announced after the ad break. “There’s hay baling on my left, there’s hay baling on my right. Plenty of trucks on the road. Not seeing many walkers or cyclists. There’s that car that’s been broken down on the side of the road for three days, it’s not going anywhere.” 

He took another call. 

Anne: “Firstly Marcus, I’m going to say I’m glad I don’t have to share my life with you.”

Lush: “What would you say that for!”

Anne: “If your wife was the last person to use your keys, look in her pocket or in her handbag!”

Lush: I’ve never seen her with a bag… I don’t know what ‘in her bag’ was code for!”

Anne: Women have lots of bags.”

Lush: I don’t think she does!”

The broadcaster deftly attempted to change topics. Rātana? Elton John? He took another break.

“I’ll make it up to you. No more self-indulgent key talk,” he told the audience on his return.

‘He mea tautoko nā ngā mema atawhai. Supported by our generous members.’
Liam Rātana
— Ātea editor

Arriving back in Invercargill, Lush delivered a masterclass in roundabout technique. “I’ll indicate right to get on it, and I go round, six o’clock, then indicate the other way to come off it.” He travelled past the landmark H&J Smith clock – “we’ll get a vibe of the temperature soon” – and pulled into the studio carpark, just in time for the news break.

“I feel you’ve come with me the whole way. We had a good look around the house, you’ve heard about the wooden floors and the carpet, me going through the drawers, looking on the trampoline,” he said. “Turn the engine off, phone off speaker, get my keys, put my handbrake on and I’m done and dusted. I’ll have a cup of tea. Let’s pretend it’s 8 o’clock again. Am I free to go?”

“Booyah.”