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Photo: Klaus Vedfelt / Getty Images
Photo: Klaus Vedfelt / Getty Images

PartnersAugust 5, 2020

Equity, equality and why access to education matters

Photo: Klaus Vedfelt / Getty Images
Photo: Klaus Vedfelt / Getty Images

The first episode of our new podcast series tackles equality and equity and the role of our education system as a solution. Subscribe now to Conversations that Count – Ngā Kōrero Whai Take, for essential insight into the future of Aotearoa. 

The idea that all New Zealanders should have access to equal opportunities is one that rarely meets with opposition. But if inequality is baked into a society, how can we redress the issues underpinning that? Dispensing assistance according to who needs it most might be unequal by definition, but in a world where we don’t all use the same starting blocks, is that the kind of approach needed to ensure fair outcomes?

That problem – of equity v equality – is exactly what the first episode of Conversations that Count – Ngā Kōrero Whai Take, our new podcast produced in partnership with Massey University, seeks to unravel. Broadcaster, author and Massey University lecturer Stacey Morrison hosts the kōrero, joined by Massey University Professor in Innovation and Economics Christoph Schumacher and The Spinoff’s Justin Latif, a former communications director for the Child Poverty Action Group and current chair of the board of a South Auckland primary school.

When asked by Morrison whether New Zealand could reasonably claim to be an equal society, the two are unequivocal.

“I think our stats are fairly clear that large sections of our society are starting on the back foot.” says Latif, “Their children are more likely to grow up in unhealthy homes, their communities are more likely to be policed heavily, and their schools are less likely to be of a high standard.”

According to the Massey University Shared Prosperity index, a wide-ranging longitudinal study assessing the country’s equality of opportunity in a range of areas, New Zealand has seen a significant decline in equality since the 1980s. Professor Schumacher, director of Massey’s Knowledge Exchange Hub and one of the architects of Shared Prosperity, points to the ‘Rogernomics’ market reforms of that decade as one key catalyst for this decline. While he notes that we’ve managed to stall that downward trajectory over the last 10 years, he also points out that we’re still a long way away from true equality.

“To put [our inequality] into context, currently we believe that the top 10% of New Zealanders own about 65% of the total wealth in this country.”

R-L: Stacey Morrison, Professor Christoph Schumacher and Justin Latif

One of the key measures used by Shared Prosperity to map New Zealand’s overall equality is accessibility of education, and quantifying such access can give researchers “a measurable reflection of the distribution of opportunities for individuals.” The study highlights the ability of education to drive substantial change in all areas, stating that “availability of education is an important method of removing barriers to equitable outcomes of other kinds, by generating future prospects that are not tethered to an individual’s initial or current situation.”

For Schumacher however, ensuring equal academic opportunities requires more than simply regulating for equal access.

“Somebody who grows up with both parents having gone to university will end up with a good degree, and we know that’s correlated to a good-income job, which will open doors for you,” he says.

The result is an unequal social structure, where those with a family history of higher education are better equipped to follow that path than those without. And while studies like the Legatum Prosperity Index tell us that education is more accessible here than in many other countries, he points out that access to those opportunities still varies significantly based on circumstance.

“Telling someone they have the opportunity to attend [higher education] – if that infrastructure isn’t there – doesn’t make any difference.”

The potential solutions the panel explores are numerous and wide-ranging – everything from direct government interventions and cooperative efforts by public entities to shifts in the way that we design and implement curricula. One unique opportunity for New Zealand is the value in looking to kaupapa Māori to lead our approach, says Latif.

“A friend of mine who grew up in Ihumātao was telling me about how she grew up sitting at her grandparents’ feet in marae meetings. And she really got a sense of who she was – her culture, her language – but also about the expectations of duty, of responsibility to make the world a better place. And it really struck me that she’s gone on to become a successful journalist and business owner, and many of her cousins are [successful] as well, and they’ve done that based on a really strong anchor that their marae provided them,” he says.

“Not everyone can whakapapa back to a marae in the heart of Mangere, but what are other ways that we build those anchor points? The principles that come out of that te ao Māori perspective can really be spread across New Zealand.”

Equity vs. Equality, the first episode of Conversations That Count – Ngā Kōrero Whai Take, is out now. Subscribe and listen via iTunes, Spotify or your preferred podcast platform.

Keep going!
Sope Dirisu (left) and Joe Cole (right) star in Neon’s Gangs of London, which you can stream in its entirety. (Photo: Sky)
Sope Dirisu (left) and Joe Cole (right) star in Neon’s Gangs of London, which you can stream in its entirety. (Photo: Sky)

Pop CultureAugust 4, 2020

Gangs of London and the dark joys of antiheroes

Sope Dirisu (left) and Joe Cole (right) star in Neon’s Gangs of London, which you can stream in its entirety. (Photo: Sky)
Sope Dirisu (left) and Joe Cole (right) star in Neon’s Gangs of London, which you can stream in its entirety. (Photo: Sky)

You probably shouldn’t expect any happy endings from buzzed-about new Neon show Gangs of London, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

The Hero’s Journey, a 17-stage literary structure popularised by the 20th century work of literature professor Joseph Campbell but present through centuries of storytelling, lays out for creators and consumers a well-trodden path: the departure, the initiation, and the return. These stages can sometimes be easy to spot in a big heroic tale – think Arya Stark’s long journey away from and return to Winterfell in Game of Thrones – but the framework can also be a lot of fun in how it shows us how self-important a hero can become over the course of a story. 

It’s not just the good guys, though. In Breaking Bad, Walter White’s departure is in the form of beginning to lead his double life as a meth manufacturer. His initiation occurs when he begins to dabble in the criminal world, which leads to his eventual kingpin status as Heisenberg. It’s the return that gets muddied in antihero stories – how can a bad guy truly become the master of two worlds, or attain the freedom to live? Both are hallmarks of Campbell’s hero’s journey, but both can be harder to detect in a story without a moral centre. 

Directed by modern action demigod Gareth Edwards (The Raid), Gangs of London is the latest in a legacy of slick blockbuster dramas to invite the audience into a galaxy of complex allegiances with complex people. What makes this one especially complicated, though, is that all of its main players are objectively nasty pieces of knitting – rather than the conflict between good and evil, it’s the tension of bad versus bad that keeps us on our toes here. Is Elliot (Sope Dirisu), the heavy who is climbing the ranks of the Wallace corporation, more innocent than anyone else? What about Sean Wallace (Joe Cole), the son of the slain gang boss, driven by love and revenge? 

Just your average gang funeral, if you’re in London (Photo: Sky)

Gangs of London is driven by this central relationship. Sean is obviously the worse guy, but Elliot has the higher body count. What can an audience do with that, ethically speaking? One of the great excitements of Gangs of London is the almost-but-not-quite over-the-top video game violence. We all become utilitarian philosophers when we watch someone with motives for the greater good ploughing through the streets of London, taking out everyone in his path. What are these individual lives worth in contrast to an anti-corruption mission?

The fun of the antihero story is that when there just simply isn’t anyone who is purely good, you have to shift your allegiances as new evidence arises – as Elliot hardens and Sean softens, our sense of right and wrong blurs and we can sink into the high stakes, never quite sure who to trust, driven only by emotion and instinct. 

We can also transfer some of that moral burden onto the smaller players, hoping to find someone we can form an ethical bond to. This is something which iconic antihero dramas like The Wire and The Sopranos managed to pull off, and Gangs of London has a large enough ensemble of supporting players to do the same thing – its underworld clans are easily identifiable and discernible by their looks, their uniforms and their languages. The gangsters are slick, well-groomed and elegantly besuited. The consequences of drug crime, the embodied epidemic of opiate addiction, is by contrast shown in the grotty flats and grottier clothes of those affected. 

An example of the kind of hyper-violent, well, violence, present on Gangs of London (Photo: Sky)

One of the brilliant things about Gangs Of London is the way that it plays with our sympathies, and manipulates our affections. This is particularly successful when played out among the gangs lower on the food chain than the Wallaces. The animosity between Asif, the Pakistani kingpin, and Lale, the Kurdish militant turned heroin boss, is made complicated by the sympathies on either side. Asif is a full-blown monster, but his son is someone you could really get behind. Lale is bloodthirsty, but everything she does she does for her people. Meanwhile the Wallaces are ivory tower gangsters, living a life of luxury, trained to kill by a psychopathic patriarch. 

Fragile masculinity is abundant in hero stories and antihero stories alike, as characters like Walter White, Tony Soprano and Jimmy McNulty are almost defined by their sulkiness, their inability to deal with their feelings and fears in healthy ways. Similar dynamics play out in Gangs of London – Sean Wallace is an emotional powder keg waiting to explode, and Elliot can’t stay on mission because his feelings get in the way. 

The antihero’s return is almost always categorised by death, because we can’t bear to let a bad guy win. Without spoiling the exhilarating first season’s thrilling conclusion, it’s safe to say that death abounds, yet resurrection is always a possibility. And that’s the most wonderfully frightening thought of all – what if the bad guy didn’t die? If you aren’t already on the Gangs of London trip, now might be a good time to hop on board.