Like all newcomers to New Zealand past and present, I’ve sought to find my place in the land of the long white cloud. Not that this has been front and center in my mind over the past ten months, during which I’d been preoccupied with the coursework for a Master in Strategic Communication at the University of Canterbury. Amidst the reading and writing, there wasn’t really much time to ponder my place – a student from the Philippines – in this bicultural society.
The research project
But working as a research assistant at the Arts Digital Lab at the University of Canterbury, gave me a chance to reflect a bit on the question. I was part of a project that aims to determine, through the help of large language models (LLMs), whether and to what extent anti-Muslim racism has changed in New Zealand over the past six years. Handling the qualitative side of things, I coded comments in Kiwiblog and the Standard, to help “train” the LLM. My background in literary criticism—specifically on questions of discourse, meaning, and interpretation—came in handy. I also have some familiarity with Islam, having majored in Western Asia (i.e. the Middle East) for an Asian Studies postgraduate degree.
So I read up on the Muslim community in New Zealand in general, and in Christchurch in particular. I have not experienced any racism here in New Zealand, nothing outright at least, but the project foregrounded its reality to me, and allowed me to reflect how and to what extent I fit into New Zealand society: how do Kiwis see Filipinos? Am I violating cultural norms? Did I say something wrong? Did that come out right? In many ways, I keep second-guessing or even gaslighting myself.
Racism and psychological impact of its possibility
All these questions should be normal for anyone living in a new city/country, although they were also shaped, to a slight extent, by a feeling that no matter how qualified I felt, or that we are all equals, I was different, that I come from a Third World country, that I, like others, could be the victim of racism. It also comes from a self-evaluation, part of my own “ethnographic” efforts to learn the norms of New Zealand society: concepts of privacy, the tall poppy syndrome, the role of small talk, te reo Maōri, etc. Integration is a two-way street, and I look forward to continuing my education on all things New Zealand.
Perhaps my anxiety was or is all in my head (I tend to overthink). I may be overstating things, or that it looks much worse than it actually is. I’ve received praise, encouragement and support, and (think) have done quite well as a student and employee. My experience as an international student leans towards “very satisfied” on a Likert scale.
Still, these mental acrobatics arguably hint at the psychological impact of being a stranger in a foreign land. More importantly, it shows how even the possibility of racism shapes how newcomers, and perhaps even migrants in general, feel and think. Just imagine how much worse it would be if one was actually discriminated against, to say nothing of being told to “go back to your country.”
The subtlety of racism
Through this project, I came to appreciate more deeply how racism and hate take on various forms. I’ve seen some outright expressions thereof in Kiwiblog, such as metaphors of Muslims “invading” New Zealand. Others are hidden within seemingly innocent or neutral sentiments. On the surface, they seem non-racist, but entail certain assumptions, perceptions and attitudes that “Other” Muslims and other migrants. This was particularly evident in comments that use religion to explain crime, as though being a Muslim is ipso facto the cause. It is also visible in comments that argue for free speech and complain about political correctness and double standards.
Multiculturalism with a bicultural foundation
Documenting these sentiments helps belie the “this is not us” narrative of New Zealand and keeps the reality of (anti-Muslim) racism front and center (as though we needed reminding?). They complicate the issue not just of biculturalism but also of multiculturalism in New Zealand. This is no disrespect to the spirit of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, but in light of New Zealand’s changing demographics, what lies behind or beyond the Pākehā-Māori binary? As one colleague remarked, Aotearoa is or should now be a multicultural society founded on biculturalism.
Racist talk is a form of violence. To be sure, the comments certainly do not approximate the level of violence in Linwood and at al-Nūr mosque (nūr is “light” in Arabic), but they inform everyday instances of anti-Muslim discrimination. One prays March 2019 never happens again, but policy cannot stop at “preventing another terror attack” as though it was just a traditional security issue. It must address the attitudes and values that underpin not just such a blatant display of violence but also its subtle manifestations: a fear of Islam, ignorance of the religion and its diverse forms, discomfort towards Muslims, or little, daily acts of othering, marginalisation, and microaggression.
Stopping racism is not just about legislating against, or refraining from, hate speech. It is also about cultivating a personal and social openness and about treating each other as equals.It is about establishing personal, cultural, and political forms of manaakitanga in a democratic society. It’s not just warm glow in our hearts. For Muslims in particular, Vicki Spencer argues that they (also) need to be recognised specifically as a religious community, not only through the lens of ethnicity.
The role of AI
This is standard fare for a secular democracy, but what’s also novel about this research project at the Arts Digital Lab is that we’re tapping AI. Plus, no other study (to our mind) has looked at the representation of Islam in the blogosphere (as opposed to newspapers). Also, I had to grapple with the possibilities and pitfalls of AI-human relationships.
The project has elicited a sense of both conflict and collaboration. I marvel(ed) at how AI can reasonably detect and identify racist content, and explain reasonably well why it is so. In this respect, it felt like a competitor that can replace the qualitative analysis that I (or a human) could do. However, this competition also presupposed my (or human knowledge in general) collaboration with the model, which learned partly from my coding and from the broad definition of racism we used.
Clearly, there’s more to be said about all these, but research projects in the digital humanities (such as those in Arts Digital Lab) are the university’s platform to explore and answer broader questions. What are the roles of a human researcher like me and of a large language model? How and to what extent do we work together? If AI can now do a particular task, does it make me superfluous, or does/should it point towards other forms of thinking I can do? And if I use AI, to what extent it is still my labour? And should I use AI for certain tasks just because I could?
But more to the matter at hand, how can LLMs advance an anti-racist agenda in New Zealand? Our research helps us detect broader patterns in racist discourse that would serve as the springboard for further interventions in education and state policy. It is a form of digital ethnography that grants us some degree of access into the minds of Kiwis, who can readily express content – racist or otherwise – in the safely anonymous sphere of the Internet, content that some of them may be hesitant to air in person and in polite society.
From AI-human collaboration to social integration
Let me now circle back. As we wrestle in real time with the nature of AI-human collaboration, we return to a parallel effort at integration, one that involves the dominant (white) culture of New Zealand and of Muslims (and immigrants). I hesitate to make this divide, since it perpetuates the Othering of Muslims, who are, should, and/or can be as Kiwi as any Pākehā or Māori. That is not my intention; my point is to appreciate the diversity of Aotearoa and envision its identity beyond the Māori-Pākehā divide without compromising Treaty principles. In this respect, to be a Muslim and Kiwi are not antithetical, with Islam being a part of New Zealand culture alongside its British and Māori heritage.
There is a sense of urgency in all of this. While racism and multiculturalism have long been debated, these issues have gained more urgency as social cohesion in New Zealand has eroded in recent years. All of us – from the government to the neighbourhood – need to take concrete steps today to reverse this decline. The goal is not just to prevent another March 2019 or to stop hate speech, but also to extend manaakitanga to everyone in New Zealand: Māori, Pākehā, European, Asian, African, Pacific Islanders, Americans, Latinos; Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist, polytheist, and atheist; men, women and tamariki, cisgender and transgender people.
This is Us.
Janus Nolasco