by Kit Moke
Last September, Australia’s second-oldest literary publication Meanjin was shut down. After an 85-year run, the magazine’s publisher Melbourne University Publishing (MUP) pulled the plug, citing “purely financial reasons” for the decision. Despite no say in the ruling, editor Esther Anatolitis and deputy editor Eli McClean were made redundant shortly afterwards.
Meanjin’s closure sparked widespread backlash, with a variety of contributors, authors, and former editors publicly condemning the decision. Author Jennifer Mills, previously shortlisted for the Miles Franklin award, announced on Bluesky that “the loss of Meanjin is devastating news for Australian writers and readers”. Noongar writer Claire G. Coleman aptly referred to the closure as “cultural vandalism of the highest order”.
But despite pushback from across the Australian literary community, the shut-down seemed permanent; the final issue was set to release in December 2025, marking the end of a touchstone in Australian literary history.
But come February 2026, Meanjin was given new life.
In a February 11th statement, the Queensland University of Technology (QUT) announced that it had successfully acquired the magazine—effectively becoming its new custodian. While a few things made the purchase noteworthy, one fact stood out: after more than 80 years, the journal would be returning to its place of birth.
Meanjin—established by Clem Christesen under the name Meanjin Papers in 1940—first derived its name from a Turrbal/Yagara word. The word itself referred to the broader region Brisbane was eventually built upon, with Christesen’s choice of name indicating a staunch refusal to suppress the region’s history.
QUT appeared well aware of the journal’s cultural significance in its statement, with Vice Chancellor Margaret Sheil stopping at no ends to praise Meanjin’s enduring legacy.
“Since its foundation by Clem Christesen in Brisbane in 1940, Meanjin has been instrumental in shaping Australian literary and intellectual culture… It has provided a vital platform for critical discussion, a showcase of emerging writers and a valuable training ground for leading Australian publishers and editors. We are honoured to be entrusted with the legacy of this cultural icon,” said Sheil.
From an initial glance, the acquisition appears to be a win-win. Meanjin has found a way to escape death while returning to its place of origin. Throughout this process QUT has attempted to position itself as a neutral, if not benevolent intermediary, interested only in facilitating Meanjin’s continued existence. However, the bigger picture is more complex.
In recent years QUT has experienced widespread backlash, instigated primarily by a series of aggressive budget cuts. In the 2024 financial year alone, the university announced that the Dance and Entertainment Studies majors were to be cut from the curriculum entirely. Simultaneously, changes were made to existing Creative Industries degrees (formerly Fine Arts), wherein units were altered, or in many cases outright removed mid-enrolment—a notable example being the removal of the Creative Writing capstone.
However, the school of Creative Industries was far from the only victim. In what has been described as a “poorly conceived management plan”, and an example of severe legislative overreach, QUT controversially sought to streamline its science departments, merging the original six schools into just four. The university’s proposal dictated that roughly 21 members of the current faculty would be asked to resign—the alternative being forced termination. The community quickly organised in response to the ruling, with a demonstration by the name of “Save Our Sciences” drawing hundreds in protest last December.
QUT have been yet to reverse the decision.
But despite these instances, many continue to praise the change in ownership. Professor of Creative writing Kári Gíslason was among this group, appearing optimistic that students would receive the news well.
“They will, I’m sure, celebrate this partnership: it affirms how creativity, literature and excellence in writing allow us to think deeply and connect our ideas in imaginative ways to the world around us… Meanjin’s move to QUT tells our students that this is as true now as it ever,” said Gíslason.
QUT’s acquisition of Meanjin is the most favourable outcome one could realistically hope for. Beyond just reinstatement, the magazine may even stand to gain from this partnership, with valid arguments citing QUT’s immense institutional and financial capital.
However, through a critical lens, the nature of the acquisition becomes far murkier. Is the university’s interest in this project genuine, or just a distraction from its damaged brand? Is the admiration for Meanjin’s legacy earnest, or by acquiring it, does the university simply look to repair its own? Virtue signal or not, only time can tell where this acquisition takes things.
