Yes, dear reader, you read correctly: five ways to ward off Union hacks – and no, this is not a metaphor for removing malware from your laptop. If only it were that simple. Oxford Union hacks are far more persistent, slightly more self-righteous, and arguably harder to uninstall.
Whether you’re on your way to a tute, fleeing Pret before they spot your sixth free filter coffee of the day, or simply trying to enjoy the rare pleasure of a socially undemanding quad crossing, you may find yourself cornered by a hack. You’ll spot them easily: lanyard on, clipboard in hand, smile taut with suppressed ambition and not a soul behind the eyes. They’re not bad people – just possessed. Here’s your essential guide to surviving their advances without being guilt-tripped into supporting something that sounds suspiciously like the Model UN-meets-Etonian cosplay.
1: The Romantic Deflection
When you see the hack approach, eyes gleaming with determination, flash them a look of urgency and say “I’m so sorry, I have a boyfriend/girlfriend” – a classic. The sheer confusion this generates is unparalleled. No hack thinks they are flirting, which is precisely why suggesting they are stops them dead in their tracks. Bonus points if you lean in conspiratorially and whisper, “I promised my therapist I wouldn’t get involved with anyone from the Standing Committee again.”
For maximum impact, flip your hair (regardless of length), toss them a look of pity, and strut away like you’re on the Union chamber floor – mid-debate – and they’ve just been ruled out of order. Confidence, after all, is the true enemy of canvassers.
2: The Euthanised Grandmother
If the hack begins their usual pitch, nod sympathetically and interrupt with, “Sorry, I’m off to euthanise my grandmother”. Use with caution. This is not for the faint of heart or those on committees with an ethics clause. But as a last resort, it’s a showstopper.
A friend of mine used this once, and the poor hack was left blinking like they’d just been caught quoting Burke at a freshers’ social. They muttered something about thoughts and prayers before backing away – slowly, reverently – as if you were about to perform a pagan rite in the Worcester JCR. The absurdity disarms them. Hackery, like all things in Oxford, runs on convention – abandon that, and they have nothing to cling to. Chaos is your friend.
3: The Lanyard Buff
A real connoisseur’s move. Wear a lanyard (preferably with something vague like “Research Assistant” or “Future Leaders’ Forum” on it), point at it solemnly, and say, “Sorry, conference”. No one knows what it means, but it exudes gravitas. Throw in “plenary session” or “ministerial roundtable” for flavour.
Tell them it’s a trade union conference if you want to watch them panic about accidentally crossing a picket line. If they ask for details, say it’s under embargo. If they press, say it’s in Brussels. They’ll be gone faster than a visiting speaker disinvited under “logistical concerns”.
4: The “Look Past” Manoeuvre
A subtler tactic, this one requires poise. As the hack launches into their pitch (“We’re really excited about making the Union more inclusive and dynamic this term…”), you simply look over their shoulder as if you’ve spotted someone vastly more important, which, in fairness, is true even if it’s a stranger.
When they ask who you’re looking for, say, “My conscience”. Then walk away before they can ask for its voting preferences.
Alternatively, say you’re expecting to meet “the President” – and when they inevitably ask which one, reply, “Lincoln”. Then vanish, as if communing with the dead was preferable to pledging allegiance to another Hackgate survivor.
5: The Giant’s Causeway Gambit
This is a long con. You’ll need a straight face and a sense of national mischief. Tell them there’s a massive bloc of undecided votes forming in the Giant’s Causeway and that it’s “symbolically very powerful”. Add that Union members there feel disenfranchised by the current voting infrastructure and are desperate for representation. (They won’t know Northern Ireland doesn’t have an Oxford Union branch. Most hacks don’t know where Cornmarket is.)
If they raise an eyebrow, quote Burke. If they raise two, quote Marx. Congratulations if they start quoting you, you’ve just created a new presidential candidate. Godspeed.
Bonus Tip: Create Your Own Hack Repellent
If all else fails, get creative. Carry a copy of Capital in the Twenty-First Century and say you’re boycotting the Union for being a bourgeois relic. Or wear sub fusc and claim you’re on your way to a secret disciplinary hearing for political dissent. If you’re feeling performative, shout, “Down with Standing Committee!” into the Rad Cam and see who flees. Odds are, it’ll be the ones who know what that means.
Final Thoughts
Remember: hacks feed off engagement. Like pigeons in the quad, if you make eye contact, they think you’re offering breadcrumbs. And before you know it, you’re signed up to three mailing lists and promised to run for Treasurer-Elect.
Avoiding them isn’t just self-preservation. It’s a civic duty.
Democracy may be dead, dear reader – at least within the Union. But satire is alive and well. And with these tools, so too, hopefully, is your sense of peace.
