Saturday 11th April 2026
Blog Page 1009

Let’s be positive about 2017

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Everyone, from newsreaders to late-night talk show hosts, is presenting the coming year as the light at the end of the tunnel. After all of the electoral upsets, celebrity deaths and general dreariness of 2016, we are being told to hold our heads high and welcome the warm embrace of 2017.

At a glance this seems absurd, for in fact what we are likely to see is the realisation of many of the things that hung, like rotting fruit, over the past few months. Trump, a name that, across much of the news, is synonymous with doom gloom and bad decision-making, will take the oath of office and become the 45th President of the United States. If we hated it when the Donald was just talking and tweeting, imagine what it will be like when he has power.

Of course, our own government will formally enter Brexit negotiations in 2017 and, not to be the bearer of bad news, but as the catchment area of what we would define as a ‘celebrity’ widens rapidly, what seemed towards the end of the year like an epidemic of deaths, shows no signs of stopping altogether.

The truth, however, is that the shocks and surprises of this year have made us so cynical that 2017 will need to do much to impress us. Honestly, right now, it looks like it may even be, dare I say it, boring.

So I’m looking forward to everyone and everything calming down in 2017. Does anyone remember when the news was—what’s the word?—dull? When our daily lives were not envel­oped by politics, where we could get through a dinner conversation without someone accusing another of xenophobia or being a soft lefty? Where each episode of Question Time was marked by something other than ‘Does Brexit mean Brexit?’ and UKIP was an interesting irrelevance, albeit an entertaining one.

My positive take on 2017, or I suppose more my wish for 2017, is that everything settles down. We’re leaving the EU and we’re going to start negotiating, instead of meta-arguing about meta-negotiations. Trump is going to enter the White House and start governing.

We can argue about the extent to which he will implement this or that policy, but with any luck those who berate him (often justifiably) will begin to allow him to be judged on his actions and policies, rather than his character, or the fact that he lost the popular vote.

Let’s not forget that, according to most fore­casts, the daily life of the average American won’t change so dramatically. Maybe, just maybe, our news will once again become tedious. Or at the very least, the arguments we do continue to have over politics will be largely policy rather than personality-based—in other words, tedious.

Of course, 2017 will be a year in its own right, not just a concluding part in the 2016/17 televi­sion series we call life. So, on the same theme as the DiCaprio Oscar, Pokémon Go and Paris Agree­ment moments that interspersed themselves in 2016, let’s not forget that we’ll be getting some solid DC/Marvel/Star Wars movies, more Houses and Games of Cards and Thrones, and much else besides.

Profile: Gina Miller

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Gina Miller has every reason to be fearful. Over the festive period, rather than Christmas cards and messages from well-wishers, the 51-year-old investment manager received a barrage of abuse on social media, from news outlets and even delivered to her doorstep following her decision to challenge Theresa May’s right to trigger Brexit. Yet, in spite of this, she is anything but frightened.

“You should always be intellectually and morally curious. People seemed to have stopped exercising their right to challenge. You need to be the solution. It’s all about action. There is a fear of speaking descending on our society. We can’t be frightened. Fear is a way of controlling people.”

It is unlikely that you would have heard of Miller before October. However, since launching her bid to stop the triggering of Article 50 without MPs’ approval, she has found herself engulfed in the Brexit storm, which rages on into 2017.

The self-proclaimed “nosey-parker” won her initial case against the government last year. Now, as she awaits the result of the Government’s appeal to the Supreme Court against the initial ruling, Miller finds herself the prime target of media. She is bombarded with accusations that she seeks to thwart the will of the people. Rumours swirl that the Supreme court judges will rule in her favour, but she still has little idea as to what will happen. Miller has repeatedly stressed that her bid has never been an attempt to overturn the referendum, but rather that the action to trigger Brexit legally requires a vote in parliament.

“When the judges come to a verdict, the Government will have a few hours more notice
than I will. I will hear the verdict at the same time as everyone else in court and then have to issue a very short statement. The media wants everything immediately. Contrary to others’ beliefs, I have no other agenda. I am passionate and my agenda is ensuring is to ensure that we have a constitution.”

Gina Miller is no stranger to holding the powerful to account and the inevitable criticism that comes with doing so. She cofounded the firm SCM Private in 2014 and she also set up the True and Fair Campaign in 2012 with her hedge-fund manager husband, Alan, calling for more transparency in the City of London’s fund management industry.

“I’m not incredibly intelligent but I have a lot of common sense. I’ve never done anything to make friends. If you really know your information and your data you can challenge anyone.

“I am a mental and physical fidget. I dip in and explore. If you’re going to put your head above the parapet you need to know what you are talking about.

“People are quite lazy once they find themselves in a position of power. I aim to challenge not only the sector but the ethics too and a lack of moral leadership, which caused the financial crisis.

“Industry hasn’t reformed, but the global economy has. For instance, the whole pension sector needs to be reformed. About 80 per cent of the product is not fit for purpose. I adopt the motto ‘people, profit, planet’. A lack of moral leadership and framework is to some extent what caused the financial crisis.

“I have found my work in the charities sector especially challenging. We want to know what happens to our money, to our tax, so I have been pushing boundaries there.

“Before the court case, people were willing to have debates with me. Since, I have been exposed to the most vicious and personal attacks from charities. They are the sector of angels, so to speak, so they can’t bare anyone asking questions. They do not want to be criticised—it makes them look bad.

“People have threatened to sue me for my work and petitioned to close us down. If that’s the reaction, then I know that I’m doing something right.”

Despite her courage both professionally and with regards to the case, she admits that it has nonetheless proved to be a “lonely path”.

“When it came to the court case, I spoke to anyone I could get hold of to find support. The answer was the same every time—we support you, but we can’t be seen to support you.”

Not just lonely, however, but a path weathered with abuse which Miller, who was born in Guyana and grew up in Britain, believes to be especially scathing because of her gender and ethnicity.

“If I was a white male, I would not be suffering in the way I am. Whilst the case was on-going, I tried not to read all of the articles and messages on social media, which are shocking and absolutely disgusting. The idea that a woman cannot be bright enough to do it on her own is absolute nonsense. The idea that as a woman of colour I can only be one of these three jobs—a prostitute, a cleaner or a mother—is even more awful.

“My husband more so than me is infuriated by this idea that a man married to an ambitious woman must be down-trodden, under the thumb.

“We are taught you must not be successful and try your best or you are no longer worthy of being part of normal society. Success is used as a weapon against us.”

Abuse from certain media outlets became so bad, Miller felt compelled to enquire as to why she was suffering so badly.

“They are trying to dig up stories in whatever way possible, so I was speaking to the editor of a right-wing paper about why the press are so obsessed with me, trying to dig up stories in whatever way possible.

“He told me I am an enigma, because no one does things for the right reasons. I told him that nothing could be so revealing of the mind-set and agenda of his paper than that statement. It shows their detachment from society, for they do not realise that every single people go out and do things for the right reasons.”

It is not just Miller, but the Supreme Judges presiding over the case, who have been targeted with abuse. The Daily Mail ran a front page in November declaring the judges “Enemies of the people”, echoing the dangerous language of Hitler’s Nazi Germany.

“The Daily Mail are b reaking the law in inciting hatred and anti-Semitism against these judges. We being bullied and spat at from all angles. They are trying to dig up stories in whatever way possible.”

Miller is keen to point out, however, that it has not all been bad.

“Along with this abuse, I have also received beautiful letters from people affected by the Brexit vote, those from other countries who are incredibly upset with the way the entire thing has been handled.”

Regardless of the ruling, Miller hopes that she has inspired some to stand up for their beliefs and to challenge figures of authority.

“When you leave university, harness that sense of fearlessness, which will create a better society, with better hearts, heads and minds.”

Letter from abroad: Vienna

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Stepping off the aeroplane at the airport on Christmas Eve was like stepping out of a time machine. It has only been three months since I moved to Vienna to work as a language assistant, but it feels like it has been ten times as long.

Having swapped the sandstone buildings of Oxford and the cobbled streets of Edinburgh for the imperial and high-ceilinged apartment blocks of Austria’s capital city, I have tried to live (almost) like a local.

I found somewhere to live during the notorious September rush, sat in prime seats at the theatre for six euros, and learned when and where it is safe to ride the underground without a ticket. I have also adopted Austrian slang, admired the Danube by night, seen the old Hapsburg Palaces cloaked in snow, and introduced a generation of Austrian teenagers to The Inbetweeners.

In many ways, living abroad has given me a new perspective on life at Oxford. In a world where meals in hall are a distant memory, the word ‘collection’ refers strictly to recycling, and commuting is a 40-minute bike ride at 7am (instead of a five-minute jog down St Giles), I have never felt more free of the academic pressures of school and university. And it’s been rather an emboldening experience.

Austria does not have elite universities, and the whole concept of Oxford and the bottom-dropping-out-of-your-stomach feeling that still features when first week comes around, has never felt so literally or figuratively far away.

I feel as if I have finally put my head above the parapet. The pomp and circumstance of caps and gowns, formal hall, grace in Latin, report readings and tutorials, college politics and punting, collection prizes and principal’s interviews, has all been reduced to background noise. It’s the background noise of a pretty obnoxious brass brand, I grant you that, but it is a whole lot better than having it constantly blasting in your ears. Over the last two years I realise that I have developed a severe tunnel vision. And, it has taken moving countries to remind me that there is more to life than essay deadlines and days spent hiding in the Rad Cam.

Being abroad is like being in a time machine or, perhaps more accurately, a world which operates in a different time zone. People often talk about ‘the Oxford bubble’, yet coming home has reminded me that my life in Vienna is not that dissimilar.

This disorienting realisation first came to me on New Year’s Eve, when it occurred to me that 2017 would arrive a whole hour earlier in Austria than in the UK. The almost non-existent time difference has had little impact on my ability to communicate with friends and family, provided we make it clear to which time zone we are referring, but living a life across two time zones can make you feel a bit queasy at times. It’s like being on an escalator where the hand rail moves faster than the steps.

The problem with being on those escalators is that you end up standing in the most uncomfortable positions. It starts out okay, but if you forget to move your hand, or fail to move a few steps upwards once in a while, you get to the top of the escalator looking like a snapshot of someone clinging on for life in a hurricane.

Whilst being a somewhat disconcerting experience, it’s well worth it. I hope, that when I return to Oxford I will be a little worldlier, perhaps wiser, and a readier to see the funny side of things. Finals are no longer so daunting when you remember there’s a whole world that exists outside ‘the bubble’.

The ‘post-truth’ era is a product of liberal denial

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As 2016 drew to a close, liberal commentators had already made up their minds that a new era was dawning in politics. The shock of Brexit, compounded by the hor­rifying prospect of a forthcoming Trump presidency, caused them to recede deep into their journalistic shells.

This, they hurriedly decided, would be the era of post-truth politics, a new Dark Age for the world. In their frazzled minds, the ignorant electorate had lapped up Trump’s lies and lost them the election. Floating in their liberal bubble, they could not conceive of a world in which voters did not share their exact worldview.

The arrogance is almost tangible. At every fork in the road, liberals took the wrong turning, both in the referendum and in the presidential election. In the referendum, they refused to seriously debate immigration policy. Opposition to the freedom of move­ment was antagonistically conflated with racism, and millions of voters were written off as gullible Little Englanders. Genuine pa­triots, concerned about what they saw as the EU’s hold on British sovereignty, were roundly mocked for their “old-fashioned views”.

Many floating voters did not believe the Remain camp’s consistent scaremongering and doomsaying. Indeed, the Government appeared to be so convinced of a Remain vic­tory that it saw little point in preparing for a potential Brexit, and publicly announced as much.

In the American presidential election, the DNC conspired to rid itself of a genuinely popular challenger from the left in the form of Bernie Sanders. With Sanders as Democratic nomination, Trump’s cries of “Lock Her Up” and “Drain the Swamp” would have lost their formidable sting. Clinton, although eminently qualified and capable during her time as Secre­tary of State, was the worst possible candidate to run against the anti-establishment Trump. Similarly flawed was her campaign plan to play up her social liberalism and identity politics at the expense of class-based economic policy. Voters in the rust belt, inspired in 2008 by Obama’s promise of change, did not see the same potential in Clinton.

Many who espouse the idea of a new “post-truth” era are quick to overlook these errors, and to pin the blame onto the electorate. They are eager to paint the world in Manichean terms, the good and the bad, the progressive, enlightened liberals against the lie-spouting, poor-hating Republicans.

Only the chosen few, some implied, could marshal true rationality and logic in support of their liberal worldview. They patronisingly accused the electorate of being unduly affect­ed by emotional appeals, as if the American people had unanimously decided to ignore reality in the run up to 8 November.

In fact, accusations of being “post truth” have been about since Orwell admitted to of­ten feeling as if “the very concept of objective truth is fading out of the world”. To paraphrase Brecht, it felt as if it would have been more convenient for the Clinton camp to dissolve the people and elect another.

Many claim that Donald Trump’s ability to flatly deny something that he probably said is strong evidence of the existence of post-truth politics. During the presidential campaign it is true that the billionaire got away largely scot-free when caught telling untruths. But this is not representative of post-truth politics: many voters opted for Trump’s egregious style of lying rather than what they saw as Clinton’s naturally untrustworthy nature. Had Sanders run, voters may well have switched their al­legiances and penalised Trump.

Similarly, in the Leave campaign, neither side were considered wholly trustworthy. Both campaigns fairly accused the other of bolstering statistics for political purposes and dishonesty could not be fairly punished.

Although the forthcoming Trump presi­dency will see many attempted lies, claims of a “post-truth era” have been greatly exagger­ated by a liberal elite unwilling to shoulder the blame.

It is highly unlikely that we see Theresa May adopt Donald Trump’s brash style of intention­ally lying in the next General Election. Both Trump and Brexit are symptoms of a unique time in world politics, but they will not herald in a new “post-truth” era.

Review: Silence

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Twenty-eight and a half years after The Last Temptation of Christ, faith has again driven Scorsese outdoors, and into another wilderness—rural Japan in the seventeenth century. The trailer for Silence portrays it as a different film to the one cinema-goers will encounter. Fast cuts coupled with tremolo strings and intense, building percussion lend the trailer a sense of urgency which is wholly lacking from the film itself. This is in large part due to Scorsese’s complete refusal to include any non-diegetic sound. The film begins with an extended, almost uncomfortably long black screen, with only the ambient noise of a rural environment as accompaniment. The aural tone of the film is thus set from its very first second.

Whilst preoccupied with silence, the film knows how to effectively use sound. A late scene begins with the sound of Rodrigues praying aloud in his cell, with no other ambient noise. But then the sounds of the prison beyond the walls of his cell filter in and build, until he is drowned out by a cacophony of snoring and screaming. The power of the scene is only fully disclosed when the source of the noise is revealed. (Hint: it’s not what we, and Rodrigues, think, but rather something far more disturbing.)

This silence becomes more and more troubling as the film progresses, and as Rodrigues (played with a sensitive combination of warmth and naivety by Andrew Garfield) faces ever increasing hostility. In the film’s early scenes, this hostility is translated into an ambiguous sense of place, with Japan being made to feel disorienting and often insurmountable. Rodrigo Prieto, who so effectively documented the minute details of decadence in The Wolf of Wall Street, proves just as impeccable a collaborator for Scorsese here. A particularly beautiful shot shows the priests descending a tall set of stairs, but either Scorsese or Prieto had the beautifully simple idea of twisting the shot ninety degrees so that they descend not top to bottom but left to right. The result is an arrestingly decontextualised shot. The lack of the sound of footsteps only pushes the shot further towards abstraction.

Whilst not urgent, Silence displays a phenomenal control of timing. In one scene, Scorsese delays a beheading just long enough for the audience to feel safe before abruptly unleashing it on us in a moment of extreme velocity yet extreme clarity.

In the same scene, we are given a single, long take of a naked man trampling the image of Christ and then running out of the prison compound after being set free, with the officers then returning to their lodgings. Whilst not as showy as the famous Copacabana shot from Goodfellas, it is an extremely powerful take: shot from behind the thick wooden bars of Rodrigues’s cell, with the action choreographed shrewdly in the gaps between the bars.

Without the use of any cuts, the audience is left to view exactly what Rodrigues views, in real time. The conventional grammar of cinema—at its heart shot-reverse shot—disintegrates into an extended moment of realism which aligns us with the imprisoned Rodrigues.

Whilst Garfield and Adam Driver give extremely solid performances, Liam Neeson delivers the standout performance among the Portuguese priests. The nuance and subtlety of his performance creates a perfectly ambiguous character—exactly what the role demands. The Japanese side of the cast is, on the whole, extremely strong. Issei Ogata, playing the chief inquisitor, is a particular standout. He delivers a terrifyingly sinister performance which nonetheless somehow never totally eradicates the audience’s sympathy.

Though they share the same cinematographer and similar runtimes, The Wolf of Wall Street and Silence are vastly different films. Whilst the former is a comedy exploring excess, the latter is a sombre work of immense control. This is not to say Silence totally lacks humour. It is funny each time the Judas figure Kichijiro turns up and begs Rodrigues, the very person he betrays, to hear his confession. It is funny that the Portguese priests should use the few moments they have outside the claustrophobic confines of their Japanese hideaway to sit on a rock and sun themselves.

Yet these humorous moments are few and far between, and Silence remains a long and at times taxing work. But do not let this put you off ; this is exactly what it needs to be.

So, what will actually happen at Donald Trump’s inauguration?

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At midday on the 20th of January, a time and date which has been set in stone since 1937, Donald Trump will become the 45th President of the United States of America. Up to this point, despite having been confirmed as the winner of the Electoral College vote, Trump has had the title of ‘President-Elect’ whilst Barack Obama has fulfilled the end of his term.

The actual inauguration has no constitu­tional necessity; the constitution solely requires an oath to be made. However, as with all parts of American politics, this moment has been hyper­bolised and romanticised to create the occasion that we will witness on the 20th of this month.

The Vice-President will be sworn in first, after a number of musical performances and religious invocations, directly before the president. Then Chief Justice John Roberts will rise and Trump will be made to swear, on a bible of his choice, to uphold the office of the presidency.

John Roberts has a tricky relationship with the words of this oath as, during Obama’s first inauguration, he confused some of the lines leading to the ceremony being repeated in the White House, a day later, in order to ensure that Obama had actually become the president. This is suprising considering that the oath itself is relatively simple and is defined by the constitu­tion. Trump will say: “I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Consti­tution of the United States.” That’s it! 35 words and you are the President of the United States.

A number of gun salutes and some more singing will follow this and then we will end with Trump’s inauguration speech. Hopefully Trump’s speech will be shorter than William Henry Harrison’s, whose 8,445 word address in 1841 is the longest in inauguration history and is alleged to have given him a cold that killed him 31 days later.

The event usually finishes with the new President and the old President departing together. The new President will drive or walk down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House whilst the old President will take one last flight on the plane that would have formerly been known as Air Force One. The plane is named as such because it carries the President rather than because of its specific model and thus, because Obama will no longer be the President, the plane will no longer be Air Force One until its new occupant enters its historic doors.

After the event, Melania and Donald Trump will attend a gratuitous number of balls and dinners before settling to govern the nation. It is an archaic and positively unnecessary ceremony that will, in a matter of moments, hand the greatest power into the (small) hands of Trump.

Science may be far from true

The nature of science is notoriously difficult to pin down. Many think of it as a straightforward progression towards truth, but this is overly simplistic. A radical and controversial model proposed by 20th century physicist and philosopher Thomas Kuhn highlights how far from being linear and truth-oriented science might in fact be.

Kuhn suggests that scientists in a given field of study work within a ‘disciplinary matrix’ of common beliefs shared as a community. These include the correct use of instruments, key values and even metaphysical principles. The disciplinary matrix stipulates the important problems in a given area and how to go about solving them. The key aspect of Kuhn’s account of science is his description of the transfer of favour by a scientific community from one disciplinary matrix to another, an example being the move from classical Newtonian to quantum physics in the early 20th century. Such transitions occur during times of ‘revolutionary science’, when anomalies build up to the extent that the current set of core beliefs is perceived to be inadequate. A new set must be found to replace them. The way any new disciplinary matrix is selected from the many options during a revolutionary period is of vital importance and determines whether science can be said to be a linear progression towards the truth. Kuhn thinks this is not the case.

In his original work, Kuhn claimed that we have no objective means of comparing disciplinary matrices and the theories within them, that even experimental evidence is not theory-neutral, since we interpret it based on the theories we hold to be true. The jumps between disciplinary matrices are, he said, just based on the psychological and sociological factors at play within a community rather than on any that are truly truth-seeking. This argument led Kuhn to be accused of attributing the choice of which disciplinary matrix to adopt entirely to ‘mob psychology’, therefore depriving science of its objectivity.

Kuhn countered this criticism by suggesting that some objective values are applied when choosing between disciplinary matrices: those containing accurate, simple, consistent theories with a wide scope are preferred. He still maintained, however, that these values cannot fully determine the decision and that psychological and sociological factors do play a role. Unfortunately, we cannot guarantee that these objective factors—accuracy, simplicity, consistency—will always lead us towards truth. All we can say is that they have guided us to effective theories in the past, therefore we expect them to continue to do so.

Kuhn’s model, while radical, nevertheless has considerable influence among philosophers of science, promoting the view that there may be no perfect theory or ‘truth’ that we are heading towards. Rather, science is like an evolutionary process with the selection criteria leading to theories that are increasingly ‘useful’, in that they are good at making predictions but which may have no proximity to the truth about the way the world is.

Oxford – a tale of two cities sitting in the same space

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Quietness, quietness, in a place characterised by the shuffle and buzz of centuries-old university life, has an audible impact. It is, indeed, very, very quiet here.

It is the day after New Year’s Day, when the revelries accompanying the dawn of a new year have faded and all that is left is quiet. And yet, the quiet is not simply the by-product of a sombre January afternoon, amidst the post-Christmas lull where cities sleep and townspeople softly shuffle around the streets waiting for the cosy comfort of the evening darkness to envelop them. The quiet is the distinct silence brought about by the absence of something essential because this city, Oxford, is starved of its life blood—students.

The absence of students is practically tangible on this midwinter morning. Libraries peer at you from around every corner; you can almost feel them sighing with emptiness, longing to be filled with students who will pour over tomes and study furiously for collections. Pubs and restaurants have patrons, but they are not bursting at the seams in the way they do during term time. Reservations seem like almost comedic propositions, and at this time of year pubs like The Perch—its fire burning softly as the winds whistle by on a Sunday night—seem impossibly large for their clientele. There is no need to spend 20 minutes scouting for a seat next to a power socket in Costa, there are barely any tables taken and G and D’s, that student staple, is closed. There is a quiet sleepiness that can’t be fully explained by the month or the time of year. Oxford’s urban character seems permanently bonded to its student population in their absence, and through them to their historic university.

And yet, this is a city that exists without students. This is a city with a population of some 160,000 residents. It is a city that is home to a thriving publishing industry, a successful car manufacturer, and a growing IT industry. It is a city with an eclectic art and music scene, a city which is considered to be the home of modern folk music. It is a city that provided refuge to King Charles II during the English Civil War. Of course, it is also a city with soaring property prices and an increasingly serious homelessness crisis. Oxford is not merely a municipal infrastructure demarcated by its insufficiencies in the absence of students. It is a city characterised by its own inner life and also the question, perhaps, of what could free it from its attachment to those same students.

The town and gown divide has deep historical roots; tour guides pointedly emphasise that the first prisoner locked away in Oxford Castle was allegedly an inebriated student. Tensions between university students and Oxford’s medieval Jewish population related to the pawning of books are said to have contributed to the 1268 Ascension Day riots, after which the Jews were made to sponsor a gold crucifix erected on the grounds of Merton College. The Winchester historian R.C. Richardson describes fierce political disputes over the university’s historic privileges, which around the time of the English Civil War included the ability to set some prices, regulate bread and beer, and collect tolls within city limits. A town once taxed by a university might justifiably harbour some lingering resentment towards its academic elite.

Conversations with local residents and workers heighten the sense that the town and gown divide remains, and its effects are pronounced during University vacations. Some of the benefits are easy to notice and intuitively appealing to townspeople. Oxford resident Maegan Reed was keen to extol the benefits of the University holidays on grounds of the proportional reduction in noise.

“There are fewer drunk people yelling in the street outside my at at 3am on a weekday, and that’s a holiday from my rage,” she said.

These frustrations are self-evident, although they might pale in comparison to the two Quaker women who Professor Richardson describes being “set upon and nearly killed” by Oxford students during the Commonwealth government under Cromwell. Ms Reed’s concerns are shared by other Oxford residents whose complaints seem to more straightforwardly highlight the cultural divide between the two camps. One local worker said in passing that “there’s a perceptible decrease in braying students annoying me, which is nice.”

But statistics imply that actual crime seems largely unaffected by the presence of students. Louis Thurman, a graduate from the Policing Studies programme at Oxford Brookes University, says that crime data for the period from December 2015 to November 2016 shows a seasonal spike in theft in the city centre around Christmas that is most likely not related to students. Increases in Anti-Social Behaviour offences in the summer and Violent and Sexual offences in September and October were not statistically significant.

“By crime statistics alone it does not appear that the students of Oxford themselves have much of an effect on the levels or recorded crime,” Thurman says.

J.M.W. Turner’s painting ‘Oxford: St Mary’s and the Radcliffe Camera from Oriel Lane’, currently on display in the Tate Britain, might speak to a cultural divide that resists empirical classification. In that 1793 painting, the University’s first building at St Mary’s Church and the Radcliffe Camera dominate the backdrop, while the vague outlines of a cart and buggy hint at the possibility of a broader community outside the academic sphere.

The perceived cultural disconnect might be understandable in terms of just how much there is to the city obscured in Turner’s sketchy blur, and how much of this place is and has been ignored in favour of the grandeur of the University.

What the rivalry means in practice is difficult to pin down. Generally, as Michael Jacobs wrote in a Cherwell article last term, it is understood to be the various tensions which arise between the people living and working in Oxford, and the very large transient student population. Snobbery or hostility may no longer underpin that dynamic, Jacobs said, but “the lives of students [at Oxford] are inevitably structured differently to those at school or with jobs”, and that is an irreducible fact.

But how much material difference does the mass exodus of students at the end of every term actually make to Oxford?

University facilities can take on a different face to townspeople when students are gone. One Iffley Road user likes the holidays because the centre “isn’t crowded and I can get a treadmill that is not occupied, or have my own pool lane”.

There is definite feeling among local workers and residents that the vacations bring with them a chance for locals to reclaim their city. Empty lanes at the pool are concurrent with shorter lines for activities that carry inverse health benefits. As one burger fan pointed out—albeit slightly tongue in cheek—“when students leave, the Peppers Burgers wait time goes from fifteen minutes to ten. Time is money. And burgers are brilliant.”

Not all locals are so quick to rush to judgement of students. John Kay, a local worker, was keen to stress that students often provided mild doses of amusement for those who work in the city.

“What you don’t get, when the city is empty of students, are the occasional, delightfully surreal sights. I quite enjoy spotting a bewildered, drunk fresher waiting for a bus in a robe and comedy crown,” Kay said. He drily noted that this has happened on more than one occasion.

The divide can be sensationalised, although Thames Valley Police do occasionally find themselves having to interact with students, drunken or otherwise, who have placed themselves in hazardous situations. Three LMH students were arrested in 2008 and made to perform community service after skinny-dipping in the Castle Mill Stream, drawing serious criticism from the university and a torrent of criticism from local media and online commenters. At the time, some oxfordmail.net users described students as “unbearable toffs” and “generally worthless to society”.

But not everybody who works in Oxford is so quick to proclaim the virtues of a vacation period that sends students across Britain and the globe. Visiting a local coffee shop, usually bustling with students fighting for seats, was a quick lesson in how much the town depends on the University for its livelihood. At one of the busiest times of the day the coffee shop was desolate. There was myself, two members of staff, and two other customers. I asked one of the members of staff to comment on how they find business outside of term time. They said they were unable to comment in an official capacity, but they did take a look at the almost empty shop and give me a knowing look.

The economic impact of the mass departure, according to conversations with workers, seems to affect some sectors of the local economy more painfully than others. A taxi driver, who wishes to remain nameless, explained that “without the students and staff in the University at this time of year, there is hardly any work”. He explained that there is no need for as many taxi drivers as normal and that he must personally budget carefully throughout the year to ensure that he makes enough during the term time to tide him over during the vacation periods. A local off-licence also highlighted how perilous the vacation period is for business. Pointing to his empty shop (save for the two of us), he told me that “this time of year is so quiet. We have to change the window displays to appeal to the different market, but we miss the students”. He went on to explain that not only does the shop notice a drop in income during vacations due to the lack of students, but they also really suffer from the lack of university staff who are in Oxford during the vacation periods.

This highlights an important point. Many of the locals and residents who have expressed views about the city in the vacation have focused on the students, but there is a hitherto yet discussed dimension to this: University staff. Whilst much of the town’s small businesses rely on the students and the University to support their livelihoods, many of them rely on the staff of the University to support their businesses. And the University relies on the ‘town’ to support it in its endeavours. The University is one of the major employers in the city of Oxford—both reliant upon one another to function.

The Oxford University staff count is at slightly over 13,000 employees, and that number doesn’t include those employed solely by colleges or Oxford University Press, which is part of the University. Counting those employed by OUP and the colleges results in a final sum of over 15,000 thousand people employed by way of the University. For a city with a population of 159,000, this means that around 10 per cent of the population of the city might conceivably work for the University, a figure that might well be higher given the difficulty of finding figures related to the staff employed by the individual colleges.

What’s more, this figure of around 15,000 people dependent on the University for their livelihood, or, expressed differently, the 15,000 people the University depends on in order to run smoothly, doesn’t take into account the number of people indirectly employed by the University like freelance writers, editors, designers, and consultants, or the number of people and businesses who benefit from the disposable income of those employed by the University. The footprint of the University, both in terms of student expenditure and staff payroll, is inextricably intertwined with the economic output of the city.

The empty seats, open pathways and new signage that physically denote the start of a student holiday may express something fundamental to the city’s character, not in terms of how Oxford three times a year chooses to reject its students but in how everything, eventually, reverts to normal. Locals might celebrate regaining their city three times a year, and students might find the empty city lacking. But as much as there is a divide between the town and the gown, there’s also a symbiotic relationship. The University provides for the ‘town’, and the city provides for the University.

Far gone are the days when the Laudian bishops Bancroft and Skinner struggled mightily to impart Laud’s notions of “good order and decency” onto the university’s students, as Richardson writes. No longer do the university’s students jeer the town councillors as they make an annual pilgrimage to atone for the fatalities incurred in the St Scholastica Day Riot of 1355. It would be difficult to seriously sustain an argument these days that the university is now “the dominant partner in town-gown relations” as it was during the Restoration, not when Oxford is the global centre of Mini Cooper production. But the two parties do depend on each other. Though townspeople continue to regard students with various resentment, apathy, and mirth.

To paraphrase from China Mieville’s novel The City and the City (a novel about two different cities which occupy the same physical space), perhaps as we walk around Oxford, “we should all walk with a little more equipoise, walk in either city; be Schrodinger’s citizens.”

Extra detail: local policing student on Oxford’s crime patterns

Louis Thurman, Graduate of Policing Studies from Oxford Brookes University

With most areas, it is possible to see certain types of crimes which are more prevalent, and when one looks at the crime statistics for the central area of the city during the period of December 2015 to November 2016 (police.uk, 2016), as one might expect, there is a noticeable spike in theft offences; such as shopliftings, thefts from persons (pickpocketing etc.), and thefts of pedal cycles. These figures show that the general trend of crime frequency in the city centre does not seem to show much fluctuation throughout the year.

However, the trend of theft offences shows a peak in October and November. Considering that the city centre has an abundance of shops, and an increased amount of footfall before Christmas, I think it is unlikely that this trend is related to the present or absence of students. There are other very minor trends that occur such as an increase in ‘Anti-Social Behaviour’ in the summer months, and an increase in ‘Violent and Sexual’ offences around September and October.

It could be interpreted that these changes are due to an increase in the amount of time that the remaining students spend socialising in the city in the warmer weather, and their return around September; but these trends are minor and cannot be considered statistically significant from just one year’s data, nor is it possible to attribute these fluctuations specifically to the comings and goings of students in the town.

In short, by crime statistics alone it does not appear that the students of Oxford themselves have much of an effect on the levels or recorded crime. However, when looking at the crime stats for areas of the city which contain large clusters of student halls, mainly for Oxford Brookes University, one can see an increase in the frequency of burglaries, which could be due to the students’ presence providing more opportunity for criminals.

When the students make their way home over Christmas, the town fills with Christmas parties and New Years celebrations. The result is a shift in the types of people in the city rather than the volume.”

Debate: does fake news directly threaten democracy?

Yes:

Fake news isn’t new, and history shows us that the tangible impact it can have shouldn’t be ignored

Richard Birch

The relationship between media and politics has often been fraught. Spin doctors are now all-too familiar in the political world, who seem the true architects of the country’s future, while portraying a false image of political figures to the coun­try’s major news outlets to make them seem electable, trustworthy, and honourable, when in fact the entirely opposite may be true. This fixture of political life has oft been parodied in popular culture, but shines a light into the dangerous lies that can be propagated, and the political consequences they may have.

Questionable facts and ‘spinning’ the truth was as somewhat of an open secret under the regime of New Labour and Tony Blair. The infamous dossier that exagger­ated the probability of Saddam Hussein’s possession of weapons of mass destruction led Britain, indisputably, into a war for the wrong reasons. Even if one thinks the Iraq War was necessary, there can be no denying that fake news was used to falsely justify this war to the British public.

Some years on, the extent of the lies became apparent and there was an outcry, and rightly so. Yet recently we have noticed something of a resurgence of this kind of systemic lying, and I would argue that this represents a huge threat to democracy. Voter systems are predicated on the idea that me­dia outlets reliably present facts regarding political parties and candidates such that voters can be informed when they cast their ballot for the leader of the country.

So when news outlets give unprecedented amounts of airtime to certain candidates in the run up to an election, ignore others, and slant the information to favour one candi­date over another; this represents a threat to the democratic system. Fake news is this taken to an extreme. Wilfully confusing matters and misinforming people should be viewed in a dim light in any scenario or form of journalism, but in the political sphere, it can have particularly disastrous consequences.

Ted Cruz’s campaign trail for the Republi­can candidacy was marred by such repeated attempts by media outlets to confuse mat­ters, to obfuscate his positions, and to make him the target of ridicule. Regardless of what one thinks of Cruz’s suitability to be Presi­dent of the United States, again, there can be little doubt that the manner in which he was portrayed by mainstream media made him little more than a bumbling comic foil to Trump’s alpha-male posturing.

It was claimed that Cruz was the Zodiac Killer, an accusation which was originally deliberately started as a mock-conspiracy, but eventually evolved into a genuine conspiracy among a surprising amount of Americans. Ten per cent of Floridians agreed with the accusation, despite the Zodiac Killer having operated before he was even born.

Ted Cruz also had to fend off the accusation that his father was part of the conspiracy to assassinate JFK. The dissemination of this obviously ridiculous information by major news media outlets was irresponsible inso­far as it derailed the Cruz campaign—Cruz being the most significant competitor to Trump in the run-up to the candidacy vote.

These completely ridiculous stories, some would argue, unjustly influenced the out­come of the election. This culture of fake news that sprang up around the time of the campaign for the Republican candidacy and has continued ever since has skewed voter masses, and could well be one of the most powerful reasons behind Trump’s eventual success in the Presidential election.

Now that this resurgence is in the public eye, various groups—Facebook and the Labour Party most notably—have vowed to combat fake news online. If political groups are starting to become involved, we must read this as a clear indicator that today’s fake news threatens the way our democracy operates.

 

No

Fake news doesn’t pose a direct threat to democ­racy, but it does expose its fundamental flaw

By Joe Baverstock-Poppy

Fake news is media content that aims to mislead. Examples of falsehoods spread by fake news include claims that the Pope had endorsed Trump for President and that Clinton practices witchcraft. If successful, fake news has a potential to generate a significant impact on elections. However, does this impact threaten democracy? I would argue it doesn’t threaten de­mocracy but exposes democracy’s fundamental flaw.

If it were so that fake news’ impact on elections were threatening democracy, there would be something about that impact that undermines the conditions required for our politics to be democratic. I would argue that the fundamental condition for our politics to be democratic is that those who hold the legal reins of power, the government, must be accountable to the interests of those subject to that power, citizens. There is much discussion on what it means to be accountable to those interests, but that discus­sion isn’t necessary for this question.

The greatest impact that fake news can have upon our politics is to make the people elect a government on false pretences. Yet people elect­ing a government on false pretences doesn’t threaten democracy. Even if the people have mis­led interests, it doesn’t make the government any less accountable to those misled people.

It must be distinguished that fake news doesn’t undermine democracy like a state con­trolled press does. With fake news, people freely choose to read that which misleads, which con­firms their beliefs, under a state controlled me­dia the people have no choice but to read the misleading state media. Those who consume fake news vote in their interest: falsehood. A state controlled press undermines democracy by denying people, who desire the truth, the truth and so obstructs them from voting in their interest: truth. Nothing in the definition of democracy requires voters’ interests to be in­formed.

Lately, many have viewed democracy as a sacred cow without flaws. We need to be more critical and aware of its shortcomings to be pre­pared for them. Fake news demonstrates that de­mocracy can quite easily produce governments that will act according to feelings as opposed to evidence.

This limitation of democracy has been pointed out throughout the history of political philosophy. Plato argued that democracy fails to form good governments since it was subject to the irrational whims of the wider public, whims which fake news today exploits.

Many have tried to find a remedy to this irrationality that fake news exploits and show that a democratic society can exist without fake news. John Stuart Mill suggested granting the educated extra votes. In response to Mill, many argue that the educated already have more elec­toral weight, since the opinions the educated express through the press would be heeded by the public. Therefore, granting the educated ex­tra votes would be demeaning and unnecessary.

This seemed to be true for a long time. However, following the rise of the internet, the press now has a diminished role in informing the electorate: 30 per cent of US adults get news from social media. As a consequence anyone can disseminate news online.

Others have argued that libel laws are a way to ensure the public aren’t swayed by lies. How­ever, there are many limitations to libel laws. Corrections often go unnoticed. Journalists can easily continue practicing in the industry and spreading new, subtler, falsehoods. Govern­ment entities can sue those who lie about the state, granting immunity to anti-government conspiracy theorists like Alex Jones. But the final deathblow to libel laws has been the internet: the anonymity and scale of the internet has made libel laws impossible to enforce. The police lack the resources to identify and arrest the perpetrators of viral lies like Pizzagate.

To conclude, fake news, although mislead­ing and dangerous, does nothing to obstruct the will of the people from being expressed in politics. Furthermore, not only is fake news com­patible with democracy but, with the advent of the internet, fake news seems inseparable from democracy.

Jones’ toughest test yet?

0

With the Six Nations just over a fortnight away, all eyes turn to England. Eddie Jones’ side are set to challenge back-to-back Grand Slam wins and improve on their perfect record of 13 games from 13 , which they have maintained since Jones took over from Stewart Lancaster following England’s depressing World Cup run. But this feat could now be even more difficult, with injuries affecting more than half the starting pack.

Five are likely to miss the opening game against France on 4 February: the Vunipola Brothers, Mako and Billy, flanker Chris Robshaw and locks George Kruis and Joe Launchbury. All have played integral roles in the success of the side so far.

This will test England’s strength in depth, with dominant forward play integral to game- control, providing the service the backs need to seal victories. Robshaw and Billy Vunipola are particularly big losses to the side. Robshaw, captain under Lancaster, has brought a great deal of experience and leadership to a relatively young team. Billy’s absence, which looks set to last the entire series, will mean that the forwards need to make up for his unmatched work ethic and ball-carrying.

The loss of such leaders in the forwards has undoubtedly shaped Jones’ decision to stick with Dylan Hartley as Captain, despite a six-week ban for a reckless tackle on Leinster flanker Sean O’Brien. Hartley has now totalled 60 weeks in suspensions throughout his career and will not have played for almost two months if he starts the opener.

Jones says that he has had multiple talks with Hartley regarding discipline and his responsibilities as a leader. He has also given Hartley a strict fitness regime to ensure that he is fit and ready to go come the Portugal training camp on 22 January. Hartley’s leadership has undoubtedly helped mould the team into its winning form and Jones’ decision to keep him as captain is a wise decision—provided he stays fit—given the issues facing the team. By maintaining continuity, Jones’ is giving the team a better chance to stay disciplined and focused despite the inevitable changes of personnel the side is going to experience come 4 February.

But talent is still abundant with in the side. England still have a full-strength back-line to work with. The anticipated return of Anthony Watson from a jaw injury will only help to strengthen an already formidable attack. His world-class finishing and speed make him a key asset to the side in determining games and his chemistry with Bath teammates Jonathan Joseph and George Ford has often embarrassed defenders. Owen Farrell, as one of the best goal-kickers in the world, gives England the ability to score points consistently from penalties won anywhere in the opposition’s half. Having him at inside centre and George Ford at fly-half means the side will keep both Farrell’s boot and defensiveness, and Ford’s playmaking magic.

The recent news of Manu Tuilagi’s knee injury has saddened many who want to see the Leicester centre return to dominating the midfield of international rugby with brute force. But despite being an incredible player, he is yet to have played under Jones. Given the current success of the English backs, Manu has hardly been missed.

The silver-lining for the forwards could be the potential return of James Haskell following foot surgery. This had left him on the sidelines for six months, leaving him free to make a trip to The Bullingdon and show-case his musical talent last term.

If the Wasps flanker were to return in the same form as during the summer internationals against Australia, he would most definitely improve the forwards’ chances of maintaining their strength. So, not all hope is lost for Jones and English rugby going into the Six Nations. But for their success to continue, a level of adaptation will certainly be required. The talent is there, but whether the experience and chemistry of the side can hold up no one will know until 4 February.