Tuesday, May 6, 2025
Blog Page 103

A crash course in British politics: How elections work (Week 1)

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Welcome back to the crash course in British politics. This column is for students who know little about British politics and want to know more. But, I firmly believe that even a seasoned observer of Westminster (the area of London with the Houses of Parliament and many government buildings) could benefit from a refresher of the basics. This week’s article will explain how British elections work, and hopefully will answer all your related questions.

Before we discuss elections, we should have a basic understanding of the British political system. The United Kingdom is a democracy with several branches of government: the executive (government), the legislative (Parliament), and the judiciary (courts). British Parliament is made up of the House of Commons, which holds 650 seats, and the House of Lords, whose members are appointed. The seats in the House of Commons represent the 650 districts in the United Kingdom, out of which 533 are in England, 59 in Scotland, 40 in Wales, and 18 in Northern Ireland. On average, each member of Parliament (MP) represents approximately 100,000 people.

Elections in the United Kingdom generally happen every five years, unless parliament is dissolved earlier (the past five British elections were: December 2019, June 2017, May 2015, May 2010, May 2005). The current Parliament first convened on December 17, 2019, which means it will dissolve at the latest on December 17, 2024 (and elections would happen approximately a month after that). Essentially, the decision on when to dissolve Parliament and hold the elections awaits Prime Minister Sunak. But, for all we know he might have already made it. These decisions depend on complex political calculations, and in Sunak’s case, a fair share of hope things will turn around for the Conservative Party.

When elections finally happen every British citizen over 18 will have a chance to choose the ballot box – but what will they choose? In the United Kingdom, every citizen votes for a member of Parliament who will represent their district at the House of Commons (and not directly for the Prime Minister). These members of Parliament run on behalf of parties, and essentially are the party’s representatives for each district; the party that wins the most districts, and accordingly the most seats in Parliament will create the government. The winning party’s leader – today, realistically, either Rishi Sunak (Conservative) or Keir Starmer (Labour) – will become the Prime Minister.

In recent elections, two important changes occurred compared with historical trends. First, small parties (Scottish National Party, the Liberal Democrats, the Democratic Unionist Party, and the Green Party) have won more seats at the expense of the big parties (Labour and the Conservative Party). This has made it more difficult for the big parties to win an absolute majority and forced them into coalitions. The second change is that the elections’ results were even closer where in 2017 we saw 11 seats were decided on less than 100 votes and a dozen more on hundreds. This means they are very difficult to predict and easily swayed.

Finally, on election day, the polls open at 7:00 and close at 22:00. The results of the exit poll are announced very soon after that. The official results will be announced once all districts declare their winners, and could arrive overnight.

Gendering Oxford: Through the female gaze

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A couple of years before I arrived at Oxford, I came across a French film on Netflix: Je suis pas un homme facile (I am not an easy man). It was advertised as a rom-com set in a sort of alternative universe, and I put it on without much thought. In actuality, the film depicted the life of a man who wakes up one day in a matriarchal society where the gender roles have been inverted, and he had to try and navigate his life alongside various oppressive struggles he had not even noticed before. From suddenly getting catcalled on the street despite wearing joggers and a hoodie, to being pressured into removing his body hair in order to not seem ‘weird’ to the women he was trying to attract, the protagonist was forced to navigate the world in an entirely new way.

My time at uni has revealed to me that Oxford has its own arsenal of gendered differences that manifest in the peculiarities of our traditions, and the ‘Oxford experience’.

As a timid fresher (all that time ago…) I was petrified of being noticed. I didn’t dare join a society unless I thought I would be at least as good as the best people there, meaning I didn’t really try anything new. Moreover, it felt to me that if I spoke too much in a tutorial they’d realise I had nothing interesting to say and ask me to pack my bags and go back to Liverpool. But I took a certain comfort in knowing that everyone around me felt the same way.

That is, until I realised this sentiment was disproportionately echoed by my female friends than anyone else. Since then, I’ve continued to notice the ease with which my male tute partners challenged our (primarily male) tutors, voicing half-baked theories with the confidence of someone who had spent their life studying that one topic. Contrast that with me, waiting until I’m sure my point is fully developed and worth mentioning before putting it to my tutor. I believe this is a gendered difference in approach to tutorials. I have had to learn over the last couple of years how to be confident in my intelligence and in my writing in a way that appears almost innate in my male friends. Of course, this is not a result of overt, systematic oppression denying me education opportunities growing up, but a subtle gendered difference in our upbringings that over time led to this variation in academic confidence.

Outside of tutorials, Oxford’s traditions have remained exclusionary to women in a multiplicity of ways. One of the first things an Oxford student does when they arrive here is matriculate. Until incredibly recently however, the Latin read at the matriculation ceremony was male gendered, reinforcing the university’s restrictive history.

Whilst Oxford has made major strides to eradicate this discrimination, certain groups within the university have been slightly slower on the uptake than others. Vinnie’s, the infamous sports club, only allowed women to join in 2016, after a failed attempt the year before. Not to mention that  Oxford University was exclusively male for 900 years, so overturning these gendered structures is not something to be achieved overnight. But we shouldn’t passively wait for change to come. Rather, we are the agents of change.

I briefly entertained the idea of joining my friends on the Oxford-Cambridge sports exchange this year, before realising that the football team that I play for wouldn’t be going with my college, and that there would be much fewer women’s only teams going overall. Rather than paying to go and support the men’s football team, I decided not to go at all. I do not believe that this discrepancy is solely the result of there existing less opportunities for women to get into sport, but an internalised reluctance for us to try something without knowing whether or not we will be good at it. Consider baby fresher me, too scared to join a new sport for fear of messing up. En masse, that attitude results in fewer women in new sports.

I have not written this to get your sympathy; woe is not me. The point is more to draw your attention to the different ways gender affects the attitudes with which people approach life, both generally and in Oxford. There is an element of caution implicit in everything women do.

I challenge all non-men to defy this cautious voice. Push yourself in 2024 to find something new that you would like to do, in full knowledge that you might be shit at it.

Rocky (Road) Comms?

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I like to consider myself a rocky road aficionado. There is a beautiful alchemy in mixing the various standard ingredients with a few wild cards to create the perfect essay fuel. 

My particular rocky road riffs off of lolly cake, an Australasian staple of my upbringing with a similar marshmallowy texture. In fact, my tradition of making rocky road at the beginning of each term here derives from summers spent making and sharing the sweet treat with my family in New Zealand. It only felt appropriate to share such an experience with my friends, and it’s now become a frequent highlight of our dining experiences on the edge of OX4 (yeah Hildas!).

The cultural significance of the rocky road was immediately understood by one of my friends, who, shockingly, is also Australasian (with an equally thick Aussie accent to match!). I have vivid memories from first year of my rocky road acting as his soapbox to discuss his magnum opus, his hypothetical ‘Ted Talk’: The importance of good comms. Now, aside from thinking of my family when chomping into a block of chocolatey goodness, the rocky road acts as a reminder of good comms. 

To summarise my friend’s Keynote: Ensuring your communication of emotions with any, and all relationships, whether romantic, platonic, or familial, is always the best policy. To wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve is not only a sign of emotional maturity, but it’s also courageous and admirable. 

So, as I gingerly ate my final rocky road at dinner this week, I was once again reminded of my friend’s little passion project. I reflected on my own comms as of late – a practice which I really urge everyone to do. Checking you are actually communicating appropriately with your partner, friends, family, and anyone who you deem worthy of being communicated to. Not only does it improve your relationships, but it also makes you more comfortable in your own ‘emotional skin’. 

For me, monitoring my comms is a tactic to regulate my overthinking. If something is irking you, it is probably, at least in my experience, best thrown out into the open. Of course, there are caveats and specific instances where comms may turn into oversharing. But, it may be worth regulating your comms by checking in with both yourself and your friends daily. How are you feeling? Are you tired? Is anything annoying you at present? What is one thing you enjoyed today? 

Life is really too short. And our time at Oxford is even shorter. As hard as it may seem, don’t bottle up your feelings – we were made to express ourselves. Even if our expressions aren’t wholly perfect, I can guarantee your friends will appreciate you being honest. Go – tell your friends you love them, politely tell your flatmate to not play music so loud at night, apply for that dream internship you think you won’t get, confess your love to your library crush. As the famous saying goes, you’ll never know if you don’t try. 

The Patience of Ordinary Things

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Recently, I have invested in Good Bread. This is most likely not something that I truly need to share via article, as a large proportion of those reading this column most likely already know me, and if they know me then they have most likely already heard my Bread Sermon. 

Suffice to say, I am a changed woman. 

The day after my purchase, I quickly developed the habit of standing in my stairway’s kitchen, waiting for unwary flatmates to pass by so I could accost them with a ‘have you seen my new bread? It’s a sourdough!’, before ushering them towards the fridge (I eschewed the cupboard, in the hope of preserving its longevity), and making them stand beside me, in silence, admiring the loaf.  

A week on, and the change from my usual pre-sliced, factory-made loaf of bread to this slightly more upmarket pre-sliced, factory-made loaf of bread but with seeds is marked. I am fancy now. I eat nice bread, at decent hours of the day, and not just while drunk/hungover. I am considering investing in an avocado

The Bread, and my many ruminations upon it, has now had such an impact on me as to make it into print. Of course, while writing an article on bread, self-awareness undeniably looms, bringing with it those all-too-pressing questions; why did I spend so much of my shopping budget on bread? Why am I writing this? Am I, officially, boring?

The latter is probably true. By the time I caught myself getting worked up about the purchase of a new sponge in my flat’s shared kitchen, I knew it was too late for me to make any claims about being a particularly thrilling person. A bread article is just another nail in the coffin, really. Yet this newfound boringness is a fact I welcome. It is a gift, I think, to be able to find the excitement in even the most mundane parts of the everyday. Life is prosaic and unremarkable, for the most part: novelty wears off, the days stay cold and short, work keeps piling up. Survival, really, is not about deluding ourselves out of this normalcy, so much as acknowledging it, accepting it, and yet still choosing to be amazed.

Dry January

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Dry January is the national month of ‘New Year, New Me!’-ing yourself out of alcoholism. My guess is that a combination of excessive drinking over the holidays and optimism for the year ahead is why Dry January has more star power than say, Dry December or Sober October. However, the existence of Dry January does highlight how drinking is the cultural default despite the benefits of sobriety. In the UK, where student life is indisputably booze-centric, sobriety often draws confusion or disparagement from peers. Dry January provides a blessed amnesty period during which staying sober is hip and health-conscious rather than buzz-kill behaviour. Speaking for myself, as someone who does not do well on the sauce, I gladly welcome the glorious thirty days of unquestioned soda water. 

I grew up in a subculture rife with substance abuse. In my hometown, it’s not a night out unless someone starts an argument, gets kicked, or ends up dry heaving over a gutter. Coming to university I was often met with looks of distress or disgust when telling what I considered to be pretty neutral anecdotes about recreational drug use. It’s very strange to me that someone could at once be horrified at the thought of ‘illicit substances’, while simultaneously viewing alcohol just as spicy water for a fun night out. My point here isn’t to stigmatise alcohol, or even destigmatise drug use, it’s just to say  that there’s a total double standard! 

If someone offers you a smoke, let alone anything more hardcore, it would be totally acceptable for you to decline without stating a reason, or even challenge them on their use. I’ve had nights out where I’ve told mates I’m not drinking only to be handed a double and told I’m getting the next round. I think we’re lying to ourselves about how harmful drinking actually is. 

My hypothesis is that people are defensive around non-drinkers because it draws attention to their own habits. I’m vegetarian and it reminds me of the defensiveness being plant-based can elicit. A lot of unwarranted, uncalled for ‘I hate how vegans shove it down your throat’, followed by an extended vindication of how it’s fine to eat meat, and can everyone just shut up about it? It doesn’t make you a better or worse person to drink, so if you find yourself grilling sober friends, it probably says more about you than them.

Additionally, it occurs to me that in an environment as socially asymmetric as Oxford, there may well be people who simply haven’t considered that substance abuse affects their peers. However, neither of these are really good excuses for encouraging someone to drink if they’ve said they don’t want to, or questioning someone’s sobriety. Ultimately, addiction is a systemic issue but I still think we can be more mindful in how we interact with anyone who chooses not to drink. 

People are sober for all kinds of reasons; fitness, mental health, religion, finances, family history, allergies, and personal preferences. Questioning someone’s sobriety is at best singling them out and at worst encouraging them to compromise it. Of course there’s nothing inherently wrong with asking someone politely about why they choose not to drink – my point is that when you’re in a vulnerable state, someone’s words of support or disparagement can have a much greater impact. I think most of us have at some point offered a second beer when the first was turned down, told someone to ‘let loose’, or even just not challenged this behaviour in others. This often comes from a good place, wanting to make sure everyone has a good night and isn’t left out, or not wanting to butt in on what can be a touchy issue. Sometimes this attitude, even if it is thoughtless or done with good intent, can be very harmful and that bears reconsidering how we talk about sobriety. 

The first step for everybody, despite our differences in opinions, drinking habits, and party preferences, is a recognition that sobriety is a perfectly valid and normal habit despite our tacit social endorsement of drinking culture.

Spotlight: The Gatehouse’s Community Café

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The Gatehouse must be one of the only social enterprises in Oxford where an upsurge in usage is not necessarily a good thing. Since 1988, it has been providing support and sanctuary for Oxford’s homeless community. A large part of its role revolves around offering meals on a near daily basis at its Community Café. At a time of global inflation and increasing food scarcity, this Community Café has never seemed to be more needed. So, Cherwell met with key organiser and manager, Zoe to discuss the role of food in supporting those in need in Oxford.

Six nights a week, The Gatehouse serves a variety of tea, cakes, jacket potatoes, toasties. Its website states:

“In 2022 the café and the community centre served up 10,000 meals to over 400 guests including over 6,000 baked potatoes to people who are rough sleeping, on low income or/and are vulnerably housed.”

Zoe said, “We’ve diversified our food range. We offer jacket potatoes four nights a week. We offer fresh homemade soup in the winter period.” And reaching out to local businesses, The Gatehouse has “a partnership with Gusto, Italian and every so often they provide pizzas.”

In the past, food was donated by “about 36 food groups made up of various church groups, faith groups, and general members of the public who would donate sandwiches.” But, as it did with everything, the impact of COVID-19 changed everything.

Many of the people who had been donating since The Gatehouse first opened were elderly. Zoe continued: “we lost a few members due to COVID sadly so we’re down to about 12 food groups now. We’re about two-thirds short of what we need to keep providing.” 

Despite the building pressure of food costs, restaurants are pitching in. Christmas dinner was provided by Hawkwell House in Iffley; there is an occasional KFC night; the Oxford Food Hub collects leftover food from supermarkets and places like GAIL’s. But “in terms of regular support, there isn’t necessarily one set company.”

Does support come from the University at all? Beyond annual grants – which operate on an ‘money for food or money for another project, not both’ basis – some colleges will donate food. But, despite sentiments of goodwill, this isn’t always helpful. “A lot of the food has been cold, not re-heatable leftovers that we end up throwing away.”

The Gatehouse’s Café may be volunteer-run but it prides itself on its disciplined efficiency and providing the best level of service it can to those in need. In 2015, it was awarded two food hygiene ratings of five as brandished on The Gatehouse’s website. Zoe praised the dedicated team: “all the credit goes to the staff and the volunteers in the Café because they work so hard and stick to our strict policies.”

Happily, there is always an abundance of people who want to help. Working on the reports for 2023, Zoe found that volunteers and donations have saved The Gatehouse about £10,000. But the economic instability that has been milling since the Pandemic began has left a sharp dent in what the Community Café can afford to provide. 

“Our average weekly food bill since COVID has risen from £150 to £350 per week. The Cost of Living Crisis also means a massive loss of donors.” 

National austerity is not just changing prices, it is also changing the demography of who needs the support of charities like The Gatehouse. “Historically, we were well known for helping people with substance misuse issues. Whereas nowadays, we’re not only seeing more people with mental health issues, but we’re also seeing people with jobs and an ostensibly normal life but, on top of rent and bills, just can’t necessarily afford to feed themselves.” 

While offering food to those in need is the crux of the work of the Community Café, the space it provides for people to meet and shelter is equally important. And without nine volunteers per night, it cannot open, providing instead a takeaway service. Volunteer numbers have always fluctuated with the shape of the Oxford term as students come and go. But since the Pandemic, numbers are only just beginning to stabilise again. Zoe said that probably “60-70% of our volunteers are students. So moving online during COVID hit us really hard.” Other volunteers were elderly. “For a year or so we were operating on skeletal staff.” 

Even now, student holidays jeopardise the consistent service The Gatehouse can provide. If there was one thing that could be done to help, Zoe said, “I would try to encourage anybody who’s wanting to volunteer or donate to spread your help across the year.”

The Gatehouse provides other services for those in need – clothing, counselling, showers, community – but food, as Zoe put it, is the “vital lifeline”.

“There are some people that rely on us for food on a daily basis and without us, they wouldn’t be able to eat.” But, it was emphasised that, until you see the Café in full swing, “you don’t really get it.” Seeing volunteers and local communities band together to offer what everyone needs and deserves – the “vital lifeline” of food – “hits home a lot more when you see it in person.”

Volunteering opportunities are accessible throughout the year at www.oxfordgatehouse.org 

With thanks to Zoe at The Gatehouse for providing this interview.

The diary of a LinkdIn-er

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I’m happy to share … excited to announce … pleased to declare … that I’m more successful than you.

My attention was first brought to LinkedIn when I was 16 by an alumna of my college, who told me to download it to “network”. I did, mainly because she had an apprenticeship at a great law firm in Manchester, but didn’t listen to her advice of reaching out to people to gain experience. Instead, I filled out my profile and spammed a few of my friends who were already on the app with automated messages. But on arriving in Oxford, and being (for better or worse) exposed to the cult of the university’s finance bros, I started taking it more seriously.

LinkedIn is an employment-focused social media platform that works almost like an interactive CV, where you can showcase your experiences and skills to potential employers or your peers. Similar to many social media platforms, LinkedIn allows you to ‘connect’ with other users, post about your experiences or thoughts, and interact with the accounts and content of others, such as your fellow students, potential employers, organisations, or maybe even your crush… This essentially makes the platform a far-reaching networking opportunity, but also a space for exploring your interests.

Yet for some it is developing a bad reputation. Your LinkedIn feed can often be a reminder of the amazing opportunities other people have accessed. When I load LinkedIn and spot someone’s latest ‘excited to announce’ post for an internship at a massive company, I am happy for them, because I know they must have worked hard for it. But the site can also be a reminder of how behind I feel. The pressure to apply for and secure a spring week, vac scheme or internship at a flashy firm is as immense as it is competitive, and there is a feeling that if you don’t manage to get one, you subsequently won’t get a foothold in the industry or a big-name company. 

It’s a toxic headspace, worsened by Oxford’s culture of over-workers and high-achievers, and one that makes a platform like LinkedIn become almost a self-flagellatory space of comparison. Of course, by leaving the university’s internship bubble and speaking to most professionals in their respective industries, you will hear how things like internships (whilst a brilliant experience) are not really necessary. There are plenty of other ways to gain experience. And one way to find those is through LinkedIn.

The best thing to do in repsonse to this feeling of constant comparison, perhaps easier said than done, is to try to burst this pressurised bubble. Stop idly scrolling on your Linkedin homepage. Instead, be smart about how you use it. Connect with people in industries you are interested in, or at companies you would like to work at, look at what experience they gained early on, and see how you could try and emulate this. I myself have messaged people in positions which I have applied to for advice, and been sent some great tips in preparation for interviews I was stressed for. I’ve even given my interviewer a cheeky stalk to see what kind of interests they have themselves  (It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.) I recently found a job on LinkedIn at an exciting start-up dating app, just by messaging someone who posted about the position – something I wouldn’t have done if I had let the imposter-syndrome the app can breed drive me away.

It is important to remember the benefits of the app, and to take advantage of them. LinkedIn also has a section where they recommend you positions based on the experience listed on your profile, and you can follow companies, non-profit organisations, and public figures to see what they are doing, making it a great resource for staying up-to-date with anything big going on or application deadlines. Looking at what your peers are doing, whilst terrible for causing anxiety if you don’t have the same level of experience, is also really useful. You can check what people in similar positions to you are doing, and maybe find an online course or be alerted to some work experience you could also sign up for. For those so inclined, you could also just browse the profile of someone you’re less than fond of  and see their lack-of experience as a pick me up; call it the Linkedin mindset. I’ve even been the recipient of some very questionable flirting on LinkedIn, when someone I was dating endorsed all my experiences…

So, it’s a great resource, but it’s also just an app. You don’t have to be a hard-core LinkedIn influencer with motivational posts every other day, you can use it for what it was designed for: to network. Meet new people, ask them questions, share your own experiences, and learn about work experience, jobs, and industries. Don’t let what others are doing bog you down. Reading about the achievements of your peers can be a good thing: let it bring out your competitive streak and help you to stay focused on your own goals.

Behind the striped veil of OURC: What rifling’s really like.

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I have received my full share of facial expressions when I mention that I do rifle shooting, including surprise, fascination, and of course an element of concern. I have learnt to expect the question “But what are you shooting?”. I answer “no, we do not shoot living animals or humans, and no, it is not clay-pigeon.” We are currently half-way through the smallbore season, in which we use .22 calibre rifles, shooting unmoving black dots on pieces of card, 25 yards away. The smallbore category can be shot up to 100 metres. The fullbore category, up to 1200. Larger rifles, larger ammunition, and shot outside in our somewhat dubious British summers. 

Oxford University Rifle Club (OURC) was founded in August 1859 and the first varsity match was shot in 1862. Last year the club took some massive steps forwards, especially impressive after the challenges of COVID-19. I was selected for the smallbore Blues team in my first year at Oxford, having already shot before university, and managed to achieve my Half Blue award at the Heslop varsity match. I was one of four to get their Half Blue that day, and two more joined us with the Chancellors and Humphrey fullbore varsities a few months later. Oxford won the Chancellors match with our team of eight, as well as the Bentata varsity, consisting of a team of the first four women. This win was the first since 2016 and the first double varsity win in over twenty years. Coupled with our work alongside This Girl Can and developing OURC’s accessibility for visually impaired shooters, these accomplishments led us to win the Sports Club of the Year 2022-23. To shed some light on our world, from socials to stereotypes, I will delve into life within OURC. 

Shooting typically consists of lying in a prone position on the ground, with the rifle resting on your left hand and lodged into your right shoulder (vice-versa for left-handers). To support this position, the shooter wears a specific jacket and a sling which attaches to the rifle, allowing their left arm to relax in position and not physically hold it up. If the sling is not sitting in the right place whilst shooting, you can tell by how your hand turns quite a lovely shade of purple due to a lack of blood. Similarly, if the left elbow is not placed correctly below the rifle, or if the sling is too loose, the rifle will sink to the left or right. Even your heartbeat will affect your scores. A 1 mm movement of the athlete in position can cause a loss of two points at 25 yards. One determined fresher this year said: “In principle, it seems easy. But there is always something which makes it go wrong”.

The goal? To hit as close to the middle of the black dot as possible, ten times in a row. A shot in the middle without breaking the line is ten points. To achieve a maximum score of 100 is extremely impressive and rare to see, even amongst the Blues team. To score a Full Blue score, you must shoot two of these cards and achieve 195 or over in a varsity match (that is an average of 97.5 per card) and do the equivalent in fullbore a few months later. When asked about his series of magnificent scores which led to his full blue award, James Oakland, our only current Full Blue member in OURC, said “I’d like to say: ‘ah I’m the best, I’ve got a full blue’ and be so smug about it. But I got lucky, you know, 197 in the Heslop that year. I’ve never shot that well since. I’ve never shot that well before. I got lucky to get it.” 

Yet when you consider that he was making himself shoot around fifteen times per week, ‘luck’ cannot have been the most important factor in his scores. He would “wake up each morning and spend twenty minutes of mindfulness, just sort of relaxing. The other thing a lot of people do is when they go out for their runs, that’s when they’re picturing themselves shooting, because that’s when your heart rate is at an elevated position which is what it’s going to be whilst shooting, and that’s what you need to be focusing on… That’s easy to do – if you can be bothered.” In my own ten years of shooting, the self-discipline required to get consistently high scores is the most difficult part of the sport. A clear head is something which athletes from all sports will say, but the irony of this sport is that you must also retain a low heart rate. 

When training from day to day, I have also found that it’s hard to know when to stop. Despite the physical strains on the body seeming minimal during a shoot, it takes a lot out of the athlete. The more you shoot, the more your muscles become tired.

Another thing that comes with this sport are certain preconceptions and stereotypes. In her efforts to take the club to the next level, Asia put it perfectly that “shooting can have negative connotations with the words ‘shoot’ and ‘gun’, and that really doesn’t reflect what we do. It’s actually a very relaxed sport, and I wanted people to see that and to see the character of OURC”. She highlights the importance of showing “how much fun we all have, what a lovely cohesive group of people it is” through posting on social media. Posting about socials, dinners, and successes have brought our family of alumni and students even closer together. 

Someone last year said to me that she wanted to join OURC but was scared because she thought shooting was a man’s sport. This stereotype does exist, and the predominance of men in older generations of the community is clear. However, this is certainly no longer the case. Seonaid Macintosh and Katie Gleeson, GB smallbore shots, are using social media to change this stereotype and share the sport with younger generations of shooters.. Last year, OURC worked alongside This Girl Can, a campaign started in 2015 aimed at increasing inclusion for women within sport. Asia, now in her second year as President of OURC, spoke to me about her experiences as a woman: “I started shooting because someone told me that I’d never hit the target because I was a girl. I proved them wrong and pin-holed three shots to a tin can.” Now, half of the committee of OURC, and half of the first team are women. 

When OURC won the Bentata varsity last year, I remember seeing Asia welling up out of sheer pride for the club’s achievements. She adds about the Chancellors match: “to have that moment when the winner was announced, I don’t know if you remember, but I had a million people shaking me and screaming, and I just… I hadn’t taken my shooting jacket off for about an hour, I was so stunned at the result.” 

Aiming to experience more moments like these this year, everyone at OURC is training extremely hard to be at their best and shoe those tabs in the upcoming varsities. New equipment, made possible by several amazing Oxford alumni contributions, and new faces in the club mean that OURC will continue to flourish for many years to come. Perhaps even a few readers will now want to be part of that future and give the sport a try next academic year. 

Oh, do you know them on a first name basis?

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Why we do, but shouldn’t, call politicians by their first names.

References to politicians by their first names always occurred in conversations at the pub or debates at an ‘afters’ I was a part of. Yet, when I first began to rethink this habit, I was sat two metres of away from one of its key perpetrators. Hearing Senator Bernie Sanders speak in the hallowed chamber of the Oxford Union in Hilary 2022, his croaky voice bouncing off the equally deteriorating walls, as he reached for his scrunched-up tissue used to stifle a runny nose, made be believe I might really know this man on a first name basis. His passionate oratory moved me, and many others that day; I left with a profound sense that I really ‘got’ him, I knew him, he was Bernie.

Connections between the political class and the electorate is an essential method in compelling voters to tune in to the decisions that manifestly affect their daily lives. Therefore, inviting the populace to ‘know’ their politicians on a first-name basis is an effective strategy in securing this association.  

We see these para-social relationships form all the time. A banner strewn across Stamford Bridge reads ‘Chelsea: our religion’, while some members of the ‘Beyhive’ actually do believe that Beyonce is their ‘bestie’. People crave to feel connected to something bigger or more important than them; it is probably one of the only things that football hooligans and avid listeners of ‘Single Ladies’ share!

I left the Union, with a few similarly inspired pals of mine, and ventured to Gloucester Green, to get a slightly-above-average noodle dish, as the awe of the occasion wore off a little. I began to re-evaluate my insistence I knew the Senator, more than ever before, by his first name. I thought about which other famous figures I might also know by their first name: Adele, Drake (although his first name, Aubrey, has been sneakily forgotten, much like the next name on this list), and, of course, Boris.

Suddenly, I was not so keen on the idea that I might call some of these powerful, influential, and charismatic figures by their first name. We call our friends by their first names because we share memories with them, we know their greatest secrets and, because we usually don’t share a football pitch with them, where there might be a slightly greater tendency to call them by their surname and add the ‘-o’ suffix at the end. (As a side note, I’m still waiting on the day someone shouts ‘Robbo’ at me to pass them the ball – the world will be better place once this happens.)

When we call our friends, peers, or acquaintances by their first name, there is a recognition there that we actually ‘know’ that person and therefore might be able to give them more sympathy during a tricky period or support them when they make mistakes.

We behave differently with politicians. Our political system requires us to hold them to account in a way we wouldn’t our friends. In a functioning democracy politicians are challenged, so they truly serve their communities and are held responsible for the decisions they make.

We might do this more easily if we rejected this familiar attachment we have to these figures. As I have tried to re-wire my brain to know ‘Bernie’ as Senator Sanders or ‘Boris’ as Boris Johnson, I am less forgiving.

For Senator Sanders, I found his answer to the issue of climate change at the Oxford Union followed a similar pattern to many of the older generation: a slightly patronising and wilfully unsophisticated claim along the lines of ‘Oh, you young people are smart, you will figure it out’.

For Boris Johnson, his once shiny veneer as a bumbling, affable, ‘doofus’, which albeit has already deteriorated significantly,  looks even more like a rusty façade, hiding a calculated, performatively incompetent, political opportunist.

Now, I’m not suggesting we all start calling Drake ‘Aubrey Graham’ from this moment on, but I think it is important to apply a cynicism to the famous folk, particularly with political power, who push the idea that we should all know them by their first name.

For the majority of these first-named politicians, it is an explicit campaign tactic. In the case of ‘Hillary’, or more appropriately Hillary Clinton, using her first name was “actively encouraged” by her campaign.

Similarly, in the self-proclaimed “hilarious election advert” posted by the Conservatives’ YouTube channel in 2019, Mr Johnson is referred to by the interviewer as ‘Boris’ within the first four seconds.

As a result, it is our critical judgement that falls victim, because we supposedly know these powerful political figures in a different way – they become more of a friendly face, and therefore we apply a different, more attainable standard by which we evaluate them.

In fact, as I thought to the times I have fallen for this political ploy, I remembered that I even own a T-shirt from Senator Sanders’ 2016 campaign embossed with ‘Tío [Uncle] Bernie’ on the front, when I know, or at least the last time I checked, the 82-year-old Brooklyn-born politician is definitely not my uncle. (If he is, that’s a lot of Christmases in which I have missed the opportunity to convince him into wearing a Santa costume.)

Ultimately, we must try to resist the temptation, and call politicians by their full names, to help ensure they remain responsible for the immense power they hold and what they choose to do with it.

Oxford Union has no confidence in the United Nations

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On Thursday night, the Oxford Union voted in favour of the motion “This House Has No Confidence in the United Nations.” The final count had 148 members voting for the motion and 90 members voting against. 

Craig Mokhiber, the former UN official whose resignation over the UN’s stance on the Israel-Gaza War garnered international attention late last October, and Sir Geoffrey Nice, the lead prosecutor at the trial of Slobodan Milošević and current chair of the China and Uyghur Tribunals, spoke for the motion. Joining Mokhiber and Nice were first-year History student Ben Murphy and first-year Chemistry student James MacKenzie.

Opposing the motion were Angela Kane, former UN High Representative for Disarmament Affairs and UN Undersecretary for Management; The Lord Hannay of Chiswick, a British diplomat who previously held the position of Permanent Representative to the EU and to the UN; and UK Deputy Permanent Representative to the UN James Kariuki. Masters student Shaezmina Khan also opposed the motion.

Ben Murphy opened the case for the proposition by stating that, although the UN was founded with a “clear promise of peace and justice,” it has since become a “utopian fantasy that cannot be achieved.” He argued the very idea of a unified group of nations was illusory since countries have different and often competing interests. 

Murphy then asked the audience to consider the UN from the perspective of a Cambodian living under the Khmer Rouge, a group he said was legitimised by the UN. He argued that the UN is not an enforcer of peace but an enabler of strife, as shown by such autocratic regimes it legitimises and by the belligerence of its “big five” members: France, Russia, China, the United Kingdom, and the United States. “The founding countries, those central to its development, the big five, have had their part in more conflict than the rest of the world together.”

Opening the case for the opposition, Shaezmina Khan focused on the semantics of the motion, arguing that “to vote for opposition, you only need to believe you have some confidence in the UN.” She cited past UN contributions – such as UNICEF’s vaccination programmes and the UN’s Non-Proliferation Treaty – and averred that the UN has served the world better than most people realise. 

She closed her speech with a quote from John F. Kennedy: “I see little merit in the impatience of those who would abandon this imperfect world instrument because they dislike our imperfect world. For the troubles of a world organisation merely reflect the troubles of the world itself.”

The second speaker for the proposition, Sir Geoffrey Nice, argued that the core purpose of the United Nations was to put an end to war and ensure “disputes between nations should be resolved by peaceful means” – a purpose which he believes has been abandoned.

Central to Nice’s argument was the failure of the United Nations to prevent the crime of genocide. He stated that the Genocide Convention requires participating states in Article I to “act to prevent genocide, wherever whenever it happens, anywhere on the globe.” He paused before asking the audience: “In 70 years, how many times has any government done that?” According to Nice, “excluding the cases of Zambia with Myanmar and South Africa with Israel,” the answer was “none.”

He cited the case of Rwanda, where the British deliberately avoided the term “genocide,” and the case of Bosnia, where he said the United Nations was “conveniently absent,” before stating forcefully: “This sort of thing has to stop.” Responding to the first proposition speaker’s clarification of terms, he told the audience: “Disregard the semantics, we know what the motion really means… Do you have confidence that you, your children, and grandchildren won’t be at war?”

James Kariuki continued the case for the opposition. He acknowledged some of the shortcomings of the UN but asked the audience “when the critics blame the UN for the world’s ills, who exactly do they blame?” He argued it was misguided to believe that the representatives from different member states were capable of solving all the problems around the globe. According to Kariuki, “The complaints about the UN reflect dissatisfaction with the world as it is.”

Kariuki touched on the UN’s role in eradicating polio through mass inoculation, combating climate change through environmental regulation, and promoting human rights through the Universal Declaration of Human Rights – which he described as a “monumental achievement.”  Toward the end of his speech, he stated that the 80 years before the establishment of the UN were worse than the 80 years since.

Continuing the case for the proposition, James MacKenzie cited the failure of the UN to respond to humanitarian crises and to fulfil its charter on social development. He argued that the policy of veto in the Security Council “undermines the very principles UN claims to uphold: Equality, justice, and the right to self-determination.” The UN, MacKenzie stated, has devolved into a geo-political chessboard, demonstrated by the lack of response “to the ongoing humanitarian crisis in Yemen and the ethnic cleansing in Myanmar.” He asked the audience how many more cases we would require in order to see “the UN is failing in its fundamental duty.”

Angela Kane, the third opposition speaker, drew on her own experience working at the UN. She touched on the success of the UN in tackling climate change and helping hundreds of millions of people throughout the world receive aid. She cited an opinion poll conducted in 24 countries which revealed that, on average, 63% of people see the United Nations in a positive light. Kane emphasised the importance of international treaties, which allow us to hold states to account, stating: “The UN works for the world, it works for the people.”

Closing the case for the proposition, Craig Mokhiber began by stating: “I think it should be clear by now that the House should have no confidence in the UN.” He clarified that this was not meant as a critique of the idea of the UN, nor was it meant as a critique of the people who have dedicated their lives to the mission of the UN. Rather, it was a critique of bodies like the Security Council which, Mokhiber argued, had abandoned the mission of the UN.

He discussed the UN Charter and told the audience that, 75 years later, we are still waiting for its fulfilment. Mocking a remark made by the opposition that “The UN is not made to deliver us to heaven, but merely to save us from hell,” he encouraged the audience to ask people in Bosnia, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Gaza, and Syria whether the United Nations has protected them from war crimes and crimes against humanity: “Should the abandoned people of the United Nations have confidence in the United Nations?”

Lord Hannay of Chiswick closed the case for the opposition. He began by stating that almost everything had been said already and the debate, and his job would instead be to recapitulate some central reasons for opposing the motion.

According to Hannay, nobody on the opposition side was suggesting that the UN had accomplished all of its objectives. Rather, because of the soundness of the principles enumerated in the UN Charter and the UN Declaration of Human Rights, the opposition was emphasising the importance of working to fulfil the mission of the UN. To those who would abandon the UN, Hannay prophesied: “If we walk away from it, we will rue the day.”

He conceded that some member states were not acting perfectly but argued that the UN was needed to preserve norm-based international order. He concluded by stressing the importance of the UN and was met with a great deal of applause in the chamber.