So it begins; yet it is hard to shake the feeling that last Sunday’s referendum announcement was an anticlimax. We knew that a referendum was coming, that the Prime Minister would support the EU, and that he would accept whatever deal emerged from the renegotiation process – in the end a workmanlike but uninspiring package of minor changes to, or rhetorical restatements of, EU policy. Perhaps this apathy represents the fact that the announcement marks only the closing stage of a single phase in the EU argument; one that has rolled onwards since Wilson’s failed bid in 1963, and will endure well after even a successful referendum result. But although the announcement of the referendum’s date does little to sharpen the time-worn arguments of both sides, it does force the judgment of the British public itself into the open, compelling us to confront the fateful question: could Britain really leave the EU?

At this stage the polls appear to be of little use. With averages of the latest six (as of 16th February) showing the ‘yes’ camp with a tiny majority of 51 per cent amongst those willing to declare an opinion, and a significant percentage of the population still undecided, opinion is on a knife edge. Even if a clearer lead were established, the twists and turns of four months of campaigns, and the contingencies of events, mean their predictive power is dubious at best. To make such a prediction, however tenuous, we therefore need to assess the strength of each side’s institutional support and the favourability of the political terrain for their messages.

Three crucial power groups will influence the likely trajectory of the referendum: business, the media and the parties themselves. The first group is the most strongly pro- European, for the obvious reasons concerning ease of international trade and investment. The CBI, as well as a plethora of major business leaders, is firmly behind the ‘in’ campaign. Some companies are wary of engaging in the debate for fear of backlash from Leave-voting consumers; however, the overwhelming message from business is pro-European. The Unions are also likely to support the EU; for instance, the GMB recently declared it was backing the Remain campaign.

By contrast, the media will be more Eurosceptic. The circulation of newspapers leaning towards Leave, such as the Times, Sun, Mail, Telegraph and Express, stands at over 4.2 million, compared to just over 1.6 million for Remain-leaning counterparts like the Guardian and Mirror. This print media imbalance should not be over-emphasised. Papers like the Telegraph, although Eurosceptic and largely dismissive of the EU deal, may yet fall into the Remain camp as time progresses. Furthermore, television and online coverage will act as a counterbalance to newspaper influence.

The parties themselves are more split, but generally favour the EU. The Liberal Democrats, Greens, Plaid Cymru and SNP are all firmly pro-European. Corbyn may be an unenthusiastic Europhile but he has committed his own – considerably more enthusiastic – party to the Remain camp. The Conservatives are split down the middle. Cameron and the majority of his Cabinet will support remaining in the EU, with the most notable exceptions being Boris, Iain Duncan Smith and Michael Gove. The Conservative parliamentary party will also lean towards Europe, with surveys suggesting a 186/144 split in favour of the Union. However, the grassroots are strongly Eurosceptic and, although CCHQ itself is adopting a neutral stance, Conservative constituency organisations and activists will be a major force for Leave, both in direct campaigning and in pressuring their MPs. Finally, the DUP and UKIP will be predictably backing Leave.

The overall balance of forces is tilted in favour of the Remain camp; possible media Euroscepticism is outweighed by widespread business and party political support for Europe. But equally important is the nature of the issues and psychological factors surrounding the referendum.

With respect to the key issues, the Leave and Remain camps are relatively balanced. On the one hand, immigration is the issue most widely regarded as important by the British public (with 46 per cent perceiving it as such in the most recent Economist/Ipsos MORI issues index), and most easily exploitable by the Leave campaign. On the other, both the economy and defence are seen as highly important, and could likely be made more important still through strong campaigning.

Thus Brexit, whilst far from implausible, is unlikely. The Remain campaign holds the influence and organisational capacity of the majority of politicians and activists, the support of the business and international community, argumentative advantages in the key areas of defence and economics and, finally, the potent attraction of the status quo. By contrast, the Leave campaign depends on a broadly Eurosceptic print media, the issue of immigration, one party that most people dislike and the fractured base of another. But even though the pitch slopes towards the Eurosceptic’s goalposts, four months lie between us and the referendum, and there is still everything to play for. May the best campaign win. 

I walk into Catz JCR bar. It is a busy Monday night – indeed, a quiz night is about to start. The innovative Grade I-listed, vintage 60s, minimalist creation of Arne Jacobsen beckons with its stylish combination of concrete and wood panelling. This isn’t your typical Oxford college bar. No ancient stone or bland modern construction is in sight. The place is pretty hip.

I am here to interview Ferhat Engin, Catz JCR barman of 11 years who has recently been nominated for ‘JCR Ruler’ at this year’s Acatzemy Awards. Being in contact nearly every evening with hundreds of students at Oxford’s most populous undergraduate college, he is a very well-known and very well-liked figure in Catz life.

Someone in his position has the opportunity to develop a number of unique, interesting, and well-informed insights into the everyday lives of Oxford students.

To begin with, I ask him what the most popular orders are in Catz JCR bar. I am also keen to know some of the more unusual and potentially frivolous orders he has received during his time at the College.

He tells me, “Cider & black and vodka & mixer are the most ordered drinks for sure”. 

“Sometimes we get students who want to experiment and create their own drinks”, he adds. He informs me that there once was a student “who used to drink Smirnoff ice, Ginger Joe, and a shot of Chambord all mixed together.” Stunned by the randomness of such an order, I ask him what the student named such a concoction. 

However, he refuses to tell me the name as the student “gave it a very rude name which I should keep to myself”. Before I can order one, Ferhat informs me that the drink “was too sweet and disgusting!”

Moving on, I ask him what he thinks of his clientele. I am eager to discover what he talks to them about, and cheekily I ask him if he has any favourites. He tells me that he “loves the people at Catz.”

“I think I’m very lucky to be surrounded by so many interesting people. You meet new people every year from all around. We talk about lots of things: their coursework, personal lives, sometimes silly things.” 

He declines to name any of his favourites, but he does admit to having some. Perhaps, I wonder; just maybe I am not one of them. To finish with, I ask him about his views on Entz in the College. He tells me, “Entz are fun!”

Ferhat believes that it is up to the students to make them a success. Catz JCR has Entz reps, but Ferhat feels that people shouldn’t expect them to have to do all of the work to make things fun.

Indeed, he feels that sometimes only a few people join in with the pre-Entz activities. “It seems to me people prefer staying in their rooms and drink with a few of their mates rather than coming down to the JCR to create a party atmosphere,” he muses.

There’s nothing nice about it, there’s nothing glorified about it – essentially, you’re taking another person’s life.” This is how Jason Haigh describes his experience of combat. Formerly a soldier in the British Army, he is now an independent contractor, part of the ever-burgeoning private sector, and has just returned from an assignment in Syria where he fought with the Kurdish YPG against ISIS. As one of the few Westerners with first-hand experience, he is more than qualified to give an account of the current military situation there, and also of the current state of the defence industry given the increased impact of private security firms on it. I met Haigh after the talk he gave to Oxford International Relations Society (IRSOC).

Immediately, Haigh wanted to discuss the realities of war and particularly of fighting ISIS. He described in detail their ‘barbarity’, having regularly witnessed their suicide missions and use of hidden explosives on roads, such as IEDs, even in people’s homes. Worse still, they would regularly use civilians as shields to stop enemy forces from attacking them. Perhaps the most shocking aspect of their brutality was their practice of forcing locals to fight for ISIS after having “gone into their village, killed their family and said, ‘ISIS or die’.” This evidence informs Haigh’s view that in 90 per cent of cases, “ISIS is being imposed” on the local population with very few of its subjects actually supporting it. Given these examples, it is not hard for us to see why.

Haigh explains how the savagery of ISIS is made possible by its military strength. He stresses that they are far better equipped than the Kurds, whose biggest issues were a lack of heavy weapons and basic supplies such as water. Haigh sometimes went without drinking anything for over 24 hours. However, the reason why ISIS are able to better equip themselves militarily than the Kurds is obvious; according to Haigh, they are “making around $1 million worth of illegal oil sales a day through Turkey.” This provides them with the funds to purchase superior weapons on top of those they had already captured after routing the Iraqi army. But why would moderate, democratic Turkey help ISIS? Haigh says it is simply due to their antipathy towards the Kurds. Given that ISIS are fighting the Kurds, their enemy’s enemy is their friend.

Yet despite the power and savagery of ISIS, as a trained frontline medic Haigh still would be willing to treat an ISIS fighter. Whilst his Kurdish hosts this time prevented him from doing so, he knows that “if they’d asked me to I would have done: as a medic you treat them as a patient.” He is conscious, however, that ISIS would not have afforded him the same privilege, accepting that if he was captured, injured or otherwise, they would not only have killed him, but first tortured him and then used him for propaganda. Given this reality, Haigh is keen to point out that if he came across an injured ISIS fighter and decided to “put a bullet in his head, that would make me as bad as him.” He is eager to emphasise that “the difference between us and the terrorists is that we’ve got an ethos, a code – the Geneva Convention.” So despite having to face such an enemy, Jason has still been able to maintain his own moral compass. He attributes this almost entirely to his training. It permits him to not have to stop and think on the battlefield as he instinctively knows what to do. Stopping to think requires a second or two, but “in a conflict situation, a second or two is death.” As far as Jason is concerned, “You don’t think, you just do,” as your actions in battle “are literally just a muscle memory” from the intense, repetitive training which ensure that you always do the right thing, both from a tactical and a moral point of view. The Kurdish simply “don’t have that training”. It is for this reason, combined with their lack of heavy weapons, that Jason believes, “If they were to advance on Raqqah, they would all be killed.”

It seems that the current stalemate, in Jason’s eyes, is unlikely to change very soon. One of the only things he suggests which could achieve that change would be to put boots on the ground. He admits he would be “not too sure” of the political impact both here and in Syria if the West did this, but he argues that in terms of ISIS, “We would clear them out straight away – ISIS would be gone.”

Given, though, that putting the British Army on the ground would be impossible in the current political climate, governments have to find a way of placing some troops into Syria without conventional forces. This is exactly where Jason and the companies he works for come into play – a subject about which he is slightly more coy.

He does describe himself a mercenary and even admits that he does not think it necessary to believe in the cause which he is fighting for. Rather, as we saw earlier, his primary concern is the way in which he fights and the professionalism he displays when going about it. 

Nonetheless, Jason does admit that there is a line; he would never fight for ISIS. So while he does not have to agree entirely with the cause he is fighting for, equally he could not fight for something with which he fundamentally disagreed. This principle is the basis upon which Jason works and he always considers it when deciding which firm he should work for. Each “have their own agenda,” although most are “geared towards protection, and against terrorism”. Governments use those companies which share their objectives as a way of putting troops, like Jason, on the ground without the political fallout of deploying their own armies. Whether or not this would help Syria in the long term is a different question, but if the aim is still to “degrade and destroy” ISIS – in Obama’s words – then boots on the ground, by whatever means, will be the most effective method as militants “are adapting to the air strikes.” Still, the point that Jason makes most clearly is the simple fact that “war is hell.”

Yes: Max Kitson

On entering the Teddy Hall front quad, it is impossible not to marvel at the sheer obnoxiousness of the structure that towers before you. A multi-storey concrete phallus, with flagrant disregard for the architectural coherence of the college, looms above the picturesque, centuries-old quad and basks in its own hideousness.

Sadly, Teddy Hall is far from alone. A litany of colleges – from Balliol to Brasenose, from Christ Church to St Johns – have been scarred by Brutalist architecture, imposed upon them in a collective fi t of madness in the post-war decades. Their only redeeming feature is the low construction cost, but the notion that something as complex, significant and delicate as education should be reduced to a matter of money is detrimental to the University, and indeed to society as a whole.

You may wonder if demolishing a building for aesthetic reasons can truly be an efficient use of scarce resources. Nonetheless, in this case the benefits of demolition outweigh the costs.

Oxford colleges are more than buildings. They are works of art, and their beauty has inspired generation after generation of students at the University. The fundamental role of Oxford’s architecture is captured in the emblematic phrase ‘dreaming spires’. It is enough to read Matthew Arnold’s poem ‘Thyrsis’, from which the phrase was taken, to understand the profound impact of the city’s surroundings on students. One must wonder what Mr. Arnold would think of Oxford’s modern monstrosities.

For Oxford’s most beautiful buildings, every last detail has been carefully sculpted in pursuit of aesthetic perfection. The city’s Brutalist architecture revels in its disregard for this shared pursuit of its predecessors, with its drab greyness and thoughtless edges. As the author Bill Bryson put it, “We’ve been putting up handsome buildings since 1264; let’s have an ugly one for a change.”

In order to sustain its position as the world’s leading university, Oxford must be able to attract the world’s brightest students and academics. Of course, it would be untrue to say that architecture is the primary concern of the brightest minds. Nonetheless, the architecture of an institution says much about its ethos. The worst examples of Oxford’s modern architecture symbolise all that is undesirable in a university – thoughtlessness, lack of creativity and an acceptance of mediocrity. Demolishing these buildings and replacing them with more congruous architecture would send a clear message that Oxford wholeheartedly rejects such attributes.

Demolishing these buildings, and suitably replacing them, would certainly not be cheap. Nonetheless, the University and its constituent colleges have the means to do it, with endowment assets totaling £4.2bn. Benefactors could also play a significant role in financing this redevelopment project.

Oxford has an ability, unrivalled by its counterparts in the UK, to attract large donations for specific projects. Len Blavatnik, Britain’s richest man, gave £75m for the construction of the new school of government, while Wafic Saïd, a Saudi businessman, donated £20m for the construction of the eponymous business school. Only a few such donations would be required to cover the costs of redevelopment.

Demolishing Oxford’s modern architecture could also indirectly generate revenues for the University, which would help the redevelopment scheme to recoup its costs. Tourists come from all around the world to visit the University. Demolishing Oxford’s modern architecture would bolster the reputation of the University as a tourist destination of exceptional beauty. In the long term, this would attract more tourists to the University, in turn boosting the revenue generated by the colleges from tourism.

It is worth considering what should replace Oxford’s modern monstrosities when they no longer stand. The sine qua non is that the replacement buildings must be congruous with their surroundings. Nonetheless, forward-looking architecture is acceptable and even welcome, provided it acknowledges its surroundings.

The Saïd Business School is an example of a forward-looking building that, while not perfect, has at least attempted to acknowledge the heritage of the University. Although it was built recently, it has a tower and a quad in a nod to the architectural heritage of the University.

At the core of the problem with much of Oxford’s modern architecture lies its callous disregard for Oxford’s architectural traditions; the boxy, grotesque modern buildings at the back of Balliol College are an insult to the imposing elegance and charming grace of the dining hall beside them. It is not enough just to say that we should demolish these insensitive buildings: rather, we should feel obliged to do so out of sheer respect for the city and the University.

No: Freddie Hopkinson

A couple of weeks before I first came to Oxford, I was chatting with one of my neighbours’ sons about which college I had chosen to go to at Oxford. He had just looked around the University on an open day and, when I mentioned Trinity, he went on about how beautiful the old college was “apart from that ugly modern block by the library.” Sure enough, a fortnight later, when I first arrived at Trinity, I was shown to my room: the top floor of the College’s 60s accommodation block next to the library.

Over the course of my first year at Oxford that “ugly modern block by the library” became my home. For all its surface wear, I quickly found that the Cumberbatch Building was worth a lot more to the College than it was given credit for. Built in 1966 from the designs of the Church and College architects, Maguire and Murray, the block’s layout fostered a communal atmosphere amongst the freshers who lived in it. With shared washing facilities at the top of the tower, a central staircase, and rooms in close proximity, the tower block encouraged us to get to know each other in a way that a lot of older housing blocks fail to do.

By 2014, it may have had its problems with its heating system, but the building still offered an interesting alternative to the cell like divisions of many older college housing blocks. What made the building feel peculiarly modern was that it seemed to have a social purpose that was greater than the housing of individuals – it recognised the need for university architecture to help foster the academic communities that live in it. Writing from a significantly more isolated section of the supposedly ‘aesthetic’ main building in Trinity, I would be sad to see modern architecture of the Cumberbatch Building’s variety gone.

The term ‘modern architecture’ is often lazily used as a pejorative term to describe any building after 1900 that doesn’t comply with someone’s conservative views of what buildings should be like. When people attack ‘modern architecture’ in Oxford they often simplify the great range of modern, postmodern, neo-classical, constructivist, de-constructivist, and many more twentieth century genres of architecture into a single binary against what came before. Without thinking about the complexities of Oxford’s twentieth century architecture, those calling for the demolition of ‘modern architecture’ ignore the diversity of Oxford’s past. Equally, by drawing such a contrast between Oxford’s ‘traditional’ and ‘modern’ buildings, reactionaries forget about the architectural diversity of the university’s pre-twentieth century legacy. Arguably, the Radcliff e Camera is as different from Brasenose College in style as the Saïd Business School is from Old Tom at Christ Church.

Writing in the C+ supplement on Oxford’s architecture a couple of weeks ago, architectural historian Dr. Matthew Walker argued that at some point, every building in Oxford has been new. If we were to demolish every trace of Oxford’s twentieth century architectural record, we would in effect be demolishing an important part of our University’s historic legacy. If models of Oxford’s ‘modern architecture’ are slowly emerging as sources on our institution’s dynamic experience of the twentieth century, it would be tantamount to the burning of history books to blindly demolish them. Buildings like James Stirling’s constructivist Florey Building at Queen’s are important because they show us how the people that commissioned these sort of buildings envisaged the University’s role at a certain point in time. To deny twentieth century buildings space in Oxford’s urban landscape would be to reject 100 years of intellectual development’s role in the University’s history.

Beyond the issue that demolishing every ‘modern’ building in Oxford would leave a lot of faculties and students without a home lies the more theoretical problem of how our architecture defines our identity. If we were to get rid of anything that remotely marks a break from Oxford’s tourist image as ‘the city of dreaming spires’, we would be making it clear that we were afraid of change. Should we look to demolish modern buildings that juxtapose against more traditional images of Oxford life, we would be breaking down our architectural dialogues with the past.

Part of what makes Oxford such an exciting city to walk around is the fact that over the last century, modern works of architecture have challenged sentimental images of the city. Traditional Oxford streets are enriched by subtle modern architecture, just as traditional scholarship is supplemented by more recent research. Working to deny Oxford’s development through the demolition of supposedly ‘modern’ architecture would represent a betrayal of the University’s continued pursuit of intellectual development. Ultimately, the demolition of Oxford’s ‘modern’ legacy would stand for a sentimental rejection of all that has been new in the last hundred years.

As I write, modernity itself is increasingly becoming a thing of the past. Glass structures like the new Blavatnik School of Government are just as alien to the design of my first year accommodation block as its communal spirit was to the aristocratic housing of Trinity’s main building. As we move through what some have begun to call a postmodern cityscape, it has become fashionable to look back on modernism as an ugly intrusion on Oxford’s built landscape. In my view, the demolition of Oxford’s twentieth century architecture, unfairly generalised as ‘modern’, would set a dangerous precedent for our relationship with the past. Instead of looking for our bulldozers when we approach that “ugly modern block by the library,” we should listen to its story. Oxford’s twentieth century urban legacy is far too interesting to be wantonly removed.

Imagine you go with your friend to burgle a shop. On the way, you foresee that it’s possible that your friend might kill someone during the burglary. You don’t want anyone to be killed, but you’re still really keen for the burglary. The burglary gets out of hand, and your friend does kill someone. Are you guilty?

Up until a week ago, the answer would’ve been yes – you would’ve been guilty of murder as an accessory.

The Supreme Court has now, finally, reviewed this law (coined ‘joint enterprise’) and emphatically stated that mere foresight cannot be the basis for a conviction for murder as an accessory. This is a law that has been applied since 1985 amidst extreme controversy, and I doubt that anyone who cares about justice will miss it. The new requirement for a murder conviction of this kind is intent, both to assist or encourage the crime and to commit the crime itself. This fits much more readily with our understandings of intent – as the Supreme Court stated, guilt by association should have no place in our law. The problem is that guilt by association does and still will have a place in the law. Foresight can still be used to infer ‘intent’; this is no giant leap at all.

There are a host of other problems with joint enterprise. This is because joint enterprise is used to catch ‘gangs’. It’s an unjust replacement for repeated public policy failures. We convict people based on association, and because it isn’t based on any decent law, it allows prejudices and stereotypes to take precedence. 

This is all too evident in the case of race. A recent study into joint enterprise, gangs and racism showed that, of those convicted under joint enterprise laws, 38.5 per cent are white, and 57.4 per cent are BME. Of those imprisoned for joint enterprise, the notion of gang membership was used in 59 per cent of cases – 69 per cent of those were in cases involving BME defendants. 79 per cent of all BME defendants convicted of joint enterprise were said to be gang members during their trials; this figure dropped to just 38 per cent in cases involving white defendants. And how many actually were in gangs? Five. These numbers are grossly skewed racially, and are so far from the truth that it’s hard to believe they come out of courts of law. Why would we want to convict young BME men simply for being in gangs? The facts argue against almost every explanation based on truth and justice – it exists, apparently, solely as a deterrent.

But even the House of Commons Justice Committee acknowledged the huge risk in justifying joint enterprise on the basis that it might send a social signal and deter people from joining gangs. The only way any law can do this is if it convicts people. And the only way it can deter people from joining gangs is by convicting people who are members of gangs. Except, as we’ve seen, we’ve convicted people who aren’t members of gangs – we’ve convicted them because they were seen with a gang member, once, or because they were hanging around them on the night of the offence. Guilt by association is the whole point of joint enterprise.

Getting rid of foresight as the sole mental element will not change this. The Supreme Court made it quite clear that little would change. When foresight can be used to refer intent, you don’t need to show that what the defendant did encouraged the other to murder. Associating with the killer and being present at the time aren’t necessarily enough, but do help to build up the picture. Knowing whether another party has a weapon is just another piece of evidence. 

The very concept of accessory liability involves holding one individual legally responsible for the act of another. This isn’t a very easy position to start with, but it’s defensible. But by expanding the law beyond clear assisting and encouraging, English courts have entered into unjustifiable territory. Courts have become arenas in which racial stereotypes thrive, in which young BME men are labeled murderers simply for being around someone who killed another. I’m not denying that gang violence should be tackled – although it’s worth noting just six per cent of 10-19-year-olds say they’re in a gang – but this shouldn’t happen through the manipulation of otherwise justifiable laws. Correcting this wrong in the law of accessory liability is a good start for the English courts, but it should be just the beginning.

A safe space is somewhere that allows anyone to exist without worry of being marginalised or made to feel unsafe due to their gender, sex, race, sexuality, religious belief and cultural background, age or mental or physical ability.

It sounds like an ideal place to be, but the concept has been attacked for moly-coddling students and limiting, even endangering, free speech. In the words of our Vice-Chancellor, it is “incompatible with university learning.”

But, if identity politics has taught us anything, it is that due to historical, political, social and economic factors, certain groups of people are indeed forced to suffer more than others. The traditional university is already tailored to be a safe space for people who are not part of various groups: Western, white, able, cis-heterosexual men are less likely to face discrimination in their academic life, they are less likely to face violence that could interfere with their studies, and they study a curriculum that is mainly about them, for them. The views of others are hardly represented in academic life; you can easily graduate without ever having to face them.

If we consider such complexities of power, it becomes clear that an active effort is required to make the university a good and fair learning environment for all students. This is where safe spaces come in.

Indeed, universities are meant to be challenging and to drag people out of their intellectual comfort zones. But a certain kind of security is essential to healthy learning. Namely, the certainty of being protected from violence, and that of being seen as a person as worthy as others.

A look at statistics can confirm this: every year, in Oxford, female students do worse in their finals than male students. Women are also more subject to physical and emotional violence, their history is cancelled out of curricula, and they are socialised to be less likely to express their opinions in classes and thus create more stimulating connections with their teachers.

Given this, it is imperative for the University to actively engage in making campuses safer, more welcoming and more supportive to female students. This does not entail censorship. The fight is not to make every existing space a safe one, but to ensure that the general university space that every student must participate in is safe for all. The lack of opportunity to engage with this history in a healthy and productive way is exactly what forces a confrontational approach outside of official university processes. A safe general university space is not incompatible with a challenging environment. It gives people the breathing room to truly engage with difficult issues in tutorials, seminars, and essays.

In the same way, a rape victim asking for trigger warnings to be placed on texts is not refusing to confront the reality of the violence that they know only too well, nor are they asking for the texts to be censored and removed from university contexts. They are asking for the opportunity to prepare themselves for the subject to be able to engage with it on their own terms, in ways that are more likely to bring interesting ideas and less likely to bring an emotional breakdown.

This leads to the accusation that safe spaces cover students in cotton-wool. But this ignores two important points. Firstly, a student body that actively engages with the problems of the traditional university, that challenges the harmful ideas present in its functioning and proposes solutions, does not comprise a bunch of scared young people. Rather, it is made up of bold thinkers who are trying to improve the status quo.

Secondly, this is not a question of offence or being upset, but of real conditions of violence. A university that neutrally welcomes transphobic discourse in all of its spaces, without tact or basic common sense, does not just upset students. It enables the diffusion of ideas that lead to transgender students being beaten-up when they walk out of their rooms, being kicked out of apartments, losing jobs.

Indeed, universities are place where ideas can and must be challenged. But what we cannot challenge is people’s humanity. It is still perfectly possible to have debates on transphobia in a space that people can opt out of, like debating societies or specific events. Safe spaces encourage academia to rethink the canon, to tell stories of murder and suffering from the perspective of the murdered, instead of that of the victorious murderer. A movement for safe spaces makes universities think carefully about the implications of the ideas they propagate and the actions they take, while keeping in mind the complications of history and politics, of power.

Safe spaces encourage every member of the University to keep in mind the experience of marginalised students, and the very real, concrete suffering that can stem from bigoted ideas. Thus, they encourage us to think of ways to enable discussion without propagating hate

‘Able was I ere I saw Elba’ – little if any evidence is there to commend the claim that these are the words of a certain Napoleon Bonaparte, reminiscing with his personal physician. Indeed, that the famed Corsican – barely literate in French – fancied himself an English raconteur and master of the palindrome is, at best, doubtful. But the question remains: did such a thought cross his mind?

Following the Treaty of Fontainebleau in 1814 the First French Empire had collapsed, and Napoleon had been exiled to Elba – an island off the coast of Tuscany. Humiliated, stripped of cities and kingdoms, forced to settle for a few square miles in the Mediterranean, Napoleon was determined to achieve the unthinkable: restoration. And, in defiance of fate, he almost did just that. Within the year, he had escaped, marching through Golfe-Juan, for Grenoble, for Paris.

“Je suis votre empereur; s’il est parmi vous un soldat qui veuille tuer son général, son empereur, il le peut, me voilà!”

But of course, we all know how the story ends, in defeat. Tragic defeat. Yet it would take more than a far-flung expulsion to St Helena’s to expunge Napoleon, and his legacy, from the history books. Scarcely need I even try to make l’Empereur of interest to you, the modern reader. Figures as diverse as Abba and Dostoyevsky have seen to that: Raskolnikov nonetheless ‘meeting his Waterloo’ in the seminal work, Crime and Punishment. In short, failure is not always ‘failure’. Look to the realm of political comebacks; think de Gaulle, Nixon, Buhari and – dare I say – Hillary Clinton, Napoleon is a standardbearer. But more generally, he speaks to our resolve, our grit and tenacity in the face of overwhelming odds.