Sunday, May 11, 2025
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Captain’s Corner: OULTC

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Cherwell spoke to the new Blues captains of OULTC. Here’s the full interview with Jack Pickering, captain of the men’s team, and Sama Malik, captain of the women’s team. 

When did you start playing tennis?

J: I started playing when I was eleven, which is quite late as most of my team started playing before they were six. 

S: I started playing at my local tennis club when I was five.

What drew you to the sport?

J: I managed to get tickets for the Wimbledon women’s final in 2013 and the day after that, Andy Murray won his first Wimbledon title and I’ve never stopped enjoying the sport since that summer.

S: It was a great way to socialise and make new friends. I found tennis fun to play so wanted to keep doing it! I also have a twin sister so we grew up playing together and I always had a partner to hit with.

Were there any specific goals for this season and how has the season gone so far?

J: The main goal for the tennis season each year is to win the varsity match against Cambridge which takes place at the end of Trinity term. We also play BUCS most Wednesdays and we’re aiming to finish in the top half of the league. It’s currently very close in the middle of the table of our division with a few important matches to come.

S: This season a key focus has been to have high levels of commitment from team members in training, matches and to also spend more time as a team off the court, with socials and team dinners. The season so far has had lots of close matches with three close draws, one loss and one win in the BUCS league. With a few matches left to play, the league’s standings are still undecided and all to play for as a lot of the teams are equally matched.

What has been the best win of the season currently?

J: Beating University of Nottingham at Iffley 4-2. We went 2-0 down after two disappointing doubles matches but then won four close singles matches (including four tiebreaks) to win the fixture.

S: The best win of the season currently was our win against Exeter in our away game. The team battled through some matches despite Exeter having a lot of home support to get a 4-2 win.

What has been the biggest sporting success in your time at Oxford so far?

J: Winning the European Universities Clay Court Invitational tournament at the Monte Carlo Country Club earlier this year was big success for the men’s and women’s Blues after reaching the semi finals in 2021 and the final in 2022.

S: In terms of sports successes, the commitment, energy and mindset of the team in all aspects on and off the court has been great to be a part of.

How did varsity go last year?

J: The 2023 Lawn Tennis Men’s Varsity was a very close match last Trinity term, with the Oxford team unfortunately losing 11-10 after two long days of matches. A special mention has to go to Brendan Emmanuel who won all five of his matches for us.

S: Varsity last year was definitely one of the highlights of the year – dominating the weekend and getting the win over Cambridge. Although it was sad to see a significant number of teammates graduating and leaving the team, this year I’m excited to take on the challenge of retaining our win with some new faces in the team.

How difficult is it to have a high turnover of players, losing and gaining players each year?

J: Obviously the nature of a university team is to have players coming and going over the years, but I think you have to focus on the players you have in front of you and try and help them to play the best tennis they can.

S: It’s definitely tough losing players, especially last year when half of the team (including last year’s captain Izzy Marshall) graduated. Having said that, I think it’s also exciting to have new players in the team, getting to know them and developing new team dynamics. 

What’s the best and worst thing about being Blues captain?

J: The best thing is probably getting asked to write some answers for Captain’s Corner. The worst thing is coming up with ideas for tennis drills for sessions where we don’t have a coach.

S: It’s hard to pick one thing that stands out, but one of the best things about being Blues captain is that it’s rewarding to see the progress we’ve made as a team and having an active role leading hitting sessions and creating an energetic, friendly and supportive team environment.

Who are the ones to watch in the team?

J: If you know Italian then Lorenzo Catini is always a good one to watch because I presume you would be able to understand what he is screaming when he wins or loses the point. In fact, if you were in Oxford on the October 25th you would probably have heard him scream “Forza!” from the Iffley courts when he won his singles match against Nottingham. 

S: I don’t think there’s any one person to watch in the team as I think each member has different strengths and skills, meaning a lot of players are evenly matched down our rankings. Sneha Kotecha is new to the team this year and having played number one at Exeter during her undergrad, has a lot of experience of playing at uni and as a highly competitive junior.

Reflections on the gender pay gap: What Claudia Goldin’s Nobel Prize has taught us

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“Five beautiful women? All doing economics? No wayyyy!”

This was remarked by two male PhD students at the UCL faculty welcome drinks after they had inserted themselves into a conversation between me and a group of fellow master’s students. As their comment so gracelessly points out, economics is a male-dominated profession – more so, in fact, than most STEM fields. Women make up roughly a third of economics undergraduate students, and this ratio drops to 15% for tenured professors. Women are also underrepresented in the Treasury, the Bank of England, and policy think tanks. Given that economics is a social science, which analyses how human behaviour affects economic outcomes, it is particularly concerning that its practitioners are so unrepresentative of society. 

In this context, the 2023 Economics Nobel Prize is a triumph for the field. Its recipient, the economic historian and labour economist, Claudia Goldin, is only the third woman to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences, and the first to be honoured solo instead of sharing the prize with male colleagues. Goldin was awarded the prize “for having advanced our understanding of women’s labour market outcomes”. Since she became the first woman to be offered tenure in the Harvard Economics Department, Goldin has contributed extensively to, and often pioneered in, this research frontier. 

Her analysis covered over two centuries’ worth of data from the US economy in a project to chart the progress of women in the labour market. The findings dispelled myths around female workers: Instead of being “traditionally” constrained to housekeeping and child-rearing, married women were responsible for a significant portion of production within agrarian societies of the 19th century. Goldin was also the first to examine the effects of the contraceptive pill on economic growth. Labour-enhancing innovations are a source of great interest to economics research – but while her male peers narrowly focused on technology and machinery, Goldin showed that the lower risk of unplanned pregnancies sparked an economic revolution as sexually active women became free to invest in time-consuming degrees; the resulting surge in doctors, lawyers, and other essential professions is what policymakers dream about.
 
Goldin’s investigation of the gender pay gap has been most instructive regarding the current barriers faced by women in the labour market. Although norms around full-time careers for women changed after the Second Wave feminism of the 70s, women were still on average earning 50 cents to a man’s dollar. This was, in part, indicative of what was at the time a ‘productivity gap’ between male and female workers in the same profession: Due to massive social obstacles in their pursuit of higher education and work experience, women were seen as less qualified in the eyes of employers. Once women were free to pursue an education and a career, the differences in years of education, content and quality of education, and accumulated work experience between the genders rapidly converged. In fact, women today outperform men in educational attainment: The number of women at university began to exceed that of men 16 years ago, they outnumber them at every Russell Group university, they are more likely to get a 2:1 or a First, and they are less likely to drop out.

It therefore seems that judged by productivity standards that once “explained” the gender pay gap, today’s women are racing ahead. Yet, the gap persists. When Claudia Goldin was writing her seminal paper, ‘A Grand Gender Convergence: Its Last Chapter’, in 2010, the ratio of mean annual earnings between male and female full-time earnings in the US was 0.72 – a number that had barely budged since 2000 and has barely budged after, measuring 0.77 to 0.80 in 2023 according to most estimates. At this rate, it would take 40 more years for women to be fairly compensated (and that is ignoring the fact that a more highly educated female workforce should, on average, be earning more than their male counterparts).

In the article, Goldin sets out to statistically determine the culprit behind the persisting inequality – what we economists call the “unexplained” or “residual” portion after productivity differences have been eradicated. She immediately dispels the popular misconception that the earnings gap stems from the fact that women “choose” to work in lower-earning professions (nurses vs doctors, etc) – not only are such choices, if women do make them, governed by factors like sexist work cultures in male-dominated professions; they are also statistically insignificant compared to the earning differentials that exists between men and women in the same occupation. Goldin demonstrates this by estimating what would happen to the gender gap if one were to even out the proportions of male and female workers in each occupation (i.e. assume 50% of doctors and nurses are female) versus what would happen if one equalised average earnings by gender within each profession (i.e. male doctors are on average paid the same as female doctors). In the former case, estimates still show a large gap, in the latter, the gap is almost eradicated. This means that changing the gendered mix of occupations will not solve the problem of the wage gap.  

What then, explains the differences in compensation within occupations? Academics have supplied many explanations: good old-fashioned workplace discrimination, women are socialised to be less competitive and less willing to bargain for pay raises, women spend more of their time doing housework, women take more time out of the workforce to after becoming a parent, the prospect of paid maternity leave makes employers less willing to fill a vacancy with a female worker, and more. Intuitively, these all ring true, and statistically, they have been proven to matter.

Goldin, however, purports to have identified the one singular factor that accounts for the vast majority of unexplained pay differentials between men and women in the same profession. By controlling for differences among male and female workers with the same level of experience within a given profession, Goldin discovers a distinctive pattern in wage differentials: Women start off with similar earnings to men (in the 90% range) but the ratio declines with age and plummets to 60% on average when both cohorts are in their forties. These timings, of course, point to motherhood as the primary culprit. This may not come as a surprise, although the size of the disparity is shocking (Goldin’s findings indicate that women re-entering the workforce after motherhood suffer practically the same level of wage inequality as women 50 years ago). Feminists have spent decades rallying against the social norms that place the onus of childcare entirely with the mother while the father focuses on his career, free to gain experience and promotions that once again leave women far behind. 

However, Goldin is not yet satisfied with this explanation. Another distinctive pattern in the data is that the gender gap varies significantly with occupation, and not in the way one might expect. Tech and science fields – although the underrepresentation and low retention rates of female workers are issues in themselves – have surprisingly low gender pay gaps in every age group. Women in business or law, however, can expect to lose a large chunk of their income post-maternity: An 18-month career break was associated with a 41% decline in earnings for MBA grads, and 31% for law school graduates. This “motherhood penalty” is often viewed as a mere time issue as mothers with young children are forced to scale back their careers. It should, then, raise eyebrows that the MBA grads who see an average pay decline of 41% work only 24% fewer hours on average. 

It seems that women are disproportionately penalised for making career sacrifices for the sake of their children. In fact, Goldin discovered so-called non-linearities in the hourly wages within these industries – that is, compensation does not decline one-to-one with respect to hours worked. A woman who, because of childcare duties, works half the hours of her male colleagues receives, on average, less than half his pay. In the legal profession, where lawyers are billed by the hour, lawyers that work under 40 hours a week receive lower hourly rates. Flexible work, such as a worker leaving the office two hours early for school pick-up but making up for those two hours later in the evening, is also underpaid relative to the same hours in a 9-5 schedule.

The reality is that women want to combine children and career, but certain industries make this extremely difficult. Labour-force participation rates indicate this: Counterintuitively, women on average work three or four years less after childbirth than one year after childbirth, indicating that sustaining career commitments throughout is either impossible due to workplace inflexibility, or simply not worth the hassle given how grossly underpaid these efforts are. As Goldin puts it, children require some modicum of parental time, husbands provide little of it, and part-time work in these fields is insufficiently remunerative to justify the difficult task of juggling children and career.

This does not have to be the case. The reason tech and science fields have lower post-maternity pay gaps is that the nature of these jobs lends itself to greater flexibility. Tech work can be done from home, and physicians and pharmacists who use standardized procedures and computer systems to track their clients’ needs can take a year out without much consequence. The pandemic has shown that the vast majority of business and law jobs, too, can be done just as well online from home. It is therefore disappointing that many such firms are now insisting on a return to “office culture” – a concept still tied to the archaic notion of office workers as men who can spend fifty hour work weeks in the office while their wives look after their children – thereby undoing the benefits remote work has offered to working mothers. In the current system, once children have outgrown full-time care, women will return to their former profession and find that they have paid a pound of flesh, earnings wise, for the choice they have made. 

Claudia Goldin’s Nobel Prize is well-deserved. Her research proves that the gender pay gap is a three-tiered social problem. It exists at the level of the individual woman in a male-dominated field who is underestimated by her boss, patronised by her male coworkers, and as a result is either denied the pay, promotions, and recognitions she deserves, or is bullied out of the profession. It exists at the level of the industries that are 50 years behind the status quo, still so ill-adjusted to the idea that the modern worker (whether male or female) might want to combine the demands of family and career that those workers who do attempt this through part-time work, flexible work and career breaks must pay disproportionate penalties on their earnings and potential for upwards mobility in their profession. And ultimately, it exists at the level of the patriarchy that not only fails to recognize and address the parenthood penalty but still expects women to pay it in full without complaint while absolving men of basic childcare responsibilities. 

Literary Red Flags: Cause for Alarm?

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“Red Flag Books: avoid people who read…”, “If your date reads these books, run for the hills”, “Watch out for people whose favourite books are..” The internet loves to tell us what to do, especially when there’s a healthy smattering of pseudo-psychology involved (I’m looking at you, TikTok). And nowhere is this more apparent than in the popular practice of analysing personality through literary taste: American Psycho, Lolita, A Clockwork Orange – all examples commonly listed among the top culprits for what are increasingly becoming known as ‘literary icks’. These books, in which central characters partake in their fair share of violence, bigotry, and otherwise generally depraved behaviour, have themselves flitted on and off various ‘banned books’ lists since their publication and have now become indicative of a certain type of ‘controversial taste’. A preference for these texts is, apparently, a sure sign of a disturbed character: an underlying lack of empathy, proclivity for aggression, or – perhaps most concerningly – an unhealthy obsession with business card fonts. 

All this speaks to a wider assumption: that the books we like to read, or indeed the media we like to consume, is in some way a reflection of our character. There is, certainly, some element of truth to this: when we recommend a book to someone, for instance, there must be a certain amount of character assessment involved. We assume they will enjoy it because of a specific trait or hobby of theirs, or maybe something they’ve mentioned repeatedly in conversation. I’m certainly not sure how delighted I’d be if informed by a friend that I should read A Clockwork Orange because it ‘reminded them’ of me. Media preference and personality do seem to overlap on occasion, but not always. 

There is, I suggest, no clear correlation between the books that provide an ‘enjoyable’ reading experience – the ones that sit comfortably within our expectations and worldview, the ones that coincide with our personalities – and the books that become our ‘favourites’. Some of the ‘best’ books I’ve ever read weren’t necessarily the most ‘enjoyable’ to read. Sometimes the reading process felt more like watching on in fascination or abject horror. How is the author doing this? Is this even allowed? Though occasionally the mood calls for a book that lets you gently flow through it like a literary lazy river, it’s the text that violently jolts you awake – the one that pokes and prods at your untested assumptions and ideologies – that leaves the greatest impression. 

At the risk of sounding like your Year 10 English teacher: books teach us stuff. They can expand our minds in directions we never thought they could be stretched to, and challenge viewpoints we didn’t know we had. Accessing this complex mental gymnastics involves choosing to read books that we know will provoke even our most deeply-held senses of morality, even if they only serve to validate exactly why we hold them. In a media landscape of increasingly short-form content, the very format of which seems geared towards creating conflict or ‘hype’ by eliminating nuance, the cultural conversations around ‘controversial’ texts must continue. Creating an arbitrary cultural ‘taboo’ around these, granted often deeply unsettling, books is no solution to anything: we need to understand the ‘transgressive’ in order to realise how to ‘progress’. 

In this way, the books we like most aren’t so revealing as the reasons why we like them. Sure, some people get a kick out of being seen with a ‘gritty’ book in public, but these ‘Red Flag Books’ cannot be – in themselves – a sign of anything more ‘sinister’ lurking beneath the surface of their adoring readers. They are ‘cause for alarm’ only in the sense that they push the boundaries of what is possible and acceptable within literature. So the next time you’re out with someone who says their favourite book is American Psycho, try asking them why. Maybe their reasoning will surprise you, and will lead to a long and fruitful discussion about corporate culture, authorial responsibility, and the ethics of media consumption. Or maybe they’ll tell you that it’s because they want to be Patrick Bateman, in which case: consider that flag very red indeed.

On scouring for words, snollygosters and soaked trousers with Mark Forsyth

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If you could hear my bursts of laughter through the hallways of the Glink in the summer of ‘23, I apologise. But all credits go to The Elements of Eloquence (2013), a book about the role of classical rhetoric in language and literature. Mark Forsyth’s comedic approach to educating his readership on rhetoric and etymology of the English language makes it unexpectedly one of the funniest books I’ve ever read.

As so many great stories have begun, Mark’s did at Oxford:

“It all started with a blog actually. Which was the idea of a friend of mine from New College, not me, my best friend from Oxford. She had the idea of starting a blog together called ‘The Inky Fool’, which was my nickname for her, on interesting facts about the English language and etymology, and funny stories and stuff like that. I continued writing and it got very popular; its popularity brought me a book deal.” 

“That’s how I got my thing; I just love amusing stories. I’ve always had a brain like a rubbish tip which remembers stories, jokes –  ones like, a priest, a rabbi and a flamingo walk into a bar. I have a weirdly retentive memory for funny stories.” As for transferring this into the world of words: “when I find out a story about the etymology of a word or something, if it’s vaguely amusing, I will remember it.”

Being dazzled by the effortlessness of celebrities or even your peers who score a first with apparently no studying (completely untargeted), Mark reveals the honest work that goes behind portraying that: “Dolly Parton said “It takes an awful lot of money to look this cheap.” It actually takes quite a lot of work to write books as though I know it all already and it’s utterly effortless. I do have a pile of reference works open on the desk in front of me, and then I write it up as though I just knew all this stuff off hand, which isn’t always true…”

Out of the world of academia, tasked with crafting The Elements of Eloquence “was a nightmare. I wrote it in the British Library, but I wasn’t actually reading books. I spent the entire time finding a figure of rhetoric and then I just stared at the ceiling, going through every single poem I know and I’ve memorised an awful lot of poetry. But also every song lyric I knew, and every famous quote and every film line, trying to just pull them out of my head. And every time I finished a chapter, I sorted them all out so they nicely flowed, one into the other. Then a day later, I remembered another example which I should have put in. So that drove me completely mad.”

I couldn’t imagine myself picking up a book on alliteration and thinking that that should be a fun read, but the unimaginable happened when I read Mark’s novel. Humour. Some people have it, some people don’t. 

Mark definitely does, but you take his erudition seriously. “There’s an obvious way of thinking about things as jokes versus serious stuff. And if it’s important, you shouldn’t joke about it. But I joke about the important stuff because when I’m joking it does not mean that I don’t take this seriously. The interesting thing about comedy is that it’s about creating a world which operates on the hedonic principle in which only what is agreeable matters and what is disagreeable is bad.

“I’m interested in the idea that you create a world which is kind of cut off from life in which everyone is viewed merely as agreeable, disagreeable, fun or not fun. So in this world, Adolf Hitler’s is a bit of a bore and that’s the main problem with him if you see what I mean. Somebody who believes they are very moral and earnest is always just boring.” 

So to create comedy, go to the masters. “Blackadder is a terrible coward and a bully and everything about him is morally bad. But once you make it just about who you’d rather have a pint with, as it were, then you create a comic world, which is very important. You can have a joke within a tragedy, but it’s still a tragedy. Whereas to create proper comedy means creating a world which is separate from the normal way we look at reality.”

If you’ve ever had the existential question pop up, “What am I gonna do with my degree? What’s the use?” Mark put it to use in the most you-do-you, unique and beautiful way there is: “Oxford has a wonderful English course that was absolutely fantastic. And I’ve been using it ever since. I’m one of the few people to make money out of an English degree, which has always made me proud. 

Back in the day, there used to be a joke among us at Oxford: why don’t English students draw their curtains in the morning? And the answer was, it gives them something to do in the afternoon.” 

In the hedonism of post-graduation, Mark spent his time “trying to get books published and not getting them published.” But The Elements of Eloquence brought purpose: “I wrote it for a couple of reasons. Firstly, because it was the book I wanted to read when I was 16. I wanted to understand what the figures of classical rhetoric were and nobody had written anything or even tried to quote anything good since the 1580s. And the other reason was that the reason you’re reading a poem is that it’s beautiful. It’s like if you say “Full fathom five your father lies”, you are the greatest poet who ever lived. Whereas if you say “your father’s body is 9.144 metres underwater”, you’re just a Coast Guard with some bad news.” And The Elements delves into exactly why. 

Inspiration to follow your dreams can strike from anywhere. It can be – reportedly – divine in nature. Mark pulls the curtain on the true journey to success: 

“There’s a thing which you get in interviews, which is always a lie. The interviewer says to somebody, “when did you first want to be a professional tennis player?”. The reason you became a professional tennis player is you started playing tennis when you were young, and then it turned out you were the best tennis player in class, best tennis player year group, best tennis player in school, best tennis player in the county, and then you ended up in the Wimbledon finals. That’s how it actually happens. In almost anybody’s life there isn’t a moment. But oddly enough, history is going to be really wrong on this because everyone who gets interviewed a lot prepares an answer for exactly that question. Which is a complete lie.”

Oxford can be a bubble, some experiences are rarely possible elsewhere (or at least without getting arrested). One of Mark’s favourite experiences is somewhat of a bucket list one: “I was in a punt getting drunk with some friends. Two of us stood up and the punt became unstable, my friend tried to lean on me and that didn’t work and I fell into the river. It was shallow, but I was soaked up to my waist. I took off my trousers, didn’t take off my underpants, and we all rang them out. And then we all walked back through Oxford to Lincoln College to get some dry clothes. And it’s a bunch of us, including me and I think I was wearing a tweed jacket and a shirt and stuff and just no trousers and no one gave us a second glance. Nobody. My friend said, “Oxford, I love you.” There’s no other city in which you can do this and just nobody will look. There’s just a guy, no trousers.”

Mark’s honest anecdotes brought us to discussion of the snollygoster. This is a word for a dishonest person, specifically a politician. Mark shares his opinion on whether he’d met a snollygoster at Oxford: “No. I was at Lincoln College with Rishi. I was two years above him and I still see him occasionally.” But Forsyth is of the opinion that Sunak does not fit the ‘snollygoster’ bill: “he’s a lovely chap.”

Here is what he is working on next: “A children’s novel coming out this year which is called A Riddle for a King about logical paradoxes. Now, I’m working on the history of English poetry. I got in touch with my old tutors at Oxford who are still around and retired now. I’ve been going up to visit them, buy them lunch and pick their brains, but it’s like going to a tutorial. I found myself desperately revising Wordsworth before going to see my old Wordsworth tutor. Being back in Oxford and essentially having tutorials again is rather wonderful.”

With thanks to Mark Forsyth for this interview.

A Riddle for a King, his new children’s book will be released this year.

The Age of Multipolarity

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Lord Cameron put it aptly when he recently stated that,“The world has changed significantly since I first entered government, and we live in very unstable, uncertain, and dangerous times”. The Foreign Secretary captured the zeitgeist of chaos and change that has come to define this last decade. All but gone is the atmosphere of optimism that accompanied the end of the Cold War, the Fall of the Berlin Wall, the introduction of Russia into the G8, and China into the World Trade Organisation. 

Of course, this century is nominally ‘dealing with’ its fair share of crises, from the U.S.’s failed War on Terror to the Financial Crash of 2008, the devastation that accompanied the Arab Spring, and the untold suffering in civil wars across the globe. The difference now is that the world is hurtling down a path of ever-increasing instability; the Doomsday Clock now stands 90 seconds to midnight, the closest to global catastrophe it has ever been.

We have returned to an age of Great Power conflicts. Beyond Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the explosion of proxy conflicts in the Middle East, a general contagion of coups and populism has swept across the globe, extinguishing faint flickers of democracy and threatening its bastions. It would have seemed unfathomable just a decade ago to say that the United States had suffered an insurrection at the Capitol, directed by a President unwilling to relinquish power; further, that 147 lawmakers would object to the election results, and that 40% of Americans believe the election was ‘stolen’. Has the U.S. really entered into a Post Truth Age of “alternative facts”? Similar questions might well be asked soon of Europe, with the Far-Right sweeping across Italy and Germany. Just this month, the second most popular party in Germany, the AFD, was implicated in a neo-Nazi meeting which was plotting the mass deportation of asylum seekers and non-native German citizens. History may not repeat itself, but it certainly rhymes.

According to Freedom House, global freedom has declined for the 17th consecutive year. Since 2020, the term la ceinture de coups d’État has arisen to describe the unbroken chain of African countries from the Atlantic to the Red Sea that have fallen to various coups. As French influence is effectively forced out of the social-political structures of West Africa, there is an opposite movement towards consolidating Chinese influence, especially economically through the Belt and Road Initiative, which waives pressure to adhere to democratic principles that would accompany modern Western investment. Autocratic influence seems also to extend militarily, with the U.S. accusing Russian mercenaries of plugging the military gap left by withdrawing French forces in the Sahel. 

The West has been forced to recognise that nations in the Global South are no longer prepared to work as junior partners, and rightly so. Many nations are beginning to flex their muscles after a century of subjugation. For example, much to the ire of the Americans, it was China who brokered a deal between Saudi Arabia and Iran in 2023. Indeed, one just has to look at the latest additions to the BRICS organisation to appreciate that alternative power structures are being constructed to offer a counterweight to what used to be considered the world’s sole “superpower”. The argument in Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History and the Last Man is that the “final form of human government” is the “universalization of Western liberal democracy” continues to be undermined. While in 1989, the U.S.’s worldview seemed ascendant, in 2024, the West is beginning to reckon with the realities of a multi-polar world, and democracies are at risk from both forces outside and within. 

There are thus major questions for the U.K., which in foreign policy circles is said to merely “see what the Americans are doing and then do a little less”. Indeed, it was Blair who followed Bush into Iraq, and now it is Sunak who has followed Biden into launching airstrikes on the Houthis in Yemen. With global shipping routes under attack, the U.K. will need to shore up its fractured relationship with Europe, lest Trump follows through on his threat to either pull the U.S. out of NATO or, at the very least, undermine the organisation, if he is to be re-elected. At the very least, moments such as Liz truss’ fever-dream quip on President Macron (that ‘the jury was still out’ on whether he was a friend or foe) seem to be rarer under Sunak’s premiership. 

In the age of an ascendant China, a revanchist Russia, and regional actors such as Iran and North Korea threatening to undo the U.S.-led order from which Britain has thus far benefited, what can the U.K. do to protect itself from the erosion of democratic practices that has infected its neighbours and allies?

Although it has long been touted as an outlier when it comes to the political representation of extremist parties (purportedly thanks to its first-past-the-post system), the U.K. has nevertheless been subjected to the very same populist pressures as other countries, and has also seen its unique democratic norms challenged.

Since David Cameron, who himself resigned, we have not had a prime minister successfully serve a full term in office. In the last two years, we have had three prime ministers without a general election. One only needs to cast their mind back to former Northern Ireland minister Brandon Lewis’s ill-fated statement in 2020 that the U.K. would only break international law “in a very specific and limited way” to appreciate the U.K.’s democratic vulnerability. Indeed, back in 2019, the Supreme Court ruled that Boris Johnson had unlawfully prorogued parliament. Furthermore, in 2023 the privileges committee found that Johnson had committed the cardinal sin of ‘deliberately misleading parliament’. We are a country based on what Peter Hennessy coined the “good chaps” theory of government – we trust that our elected officials will act within the conventions, and when they don’t, the system cracks. 

The latest Rwanda Plan saga lays bare the peculiar fragility of our system. Once unthinkable, U.K. civil servants are now being instructed to ignore Rule 39 orders from the European Court of Human Rights.  Moreover, the government has pushed through specific legislation designed to bypass a Supreme Court ruling last November which blocked the planned deportation of asylum seekers to the African nation for processing. The Strasbourg Court has been branded a “foreign” court by the government, a not-so-subtle semantic shift from the more accurate “international” label which recognises that the U.K. is both a signatory and founding member. 

Former immigration minister Robert Jenrick said in the House of Commons that, “the law is our servant, not our master”, a far cry from Magret Thatcher’s statement that, “The first duty of Government is to uphold the law. If it tries to bob and weave and duck around that duty when it’s inconvenient, if government does that, then so will the governed, and then nothing is safe – not home, not liberty, not life itself”. 

Of course, I’m not suggesting that our governing party is a tyrannical force seeking to destroy the independent judiciary, but the political saga over immigration has laid out a slippery slope that would not look so dangerous if it weren’t for the examples of Poland and Hungary, where an illiberal democracy has been proclaimed in the latter and almost consecrated in the former. Immigration as a political issue has profoundly shaped European and American politics, pushing British voters to leave the European Union and mainland Europeans towards far-right candidates. Indeed, centrist Macron in France has all but capitulated to the far-right in his own immigration reform last year, with Le Pen claiming an ideological victory. 

In the face of these domestic and international pressures, it is incumbent on British politicians to refrain from using scapegoats and to stop pandering to populists. Appeasement of the far-right by moderates has time and time again seen the appeaser swallowed up by the extremists. Every veiled insult flung at both domestic and international courts only further weakens the delicate balance of power the U.K. maintains. We need politicians who can take the difficult and necessary actions, both at home and abroad, without recourse to policy that undermines our democracy in the process. 

With Labour set to trounce the Tories in the general election later this year, Starmer must heed the lessons of what thirteen years in power can do to a party, and the Conservatives must resist the urge to lurch to the ideological extremes if they find themselves seeking yet another leader for their time in opposition. Finally, both parties need to stop campaigning on a message of fear and blame, and instead offer an optimistic future forward for the country. If voters are continually told that the other party is all but the devil incarnate, how can we ever hope to build a political system that demonstrates to voters that sensible, forward-looking policies should win out over extreme policies which, at the very best, paper over cracks and, at worst, cut a deep ravine through our democracy?

Making reading for pleasure pleasurable

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After spending an entire day in the library, the last thing I want to do to relax is more reading. And that’s if I can even fit it into my packed term-time schedule. But in 2024, my New Year’s Resolution is to read more pleasurable books. I want to find time to make reading relaxing again, and enjoy some books off my rather long TBR list. After being a bit too optimistic with my 2023 Goodreads Challenge, 2024 is going to be the year where I repair my relationship with books. But I’m also going to be realistic: studying at Oxford is a jam-packed lifestyle, and I don’t want to miss a second of it.

For humanities students like me, low contact hours and high library hours are the norm. Whilst we may have loved reading as a child, for many it is no longer relaxing:reading has become  irrevocably associated with work. But I remember going to the local library in the summer holidays when I was younger, selecting the next book in the series I was reading, and then reading it all day on my bedroom floor. I remember not being able to put my book down, reading at my meals (which I was not allowed to do), and staying up past my bedtime because I just had to know what happened next. I remember reading being relaxing and fun, and that’s something I want again.

But the big problem for me is that I don’t feel like reading when I’ve finished work for the day. I don’t find it relaxing any more. In term-time, I typically read one book, if any. So how can reading become pleasurable again?

Firstly, I am being less ambitious in 2024. Although I’d love to read War and Peace, this year I’m sticking to shorter books in simpler prose. I’m going to be reading contemporary fiction by bestselling authors of the last few years rather than enormous classic tomes, and I’m going to keep my pleasurable reading well within fiction. I do love non-fiction, but for now that’s going to be reserved for my degree.

Secondly, I am going to listen to more audiobooks. The great thing about them  is that they can be free: I use BorrowBox with my membership to Oxfordshire County Library, and there are lots to choose from. It’s also good that you have a deadline, which motivates me to finish books. I’m planning to listen to audiobooks as I wander around Oxford this term, especially on my half-hour walk into town in the mornings (an advantage of living further out!).

Finally, I’m going to set aside some time specifically for reading. The time I currently spend scrolling through TikTok could certainly be reduced. I want to hear “put your book down” again, not “young people spend all their time on their phones these days”. Don’t get me wrong, I love having a phone, but I think I will find reading to be more relaxing than the information-overload provided by my device.

Reading can be hard in the 21st century, where we have been conditioned to have short attention spans in order to process the vast amount of information available to us. Social media is much more attention-grabbing than reading, and movies and television more fast-paced; in this environment it can be difficult to keep going with a book, especially when they are slower or have sections which are perhaps less engaging. But I think that’s what I need to relax. Maybe that’s what we all need. I’m now nearly halfway through my degree at Oxford, and it sometimes feels as though I have hardly stopped moving or thinking since I arrived. I want to slow the pace of everything around me as I read.

It is entirely possible that 2024 will be another year where I do not meet my Goodreads goal–100 books last year was way off the mark. But that’s okay. I want to read for fun, not for the sake of hitting a target. So much about life when you’re studying is about achieving, and I just want reading to be about enjoyment. I will have succeeded if I have made reading for pleasure pleasurable again.

Review of Tennant as Macbeth: An Auditory Experience

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Last week I took a trip to London to see the new production of Macbeth starring David Tennant at Donmar Warehouse. Macbeth is an age-old Shakesperean classic, one that people often think of first when told to think of a Shakespearean play. Thus, I am always looking (as I do with all Shakespeare productions I see) for something new and exciting, something to make me remember why it is still a play we see performed today, centuries later. Having heard murmurings about this being a very technology based interpretation of the play, I was excited to see what was in store. 

The stage at the Donmar theatre is black box-esque style with a thrust element, with audiences seated on three sides of the action. The stage was a simple white floor with no set or props. On the back wall there was, however, a distinctive feature. It had four large glass panels, like sliding doors that could open and close and that we could just about see through. For most of the play we saw the three piece band sat behind here, and at other moments full scenes played out behind the glass. It made it feel disjointed from the central action on the stage, but this made it more haunting and omnipotent, the sense being that someone was always watching over the main action.  

I initially thus have to commend the people behind the scenes of this production, perhaps more so than the actors themselves. The idea of giving every audience member synced up headphones with binaural sound was innovative and enthralling; I felt central to the action the entire two hour performance. I especially enjoyed that actors, primarily Tennant as Macbeth, could choose to vary volume and come down to even a whisper for certain lines, and we were still able to pick up every word due to the headphones feature. The concept of having the witches as this intangible entity identifiable only by the speech made through the soundscapes was eerie and genius. A prominent feature was birds made to seem as if circling your head at several moments, wings flapping right inside your ears. There was music from the band that funnelled through the headphones, underpinning most of the scenes. 

The ensemble was certainly a strongpoint for this production. On top of the soundscapes, we got a lot of choreographed group work, including lifts and movement sequences that really emphasised the sense of entrapment and pressure that Macbeth was feeling from his peers and himself, internally. We saw them on all fours at the back of the stage, climbing over the sides, slowly advancing on Macbeth placed centre stage, whispering lines all the while. We also saw them utilise the back glass-panelled room by standing in a line banging on the glass wordlessly, representing the inner turmoil Macbeth was facing in the wake of his murderous actions. 

Many of the people there, I would hasten to guess, were there purely for David Tennant. A big name both on screen and theatre; just his name on a production is guaranteed to warrant some allure. And he lived up to expectations: his acting was visceral and haunting. I think this is the first production where I felt some empathy for Macbeth, and really understood the emotional aspect of his mental decline.

The costume was also cleverly thought out, even if seeming minimal upon first glance. All of the characters were dressed in shades of grey and black, all with classical Scottish kilts, a small homage to the Scotland setting in which the play is primarily located. However, Lady Macbeth stands out amongst the rest, dressed head to toe in white. A common colour symbolic of purity, it felt oxymoronic given her murderous intentions and manipulations. Her role as a woman associated with this sort of “cover” of innocence was emphasised by this costume choice. The high neckline of this long, flowing, dress, impacting the stage at every turn, dominating the space whenever she frequented it.  

The serious nature of the performance was also interspersed with moments of comedy primarily through breaking the fourth wall and having audience interaction. It did feel slightly out of touch from the rest of the production, but certainly warranted some shock factor and lightened the mood.

Definitely one to catch if you are lucky enough to get your hands on tickets. It’s an all round experience that entices every one of your senses.

Macbeth is running at the Donmar Theatre from 8 December 2023 – 10 February 2024.

The Spartan attitude of tennis to its young

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The year is 2018. Greek 20-year-old, Stefanos Tsitsipas, has won the NextGen Finals, the tournament for breakout tennis stars and a promising sign of things to come. Just a year later he wins the ATP World Tour Finals, the highest accolade in tennis after a Grand Slam, to become the youngest winner of the championship since 2001. Eager anticipation begins to brew from the giants of the sport, tipping Tsitsipas to be the successor of men’s tennis and usher in the new era.

Four years after this triumph, in 2023, and Tsitsipas’ career paints a starkly different picture to the one many envisaged. No longer viewed as a threat to the throne of tennis in the way he once was and with his prospects of a slam diminishing, at twenty-five years old, he, and other players in a similar position such as Andrey Rublev and Alexander Zverev, have been supplanted by the ‘next generation’ of talent following them. Scrappy, unrefined, but defined by an insatiable hunger to win that outweighs all else, the next generation of teenagers and twenty-year-olds are still at the stage where inexperience is overshadowed by an obsession to prove themselves. They are also faster, possess unwavering courage on court and have a plethora of potential still to tap into. And they are now the players that are being heralded as the heirs to the tennis world.  

The fact of the matter is that the optimal window for Tsitsipas to win a slam has come and gone. No longer a starlet himself, buoyed by dreams of slam wins that seemed in touching distance just four years ago, the harsh reality of the tennis world has set in and established that every year that he failed to meet the dream of a grand slam was a year closer it would be for someone younger. The problem doesn’t exclusively affect Tsitsipas; Eugenie Bouchard reached the Wimbledon finals aged twenty but has since declined in form and is now ranked outside the top 200. Madison Keys reached the 2017 US Open final aged twenty-two, having cracked the top fifty as an 18-year-old, but saw a stark drop in performance over the next few years, which she only saw end in 2023. Outliers like Djokovic and Williams who were winning titles in their thirties do exist, but the odds aren’t in most players’ favour. 

Tsitsipas himself seems to have recognised his fading chances of achieving the dream that he’s worked his whole life for: “There was a gap roughly, between 2018 and 2020, before Carlos Alcaraz, Holger Rune and Jannik Sinner. Then all the spotlight was on me…Now the scene has changed, we’re not so young anymore. Young players have tremendous energy, thirst and no fear…A grand slam title and world number one? It’s something I think about a lot but it’s not everything”. His candid words acknowledge the uncertainty of his prospects, but are tinged with regret – the goals he has aspired to realise his whole life are dwindling out of sight. 

Experiencing high levels of success at an early age followed by years of failing to live up to the hype aren’t coincidental; a combination of factors can play into this dreaded experience. The turbulent nature of junior tennis cannot be understated, a period where form fluctuates and both mental and physical strength are developing, making progress here an unreliable indicator of future success. Learning to acclimatise to the sporting scene is also highly challenging: perpetual travel and a consequent inability to settle down takes its toll, with many players citing burnout for the decline in their careers. 

Injuries are commonplace too, as in the case of Hyeon Chung, who reached the 2018 Australian Open semis and was similarly touted for greatness before suffering unrelenting injury crises. Mental struggles play their part as well, especially when juggling the effects of personal issues, fame, and the insidious attitudes of the media with the pressures of meeting expectations. The result of this concoction of challenges can be a player who realises that their childhood entrenched destiny of winning tennis’ greatest accolades will go unfulfilled, a curse that has plagued many players and will afflict many more. 

The tennis world is ruthless; junior players are constantly coming through the ranks to supplant players like Tsitsipas, much like he did as a twenty-year-old. Once players reach their early twenties, almost presciently they fulfil the cycle, becoming victims of a younger player that they once were and struggling to have the same impact that they once had. There’s still flickers of hope for Tsitsipas though. He is only 25 and has around a decade left of his career, copious chances to achieve his ambitions. He reached a slam final in 2023, exhibiting hope for deep runs. And recently, Thiem, Cilic and Halep have all reached the pinnacle of tennis at ages older than Tsitsipas. Tennis has a vicious cycle with its young players, but its curse can still be broken – whether Tsitsipas joins this illustrious list is dubious but not entirely out of the question.

Forget her not: Rediscovering women in music: Week 0

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With each edition of Cherwell this term, Keziah will be bringing you a new female artist who she believes should not be forgotten. This week: Fiona Apple.

Stumbling upon Fiona Apple’s 1999 album When The Pawn… actually inspired the concept of this column. I had heard of the American singer/songwriter before, but actually listening to her music was something entirely different. 

I discovered that many others are unaware of Fiona Apple and her discography, and are thus also missing out. So, my mission is to enlighten, one underrated female artist at a time.

It’s not just Apple’s inimitable voice that captivated me over the winter vac, but the Joni Mitchell-esque emotional intensity and unique musicality of her lyrics. Fiona Apple defies genre typecasting, with each album containing a plethora: at once alt rock, blues and jazz, even infusing classical. 

Fiona Apple McAfee-Maggart was born and raised in New York City with her mother and sister (though spent summers with her father in Los Angeles) and composed jazz pieces growing up. From the age of 12, she suffered from OCD, anxiety and depression, PTSD and an eating disorder following a traumatic event in her young life. 

The powerful poignancy of her music cannot therefore be separated from the artist’s experiences. Apple’s debut album Tidal addresses and explores her trauma, isolation and woes. Its lyrics deal deftly with her personal life through oceanic metaphors, and we see her pain ebb and flow and rage below the surface, herself an emptied shell, helpless victim of “he” who “took my pearl” (from the album’s second song, Sullen Girl). It is no surprise, then, that this young lyrical mastermind’s debut album went triple-Platinum. But the album didn’t achieve great fame until Apple’s controversial, overtly sexual music video for the single Criminal earned her a Grammy Award for Best Female Rock Vocal Performance, and the album a spot in the Top Ten. 

Since then, each of Apple’s albums offer something unique and deeply personal, her lyricism plaintive, apt and soulful. Both album titles The Idler Wheel… and When the Pawn… derive from longer poems written by Apple herself, showcasing her great expressive ambition. Apple has earned herself a cult following over the years, spellbinding listeners with her poetry and stunning, rare contralto voice. 

My personal favourite songs of hers? I Know, Paper Bag, Slow Like Honey and Extraordinary Machine

Rebel Moon – Review

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Call me cynical, but I always find reviewing bad movies far more enjoyable than good ones. Dissecting Tommy Wiseau’s ‘so-bad-its-good’ reverse masterpiece The Room, for example, is a joyous caper due to its unending stream of foibles. The chance to review Zack Snyder’s new Netflix blockbuster, Rebel Moon, was therefore not something I could pass up, having seen the torrent of dreadful reviews and the poor scores from Rotten Tomatoes (22%) and Metacritic (31%). The problem with this anti-genre is to do with intent. The Room is funny because it wasn’t meant to be; the damnable dialogue written earnestly for what Wiseau hoped was a good film. Rebel Moon is another; the enjoyment I got from its crap-ness does not detract from the blunt truth that the film is not good.

One phrase summed up my thoughts after watching-slash-trudging through this film: why? What was the point of it? Synder’s pet project defied cliché in how cliché it was. Often my dad and I, with stunning success, found ourselves predicting character’s lines before they actually said them. The plot was staid, its story beats hitting with clockwork timing. The simple village folk of the rebel moon in question, Veldt, have their innocence shattered as the Evil Empire threatens to blow them to smithereens. The film quickly becomes The Magnificent Seven in space, as Sofia Boutella’s anti-heroine protagonist Kora assembles a ragtag crew of reluctant adventurers to foil the comically wicked Space Fascist commander, played by a scene-chewing Ed Skrein. Kora, along with Michiel Huisman’s lunar bumpkin Gunnar, resolve to gather a team to fight back, leading to a brain-melting slog consisting of meeting each character and convincing them to move the plot along. This culminates in a final showdown between Kora and Skrein’s Atticus Noble. The only unexpected part about the ‘twists’ is how foreseeable they are; Charlie Hunnam’s roguish cad Kai turns out to be a roguish cad and betrays our heroes, Atticus Noble survives the final fight and is revealed to be a pawn of the next film’s antagonist, who himself raised Kora as an imperial soldier before she defected to become a farmer on Veldt. 

The characters are non-existent, with Synder pulling the old trick of substituting meaningful character development with a tragic backstory. The obvious romantic subplot between Kora and Gunnar, for example, has no impact when they are both so forgettable. Rebel Moon is left with pallid etch-a-sketches of characters from other, better films. If I seem uncharitable, it is because there really is vanishingly little that can be enjoyed in this film if not through the lens of irony. Even the fight scenes, often what many look forward to in space opera after wading through clunky exposition-laden dialogue, were just dull. Slow-mo, used to great effect in films such as X-Men: Days of Future Past, was used here as a crutch rendering all the fights uniform and uninteresting. 

I hear your cries of protest: you’re not meant to take it seriously! This kind of film is a fun, brainless romp à la Marvel! Sadly not. Snyder’s DCEU offerings were notably lighter than its rival on humour, and this film takes that lack of levity even further. I can’t remember one joke throughout its hefty 2 hour and 14 minute runtime. Don’t get me wrong; like everyone else in my generation, I am tired of the lazy millennial-esque quips that prevail in blockbusters. Serious films given space to be serious, like Oppenheimer or Joker, have proven they can achieve stellar success with audiences and critics alike. But Rebel Moon is not a serious film. While Snyder clearly tried hard to uprate the movie to a more adult version of Star Wars, with the supposedly morally muddled protagonists and implications of sexual violence in an early scene, it cannot escape its absurd premise. The film’s “heaviness” weighs it down rather than giving it an added punch. Watching it feels like a chore with no reward.

‘I have never courted popularity’, intones John Cleese in a Monty Python’s Flying Circus sketch about a homicidal stockbroker. If Netflix viewing figures are anything to go by, my scathing acid for Snyder’s movie will not resonate with public opinion. Rebel Moon topped the charts for Netflix in the coveted post-Christmas week, and its audience scores have far exceeded the consensus from critics. Some fans even took to social media to demand an extended edition. Rebel Moon is basically enjoyable if you switch your brain off, but we deserve better blockbuster movies. While not every sci-fi has to be the strange, uncomfortable and masterful 2001: A Space Odyssey, for example, light entertainment should bring something new and original to the table.  If you want a rubbish film to while away a few hours, and some chuckles at inept dialogue, then Rebel Moon is worth a watch. But I’ve had my fill.