Tuesday 1st July 2025
Blog Page 11

‘Speaking truth to power’: The future of student activism

“What is the point of a university like Oxford if we don’t have the boldness, integrity, and confidence to think differently, to think deeply, to speak truth to power?” asked Oxford’s Vice-Chancellor, Irene Tracey, in an address at her Admission Ceremony in January, 2023.

Throughout its long history, Oxford has been an important stage for student activists for a variety of causes, ranging from climate change prevention to protesting increases in rent. Universities have long served as a beacon for political and social discourse, facilitating the open debate of topics which matter to its students. But recent crackdowns on student-led protests around the world have led to universities being accused of failing to support this.

As increasing restrictions, including the Public Order Act 2023, reshape the national landscape, tensions between Oxford students and the University administration over recent demonstrations raise urgent questions – does this signal a new chapter in the institution’s approach to activism?

Cherwell has gathered testimony from Oxford students involved in activism over the past year, many of whom have been met with varying degrees of disciplinary action. Due to the ongoing nature of some University investigations, students’ identities have been kept anonymous. Through their accounts, Cherwell aims to investigate how the culture of student protest in Oxford is evolving.

University policy on demonstrations and protests

University guidance on the right to protest states: “‘The University supports the right to lawful protest, but actions which disrupt aspects of staff or student life for fellow members of the University, in breach of our codes of conduct, are not acceptable.”

The right of students to express opinions “without institutional censorship and without placing themselves in jeopardy of losing their jobs or privileges” is protected under the University’s Code of Practice on Freedom of Speech, if they are granted permission from the Proctors’ Office before demonstrating. The Code of Practice also states that protests will be prohibited if they pose a risk to public safety or give rise to an environment of discrimination.

The University proposed changes to Statute XI, a statute concerning University disciplinary measures, in the Trinity 2024 Week Eight newsletter. The proposed amendments were set for a Congregation Vote on June 11th, 2024. However, some amendments were criticised for being vaguely worded, such as the proposal that staff should have the power to ban students for up to three weeks who could be “likely” to “cause damage to property” or “significantly damage the University’s reputation among reasonable people”.

The proposed amendments to Statute XI also included modifications to punishments for sexual misconduct and harassment; an email from the University to department heads and heads of colleges stated that a “vote against the proposed statute is a vote against the introduction of the sexual misconduct reforms”. 

One student who spoke to Cherwell accused the University of using the modified penalties for sexual harassment to enable the blanket approval of more severe punishments for all disciplinary offences, criticising the combination of what they referred to as “draconian changes to the behavioural policy with the very legitimate sexual harrassment policy”. 

After intense backlash from students and faculty, the amendments were withdrawn, and the Congregation vote was cancelled. 

A University spokesperson told Cherwell: “Proposed changes to Statute XI—now under further consultation—were designed to strengthen the University’s ability to address serious misconduct, particularly in cases of sexual harassment and violence. These proposals were not intended to restrict lawful protest, which remains protected under University policy and UK law.”

A recently published UN report, which Cherwell has been told was written after interviews held between Oxford student protestors and the UN Special Rapporteur, has strongly condemned the growing use of disciplinary action against student activism, warning of “a deeply disturbing situation” and a worsening “atmosphere of hostility and mistrust between the students and the administration” in academic institutions worldwide. 

A University spokesperson told Cherwell in response: “We are aware of references to a recent report by the UN Special Rapporteur on student protest. While the report addresses global trends and includes examples from the UK, it does not name Oxford or make any specific findings about the University.

“The University of Oxford is committed to freedom of speech, the right to lawful protest, and the safety and wellbeing of our community. These values are fundamental to academic life and are supported by the University’s Code of Practice on Freedom of Speech and Guidance on Protests and Demonstrations.

“We do not discipline students for their legally held views or causes. However, when protest actions involve serious disruption, forced entry, harassment, or safety risks, we respond in accordance with University policies. Our approach is guided by fairness and a responsibility to maintain a respectful, safe, and inclusive environment for all students, staff, and visitors.”

Disciplinary action and its impact on student protestors

Just over a year ago on 23rd May 2024, 17 members of OA4P operated a sit-in at the University’s administration offices in Wellington Square in an attempt to push for negotiations with the University. In response, the University called the Thames Valley Police (TVP) to arrest those inside and break up the students protesting outside the building.

A student who was present at the incident told Cherwell: “the amount of people that were injured… was kind of astonishing. People were being dragged and pushed around for no reason, there was simply no reason to use that amount of force, and it was with the University’s permission that that happened”.

One student told Cherwell that the University’s response to the Wellington Square incident “backfired for the University… a lot of Oxford students who saw the videos of the police acting the way they did started supporting the encampment, to be honest, (…) they felt like the University’s mistreatment of the students specifically was appalling.”

The University claimed in the University newsletter following the students’ arrest, that the students involved engaged in “violent action that included forcibly overpowering the receptionist”. OA4P previously told The Oxford Student: “there is CCTV footage which disproves the false allegation that acts of violence took place.” In response to a Freedom of Information request for CCTV footage of the reception area, the University told The Oxford Student that it was not able to provide the information requested.

TVP initially arrested one of the 17 students for assault, but later decided not to bring charges. The University then launched a Proctors’ investigation into the incident, and members of OA4P told Cherwell that a verdict is yet to be provided on the disciplinary actions to be taken against the students. Over a year after the incident, the Proctors’ investigation remains open.

One student who is currently under Proctors’ investigation following the Wellington Square incident told Cherwell that they feel as though the inconclusive nature of the disciplinary process is “being done intentionally to silence us… I am intentionally being kept on counter hooks [sic] so that I don’t do anything else.” They added that they are constantly “looking over [their] shoulder” as a result of fearing further disciplinary measures from the University.

A different student told Cherwell that they had experienced distress and anxiety as a result of the ongoing investigation: “Continuing to have this weight hanging over me without a sort of acknowledgement of how it could affect my studies, my life, my health… is not proper conduct from them”.

A University spokesperson told Cherwell: “We aim to ensure that disciplinary processes are consistently fair, clear, and proportionate. These processes are confidential and conducted independently of University leadership.”

A recent investigation by Liberty Investigates and Sky News revealed through Freedom of Information requests that the University received intelligence reports on protest activity from the private firm Horus Security Consultancy Ltd, a company which has previously been criticised for being used as surveillance to investigate student activists at Sheffield University.

One student told Cherwell they felt that “the surveillance was designed to induce some kind of paranoia”. They added: “Whatever mental health impacts it has, which I can first-hand tell you are quite serious, do not even come up in theoretical conversations [with the University].”

In response to these claims, a University spokesperson told Cherwell: “Allegations of surveillance are also inaccurate. External security consultants are used solely to carry out safety risk assessments for public events and known protests—not to monitor individuals or political activity.”

Looking to the future of student activism

On 16th May 2025, Oxford Against Genocide (OAG), which decribes itself as “a new collective in Oxford who are dedicated to Palestinian liberation”, set up an encampment outside Magdalen College. 

Magdalen wrote a letter to the protesters on the same day asking them to leave, and threatened court action, so the encampment was moved to the Angel and Greyhound Meadow. However, a representative told Cherwell that pressure from University security forced the encampment to disband the following weekend. 

One student involved in OAG described encampments as a “disruptive but not destructive” form of protest, and “a normal course of action for student protest in this country”.

The student compared the recent disbanding of OAG’s encampment with their involvement in the OA4P encampments last Trinity: “Last year, the University tried to kind of wait it out… This time round the response has been a lot more harsh. Their tolerance for hearing protest… has decreased.”

Following the recent dismantling of OAG’s encampment, tensions between protestors and University administration raise questions about what the future of Oxford’s student activism will look like.

Several students who spoke to Cherwell reported feeling that the disciplinary action taken by the University resulted in fear surrounding the potential consequences of participating in future demonstrations. One student stated: “They’re very interested in creating an atmosphere in which protest is very uncomfortable and impractical”.

Another student cited the Vice Chancellor’s speech about “speaking truth to power” to argue that the University pays “lip service towards the idea of student democracy and student action… When you actually do it, you’re faced with this massive bureaucratic wall.”

A University spokesperson told Cherwell: “In both the 2023 and 2024 National Student Surveys (NSS), Oxford students reported among the highest levels of freedom of expression in the country—with 90.8% and 89.9% respectively responding positively to how free they felt to express their ideas, opinions, and beliefs. In 2024, 1,749 Oxford students responded to this question, offering a strong and representative picture of student experience. 

“As a global institution, Oxford thrives on challenge and critical thought. We are proud to remain a space where robust debate and diverse voices are not only protected but valued. 

Student demonstrations over the past year signal that the landscape of Oxford’s student activism is constantly evolving, raising questions about the boundaries of protest, the roles of universities in fostering independent thought, and the extent to which institutions are willing to support, or suppress, student voices. If there is belief that tangible change can be achieved through activism as it has done before, students in Oxford and beyond will continue to speak out about the causes which matter to them, influence progress, and challenge those in power for decades to come.

Disclaimer: Asma Issa, one of the writers, was a member of OA4P

How to Get a Scholarship: Strategies for UK Students to Fund Their University Journey

With university tuition fees continuing to rise and student debt a common concern, many UK students are looking for ways to ease the financial burden of higher education. Scholarships, grants, and bursaries offer vital support—and in many cases, this “free money” can make the difference between attending your dream university or settling for second best.

This guide explores how to get a scholarship in the UK, covering the key steps, tips to enhance your chances, and how to stay ahead of the competition.

What Is a Scholarship and Why Is It Important?

A scholarship is a form of financial aid awarded to students based on various criteria including academic performance, sports achievements, artistic talent, or community involvement. Unlike loans, scholarships do not need to be repaid.

In the UK, scholarships and bursaries can help cover tuition fees, accommodation, travel costs, and even course materials. Whether you’re heading to university for the first time or considering postgraduate study, finding the right funding could significantly reduce your reliance on student loans.

What You’ll Need to Apply

Most UK scholarship applications require a mix of the following:

  • A completed application form (online or paper-based).
  • A personal statement explaining your goals, background, or qualifications.
  • Academic transcripts and predicted or actual grades.
  • References or letters of recommendation from teachers, lecturers, or employers.
  • A record of extracurricular activities, voluntary work, or employment.
  • For creative or performance-based awards, a portfolio or audition video may be required.

Start assembling these materials early—even during sixth form or university—so you’re ready to apply when the right opportunity arises.

Preparing While You’re Still in School or University

It’s never too early to begin preparing for scholarship success. Demonstrating academic achievement (strong GCSEs, A-levels or BTECs), commitment to extracurriculars, and voluntary work can all strengthen your application.

Writing a compelling personal statement is also crucial. If you struggle to articulate your story, consider using an essay writing service in Canada to help polish your draft. Even though it’s based abroad, many such services offer expertise that applies globally.

How to Boost Your Chances of Winning a Scholarship

There’s no guaranteed formula for winning a scholarship, but these strategies can improve your odds:

  • Apply early and often: Don’t wait for UCAS deadlines to start your search. Many private or university-specific scholarships have their own timelines.
  • Use credible databases: Trusted platforms like the UCAS scholarships and bursaries guide can help you find awards tailored to your background and goals.
  • Go local: Local businesses, charities, and councils often offer bursaries with fewer applicants. Check your school’s or local authority’s website for details.
  • Tailor every application: Even if you’re reusing material, make sure each application reflects the unique values or focus of the awarding body.

Spotting and Avoiding Scholarship Scams

While most scholarship providers are reputable, it’s important to stay cautious. Be wary of organisations that:

  • Charge application fees.
  • Request bank details or sensitive personal information upfront.
  • Guarantee funding in exchange for payment.

Always research the provider’s legitimacy or seek advice from your school’s careers advisor or a university’s financial aid office.

Making the Process More Manageable

Balancing scholarship applications with your studies doesn’t have to be stressful. Try these tips:

  • Stay organised: Use a calendar or spreadsheet to track deadlines and documents.
  • Batch your applications: Set aside dedicated time each week or month for researching and applying.
  • Repurpose content smartly: Adapt your personal statement or essay for multiple applications rather than starting from scratch.

Final Thoughts

Understanding how to get a scholarship in the UK can be transformative for your educational journey. Whether you’re aiming for a full-ride university award or a smaller bursary to help with living costs, the key is preparation and persistence.

With thousands of opportunities available and plenty of official support, now is the time to explore your options—and start investing in your future. For detailed and up-to-date guidance, visit Gov.uk’s student finance information.

Signs of a Toxic Relationship: Recognising Red Flags and Protecting Your Wellbeing

Unhealthy relationships are taxing, both mentally and physically. However, recognising when a relationship is toxic isn’t always as simple as you think. However, spotting red flags early is essential for protecting your wellbeing.

You can use a childhood trauma test, which offers valuable insights into understanding the cause of your relationship patterns, to take a step forward in breaking the cycle of abuse. 

Here are some common signs that your relationship is toxic and what you can do to protect yourself.

You Experience Constant Criticism or Belittling 

A toxic partner may frequently put you down or criticise you. They may hide it behind a joke or label it as constructive criticism, but the persistent negativity can wear away your self esteem over time. 

They Engage in Controlling Behaviours  

No matter if it’s subtle or obvious, toxic partners often wish to control their partners. They may dictate what you wear, who you spend time with, and what you can and can’t do. Additionally, they may gaslight you into thinking a certain way for their benefit. 

They Have Extreme Mood Swings and Outbursts 

Whilst mild mood swings and small outbursts of anger are fairly common, particularly when under stress, if your partner’s mood swings are extreme, unpredictable, or explosive, it may be a red flag. If you feel the need to walk on eggshells around your partner to prevent an outburst, it could be a sign that your relationship isn’t as healthy as you thought.

You or Others Are Blamed for Their Actions 

Many toxic partners refuse to take accountability for their actions. They will likely blame you or others for their problems and deny any misbehaviour, making it almost impossible to resolve any conflicts. 

They Isolate You From Family and Friends 

In order to decrease your independence and prevent you from influences outside of your relationship, a toxic partner might isolate you from your loved ones. They could do this by discouraging you from seeing friends or family or make you feel guilty for having outside relationships. 

How to Protect Yourself 

Understand the Root Cause

Many people find themselves drawn into toxic relationships, which could be a sign of unresolved issues from your past. 

Recognise the Signs

Recognising when a relationship is unhealthy early on is essential. If you feel you are being constantly belittled by your partner, they’re isolating you from your loved ones, they have unpredictable mood swings, and blame you for their problems or behaviours, you may be in a toxic relationship. 

Speak Up 

Recognising when a relationship is toxic is the first step in protecting your wellbeing. Always remember to trust your instincts and if you feel something is off, talk to a trusted friend or family member. 

Common threads: Historical fashion and its lessons for our time

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When we think of historical fashion, images of towering wigs, tight-laced corsets, heavy brocades and voluminous skirts often spring to mind – ornate, impractical, and rooted firmly in the unenlightened past. But to reduce historical dress to its stereotypes is to miss a broader, and perhaps more urgent, lesson. Beneath the showy ostentation lies a pragmatic and surprisingly progressive relationship with clothing that today’s world of fast fashion would do well to revisit.

Historical fashion is a vast subject stretching across centuries, cultures, and classes. But across the board common threads emerge: resourcefulness, a persisting respect for materials, and a slower, more deliberate pace of consumption. In an era where disposable clothing feeds insatiable consumerism, these lessons from the past may offer a model for a more sustainable future for fashion.

1. Clothing Had Value – Real Value

In a time before mass production, clothing was handmade, expensive, and often bespoke. Laborious in construction and dear in price, clothes could not be made or bought on a whim but represented a significant investment of time and money. Most people owned only a few outfits, which made each garment both precious yet frequently worn in order to justify the cost.

Acquiring clothes was a deliberate and premeditated activity. That it involved parting with a substantial part of one’s income meant quality, longevity, and practical use were carefully considered before making a purchase. The cost of resources and the duration of construction meant impulse buying was not an option for historical consumers. Clothes were a considerable investment, and perhaps it’s time we treated them that way again.

2. Make Do and Mend

Given the cost and labour involved in their production, clothing was expected to be durable, lasting even a lifetime. To help ensure this, many people were versed in at least the rudimentaries of sewing in order to carry out their own repairs. Being able to make even the simplest of repairs to a garment meant that they rarely needed to be thrown away.  Besides repairs, one could also tailor their own clothes. Simple modifications such as taking in seams or letting down hems enabled clothing to adapt to one’s body as it changed over the course of a lifetime.

During the Second World War, with fabric in short supply, the British government issued a pamphlet titled Make Do and Mend. It encouraged women on the home front to recycle worn garments, patch holes, reknit old jumpers, and even form community sewing circles. ‘Make do and mend’ became an apposite response to the crisis of resources ,and encouraged women to return to practices that had been common currency in preceding eras when clothing was similarly scarce.

Far from being a relic of the past, this ethos of repairing rather than discarding has never felt more relevant. The fashion industry remains one of the most environmentally damaging sectors globally, with textile waste mounting at an alarming rate. If we were to shift our modern mindset and consider resources once again limited, learning basic sewing skills and committing to a ‘make do and mend’ mentality would be an apt response to stewarding materials well in light of the climate crisis.

3. Fabric came first

Historically, garments were often commissioned, not purchased ready-made. Fabric was acquired from merchants, markets, and later drapers’ shops, before being made up into a piece of clothing by a tailor or even the purchaser themselves. This meant it was the norm to buy fabric first – valuing the material and its quality before committing to a style or silhouette. People chose materials from  natural fibres like wool, linen, silk, and cotton. They would have factored in the fabric’s durability and structure,  weight, and the tightness of the weave before making a purchase.

Today, consumers have largely divorced themselves from prioritising fabric. Most are unaware of the differing characteristics of each natural fibre, the advantages of choosing natural fibres over synthetic ones, and are unlikely to even consider a garment’s fibre content before making a purchase. Yet natural fibres, unlike synthetics, are biodegradable and often far less damaging to produce. By learning to recognise good fabric like our predecessors – and asking where it came from – we can make more informed and ethical choices when shopping.

4. Utility Can Be Beautiful

During the Blitz, when rationing made luxury impossible, the British government collaborated with leading couturiers to create “Utility Clothing” – a line of stylish yet frugal designs marked by the now-iconic CC41 label. In order to reassure the public that fashion was not being sacrificed for frugality, in 1942 the government Board of Trade commissioned designs for a Utility collection from the Incorporated Society of London Fashion Designers, whose leaders included Charles Creed, Norman Hartnell, and Bianca Mosca. These designs went on to feature in Vogue later that year.

Despite working with such restrictions, the designers involved in the Utility Clothing scheme produced garments that were not only well-received at the time, but have since left a lasting mark on the fashion world, inspiring designers from Miuccia Prada to Vivienne Westwood.

Though born of necessity, these pieces were intentionally pared back in both form and function, characterised by their sleek silhouettes, clean lines, and absence of ornamentation, deriving elegance from simplicity. What was once a response to austerity has become a template for timeless, modern design, demonstrating the striking ways creativity can flourish amidst adversity.

5. Capsule Wardrobes Aren’t New

The idea of a capsule wardrobe – a small, versatile collection of clothing that can be mixed and matched – is often seen as a product of modern minimalism, popularised in the 1970s by Susie Faux. But for most of history, capsule wardrobes weren’t a lifestyle trend. They were simply a reality. Limiting one’s wardrobe wasn’t a conscious act of restraint, but the natural result of economic and material scarcity.

The availability of clothing today, made possible by industrial production and fast fashion, has made us assume that variety and excess are normal. But historically, clothing was designed with longevity and adaptability in mind. Each item had to work hard – worn in different combinations, across seasons, and over many years. What we now call a capsule wardrobe was once just common sense. Revisiting that approach today is less about nostalgia and more about rethinking what we really need – and why we consume in the first place.

6. Zero Waste Isn’t New Either

Long before “zero waste” entered fashion discourse, garments were made to use every inch of fabric. The 18th-century mantua, for example, was often draped rather than cut, preserving the full width and length of the original swathe of fabric and minimising textile waste. Similarly, for many centuries clothing was more likely to be pleated and gathered into shape rather than cut in order to curtail the creation of harder to use scraps of fabric. Where this was impossible, offcuts were always repurposed. Today, the environmental footprint of clothing is not just in its wear, but in its manufacture. Learning from historical construction techniques – like using rectangular pattern pieces and the full swathe of fabric, or creatively reusing scraps and trims for smaller projects – could help designers and creators alike to reduce fabric waste.

Historical fashion isn’t a blueprint for how we should dress – but it offers compelling lessons about why we dress the way we do. It reminds us that fashion hasn’t always been fast, that clothing used to be cherished, and that scarcity breeds creativity. As we grapple with the realities of climate change, overproduction, and overconsumption in fashion, the past may not be such a bad place to look for inspiration. In a world increasingly defined by excess, there’s something quietly radical in choosing to consume less, repair more, and dress with intention. After all, sustainability isn’t a trend – it’s a return to something we used to know.

A Pelican Crossing Somewhere on Green Dragon Lane

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I jolt from dreams of silence into a wakefulness of traffic. The school rush, honking and shrieking like geese outside. I forget that other people’s days start before noon – the leisurely life of university – but today I join them. Wash my face in the sink, dress in black. My roots have grown out these past months. Of all the days to notice, it has to be today. 

I sit on the edge of my bed to catch my breath. 

I can’t stop for long – the train station is thirty minutes away and to tempt fate would be unwise at best, devastating at worst. 

Purse, phone charger, paper tickets (what a novelty!), and keys. Enter the throng and the bustle of real life. Little year sevens flocking towards the open doors of the schools, cowering under backpacks which would put Mohammad’s mountain to shame. They glance in panic and shame at the time, run with all their might to be ten minutes earlier to register. Their parents watch from a safe distance, engines on as if to disguise the fact that they will sit there, intently focused, for at least another ten minutes. I do not have the luxury to linger and watch both the past and future unfold. I don’t remember being that small, that blissfully unaware, but like a bullet in the leg the truth of it embeds and will not unlodge. The passage of time is a bloodthirsty hound. 

On the train I play choral covers of Radiohead songs and think about the looming deadlines which have characterised my term; the fact that I haven’t received a text back from the PPE-ist at St John’s I’ve been seeing; how one less person now remembers me as young and careless and shockingly blonde. 

Tears clog in my sinuses – I feel them everywhere but my eyes. Somewhere just off the mark, just out of reach. I wish I’d brought water. I read years ago you can’t cry and drink simultaneously, and though it’s yet to work, it gives my mouth something to do other than tremble. Wish I’d brought food. When does one eat on days like these? My friend told me wakes often have food, but what does she know?

No one she knows has ever died. 

Change at Paddington. Tube is packed.

I always thought London was this great car-less city, with everyone crammed into metal tubes, on their way to mindlessly turn cogs in some behemoth machine I could neither see nor understand. To have a car would be too personal, too rebellious, too close to straying from the written path. Yet, in my grandmother’s house, with its creaking floorboards and Turkish rugs, there was always the constant chatter of cars. I would lie awake watching the room shoot in and out of shocking blackness as the headlights outside came and went – ships skirting past my harbor.

I, having grown up somewhere between nothing and nowhere, found this of course to be terribly distracting. I would always fall asleep on the sofa the next day mid-way through breakfast, when the murmur of TV and conversation masked the unfamiliar buzz of city life. 

But inside a car the world was different, taking on new shapes and meanings like clay in my hands. 

She used to drive us places, my sister and I. Before the migraines started, she would drive two and a half hours to come and visit us. Take us on walks around our favourite parks. Kiss our kittens and let us regale her with our dolls and dinosaurs. 

Or, if we were in London, she would bundle us into that beaten sedan with no headrests on the back seat, and take us to the cinema, or the Tower, or the Eye. There must be a picture of us three in every corner of the city. I can still taste salted caramel ice cream, feel the sun on my face, her hand in mine.

So it goes.

I mustn’t dwell. Wouldn’t want to miss my stop. A train whizzes past on the other track. I used to think they would run all night, perpetually roaming the tracks like creatures with individual minds and powers. Foxes howling in the woods outside my bedroom; the pitter patter of cat claws in the hallway at 3am. These sounds spilling into my dreams like milk, lullabies of the country. 

I cannot, even now, imagine life stilled. The bluest ribbons of blood fading grey. The babbling pulse damned. Wet paper bags in the chest; whatever happened to breath? 

The speaker crackles, Enfield Chase. Disembark.

Meet my mother on the platform – fall into her embrace like my strings have been cut. Walk the familiar paths, past the cracked painted fence and crossing car-heavy streets. I cannot quite accept it may well be the last time I will do this. I want to stand on the precipice of youth and lean backwards, splashing through the warm waters of summers, lost until I emerge, unscathed, in a spring when nothing bad has ever happened.

Life goes so very quickly. I shore against my ruins faded pictures and pink-princess birthday cards, but still it passes unhindered, unwavering. Motorway traffic versus some poor squirrel, caught up in hamartia, or animal instinct. 

Who am I to halt time? Who am I not to try?

I gnaw on the bones of time to no avail. Hard and fast, it whispers unrelenting, unforgiving in my ears. A cacophony of loss I can only fathom by tracing the edges. 

As we walk down Green Dragon Lane, I think for the hundredth time it could do with a pelican crossing. 

Of course, it makes it easier for the hearse that it doesn’t. My parents, sister, uncle, and a woman who introduces herself as Martynne squash into the cars that will follow. I’m sure she tells us more, but I cannot bring myself to listen. Let others smile and socialise – I breathe in the dust and the life which lingers, despite the absence I cannot ignore. 

Say goodbye. Buckle my seatbelt. Not that I’d need it – someone is walking in front of the hearse, top hat and morning coat on. I thought this kind of ceremony was reserved for other people. 

It seems, even now, as though it cannot be happening to me, despite all evidence to the contrary. 

During the service, I tell myself that this is happening to somebody else. That I am not here, watching my grandmother’s life in pictures, my sister crying and holding my hand. I read the words in front of me – a book of hymns. Do people usually sing? 

The person this is happening to, who is not myself, but some far removed girl who can mourn, swallows grief whole. I – she chokes on memories. 

Nails dig into palms, teeth clench. We stand at the coffin, backs bent like apostrophes, and I do not know how to speak to a body, cold and silent; hidden away and removed from everything bright and dazzling and new. We turn away. I follow my sister into sunlight – an Orpheus without hope – and wonder if there is a heaven, if the seasons are different to earth.

After the wake, I am put on the opposite train to the rest of my family. They wave to me as my train leaves the station, and I begin my odyssey to the city of spires. I read Little Women. Stop before Beth dies. Google ‘books where nothing bad happens’ and am forced to accept that to live is to grieve. Call my friend from the third train so she can meet me at the station. We pick up dinner and she asks if there was food at the wake. I tell her there were sandwiches and drinks. 

We eat cross-legged on the floor. If I wear these clothes tomorrow, I will have sat a miniature shiva. No time for a full-one, there are meetings to go to, and deadlines delay themselves for no man.

I go to bed early. Engines croon and hum outside my window, fending off sleep.

I am twelve years old, my sister snores next to me, at the top of that rickety house I once knew like the back of my hand. 

Everyone is alive. 

Doctor Zhivago: The banned book the CIA smuggled across the Iron Curtain

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“May it make its way around the world. You are hereby invited to watch me face the firing squad.” 

These were the words of Boris Pasternak as he entrusted Italian literary talent agent Sergio D’Angelo with a copy of Doctor Zhivago, the book which became the CIA’s secret literary weapon against the Soviet Union. 

Pasternak initially hesitated in giving D’Angelo the novel, likely remembering the ugly fate of his predecessors, such as the execution and exile of Pilnyak and Zamyatin. Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, the Italian publisher for whom D’Angelo worked, would become one of the first to publish ‘Dr Zhivago’ in Italian, despite threats from the Italian Communist party and proposals from the Soviet authorities to instead publish a censored version of the novel within the Soviet Union itself.

Soviet authorities and publishing houses had refused to publish Doctor Zhivago, with the KGB claiming that his work was an “estrangement from Soviet life, and a celebration of individualism”. Upon discovering the novel two years later, the CIA stated that this was an “opportunity to make Soviet citizens wonder what is wrong with their government, when a fine literary work by the man acknowledged to be the greatest living Russian writer is not even available in his own country”. In circulating the book, their goal was to contribute to the “cultural cold war” to undermine and challenge Soviet attitudes by propagating the idea of intellectual freedom within the Soviet Union and to foster anti-Soviet attitudes amongst the intelligentsia.

Censorship and repression visibly moulded the very shape and form of the book. When I wanted to read Doctor Zhivago, an internet search and a quick trip to Waterstones was all it took. The CIA, however, first read and received the book in the form of two rolls of film from MI6, with each page having been individually photographed by an unnamed British intelligence officer. Some received their copies from a small hidden library that Russian immigrant Catholics had created in Belgium during the first postwar world’s fair at the 1958 Brussels Universal and International Exposition. Several young Soviets would have been showered with miniature copies of the book, the books were thrown into the Soviet buses arriving at the 1959 World Festival of Youth and Students for Peace and Friendship in Vienna. The CIA had printed these miniature copies on onion-skin paper, designed to be small enough to fit in pockets. The flood of these was so potent that Soviet customs officials would search specifically for them in travellers’ luggage. Others read the book through the efforts of those who would remove its cover, separate the pages, and hide them in their pockets. 

Two simultaneous wars were playing out: one on the battlefield and one in the publishing houses. Stalin had announced ‘socialist realism’ as the only acceptable method of writing; all depictions of reality were obliged to be related to the spirit of communism and Marx. These writers were called upon to be the “engineers of the human soul”, helping to produce the “new Soviet man”. Censorship in the Soviet Union was often drastic, stringent, and arbitrary. A text about carrots was once banned because it detailed how carrots could be grown in individual plots of land, not just collectives. 

Pasternak’s work, on the other hand, was described as a work of “symbolic realism”. There is an underlying humanism in the text, championing dignity and respect as integral human rights, completely independent of one’s beliefs or political affiliations. This was in direct opposition to the Communist principles of the prioritisation of the community over the individual. The novel does contain strong indictments of Stalin’s regime, for example when Zhivago’s close friend Dudorov claims that war was a blessing as a “purifying storm, a breath of deliverance…collectivisation was an erroneous and unsuccessful measure” and when Zhivago claims that “revolutionaries who take the law into their own hands are horrifying, not as criminals, but as machines that have gotten out of control, like a runaway train”. Despite these politically charged, evocative passages, the book was not full of potent invocations against socialism; its main sin was apathy and indifference towards politics. 

Likely because Pasternak spent more than a decade writing the novel, the novel reflects changing attitudes towards the Revolution: at the beginning of the novel, the narrator is enthusiastic towards it, but gradually he begins to chart his disillusionment. The book itself charts Yuri Zhivago’s complex and intricate relationships, cast against the backdrop of the Russian Revolution, World War I, and the atrocities of Stalin’s rule, including his affairs and his experiences of being forced to serve as a medical officer for Bolshevik partisans.  It exists in a liminal place of unprecedented writing; it is neither the epic-style book about the Russian Revolution, nor is it the conventional romantic story. 

Pasternak was not the political dissident he was perceived to be. He opposed Soviet ideology; however, “he was not at all a political man”. Doctor Zhivago is considered to be about something unique altogether. Stalin himself described him as a “cloud dweller” when he demanded that Pasternak’s name be taken off a list of those to be executed after he hung up the phone on Pasternak, failing to ascertain whether or not he was a supporter of Mandelstam (an anti-Stalinist writer). Pasternak’s ambiguous musings seemed neither to vindicate nor convict him. 

Ironically, the CIA also issued intricate instructions on how the text should be interpreted, despite their claimed values of promoting free speech. When publishing Pasternak’s novel, John Maury, the Soviet Russia Division chief at the CIA, advised the public that “Dr Zhivago is an excellent springboard for conversations with Soviets on the general theme of ‘Communism versus Freedom of Expression”. The interpretation of the book itself was influenced by external circumstances, suggesting that books are rarely able to be read independently. 

One could claim the book has been pigeon-holed into the category of political subversiveness, while discussion of its other themes of love, fate, and immortality, has been neglected. In several scholarly works produced about the CIA and Doctor Zhivago, little has ever been said about the contents of the book itself, other than vague descriptions of its anti-Soviet sentiments. His work is not politically, but philosophically and spiritually dissident; its political, subversive messages, could be interpreted as emphasised by the KGB to silence Pasternak, and by the CIA, to give him a voice. 

Amidst the political and ideological discourse surrounding Doctor Zhivago, appreciation of the text as literature for literature’s sake is often neglected, thus raising several questions about literature itself: What are the purposes of literature? Must all literature be political propaganda? For some, it is a form of dissociation from the real world, whereas in this case, it was a direct link to the real world and the truth of oppressed voices. For Pasternak, the circumstances surrounding the book were equally as important as its contents; evidently and understandably, the CIA would have had no interest in its publication, had it not been for its ability to be used against the Soviets. Therefore, free speech must noe be concentrated solely in the power of publishing houses and governments, and the pathways through which voices can be heard must be diversified. 

Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s phrase, “The pen is mightier than the sword,” is often quoted in such discussions regarding the power of literature, yet its preceding words are conveniently omitted. The full version reads: “Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the sword”. Under the rule of men not entirely great, Pasternak regrettably never received his deserved accolades while alive. The Soviet authorities suppressed any praise directed towards Pasternak, culminating in him being forced to decline his Nobel Prize in Literature, due to fears of exile or persecution. 

Widely speculated, yet false, rumours that the CIA had organised the publication of Doctor Zhivago in Russian so that he would win a Nobel Prize, further undermined Pasternak’s literary prowess. While the CIA and the MI6 had a prominent role to play, we must not forget Pasternak’s bravery to write about reality, and his relentlessness in his drive for his novel to be published anywhere, in whichever language. He intentionally broke Soviet law and established a vital precedent for future authors to do what had once been unthinkable. Without Pasternak’s legacy, other silenced voices may never have been heard. 

By Kavya Kapadia

Sally Rooney, a Flaubert for today?

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Like millions of other people in recent years, I have fallen victim to the ongoing Sally Rooney craze. The Irish author, whose novels have received numerous successful TV adaptations in the past few years, has been labeled ‘the voice of a generation.’ In today’s media landscape, even those not in tune with ‘Booktube’ or ‘Goodreads’ will have stumbled across her name.

I liked her debut novel Conversations with Friends, but it was her 2018 bestseller Normal People that finally won me over. I read the book in a day during a particularly long 11-hour train ride between Italy and Germany. The things that attracted me to the story and its characters have been written about by countless other people over the years. It is true that Rooney’s work is outstanding. When it comes to crafting complex and relatable protagonists whilst also drawing the reader into their mundane daily lives, she is unparalleled.

However, Rooney’s literary projects are by no means groundbreaking. As the author herself states, she draws quite a lot on the 19th century novel in her writings. No other work exemplifies this as much as Gustav Flaubert’s 1869 L’Education Sentimentale. Although arguably much larger in scope and almost twice the length of Normal People, L’Education Sentimentale treads along the same stylistic lines whilst also having a lot in common with
Rooney’s work thematically. On the one hand, like Rooney, Flaubert aimed to remove any subjectivity from his writing, eradicating the narratorial presence from his novel. Through this, and his focus on mundane subjects, he hoped to bring the reader closer to the characters, and break some of the artificiality attached to any work of fiction.

On the other hand, both novels follow the evolution of two people’s relationships over time, and the way that they are hampered by miscommunication, self-doubt, and socio-
economic factors. Both novels thematicise the cultural differences between the city and countryside, and the way that the dynamics between people are shaped by class. Whereas Connell is uneasy at the fact that his mother works as a cleaner for the mother of his romantic interest Marianne, the penniless Deslauriers progressively develops an antipathy towards his childhood friend Frédéric because of his inherited wealth.

Although both literary works are certainly not identical, I believe the comparison is an interesting one, especially if one wished to make an educated guess about how novels like Normal People will be perceived a hundred years from now. In the case of French literature, it is clear that the most popular novels read and taught nowadays, are for the most part by realist authors such as Balzac, Flaubert, and Zola. These authors’ character-focused stories which capture their contemporary society, have been of continued interest and have never fallen out of print over the last century and a half. Neither Romantics like de Chateaubriand, nor decadents like Huysmans receive as much attention today as one might expect from authors that were highly popular at their time. This is in part because they alienate modern readers, be it through the use of melodrama, pedanticism, or a concern for social issues that no longer resonate with today’s audience.

Because of this, I believe it is not unreasonable to speculate that contemporary authors such as Rooney will have a more lasting presence in the literary landscape, then some of their more experimental counterparts. Not unlike the aforementioned authors, Rooney’s work functions as a document of sociological and historical interest. It chronicles the attitudes, fears, and desires of our generation. Rooney’s novels are also, above all, relatable. It is this relatability that partially drives the success of classical authors such as Flaubert today, and it will be this relatability that will keep novels like Normal People in print for the coming decades.

Twenty-seven years on from The Satanic Verses: Can works of fiction be political?

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On the 16th May, the man who stabbed author Salman Rushdie following a literary event in 2022 was sentenced to 25 years in prison. Almost three years after the assassination attempt on Salman Rushdie, it feels there are two predominant approaches to reading The Satanic Verses: getting lost in its immense creative energy, or keeping at a remove, with its political implications in mind. 

The response to Rushdie’s novel has been nothing short of extraordinary. On the one hand, it won the Whitbread Novel Award and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 1988. On the other, Ayatollah Khomeini issued a fatwa (a ruling by an Islamic authority) against the author, following bans in seven countries in 1989. In Rushdie’s case, this was an order for execution against a bounty of $3 million. And as already alluded to, Rushdie was eventually attacked (and ultimately lost his right eye) during a talk at the Chautauqua Institution.

Alongside works such as Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye and Beloved, The Satanic Verses is a cornerstone example in knotty issues like the banning of books, freedom of expression, and postcolonial theory. However, Rushdie’s novel goes beyond the boundaries we are used to: the author (or his novel – it is difficult to pin down) became indirectly embedded in British-Irani diplomacy for ten consecutive years following the 1989 fatwa. A consideration of this political background reveals the interpretive grey areas that fictive literature inhabits. 

The Satanic Verses details the paths of actor Gibreel Farishta and voice-actor Saladdin Chamcha from India all the way to Britain. This journey, however, is anything but smooth: their flight, Bostan 420, gets hijacked and blown up above the English Channel. The two, however, do not fall to their death – they are instead rebirthed. Gibreel’s nights become riddled with dreams of Jahilia, an imaginary realm in an unspecified desert, where he becomes Allah’s Messenger to prophet Mahound. Simultaneously, Saladdin metamorphoses into a goat while his English wife has an affair with someone new. 

The title is a reference to Qur’anic passages in which Muhammad appears to venerate three pagan goddesses, which sits uneasily with Islamic monotheism, and so has, controversially, been represented by scholars in the past as the product of Satanic suggestion. This title, along with the Jahilian passages (where allusions to Satanic suggestion are played out), were the main elements triggering the fatwa.

Despite the sheer wonder of the novel, it is difficult to ignore its political and religious voice. Its dazzling passages also serve as areas of contestation about the roles of the author, of governments, and of religious authorities. Lots of commentators, like Brend Kaussler in his piece ‘British-Iranian Relations, “The Satanic Verses” and the Fatwa: A Case of Two-Level Game Diplomacy’, have discussed the political potential of fictional works. In approaching these connections, however, we must ask ourselves: how far should literature be allowed to infiltrate and influence global politics?

A core conflict surrounding The Satanic Verses lay between religious orthodoxy (the Irani perspective) and freedom of speech as a human right (the British perspective). This is not to reinforce a binary of the West and the Middle East: especially in the late eighties, when a mere handful of people (mainly men) were making decisions over the novel, it is self-explanatory that they were and are not representative of their respective nations.

Immediate responses to the fatwa included keeping Rushdie under police protection, delaying the establishment of the British Embassy in Tehran, the official breakdown of Iranian-British relations in March 1989, and eventually the taking of hostages in Lebanon and Tehran. Though neither the hostage crisis, nor its resolution, are closely related to the text itself, the book worsened the hostility between the negotiating parties, hindering the initial bilateral efforts to establish and sustain British-Iranian relations. In this context, Penguin Books did not go ahead with the publication of The Satanic Verses paperback – a clear sign that literature could and had taken on political resonance. We may view the publication, then the fatwa, the mistrust, the conflicts, and the conspiracies as a sequence of domino effects––but where does it end? Was this politicisation Rushdie’s intention?

We must return to the book itself. The plot is interspersed with sinister magical realism; Jahilia is fragmented by religious conflict that Gibreel cannot resolve and neither can he navigate his relationship with Alleluja Cone or the bustling capital of England. Saladdin experiences the physical manifestation of hyperbolic racial stereotypes in his metamorphosis and struggles to resolve the tension with his Indian roots and aspirations in London.

Preceding the first two pages of the novel (famously the only bit of the novel actually read by Rushdie’s assailant), we are faced with a title that immediately centres the incident of the Satanic Verses. And Rushdie alludes to it again in a scene in which he weaves Mahound (a prophet), Gibreel (the protagonist and God’s Messenger), and the narrator together as they wrestle. The resulting confusion prompts Mahound’s belief  that “it was the devil’’ who dictated his last message to his community, in which he expanded their religion to polytheism. In light of the title, the narrator’s voice seems to match up with Satan, and Mahound with Muhammad. The implication is one that deeply disturbed Islamic orthodoxy. 

Straightforward allusion is however uncharacteristic of Rushdie. The whole “Mahound” section interrogates authority, translation, poetic and political expression, and obfuscates the narratorial persona. The “I” of the passage is elusive, intrusive, cynical – at several points it does not match up with the Satan-figure of the Qu’ran. Instead, Rushdie seems to be questioning the validity of an omniscient interpreter, narrator and distributor when it comes to story-telling.  It is unclear from recontextualisation, then, whether the conclusion drawn by Ayatollah Khomeini was indeed Rushdie’s message; here literary criticism assumes political ramification.

The Satanic Verses layers its theological discourse with a magical realist depiction of diasporic experiences in the UK, quite separate from theology. For instance, one of the protagonists, Saladdin Chamcha, metamorphoses into a goat shortly after touching the shores of England, and is detained by police for illegal immigration. In captivity, Saladdin’s conversation with a fellow prisoner discusses mechanisms by which the white supremacist British depictions misconstrue immigrant and diasporic identities. 

Rushdie’s hybrid narrative of religion, migration, and the struggles of cultural assimilation involves more than theological debates on unorthodoxy. Nevertheless, diplomatic tensions strongly centred around the latter, masking, unfortunately, the psychological aspect and cultural critique. Some responses to the novel destabilise the text to an extent where it becomes barely recognisable. The layered narrative investigates several aspects of the human condition, aside from the Jahilian reimagination of the Satanic verses incident in the Qu’ran, and it is in those moments that his craft shines through, where readers lament that his creativity was (and sometimes still is) overshadowed by diplomacy, the Defence Committee and book bans in several countries. 
The Satanic Verses may challenge aspects of religion, but this is by no means reserved for Islam alone, and the diplomatic responses have blown textual implication out of proportion. However, with this novel, as with many, it difficult to just stop analysis and interpretation. Fiction is ultimately inextricable from the political context in which it is conceived and interpreted. Perhaps that is why tensions around the book have never ended; neither will the conversations, after all.

by Ivett Berenyi

Roots and rhythm: The living legacy of Dot’s Funk Odyssey

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The first thing I am struck by as the members of Dot’s Funk Odyssey settle into a loose circle on the grass of one of Balliol College’s quads, sunlight filtering through the spring canopy, is a feeling of welcoming. There’s an easy warmth in the air that goes beyond the blue sky and sunshine – a settled kind of closeness, built over time and countless rehearsals.

Ben, drummer and musical director, flashes a warm grin. Maisie, trumpeter, band wrangler, and chaos coordinator, moves between jokes and quiet check-ins with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly how things run. Phoebe, one of the vocalists, sits cross-legged and glowing. Erin, trombonist and unofficial holder of the band’s ‘golden retriever energy’ title, leans back into the light. Tom, new on guitar this year, already has his sunglasses on and is cracking jokes with Patra, a vocalist basking in the sunniest spot.

Image credit: Aury Mosseri

Being part of a resident band in Oxford is not like joining your average student society. DFO, born from Wadham College’s Wadstock dreams and now a fixture of Oxford nightlife and ball culture, is something inherited. “It’s not just a band,” says Phoebe. “It’s something bigger. A family, really.”

Maisie nods: “It’s emotional. You’re contributing to something that doesn’t need to be your personal brand – it’s a legacy.” That legacy echoed at the 20th birthday celebration, when dozens of alumni flooded back to the stage, some flying in from as far as Tennessee. “There was this incredible sense,” Ben reflects, “that we’re not just the 2025 DFO. We’re DFO. Full stop.”

And like any family, there’s a lineage: whispered stories of DFO priests, honorary cousins, DF-mums, and DF-kids. Erin, in her third year in the band, laughs: “We literally made a family tree once. We just put ‘DF-’ in front of everything.”

There’s music, of course – funk grooves that wrap around jazz progressions, silky soul vocals, and horn sections that make you dance even if you meant to be serious. Behind the setlists and soundchecks, however, lies something even deeper: joy. The band doesn’t take any of their pay home, because they choose to spend the money instead on big meals after gigs, summer festivals together, and better kit. “You’re not doing it for money,” Maisie says. “You’re doing it because you love it, and because you love each other.”

Phoebe lights up at this. “It’s like a sleepover every summer. It’s a big holiday. Honestly, it’s the thing that’s kept me sane through Oxford.”

The gigs, too, are memory machines. They reminisce on gigs in Jesus College’s bar, soaked in nerves and neon. They reflect on Wadstock, too, with thousands of students singing back their set like a gospel choir of indie kids. “It’s wild,” Ben recalls. “You’re used to regular shows – and then you hit that first chord, and the crowd just erupts. That sound. I’ll never forget it.”

Image credit: Maya Rybin

Beyond the music, the band has become a school of living. “I’ve learnt more management and people skills from this band than I have from my degree,” says Maisie, grinning. As musical director, Ben has honed the delicate art of feedback: “It’s so easy to say the wrong thing to someone. Musicianship is personal. You learn when to push and when to just stop.”

Phoebe adds: “You can read books, practise alone, but there’s nothing like communicating through music – with your eyes, your timing, your instrument. It’s the best education there is.”

Each new member brings their musical world with them: Ezra Collective here, trap beats there, a polka arrangement of ‘Bad Romance’ lurking somewhere in Maisie’s files. The setlists are as democratic as they are joyful – equal parts crowd-pleasers and surprises, tailored to whether it’s a ticketed gig or a May Ball marathon.

“We’re friends first, bandmates after”. That’s how Ben puts it, and the others all murmur in agreement. “Honestly,” Tom chimes in, “this has made my Oxford life. Like, this is it for me.”

Erin nods: “I want to come back for the 50th. The 100th. Freeze my brain if you have to. Just wake me up in time.”

Everyone laughs, but there’s a seriousness underneath it. “If I came back in seven years and everyone in DFO looked miserable,” Erin says, “I’d be like – we messed up.”

They won’t mess up, because they know what the secret is. They say it again and again, like a mantra passed from generation to generation of DFO: have fun. Enjoy each other and make music like it matters – because it does. 

As the shadows grow long on the grass, the band begins to scatter. There’s a Balliol Ball to prepare for, a European tour to dream about, and new members to find. The music doesn’t end, though. It hums under their words, sways in their movement, curls around their memories. Somewhere out there, a first-year is tuning their trumpet. Somewhere else, an alum is playing a gig in London, or Vienna, or Barcelona, remembering a joke from Wadstock 2019.

Dot’s Funk Odyssey doesn’t belong to one person, one year, or even one genre. It’s what happens when talent, friendship, and absurd levels of joy find their groove – and never stop dancing.

Metal becomes mainstream: Sleep Token breaks through

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Metal is a genre that is certainly out of fashion. Gone are the days of long, flowy Metallica-esque hairstyles, studded gloves, and all too revealing skin-tight leather trousers. For the most part, teenagers no longer dream of shredding on stage and have lost their propensity for all things loud. Bands like Metallica, Megadeth, Iron Maiden, and Pantera once dominated rock. Now, they have slipped out of the limelight and been replaced by a new wave of pop, soft rock, and indie music. However, there is a change on the horizon. 

Enter Sleep Token: a modern metal band that is fiercely breaking on to the mainstream music scene. The band’s new album Even In Arcadia sits comfortably in the No. 1 spot on Billboard’s ‘Billboard 200’ chart, as well as on the Official Charts top 100 list (as of the week of 24th May, 2025). The question is, how has a band like Sleep Token achieved such a feat? Is it a stroke of luck? Or is it the start of a new musical trend?

Sleep Token is an anonymous British progressive/alternative rock band that formed in 2016. Since then the band has released four full-length studio albums starting with Sundowning (2019), followed by This Place Will Become Your Tomb (2021) and Take Me Back to Eden (2023), with the most recent installment being Even In Arcadia (2025).

These previous albums did enjoy considerable success, particularly with Take Me Back to Eden that peaked at No. 16 in the ‘Billboard 200’. However, the instant acclaim of Even In Arcadia was unmatched by the band’s prior records. More specifically, the band’s song ‘Caramel’ gained considerable traction upon its release, with it winning a spot as No. 34 in the charts at its peak.

But why is this so interesting? Well, to answer that we need only to look at the music that surrounds Sleep Token on the charts. A cursory glance is all it takes to see that Sleep Token’s heavy sound is one of a kind in the mainstream; Even In Arcadia’s closest competition is perhaps Kali Uchis’ Sincerely, or SZA’s SOS, or even Sabrina Carpenter’s Short n’ Sweet. Essentially, Even In Arcadia sticks out like a sore thumb in comparison to the current trends.

But how has Sleep Token achieved success in an age where metal is not mainstream? One could argue that Sleep Token is a prime example of the circular nature of trends: metal went out of fashion, and now it is coming back into fashion. Additionally, some could say that their newfound prominence is a mere quirk of fate, or perhaps the result of a gimmick in the form of the band’s dramatic attire and anonymity.

But, I don’t believe this is the case. Sleep Token offers a profoundly different sound to the current popular artists around the world. But perhaps what is more important is how they compare to metal bands of the past and how they appeal to listeners across the globe.

Sleep Token maintains many traits of the metal bands of the past with their dropped tuning, intense and technically precise drumming, and scream vocals. Yet they also bring a nuance to the genre through their softer melodies and more touching lyrics. Where bands like Metallica and Pantera often sing about aggression and violence, Sleep Token have a different lyrical focus. They raise questions of love, yearning, devotion, and introspection that create a more poetic and earnest connection with listeners. Essentially, Sleep Token aren’t afraid to break the mould and diverge from what is expected of the metal genre.

The lyrics and vocals of the lead singer, allusively named Vessel, in songs like ‘Missing limbs’ and ‘Damocles’ play a key part in this. Additionally, the unique style of the band’s drummer, II (the other band members are similarly named III and IV) make the band distinct. In a rare interview with Drumeo, II gave the world some insight into his drumming style, commenting, ​​“I’ve always personally taken a lot of inspiration from the UK dance music scene.” He added that he draws a lot of influence from “linear style gospel” when asked about his creative inspiration.

With this unique and mesmerising style, the band are providing fully fledged metalheads with a new and interesting sound that differs from classical metal. Meanwhile they simultaneously provide fans of other styles, such as indie or even pop, an accessible route into the world of metal.

However, whether metal as a whole is on the rise is a different matter. Sleep Token are having an amazing effect on the genre by popularising it and positively contributing to the state of current music considerably by diversifying the scope of what popular music can be. Also, it is undeniable that mainstream music is leaning towards a slightly more rock orientated state; bands like Fontaines DC and Wunderhorse have gained a large following in recent years, and bands like Polyphia and Bring Me The Horizon have maintained a large following for many years. Nevertheless, it is hard to look at the current charts and conclude that metal specifically is on a widespread rise.

So, unless bands in a similar vein to Sleep Token defy all odds and take the charts by storm, maybe it’s best to keep the leather jackets and combat boots in the wardrobe, and to stick to a short back and sides for the time being.