Tuesday 17th June 2025
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Christmas is consumerist. So what?

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Christmas first became controversial in the 17th century, when Oliver Cromwell and the Puritans banned the whole thing. The festival, deemed ‘unbiblical’ in origin, was banned by the Long Parliament as a wasteful and immoral time. For the Puritans, the festival of ‘Christ-tide’ (best to avoid the Catholic implication of ‘Christ-mass’) as intended by Christ was to be a simple day of fasting and prayer. As one would expect, a lot of ordinary English people did not take kindly to this attempt, and responded with rioting, royalism and presumably aggressive gift-giving.

Controversy over one of the world’s most celebrated festivals remains to this day, though the few Christians who don’t celebrate it – Jehovah’s Witnesses in particular – would make no attempt to ban it. Christmas has evolved far beyond its Christian roots, with celebrators as irreligious as Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris. Along the way, the festival has picked up enough pagan elements to make every Puritan turn in their grave; from trees to yule logs, Christmas today celebrates Christ by appropriating from the belief systems he largely replaced. As the sitcom Community described in 2010, contemporary Christmas is, for many, almost wholly about ‘music, cookies, presents, family and trees.’

Against the backdrop of ever advancing secularisation, Christmas has courted controversy as a conduit for consumerism. The anti-consumerist magazine AdBusters told its readers that should they buy almost nothing over Christmas, they ‘might just experience the most joyous holiday season ever’ even as evangelical Christians preach on the ‘reason for the season.’ Concerns about resource depletion have led environmentalists to open fire at the festival’s ‘wasteful’ nature. Affluent hipsters across the globe are signing up to a ‘Buy Nothing Christmas’ to try to escape the ‘treadmill’ of consumerism.

These objections touch on some valid concerns about society and our planet’s future. Demand for new smartphones and tablets each Christmas is placing enormous strain on rare earth metal stocks in Africa and China, and there are valid criticisms of the ‘instant gratification’ culture of economic materialism that Christmas arguably sustains. In general, however, distaste for the consumerist nature of Christmas has become another thinly veiled attempt to attack capitalist ideals.

The consumerism which surrounds us this time of year is not malicious; from Coca-Cola’s ‘Taste Christmas’ campaign to John Lewis’ ‘Man on the Moon,’ Christmas advertising seeks to liberate the season from its narrow roots and present it as a festival of mutual trust and friendship. These adverts are trying to sell you something, and you mustn’t forget it, but they’re also trying to perpetuate one of humanity’s greatest shared delusions – the idea that the coldest and darkest days of the years can actually be the warmest and brightest.

Strangely, for many of us, this almost nonsensical notion becomes true every single year. Ordinary people are momentarily freed of some of the stresses and pressures of modern life; the almost mythical essence of Christmas allows us to enjoy the simple things in life – companionship, baked goods and free time. For some, consumerism is a distraction from these pleasures. In reality, it is a catalyst. Many without Christian faith or Western origins are caught in the myth of Christmas when they see the first adverts on television; likewise, the desire to give back – for Christmas season is Britain’s peak donations season –arises not from an inner altruism but from a recognition of the mass material wealth consumerism has created.

With the problems of capitalism obvious, from rising inequality to world poverty, it’s easy to forget the pivotal role liberal capitalism has played in making people better off. Since industrialisation, the share of people living in extreme poverty has steadily fallen even as the population of the world increased sevenfold. As recently as 1981, more than 51% of the world population lived in absolute poverty, a figure which is now as low as 14%. Consumerism and consumer culture, as irritating as it might be to some, plays a necessary role in a moral mission which frankly even Oliver Cromwell might have been on-board with.

So as much as the Christians complain and the environmentalists preach, Christmas – a time of consumerism like no other – stands as a remarkable shrine to a socioeconomic system that has transformed this world. It is not a perfect system and there is much to do to ensure it works for the benefit of all, but at Christmas time its strengths and its weaknesses become acutely clear. Weaknesses such as inequality become hugely distressing just as strengths – like historically unfathomable levels of wealth and progress – become things to reflect upon. Whether you love or hate capitalism, and whether you think it is conducive to a better world, there is no denying that Christmas is in many ways a microcosm of capitalism in general.

This is a much derided fact, and it reflects on its critics. Christians hate the consumerisation of Christmas because it runs contrary to biblical statements on wealth; environmentalists may prefer a world unblemished by cities, factories, and technology. Ultimately, however, these critics are targeting the wrong enemy. Taking the consumer out of Christmas will not end capitalism in the world – only the development of a working alternative economic system can do that. Attacks on contemporary Christmas miss the mark, because they target the wrong enemy. Christmas brings people together in an almost exaggerated imitation of how consumerism brings people together; whether you think the flaws of capitalism outweigh this critical benefit or not, it is truly this which makes Christmas the one-of-a-kind festival it is.

You look so Nordic today

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It was early in Michaelmas when a friend of mine told me that my outfit that particular day “looked so Scandinavian”. I took this as a huge compliment, as I attach a very positive connotation to this expression. Even though Finland, where I come from, is not strictly speaking a part of Scandinavia, but is in fact a Nordic country, I agree that the styles you see in Helsinki often align with those you could encounter in our neighboring Scandinavian countries. After this incident, I wondered if my friend would associate my style with the Nordic look even if she didn’t know I was Finnish.

The distinctive feature of the Nordic style tends to be its minimalism. Colour schemes are quite subtle – and so are prints. Indeed, when you search ‘Scandinavian fashion’, you find outfits with clean lines and earthy colour schemes. However, make no mistake, in Helsinki you can see everything from styles based mainly on tracksuits and sneakers, to high fluting minimalist pieces.

Overall, there is a significant difference between the styles that you see in the streets of Helsinki and Oxford. The Acne-scarf boom that has been persisting for a few winters in Finland is non-existent in the UK, while Marimekko, one of the most popular brands in Finland, is unheard of. Another obvious difference between Finnish and British fashion trends is in shoes. Loafers, and heels on a night out, are definitely more prevalent here in the UK.

One obvious reason for this difference is that many of the brands popular in the Nordic region are rare in the UK. Even some high street brands that you take as a given in Helsinki are almost nonexistent. Similarly, Finland doesn’t have Topshop, or American Apparel (although Sweden does). I also feel like the flea market and vintage culture is more popular in the UK. Perhaps the diversity of choice available to British consumers is the reason I’ve encountered a large variety of styles in Oxford.

The climate also contributes to these differences in looks. In Finland, it’s a struggle every winter to wear what you want when it’s freezing outside. The long winters limit the ways one can dress and create a trade-off between staying warm and dressing up creatively. Wearing heels, for one, becomes gradually more difficult as the winter goes on. To me, the change to the milder climate of Oxford is very enjoyable. On the other hand, I feel like the Brits in Oxford are more Nordic at heart than me, considering the numerous times I’ve observed people walking in t-shirts when I’m freezing in a jacket.

Perhaps my friend could have guessed I was from a Nordic country based on my clothing. I believe that one’s style reflects his or her cultural identity. My status as a Finnish citizen, for example, is reflected in my wearing of Finnish brands, use of subtle colour schemes, and preference for simpler pieces of clothing. I also pay more attention to wearing clothes that keep me warm as it gets colder. It’s a question of judgment whether one considers that Scandinavian or not. For me, wearing or carrying something that has a Finnish nametag reminds me of home. Perhaps dressing up ‘Nordic’ is a subconscious way of curing homesickness.

Have yourself a Dickensian little Christmas

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’Tis the season in which every single potato, television show, song, soup, jumper, sock, and toilet roll is in its festive edition. There are Christmas cheeses, Christmas green smoothies, and Christmas teacups waved under our noses in every shop we enter on our manic gift-sourcing tour of the town. On the radio, Christmas songs, adverts, games, and greetings dance across the airwaves. Once home, we are bombarded with seasonal episodes of our favourite sitcoms, soaps, and news broadcasts. But, in the midst of this modern, consumerist onslaught, there stands, quietly in its timelessness, the pre-eminent Christmas book; A Christmas Carol.

First published in 1843, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol is an iconic encapsulation of the very essence of the Christmas spirit. Cantankerous old Ebenezer Scrooge is urged to change his miserly ways and embrace the goodwill and generosity of Christmas by the ghost of his old business partner, Jacob Marley, and the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come. Scrooge is encouraged, throughout the novella, to become aware of those less fortunate than himself and of the need for generosity and fellow feeling at Yuletide.

“Irrespective of his poor upbringing, Dickens really loved Christmas,” says Louisa Price, curator of the Charles Dickens Museum in London. In many of his works, Christmas is associated with humbleness, charity, love, warmth, and cheer. In A Christmas Carol, Dickens uses the altruistic nature of the Christmas spirit to draw awareness to the struggles of the working poor and the plight of child labour. In the year of 1843, before he wrote the novella, he visited charities, workhouses, and Ragged Schools across Britain. A Christmas Carol is as much a celebration of the Christmas spirit as it is an encouragement to use the benevolence of this festive spirit to reach out to friends, to family, to foes, to people experiencing poverty, loneliness and hunger.

Instead of turning to the television as the sole source of family entertainment in this bleak midwinter, crack open a copy of A Christmas Carol and travel through time with Scrooge and his Ghosts. “Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol,” says Price, “knowing it would be read aloud.” So, instead of charades – which we can all agree is possibly the most torturous of Christmas traditions – you can read out loud to your Christmas gathering of family and friends, act out Scrooge’s gruff dialogue, and share the humour, poignancy, and enduring relevance of Dickens’ writing.

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In the spirit of a true Dickensian Christmas, there are some excellent charities that would welcome donations during the festive period:

Crisis at Christmas offers companionship and support at Christmas to homeless people in the UK www.crisis.org.uk

The Salvation Army works to bring food and companionship to people in need at Christmas www.salvationarmy.org.uk

Age UK helps to combat loneliness and isolation amongst the elderly in the UK www.ageuk.org.uk

Can anyone stump the Trump?

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It possibly seems like something somewhat resembling an eternity since Texas senator, Ted Cruz first declared his campaign for the US presidency back on March 23rd 2015. However, after the Kentucky and Florida senators, Rand Paul and Marco Rubio quickly – and to be perfectly honest, predictably –  followed suit in launching their campaigns on April 7th 2015 and April 13th 2015 respectively; the fight for the Republican nomination in the 2016 White House race began to take a rather unexpected turn.

This is because, just under a month later on the 4th May; two candidates with absolutely no experience of elected public office (the world-renowned neurosurgeon, Ben Carson and former Hewlett Packard CEO, Carly Fiorina) set out their stalls for the GOP primaries battle. Subsequently, an array of other US governors and senators, current and former began to seemingly queue up in order to throw their hats into the ring to create an absolutely enormous field of 17 major (i.e. regularly featured in notable national opinion polls) 2016 republican presidential candidates. This represented the largest number of contestants for the presidential nomination of a major US party since the Democratic primaries of 1976, which incidentally had only a mere (if that is indeed an appropriate word!) 15 major candidates. Notably, during this campaign announcement period between May and July; the businessman and reality TV star, Donald Trump publically launched what was initially expected to be very much a longshot campaign for the GOP nomination.

At first glance, it is certainly not unheard of to have notable Republican presidential candidates like Carson, Fiorina, and Trump from very unconventional political backgrounds competing in US presidential primaries (Herman Cain’s 2008 campaign and Steve Forbes’ 2000 campaign both spring to mind). On the other hand, it is definitely extremely unusual – in fact, uniquely unusual if one looks at the history of US presidential elections – for three people with no experience of elected US federal office (executive or legislative) to be the apparent polling frontrunners in a major party presidential primary; as was the case on October 18th 2015, when Carson, Fiorina, and Trump took 56% between them (with Trump leading on 28%) in a national Monmouth University opinion poll of a sample of GOP primary voters.

Even as recently as the 21st December 2015, the aggregate opinion polling average of the Huffington Post has shown Donald Trump as having the support of 37.8% of Republican primary voters. Consequently, although Carly Fiorina (since the middle of October 2015) and Ben Carson (since the beginning of December 2015) have both decisively fallen out of fashion amongst potential GOP caucus-goers and primary voters; with just over a month to go until the first caucuses in Iowa on the 1st February, the race for the Republican presidential nomination still has a clear frontrunner from an incredibly unusual (and to the party establishment, unacceptable) political background.

It is fair to say that to the vast majority of independent and moderate Republican voters in the USA, Trump is a very controversial figure. After making inflammatory comments about groups varying from Mexicans through to individual famous female journalists, Donald Trump has most recently and possibly most extensively been ridiculed in the world media for suggesting that there should be an immediate and total shutdown on the admission of Muslims to the USA for the time being for national security purposes.

Resultantly, it comes as very little surprise that the GOP establishment of US Congress members, RNC officials, and major party donors are absolutely terrified at the unpalatable prospect of Trump being their nominee for the presidency. In reality, it seems a foregone conclusion that the presence of such a divisive candidate on the Republican ticket would easily hand victory in the 2016 US presidential election to the Democratic nominee (who is pretty much definitely going to be Hillary Clinton); due to the alienation of large numbers of crucial voters from demographic groups such as Hispanic Americans and women.

However, do establishment Republican leaders have any hope of avoiding the nomination of a candidate who is quite possibly simply ‘un-nominateable’? Well, in short; yes.

If opinion polls are to be believed, it does seem as though other Republican presidential contenders are beginning to gain significant electoral momentum; making Donald Trump appear to be increasingly under threat in the GOP primaries race. Despite the fact that Trump’s level of popular support is seemingly remaining reasonably stable (even in spite of his recent aforementioned comments on Muslims), other more electorally viable presidential candidates (notably the young senators, Marco Rubio and most notably Ted Cruz) are seeing their support amongst Republican voters rise significantly. Ted Cruz especially has built up an extremely well organised grassroots campaign in early-voting states, notably Iowa; in which primary and caucus victories will provide him with much needed momentum to attract undecided GOP primary voters (and indeed party officials and donors looking to endorse someone in the nomination race) who are looking for the candidate most likely to defeat Donald Trump and actually win in the general election fight against the Democratic candidate in November 2016.

Additionally, as the massively extensive field of declared 2016 Republican presidential candidates continues to narrow down from the present 13; it will in all likelihood be the establishment-friendly candidates with either executive or legislative experience who will benefit, not the marmite-akin figures like Donald Trump.

Although candidates like New Jersey governor, Chris Christie and potentially also former Florida governor, Jeb Bush look set to stay in the GOP nomination race beyond the first few primaries and caucuses; others (notably Carson, Fiorina; and the governor of Ohio, John Kasich) are likely to begin suspending their White House campaigns rather rapidly and in quick succession after poor performances in the first few states to vote, creating a large vacuum in nationwide opinion polls that is likely to be predominantly filled by candidates including Cruz and Rubio. Consequently, it does still seem very plausible that despite all of the (justified) global media hype; the current frontrunner may not actually end up being the eventual Republican nominee in the 2016 US presidential election.

However, ‘very plausible’ definitely isn’t synonymic for ‘certain’; and consequently it is definitely not outside the realms of reasonable imagination about the immediate future that Donald Trump will be the 2016 Republican nominee. For this reason, we will all continue to pay very keen attention as we watch this electoral epic continue to unfold. It does seem completely fair and reasonable to say though that the 2016 Republican presidential nominee will be either Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, or Marco Rubio. As the primaries and caucuses begin to take place over the next few months, it will probably become much clearer who the 2016 GOP presidential nominee will be.

Review — Star Wars: The Force Awakens

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★★★★☆

Four Stars

Why the fuck would someone post Star Wars plot spoilers on an article about an orangutan laughing at a magic trick? I tried, I tried so very hard to avoid the spoilers. No Twitter, no movie blogs. What more could I do? Damn you Buzzfeed, and your twatty users. I mean real twats. Ten out of ten on the twat scale kind of twats. Gold medal-winning twats. Stop, stare and take a picture kind of twats. I should have known better. Boredom leads to Facebook, Facebook leads to Buzzfeed, Buzzfeed leads to heart-rending spoilers. 

Suffice to say, I didn’t have the Star Wars experience I had hoped for – similar to how most fans felt when the prequels came out at the turn of the millennium. From the space Western vibe of the originals, in all their stuttering hologram and Oedipal complex glory, we were dragged in to trade federations and lacking computer-generated environments. And Hayden Christensen’s sclerotic face.

Force Awakens corrects those ills at nearly every point. Lead protagonists John Boyega and Daisy Ridley ground the fantastical science-fiction around them in likeable characters who appear distinctly human, in a way that Christensen and Natalie Portman never could. It’s also funny. Not laugh out loud, but generous chuckling kind of funny, in a welcome change to the prequels that lacked anything humans could recognise as humour.

Physicality reigns at every turn, a decision that feels like an intentional ‘fuck you’ to the CGI hollowness of Jar Jar Binks and General Grievous. The sets are gorgeous and noticeably lovingly crafted: from the alien prosthetics, to the interior of the Millennium Falcon, even down to the lightsaber handles and Chewbacca’s mane. The sound design feels equally tactile, with every laser twang and boot clap perfectly balanced. It magically manages to make a world so intrinsically distant to our own feel tangible, providing a level of immersion that most films can only every aspire to. And on top of it all, there’s John William’s beyond-iconic soundtrack that is, to put it simply, perfect. I very nearly wet myself at some points, when the characters, sets and music came together in an orgiastic idyll of Star Wars’ very essence. 

The childish excitement of seeing the Millennium Falcon, for the first time in more than three decades, whizzing through the interstellar void is brilliant. Combine these gorgeous celestial vistas with throwbacks to the cinematic style of the originals (scrolling text opening, wipe transitions) and there are frequent moments of pure wonder. So much of the film is just right. 

And yet, there’s a niggle that can’t be shaken off. In the silences between the blaster fire and the operatic score, you realise this is a film that is burdened. On one level, it is burdened by an unforgettable heritage. Star Wars has transcended the cultural vocabulary and entered the territory of myth. With that kind of pressure, from its back catalogue and the ardent fans who uphold that catalogue, the film is cornered. It has to walk the tightrope of nostalgia and innovation, simultaneously seeking to satisfy the fans who have begged for closure since 1983’s Episode VI and yet also to draw in new fans, many of whom will never have seen a Star Wars film in a cinema. And in a few fleeting moments, it feels less like a balancing act, and more like compromise. Instead of playing on familiarity, it veers into blatant repetition of what’s gone before.

The Force Awakens is more burdened by being the newest cog in a vast machine. On the horizon, there are at least five more Star Wars films; Episodes VIII and IX, and three stand-alone films, the first of which arrives next year. Working within such a vast film franchise, of previously mentioned exemplary heritage but also financial expectation, this film is fundamentally constrained. Despite impeccably portraying mesmerising celestial worlds, you never sense that, as a viewer, the full gamut of what those worlds hold can be explored. I yearned to see things I had never seen before in those far, far away galaxies, but instead I was walked through enjoyable, but ultimately recognisable steps. You glimpse what might be out there in the great enveloping cosmic dark, but are corralled by the knowledge that there will probably be a new trilogy, or spin-off, that explores that sector, or quadrant, or story line. In the end, Force Awakens is structurally sandboxed by the potential of the real and imaginary universes it inhabits.  

Make no mistake, this is the best anyone could have hoped for from Episode VII. The myriad of expectations would crush anything in its way, even something as monolithic as Star Wars. JJ Abrams does a majestic job with what he has on his palate; the entire auditorium grinned from start to finish at his sparky and personable addition to the Star Wars canon, that fizzed with genuine humour and aesthetic magic. We can only wait with baited breath to see whether the remainders of this trilogy explore the intriguing outer reaches of the Star Wars universe, or just tread in different shoes over the original trilogy’s established steps. 

Andy Murray – Sports personality of the Year?

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Glitz and glamour were in abundance at the BBC Sports Personality of the Year awards in 2015. However, the delight of BBC producers, controversy was minimal. Despite Heavyweight Champion of the World Tyson Fury being the subject of protests as a result of his homophobic and misogynistic comments, within the Belfast venue was relaxed and calm for what was a celebration of sport in 2015. 

And there certainly has been a lot to celebrate: the Ashes, Davis Cup, Chris Froome’s Tour de France win, Jessica Ennis-Hill’s return to competition, success in the Women’s football World Cup, an amazing Rugby World Cup and more. There has also been a lot to commemorate and remember with the passing of stars such as Jonah Lomu and Danny Jones in the past year. 

With Andy Murray triumphing in the overall award, the Davis Cup team winning Team of the Year and New Zealand Fly Half Dan Carter winning the overseas Sports Personality of the Year Awards the ceremony seemed to be nothing special, it was conventional, it was the same as it is every year. 

The fact of the matter is simply that sport stars lack personality. Unlike at the Oscars there is no opening monologue from a comic host, there is no mass selfie taken by David Beckham and the addresses from winners are enough to put you to sleep. Even Andy Murray’s joke about how dull he is fell flat, further reinforcing his reputation as the most boring man in tennis. The Sports Personality of the Year Awards are a misnomer in this case and whilst important to recognise sporting acheivements I do not believe any star nominated should be given an award based on their personality. 

The winner of the evening, in my eyes at least, goes not to a venerable legend of sport, nor a rising star to watch out for in Rio 2015. Rather it goes to a young eight-year-old with Cerebal Palsy called Bailey Matthews. Winning the Helen Rollason award after he completed a triathlon against the odds he captivated the audience and owned the stage like a rock god at the O2 Arena. “Thank you,” he screamed into the microphone, wearing a cheeky grin on his face and a little bow tie around his neck. Unphased by an audience containing some of the most famous faces on the planet, he had them in the palm of his hand and has won the hearts of the millions of viewers at home. Perhaps he should have won the main Sports Personality of the Year Award instead!

 

 

Is This Art? The Selfie

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Filters, angles, pixels, lighting, witty captions; the humble Selfie is no longer the simple piece of narcissism it once was. The choice of appropriate pose in itself is a skill, as the less artistically minded such as myself are forced to rotate a fixed portfolio of screwed up faces, visually displaying the agony of this painful social rite of passage. Is it however fair to conclude that such a degree of technical difficulty, the consideration of aesthetics and the existence of a memory or meaning behind each snap, makes the Selfie art? Indeed is Instagram the National Gallery of the future?

Don’t believe that just anyone can take a decent Selfie. Here genetics  plays an integral role. Having long arms helps to get the perfect angle, a DNA lottery which is hardly balanced out by the unprecedented sales growth of the Selfie stick. Yes, undoubtedly improving the physical quality of your Selfie no end, but the social stigma and unadulterated visual narcissism of such a device means it’s serious use is nigh on impossible as the angles it achieves makes it difficult to hide it’s usage online, even if you are artistically minded enough to keep the stick out of shot.

The key conceptual idea for all students of the Selfie is the necessity of keeping your own self obsession hidden. It is completely expected that in the production process, some satisfaction with one’s own image is present (indeed why would you take a Selfie if you were physically repulsed by your own image.) However a truly successful Selfie convincingly manages to appear completely natural and unconscious of the photographer’s evidently beautiful face, which is, seemingly by accident, perfectly positioned just so light flows into the image at just the right angle to highlight the subject’s best features.  Happily though, on the point of DNA, facial symmetry or being conventionally attractive is no longer the hurdle of a skilled Selfie taker. Tragic though it is, physical imperfections can be removed easily, sometimes simply by the choice of angle. Does this increased accessibility of the Selfie destroy it’s case to be the one of the most progressive art forms?

Self portraits have been considered art for years. Just because the production process has been dramatically reduced does not change the subject matter. So as New Year’s approaches and my Facebook wall is inevitably flooded with various angles of the skull’s of people whom I am increasingly struggling to remember where we met or why on earth I am still unhealthily obsessed with updates of their life, I invite you to revel in this socially accepted celebration of the self and to throw out the twisted psychology of trying to look like this didn’t take at least half an hour to set up. After all, I have always thought the narcissus is not a bad looking flower.

Please note: None of the above should be read as an endorsement to take any more Selfies than is strictly necessary. Uploads to social media sites should be limited to no more than three at once out of sensitivity for other users, who cannot yet bring themselves to unfollow you out of their own tragic obsession with the intricate details of your life.

Twas the night before Christmas

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Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house 

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. 

Well apart from the Oxford students, still working for sure, 

the laptops still buzzing, books piled on the floor.

 

As the rest of the world is curled up in their beds, 

the students sit glumly, chewing work in their heads. 

When all of a sudden arises such a clatter, 

they spring to their windows to see what is the matter.

 

That Bullingdon club, or a drunken course mate,

who else writing essays is still up this late?

When what to their wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

  

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 

They knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick

As their cynical world views are instantly spent,

They begin to consider how to write up the event.

 

The humanities students consider their position,

how to be politically correct yet challenge the opposition,

surely this man proves a patriarchal state,

and should be branded misogynist for femophobic hate.

  

The scientist sits and wonders if the man, 

could be quantified in numbers and figures; what a plan!

Indeed should his flagrant cheating of the laws of science,

challenge them or him to consider compliance?

 

Because something unexplainable is simply frightening, 

a world that doesn’t fit in our heads is like lightning, 

all the building blocks of our quavering existence,

come clattering down without a moment’s resistance.

 

And at such a conclusion, they all traipse to the quad,

to tell this funny man of their work; their true god,

‘you’re a liar’, they go further, ‘you destroyed inspiration,

to dare cause a break from my essay; fornication!

 

Away with you sir and your Christmassy cheer,

our lives are work-centric above all this year,

with finals, collections and prelims to prepare for,

you in your silly red sleigh makes one’s brain sore.’

 

The man stares at the group and leaves with a sigh,

looks up at the clouds and shoots into the sky: 

‘With their plans and ambitions, they really are thick,

what absolute wallies’, pondered Saint Nick.

  

They were offered a gift that was genuinely free, 

and all the economists got was to laugh at me. 

They scoffed at love as if it were not meant, 

is there really any more stupid than an Oxford Student?

  

And at that, rejected by these miserable folk, 

he searched out the needy, the dying, the broke, 

and it was there the true brilliance of humanity shone;

it was clear that at Oxford, something was wrong.

 

But back to the lawn and the academic meeting, 

all trundled off to bed to work before sleeping…

 

And with that, the poor linguist gave up dreaming for good, 

and got back to her books like a true Germanist should.

11 ways Oxford is a little bit like Star Wars

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I saw the Force Awakens earlier today, and it was excellent. It also made me think of a few ways in which Oxford was actually quite similar to the Star Wars universe. So to celebrate the beginning of the new trilogy, here are a few ways Oxford is just a little bit like Star Wars

  1. Ever walked down the Gladstone Link tunnel and pretended you’re Darth Vader?

    No, me neither… but you have to admit, those space station-like white and grey walls make you feel like you’re in a Galaxy far far away…

  2. They’re big money-spinners.

    Star Wars has an estimated worth of around $30 billion, while Oxford University contributes about £750 million to the local economy every year. The Dark Side is rather like the clubs in Oxford – the Sith, Empire, Emporium – they keep changing their names, but they’re still the same old enemies guaranteed to give you a headache. 

  3. They both cause embarrassments we’d all rather forget.

    Like any University, Oxford has given its students memories of entzes, bops and society memberships they wish had never happened. We’re looking at you, Prime Minister. Whereas Star Wars has the infamous and hilarious disaster that was the 1978 Holiday Special, complete with a musical number featuring Dorothy from The Golden Girls. It has understandably never been released on home video and only exists today through underground bootlegged copies. 

  4. Identikit dogsbodies that keep the populace in line.

    Could refer to the stormtroopers or the Union’s staff, well known for their line-keeping and general subservience to the private members club’s cause.

  5. They’ve both been accused of selling out.

    George Lucas offloaded his baby to corporate giants Disney in 2012, while Oxford isn’t averse to private investment. How’d you think that ugly 70s quad in your college got its name? 

  6. They both have their own numbering system.

    Trying to explain why the first three films are actually the fourth, fifth and sixth can get confusing, much like trying to explain ‘0th week’ to your friends and family.

  7. Even the Force can’t stop fire alarms.

    While Oxford students are used to that one guy that sets off the alarms once a week, Star Wars fans can suffer the same fate. On Thursday, the George Street Odeon’s screening of Star Wars: the Force Awakens was cut short by a fire alarm. 

  8. They’ve also inspired imitations with different levels of success. Star Wars has James Bond’s bizarre (but arguably brilliant) Moonraker, and practically every sci-fi film and parody since 1978. Oxford has Cambridge.
  9. They both have a Death Star.

    Okay they don’t. But, the Blade Runner-esque St Catherine’s College holds the same utilitarian ethos of the Death Star. Its architect Arne Jacobsen designed every detail from the doors to the cutlery. We imagine Lord Vader would approve. Just imagine if it was squarer, with more concrete and less reflectiveness. 

  10. Science and the Arts come together well.

    While everyone loves a bit of rivalry over how Science students can’t write a sentence, and Arts students can’t count, we’re all friends with each other and live side by side. Star Wars combines opera, historical and classical allusions with science-fiction. In Force Awakens alone, director JJ Abrams has drawn parallels between the First Order and the Nazis who escaped to Argentina after the war. But the Nazi allusions don’t stop there, the Empire, the Jedi Purge, and more, are all interpreted as references to the Second World War. 

  11. The merchandise.

    We all know you can buy a range of Star Wars merchandise from t-shirts to dead-stock figurines of Jar Jar Binks. But you can also buy a range of Oxford-branded scarves, tankards to a teddy-bear in subfusc. How long until we see Lego tutors? Too long. 

Convinced? 

Why is it never ‘terrorism’ when they’re white?

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“This is for Syria, my Muslim brothers.” These were the words of Muhaydin Mire, the ‘terrorist’ who a few weeks ago wielded his Stanley knife at Leytonstone Tube Station, injuring but thankfully not killing three innocent Londoners.  This particular remark is what led police to categorise this violence as a ‘terrorist incident’, a description which, as far as I’m concerned, is not particularly helpful or accurate.

Now at first you might think I’m being slightly obtuse — of course it was terrorism, you’d say. There was a young man, of Somalian or Sudanese origin, speaking with an Arabic accent according to eyewitnesses, who set out to kill innocent people. What’s more, he was acting on behalf of what he himself described as his “Muslim Brothers” in Syria — better known as ISIS to you and me. His actions even seem to fit the dictionary definition of terrorism as ‘the unofficial or unauthorised use of violence and intimidation in the pursuit of political aims’.

So why am I being so stubborn? Why can’t I just accept that the Leytonstone attack was terrorism? You probably think I should just get off my lefty-liberal Corbynista terrorist-sympathising high horse and accept like everyone else that this is just a new form of terrorism that we must all recognise and fight. There is a reason why I won’t.

On Tuesday 10th November, a month before the Leytonstone incident, a Japanese national and octogenarian Yoshiyuki Shinohara chose to push an unsuspecting woman into an oncoming Tube Train at Piccadilly Circus. Luckily his victim survived the ordeal although Shinohara was arrested on suspicion of attempted murder. But nobody labelled the incident as terrorism. There was no blanket media coverage where politicians, police chiefs and commentators asserted the need for ever greater vigilance and ever-more resources in the fight against terror, stoking already high levels of fear amongst the population. It was just another crime on the tube, like the other 2,255 violent crimes which occurred on the network last year. So what was it that made Leytonstone so different from Piccadilly Circus or for that matter any of these other violent crimes?

Very little, as far as I can see. Of course, Mire did shout “this is for Syria” and his aims probably were political. But who is to say Shinohara was not harbouring some political motive and what reason is there to assume Mire was any more mentally stable? What’s more, imagine if Shinohara had shouted “this is for Syria”. I very much doubt whether anybody would have labelled him a terrorist. People would have just said that he was a crazy old man whereas Mire on the other hand was a young Somali Muslim — far more likely to be a terrorist, surely?  It appears then that when we use the word terrorism to describe events we do so not just on the basis of the presence or absence of political motivation, but on our prejudices: racial and religious. It is for this reason I am uncomfortable applying the word terrorism to describe events at Leytonstone. Worse still, the way in which we define terrorism also affects how we respond to it.

No better example of this is Donald Trump’s call “for a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States” in the wake of the California shootings.  This typifies the often dangerous reactions which can be elicited by declaring a form of violence to be terrorism, demonstrating the need for caution before doing so. To their credit, US security services did this, initially refusing to call the shootings terrorism. Only once the identities and backgrounds of the perpetrators – married couple Rizwan Farook and Tashfeen Malik – had been discovered was the label applied, due to the knowledge that they had been radicalised in Saudi Arabian training camps. Now, I don’t deny for one minute that the California Shootings were terrorism. Neither do I dispute that it was correct to express this fact in the media. My concern is simply the ubiquity of ethnic and religious prejudice when defining and reacting to tragedies such as this.

Take Charleston, South Carolina, where on the 17th June this year white supremacist Dylann Roof entered the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church and murdered nine worshippers in cold blood. Very few people classified his actions as terrorism, despite the fact Roof was politically motivated in his violence, admitting his intention was to start a race war. He targeted people due to their identity, killing them because of his beliefs, like ISIS. The only reason I can see why people didn’t call him a terrorist was because of who he was, because he was white, because he was a Christian. None of these factors seem legitimate to me.

It seems then that we determine whether or not something is terrorism based on the race and religion of those who carry out the act. If this was of limited consequence then I might be more ambivalent but this simply isn’t the case. The fight against Islamic fundamentalists seems to permit us to step over an invisible line, to say things we would not normally think acceptable, to justify things we would not normally consider permissible: mass surveillance laws, drone strikes in civilian areas, Guantanamo Bay.

Now it could be argued that all this is perfectly fine, as long as it is only the terrorists on the receiving end. However, this is almost never the case, with those often simply sharing the same race or religion as them being caught in the crossfire. And thanks to our selective use of the word ‘terrorism’ it is mostly Muslims and those from the Middle East who become the victims of our response. After all, it’s not as though the Klu Klux Klan suddenly felt the full military force of Western Governments after Charleston with all whites and Christians suddenly becoming acceptable collateral damage. Nor did we see Theresa May calling for a ban on all Japanese nationals after events at Piccadilly Circus involving Mr Shinohara. 

So where do we draw the line? We start by using the word terrorism properly, ridding it of our racial and religious prejudices. We should stop using it to describe everyday crimes on the Tube and instead use it to describe events which fit the true meaning of the word, such as the murder of African-American churchgoers, motivated by the colour of the victims’ skin. Then maybe if we stopped using the word so excessively, and instead started to use it more selectively, our response to many tragedies could become a little less unjust.