Sunday, May 11, 2025
Blog Page 112

Oxford launches new Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium programme

Alice Robey-Cave
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Oxford launches new Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium programme

Oxford’s Department for Continuing Education launched a new interdisciplinary extra-curricular programme, “The Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium,” this term. The programme was first announced at Vice-Chancellor Irene Tracey’s 2023 Oration speech last October, and aims to bridge the gaps between humanities and STEM subjects through “an experiment in helping students learn from each other across the divide.”

The Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium is offered to all undergraduates currently studying at the University and comprises keynote lectures and talks, interdisciplinary projects, and a panel which comes at the end of the term. The programme’s primary focus is to promote critical approaches to complex global issues, with climate change taking centre stage as its inaugural theme.

Participants will work on group projects guided by DPhil students in teams that are representative across the broad scope of humanities and mathematical, physical, life, social, and medical sciences. The programme also offers summer internship opportunities to support “the University’s goals for local and global engagement.”

The Vice-Chancellor’s oration centred on progress, and her introduction of the program notes the changing world the University is working to keep up with. Interdisciplinarity has been emerging across other universities across the UK: Oxford follows in the footsteps of other Russell Group institutions such as University College London (UCL) and the recently formed London Interdisciplinary School (LIS), which provides undergraduates with the opportunity to study a Bachelors of Art and Science (BASc).

“Don’t be in such a hurry. Enjoy the world.”

Sophie Magalhaes
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“Don’t be in such a hurry. Enjoy the world.”

Kate Ewart-Biggs’ mission with the British Council is to build lasting connections between the UK and other countries through arts and language. Coming from a diplomatic family that represented Britain abroad, from a young age Kate recognised the influence an individual has on building positive relationships between places and peoples. 

Kate’s father, Christopher Ewart-Biggs, was UK ambassador to Ireland before being assassinated by an IRA landmine. After his death, her mother, Baroness Ewart-Biggs continued to advocate for peace in Ireland, ultimately gaining a place in the House of Lords. “Though our diplomatic life came to an end very suddenly, my mother continued to use her global public platform to advocate strongly for better connections between people.” As Kate tells me, mutual respect is crucial to form these connections.

Having spent her childhood in France, this early international experience, as Kate says, “shaped my view that the world is a wide place.” Having learned to read and write in French before English, Kate considers herself a ‘global citizen’, someone whose identity transcends geographical borders. Her work with the British Council has taken her all over the world, including Indonesia, Uganda, Tanzania. I ask how she adapts to the cultural landscapes of each country to carry out her work. She stresses the importance of language: “even if you don’t speak the language very well, trying and making the effort is a really important aspect of integrating yourself into the community.” Before working with the British Council, Kate worked for a feminist organisation helping street girls in the North of Brazil. She describes the exhilarating challenge of hearing new words and looking them up in a dictionary – “the days before google translate” – discovering how words shed light on cultural values. The word which kept cropping up was the Portuguese ‘gente’, meaning the collective ‘us’ as opposed to referring to people in general. Kate tells me how the collective community atmosphere is far stronger abroad than in the UK.  “I have always been fascinated by what makes different cultures operate, the norms and things which glue communities together and the customs which really matter.” In Tanzania, Kate tells me, there is “the whole greeting process of how are you, how is your family, etc. Though this seems slightly protracted to reserved Brits, without it people won’t want to engage with you because they think you are being really rude.” These small cultural factors can make or break the positive relationships you attempt to form with other countries.

Some contributions from the British Council that Kate has overseen include the fantastic work done for women and girls in areas where their educational opportunities have been cut off. Kate tells me about an education programme in Pakistan called EDGE (English and Digital for Girls’ Education) which gives digital and English skills to thousands of girls inside and outside of the education system. The programme has been extended to Afghan refugees who have been cut off from education as well as women and girls facing educational barriers in Bangladesh and Nepal. EDGE ensures that girls from marginalised communities can make educated decisions in order to better contribute to the betterment of their society. Kate enthusiastically tells me that as a woman and the mother of a daughter, these opportunities for women and girls is one of the most important contributions the British Council can make to developing countries.

Yet challenges facing the British Council’s work are paramount in today’s turbulent climate of war and prejudice. The safety and security of staff in warzones, Kate tells me, is the British Council’s primary concern. Once people are protected, culture must be preserved as well. ‘When a country’s people are being destroyed, their culture is being destroyed too.’ Kate is proud to have overseen the profiling of Ukrainian arts and culture in the UK, and tells me that through the British Council’s management of the UK’s Cultural Protection Fund,  a similar agenda is underway to protect Palestinian cultural assets once the brunt of conflict is over. “People want a sense of optimism and opportunity. We have to think of ways in which the British Council can support the rebuilding of countries and enable staff to continue working so they can feel that they are making a contribution to what is happening around them.”

I was curious how the expansive communities created by the British Council counter the racial prejudice that still exists in our societies. Kate is adamant that liberal middle-class bubbles often don’t want to acknowledge that racial prejudice still exists. Her solution is to ask questions. Learning to listen and acknowledge instead of placing people in judgemental binaries helps spread progressive ideas. She says this becomes more difficult as now “there’s nothing in the middle. There’s no nuance, only binary choices. My experience is that you have to ask questions.” Simple questions such as “what do you mean by that?” Or “what’s underneath that statement you’ve just made” allow people to challenge assumptions without creating hostile binaries. Simple acknowledgements make a world of difference. 

My final question to Kate is what advice she has for students who seek to expand their communities within the constraints of a ‘conventional’ working life. She says to seize any opportunities you have to learn a language. “Having a language under your belt makes you stand out from other people. I’m also a great advocate for travel, earning money wherever you can and exploring the world.” Even though the divide between those with and without parental resources is increasingly larger, find ways to travel cheaply. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Explore before settling down. Enjoy the world.”

The Saltburn We Should Have Had

Comfort Tanie Maseko
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The Saltburn We Should Have Had

This review contains major spoilers for Emerald Fennell’s ‘Saltburn’ (2023)

There are few films that are able to generate as much buzz among Oxford students as Saltburn (2023), a sophomore project directed by Greyfriars alumna Emerald Fennell. It is easy to see why: glittering performances from the towering 6’5”, Euphoria up-and-comer Jacob Elordi and Oscar underdog Barry Keoghan, who promised audiences as disturbing a performance as he delivered in Yorgos Lanthimos’ Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017); confectionery-sweet visuals from cinematographer Linus Sandgren (La La Land); and, of course, the Rad Cam in its full, sunlit splendour. In those aspects, Saltburn certainly delivered – even if the Rad Cam was only on-screen for about 30 seconds… So why does Saltburn, full of promise, fall so flat for its naysayers?

Saltburn begins with Keoghan’s Oliver Quick on his first day of school, heading towards the fictional Webbe College (which we know to be Brasenose). Oliver, meticulously attired in his college scarf, is reticent and takes everything in. Elordi’s Felix Catton, on the other hand, has all the makings of a college BNOC – except that he is a little bit more charming and a lot more generous (as we come to know). Oliver and Felix, through a series of plot contrivances, become unlikely friends. Then we are treated to a beautiful montage of fresher shenanigans, with shots in flashing neon lights from the club floor; and images drenched in sunset hues which paint the skies of the rooftop scenes. It’s nostalgic. It’s ephemeral. The honeymoon of their new friendship ends once Oliver tells Felix that his dad has just died. The prospect of going up ‘North(?)’ to Prescot to return to the broken home that awaits him once term ends is so undesirable that Oliver doesn’t think he’ll ‘ever go home again.’ So, Felix invites him to stay at Saltburn.

A ham-handed reference to Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited (‘a lot of Waugh’s characters are based on my family, actually’), and plot points liberally borrowed from The Talented Mr. Ripley, are early hints at the flaws in Fennell’s screenwriting. Once the Saltburn Manor chapter of the film commences, it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore just how much rot there is in this film’s woodwork. 

There is a level of Skins-type cringe here that is forgivable. Saltburn is bookended with Oliver’s ‘Was I in love with him?’ (I don’t know, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me) monologue. It also features one of the most guffaw-inducing lines of dialogue, which comes (again) from Oliver before having oral period sex with Alison Oliver’s Venetia, Felix’s sister (‘It’s lucky for you, I’m a vampire’). We can laugh or roll our eyes at these moments while also seeing what Fennell was trying to achieve, even if she goes about this with painfully little subtlety. Similarly, the most shocking scenes designed to get everyone talking and tweeting were handled with a Lars Von Trier level of pretension and bravado. These scenes were every bit as subtle as a melancholic woman faced with the threat of death by a rogue planet named ‘Melancholia.’ But Fennell’s most egregious sin is the bait-and-switch that occurs just over halfway through the film, when we find out that Oliver’s broken home is in fact…a red-brick detached house? More than that, his dead dad is very much alive, and his mother seems more likely to watch the dog-show Crufts for recreation than to take any drug stronger than Yorkshire Tea. At this point in the film, the viewer is violently removed from what seemed to be Oliver’s perspective, and is forced instead into the third-person. Any motivation that we may have discerned from Oliver’s backstory is stripped away, making us dependent on what Oliver tells us his motivation is. It leaves us at the mercy of Emerald Fennell’s writing. 

Some critics of Saltburn suggest that the film’s ending was its biggest let-down. One could argue instead that the film falls flat after Oliver’s lies are revealed, because, from that point on, it must find a more nebulous reason for Oliver’s interloping. The Saltburn we get is one in which Felix and the rest of the Cattons generally come out morally unscathed, while Oliver himself is cartoonishly villainised by the end. All nuance is gone. Any chance for meaningful class commentary instantly vanishes. I don’t believe Fennell’s Saltburn has anything meaningful to say about desire. The Saltburn we could have had is one in which Felix is not rewarded for his presumptuous optimism in meddling with his friend’s family affairs. That Saltburn would have been one in which Felix could have been forced to confront the rough from which his brilliant friend came from. If Felix – after learning too much, and realising he knew so little – had pulled away from Oliver, some of the film’s better moments could still have been kept. Oliver still might have apologised for not being good enough for Felix anymore; but, in the end, when Oliver finally says that he loved him but hated him all the same, we would understand why.

Oxford releases new guidance on AI use for students

Joseph Rodgers
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Oxford releases new guidance on AI use for students

The University of Oxford has released new guidance on the use of artificial intelligence (AI) tools for students. The guidance, published 8 January 2024, comes following significant interest in the promises and dangers of AI, including the 2021 launch of the Oxford Institute for Ethics in AI and the continued advertisement of the Saïd Business School’s Oxford Artificial Intelligence Programme.

The guidance permits students to “make use of generative AI tools […] in developing [their] academic skills and to support [their] studies.” They are warned, however, that “AI tools cannot replace human critical thinking or the development of scholarly evidence-based arguments and subject knowledge that forms the basis of [their] university education.” This advice is particularly stern toward students who might pass off AI-generated text as their own: “Unauthorised use of AI falls under the plagiarism regulations and would be subject to academic penalties in summative assessments.”

The guidance does provide examples of where use of AI is both helpful and permissible, such as in producing a summary of an academic paper, providing feedback on writing style, or listing key concepts likely to appear in a forthcoming lecture. 

In all cases, however, it is stressed that use of AI should not be seen as a substitute for developing an individual’s capacity to learn and that any facts given by AI should be cross-referenced with traditional scholarly sources. Even if students follow these guidelines, the policy maintains that students “should give clear acknowledgements of how [AI] has been used when preparing work for examination.” 

This is consistent with the University’s guidance on plagiarism, which states that students “must clearly acknowledge all assistance which has contributed to the production of [their] work.” This same guidance states that “AI can only be used within assessments where specific authorisation has been given, or when technology that uses AI has been agreed as reasonable adjustment for a student’s disability.” 

It is not clear in which cases such specific authorisation has been given; of the five most studied undergraduate courses (Medicine, Law, History, PPE and Chemistry), only the Faculty of History includes reference to specific authorisation of AI use in its Undergraduate Handbooks, and this is simply to restate the same conditions from the University’s overall guidance on plagiarism.

The use of AI in education is sure to be an ongoing point of discussion among all universities as the technology develops, and there are clearly points of controversy among Oxford faculty which the guidance seems to obscure. While some faculty members signed an open letter calling for a six month pause in AI development (as reported by Cherwell), the Department of Computer Science understandably has “Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning” as a key research focus. 

In response to these disputes over the role of AI, the Russell Group published a joint statement on 4 July 2023, stating five principles for the use of AI in Education:

  1. Universities will support students and staff to become AI-literate.
  2. Staff should be equipped to support students to use generative AI tools effectively and appropriately in their learning experience.
  3. Universities will adapt teaching and assessment to incorporate the ethical use of generative AI and support equal access.
  4. Universities will ensure academic rigour and integrity is upheld.
  5. Universities will work collaboratively to share best practice as the technology and its application in education evolves.

These principles are very clearly mirrored in Oxford’s advice. They are reworked into the newly published guidance as questions for students under the heading “Five things to think about when using generative AI tools,” although the guidance does not include any acknowledgement of the joint statement or its five principles.

Review: William Lowry’s ‘Zeitgeist’ at Trinity College

Thomas Bristow
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Review: William Lowry’s ‘Zeitgeist’ at Trinity College


Zeitgeist 

The general intellectual, moral, and cultural climate of an era

One Sunday afternoon last term, myself and two friends went along to an art exhibition at Trinity College. Upon entering a darkened room, we were immediately struck by an intense, almost bewildering soundscape, and before us were strange, industrial sculptures. This, as it turned out, was merely a first impression. 

William Lowry is a recent graduate of The Ruskin School of Art, having also received the Ashmolean Museum’s Vivien Leigh Prize and the Emery Prize from Pembroke College. Lowry is a multidisciplinary artist, and his work “combines drawing, printmaking, sculpture and sound to probe themes of personal and collective memory, masculinity and queer desire, myth and modernity”. In this sense, Zeitgeist was no different. 

‘Structure I’, located in the centre of the installation was a Berghain-esque model of a building atop a metal stand which sat in something of a reflecting pool. Within the ‘windows’ of the building were detailed biro sketches of athletic men, with strange faces reminiscent of Goya’s Black paintings. ‘Structure II’, to the left, was the largest. A tall church-style window framed another biro sketch of athletic male physique, a man tumbling upside-down. The athleticism was further suggested by the artist’s use of a weights rack, such as one would find in a gym. On the floor, mirroring the frame, was a gravel track, flanked by chains and topped by miniature propaganda-style pennant flags, again displaying the male physique.

‘Structure III’ occupied the right-hand side of the room, a circular layered piece again surrounded by miniature pennant flags and a picket fence. What intrigued me most, however, were the waves of red light, which isolated the piece in an ominous glow. Behind this was ‘Structure IV’, a crooked church tower atop a stand which itself stood in an oil spill. Here, again, the windows revealed muscles and contorted faces. A lone searchlight, positioned behind the viewer, periodically brought one’s own silhouette into focus on the far wall.

But perhaps the most striking aspect of this installation was the series of images projected onto the back wall, accompanied by a dynamic original soundtrack. Clips of industry, metal fences and light shows were followed by ‘Zeitgeist’ or ‘Jetzt’ (now/nowadays) which were projected in huge letters, but only for a moment. Further images included strips of light, which flashed all manner of colours, and strange, undefinable shapes which were merely tangles of lines. The music was synchronised cleverly with the images, and ranged from calming ambient textures, to industrial techno and dark synthesisers. My friends and I stood watching this succession of images for ages. The audio-visual experience produced a trance-like effect, which was fascinating in its darkness, but also unnerving in its unpredictability. It was genuinely difficult to look away, there was something of an alternate reality about it.

However you may define art (be it through purely aesthetic qualities, the artist’s intention, its purpose etc.) this was an installation that held our attention for far longer than a moment. But in many ways, that was the genius of Lowry’s work. Once in that room, the depth of material and media made it impossible to soon leave. 

Alien structures and shapes combined with familiar human musculature to give a strange effect, as did the imagery and intense soundtrack. Whilst each piece could be appreciated as an artistic feat in itself, the strength of this installation lay in their coming together. Only by immersing oneself in the room for an extended period did one truly appreciate this as a consummate multimedia experience. It was intriguing and unsettling in equal measure, and it stayed with us long after we’d left Trinity.

William Lowry has an upcoming solo exhibition at Pembroke College Gallery from 2nd–6th March. See more of his work on Instagram: @williamlowry.art

The winter of of our discontent: Heating in Oxford’s student accommodation

Oliver Adelson
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The winter of of our discontent: Heating in Oxford’s student accommodation

Winter in Oxford is decidedly cold. Starting in October, temperatures drop from over 20 degrees Celsius to freezing, sometimes overnight. While many student rooms at Oxford’s colleges still have vestigial fireplaces, the heating today runs almost entirely on gas and electricity. This system is certainly efficient, but it does give colleges the ability to control the heating that students receive in their accommodation. And what happens when colleges turn the heating off?

Heating and health

All student accommodation is required to be kept at a safe and healthy temperature, defined by the NHS as above 18 degrees Celsius for bedrooms and above 21 degrees Celsius for living rooms and other communal spaces. Below these temperatures, the NHS warns, people are more likely to suffer from weakened immune systems and fall ill. And the illnesses can be serious. According to the NHS, lower room temperatures make occupants more susceptible to increased blood pressure and can increase risk of heart attacks, strokes, and chest infections. 

The policy that colleges should adopt seems fairly straightforward in theory – keep the student accommodation at a safe and healthy temperature. But in practice, there are many questions that arise with no clear answer. Must colleges turn the heating on at night? Should students have control of the thermostat in their room? When in autumn should colleges turn on the heating? The policies that colleges adopt in light of these complications are crucial and influence how frequently students get ill during Oxford’s short terms, where missing even a few days due to illness can be an enormous setback.

On or off at night

Many colleges have policies of keeping the heating on during the night, albeit often at lower temperatures than during the day. At Corpus Christi College, for instance, the default temperature for student rooms is 20 degrees Celsius during the day and 17 degrees Celsius at night (10 pm to 6:30 am) and “non-peak hours” (10:30 am to 4:30 pm). For students who desire warmer temperatures, there is also a “comfort mode” that boosts the daytime temperature to 23 degrees Celsius and the nighttime/non-peak temperatures to 20 degrees Celsius. 

Other colleges have more controversially experimented with turning the heating off completely at night. At the beginning of Michaelmas 2023, Cherwell investigated Keble College’s new policy of cutting nighttime heating and the opposing student petition that resulted from the policy. One Keble student recently told Cherwell that despite the student petition and increased pressure on the college to keep the heating turned on at night, Keble refused to go back to its old policy. Instead, it set up a complaints form for students adversely affected by the lack of nighttime heat.

One of Keble’s stated reasons for limiting the amount of heat consumption was the college’s determination “to take action to address the climate crisis and become more sustainable.” However, some students have expressed scepticism that these environmental reasons, and not penny-pinching, are the true motivations behind the college policy. “They turn it [the heating] off … at night under the guise of sustainability” one student told Cherwell on social media.

Another student at St. Catherine’s College told Cherwell that she faced similar problems with insufficient heating in student accommodation: “Catz never has the heating on. They’ll tell you to fill in the maintenance request form, they come and ‘fix’ it and it still doesn’t work so I’ve had to borrow a portable heater from the porter’s lodge in winter. They told us the heating is off from 11 pm – 6 am officially.”

A second-year Lincoln College student complained about a lack of transparency on the issue of nighttime heating. She told Cherwell that, as a night owl, she preferred to do her work later in the evening but that it was “difficult to do work in [her] room when it’s freezing.” She further claimed that she did not remember receiving any advance communication from Lincoln stating it would be turning her heating off at night.

The hunt for warm October

The task of deciding when in autumn to turn on heating in student accommodation proves contentious each year. Colleges generally turn heating on sometime in October, but many have historically delayed the introduction of heating to the last possible moment and only reneged after significant student pressure. 

During Michaelmas 2023, with temperatures regularly dropping below 10 degrees Celsius, St. Hugh’s College elected to turn on the heating on 13 October ahead of the scheduled 31 October. A facebook post from the St. Hugh’s JCR President at the time read: “Complaints have worked and college will be turning on the heating early (today) instead of the 31st.”

Even after this announcement, however, students reportedly faced issues getting heating in their rooms. The college sent another email on 17 October that read: “As the system has been switched off for months over the summer and has had to be turned on in a hurry without the usual pre-checks, we experienced some start-up issues in a few isolated parts of the site earlier this week.” 

A first-year St. Hugh’s student told Cherwell that she did not accept the claim about “a few isolated sites” since the problem “was happening a lot in the main building.” Another St. Hugh’s student informed Cherwell on social media that in order to get the heating turned on students “were literally buying thermometers to show the college it was colder than 16 degrees in rooms.”

In response, St. Hugh’s told Cherwell: “It is our policy to turn the heating on early in the event of a cold weather snap such as the one forecast on 16 October 2023. The decision to turn on the heating was routine and not in response to any student complaints. The College did receive reports of problems with the heating in some buildings on 16 October, but these were all resolved either later that day or the following morning.”

St. Hugh’s was not the only college accused of employing this tactic. A Pembroke College student told Cherwell that his college did not turn on the heating in his room until three weeks into term (mid-to-late October). By this point, temperatures were already regularly falling below 5 degrees Celsius. 

Pay as you go

Another issue colleges must contend with is how much to charge students for heating. Most colleges solve this problem by adjusting the fixed total accommodation fees to reflect the cost of electricity and gas. 

According to one second-year student at Jesus College, however, the cost of heating at Jesus’ off-site accommodation is not factored into the fixed accommodation costs. Instead, students pay for the heating that they use during term. While this might seem like an efficient way to ensure that students use what they pay for and pay for what they use, in practice, it has the effect of incentivising less affluent students – who are looking to save money wherever possible – to freeze. One Jesus student affected by this policy told Cherwell: “My flatmates and I all winter have avoided turning the heating on because we know the energy prices are both expensive and opaque.”


He continued ironically: “Sometimes it is funny to wake up and see your breath condensing in a cloud of fog but I believe the experience overall has brought us together as friends and certainly saved us a few pound sterling.”

This policy of “pay-as-you-go” has attracted criticism similar to the criticism levelled against the policy of providing financial scholarships for high preliminary exam results. In both cases, detractors allege that the students who are the most well off and who thus require the least help are the ones who receive assistance, while the low-income students who are already at a disadvantage only fall further behind.

In response, some say that in the real world, people pay for heating on this basis. But others argue that at university, accommodation should be egalitarian, not differentiated based on ability or willingness to pay extra for utilities as essential as heating. 

This list of issues related to heating in student accommodation is by no means exhaustive. There were dozens of student complaints submitted to Cherwell, and they all deserve attention for which there is not sufficient space in this investigation. What should be clear is that with so many students suffering from lack of heating in their accommodation, we are in the winter of our discontent. And glorious summer won’t be here for a while.

A fresh(er’s) perspective on Michaelmas term

Mair Andrews
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A fresh(er’s) perspective on Michaelmas term

When I transitioned from GCSEs to A Levels, my mum and I created a mantra: “you have to float before you swim, otherwise you’ll sink”. It was a way for me to remember that I was learning, not just academically – but also personally. Sometimes, you have to let a new experience come at you like a tidal wave before you can try to interact with it, control it, and make the most of it. One of the first things I did after moving into my accommodation in Freshers’ Week was to write this little mantra on a post-it note and Sellotape it to the wall next to my bed.  

University life is completely alien to anything I have experienced before. You would expect the excitement of being an ‘Oxford Student’ to disappear – after all, everyone here got into Oxford. For me, it did not disappear exactly; it was buried. Everyone has their moments of being excited about being here, whether it is their first walk past the Rad Cam on the way to a lecture, or simply Matriculation, but no one says it aloud. The reality that I was attending Oxford University didn’t hit me until I was taking down my room decorations at the end of term; I was imagining what I would say to my friends from home about my first term, comparing it to their university experience.   

I visited a friend at Nottingham University – my second week, her third – and I was outraged.  She had not written a single essay while I had already written three, and we were both studying English. But still I felt like she had done so much more than me: her flat-mates made her social life look just as exciting  as the one she had at home, while I hadn’t formed a close circle of friends yet. It wasn’t until that visit that I realised how completely different Oxford is as a university experience, defined by its short terms, heavy workloads, and small class sizes.  

My social life was strange to begin with. Looking back at photos of Freshers’ Week and seeing the crowd of people I befriended on day one, whom I have not since spoken to, is hilarious. Leaving Atik early on a Wednesday night because “I’ve got to translate some riddles tomorrow!” is never something that I imagined people to accept without mockery, but being surrounded by like-minded people is not just a cliché from a personal statement: it’s something that has made university life feel like everything I wanted it to be.  

My approach to Michaelmas term was that it was a trial run for the rest of my university experience. I signed up to many societies at Freshers Fair so that I was on the mailing list but did not have any time to attend any meetings. I don’t regret that. Now, I’m walking into Hilary feeling like I know how to live independently and how to do my degree (more than I knew in October, at least). With Michaelmas completed, I know how much time my degree takes, and therefore how much time I have left to dedicate to societies and sports. 

Stage one of my mantra has been completed: I have learned how to ‘float’ and how to get by at university. As I am packing my suitcase for Hilary term, I am preparing to start stage two – ‘swimming’, and thriving. The new term coinciding with the new year works perfectly – after a break for reflection, I get to give it another shot. 

Bled dry: the financial plight of international students.

Alicia Martínez Patiño
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Bled dry: the financial plight of international students.

“Oxford is committed to ensuring that no one who is offered a place is unable to study here for financial reasons.” The financial anxieties of those browsing the Oxford University website will likely be soothed by such a reassuring message, highlighting the institution’s commitment to accessibility. The prospective international student may later be a bit confused by the Undergraduate Financial Guide, circulated across the different colleges at the beginning of the year. When advising students on how to assess financial struggles, the document simply asks: “Did you ensure that you would have sufficient funds to cover all costs before you came to Oxford?” If there was any hope of softening the financial blow of overseas tuition, it is surely long gone. 

Oxford is undoubtedly expensive. Whether from the UK or overseas, university in general is always an extra expense for all, in tuition and in living costs. It doesn’t help that, at £9,250 per year, UK higher education is among the most expensive in Europe (for its own home students!). Consequently, the satisfaction of getting accepted can be eclipsed by concerns about covering the costs. Financial anxieties are a reality for the vast majority of students; these worries are certainly not alleviated for international students, who must come to terms with the fact that the already daunting price of Oxford can be more than four times higher. Course fees for 2024 range from £33,050 to £48,620, and even the less expensive humanities degrees, like History or Law, remain at £38,550. 

On top of the significant fee increase, overseas applicants cannot access the state-funded UK student finance scheme, or even Oxford-specific bursaries. We have no general financial assessments or needs-based loan schemes. I remember studying for some of my last high school exams and procrastinating by using the scholarship search tool on the Oxford website. Unsurprisingly, the results came up blank every time. International students are limited to the very few private funds designed by individual alumni or external organisations that offer limited grants targeted to specific groups, like nationals of certain countries or particular degrees. If you don’t fall under the eligibility requirements, there is nothing else the University will do. The widest grant available is Reach Oxford, which includes a list of ‘low-income countries.’ Regardless, only around three of these grants are given each academic year, and the eligibility requirements automatically exclude many countries. 

Clearly, financial support for international students is less than ideal, and many resort to private loans (and possibly lifetime debt?). But, in the commendable effort of advocating for much-needed change, some arguments for financial support for international students make the mistake of disregarding the importance given to home students. Oxford University is a public institution, so a significant proportion of its funding comes from the state; more than £100 million a year come from the UK public sector just in research funds, per the University’s Financial Statements. Oxford is funded by taxpayers’ money, a demographic in which international students are not included. A university like Oxford, where excellence is possible precisely because of the British population’s financial contribution, must commit to ensuring the highest level of accessibility for home students. The support given to home students is still not perfect, and it is surely reasonable for UK universities to focus on access for UK students.

However, it seems nonsensical to accept that a University with an endowment of £1.7bn can only choose between one or the other. An institution that boasts about the large proportion of international students within its student population cannot afford to leave them to fend for themselves. If Oxford wants a shiny website advertising a “ready-made international community” and a commitment to making “significant contributions to society – locally, nationally and internationally”, then improving support for home students should not come at the cost of ignoring access issues for international students. 

From conversations with other international students, some of the frustration caused by the lack of resources has been inevitably directed back to our home countries. Oxford is a competitive university, and it’s easy to question why our governments won’t encourage us to get a good education and fund our degrees. But this is naïve: if your home country refuses to finance your Oxford degiree, it’s likely because it already has decent (or good, or excellent) public universities. A case may be made for STEM students, but what does an EU country like mine have to gain from my post-Brexit, English law degree? 

However, international students are not the only ones who benefit from studying here. At the end of the day, an overseas student is just like any other. Applicants receive offers based on their potential, regardless of origin. Presumably, any university will want to help the people it selects to actually be able to study there. Advertising a competitive admissions process would, in the same way, surely mean that there is interest in hosting those who succeed in it. 

It is also simply not accurate to say Oxford is only interested in international students for the high fees – before Brexit became effective, EU students paying home fees were still consistently being accepted. But even if this were true, I don’t think anyone expects international tuition fees to suddenly drop to £9,250. A general, needs-based student loan system for overseas students from any country would allow for some financial relief for students (without doing away with higher fees altogether).  

Additionally, diversity is beneficial to any university campus, a goal towards which support for overseas students is also key. As the University tries to fight its elitist reputation, it seems counterintuitive to restrict international entry only to those who are privileged enough to pay out of pocket while pushing any others towards substantial debt. 

Studying abroad is supposed to be a uniquely enriching experience, which Oxford prides itself on providing for international students. But, with a lack of financial support, the University simultaneously continues to cater this opportunity to a select few. The financial treatment of international students is both exploitative and hypocritical, especially coming from an institution that seems to milk its image as a global community. 

Wild swimming in Oxford: ready to take the plunge?

Reuben Meadows
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Wild swimming in Oxford: ready to take the plunge?

‘Wait, here in the river – the Isis?’ When I tell people I’ve just been out swimming this is usually the first question I hear. Assumptions of a gentle Iffley Sports Centre swim are soon broken and replaced by genuine concern. For most, jumping into the river is confined to a moment of fresher’s week craziness – a punting stroke gone wrong, or a drunken hurrah into the Cherwell. Come Trinity, some may venture into Hinksey’s welcoming waters. But in dreary Hilary? Well, that’s just insane.

But there’s something addictive about doing something crazy.

I’ve swam in lakes and rivers for as long as I can remember but began swimming in Oxford almost a year ago in Hilary. While less than affectionately known as Hellary, a trip to Port Meadow can be a  momentary respite from the library doom and gloom. It breaks up the endless rhythm of essays and tute sheets. You arrive early at Port Meadow. A morning chorus is building. Sunlight filters through the thin mist covering the fields. It feels like a  magical place, and a far cry from the High Street hustle and bustle. An escape. 

On entering the water, you’re shocked awake from the early-morning delirium in which you had convinced yourself this was a good idea. And it is a good idea – but perhaps the romanticised charm of these riverside pastures was a little too powerful. Too late now, you’re standing waist deep and committed to the plunge! Adrenaline is surging. You imagine yourself somewhere tropical (southern Spain perhaps?) until a duck floating past reminds you of the cold-water plunge you’re undertaking. It’s 6 degrees, 8 am and most of a reading list is waiting for you back home. But the shock of the water helps put things in perspective. 

It’s an increasingly popular Oxford pursuit, and I’m glad to see more and more people heading out into the city’s watery back garden. Port Meadow offers the chance to take a break from the internet frenzy – although I wouldn’t blame you for sharing your open-water bravery with all your friends online! It’s too good to keep a secret. And it’s a great chance to make some like-minded friends: whilst sharing a moment of numb glee, I have met some of the most open people along the Isis. 

If you’re not ready to brave the winter swims, you can wait till Trinity to try Hinksey: a not-so-secret paradise. It’s now a well-known summer term destination. Oxford’s Miami Beach draws in crowds of students during some of the year’s hottest days, filling the grassy banks with the sounds of laughter, and the splash of an occasional tumble from the pontoon. Located on Abingdon Road, it might be a bit of a walk, but it’s worth it. Once a former gravel pit for the railway, natural springs have transformed the site into an Oxford oasis. You may see a red-crested pochard, or perhaps a lesser-spotted Engineering student.

If I’ve convinced you to give it a go, but you’re not sure where to start, Oxford University’s very own wild swimming society offers a great outdoor community and a safe way to start out. One of the most popular events is an 11 am swim on Saturday followed by brunch at St. Anne’s College. Truly unmissable – the hash browns (and company) are to die for.

For me, swimming in Oxford offers a chance to leave behind the stress of the Radcam rat race. While it certainly isn’t a cure-all, I have found it helps me balance my student life. Not to mention, it’s a fun way to surprise people. Standing on a silty bank of the river Thames as a cool rain begins to fall, I do sometimes question what I’ve got myself into. But I couldn’t go back. Whether you join us for an early Hilary dip or wait for a sunny afternoon in Trinity, do give it a go while you’re in Oxford – it would be great to see as many people as possible get out and enjoy Oxford’s amazing scenery. 

‘Home is where the heart is.’

Disha Hegde
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‘Home is where the heart is.’

The Michaelmas vac is a strange part of the Oxford calendar. For freshers, it is the first time they will be making the return home – having to stuff overpacked suitcases and newly purchased stash into their car after just eight weeks here. Some return to tiny villages, others to big cities and others remain in Oxford. Others spend a couple of weeks on the slopes of Val D’Isere. Very few of us, however, are as lucky as I am to be returning to the land of Milton Keynes…

Going back can be a challenge. The student returns to a familiar land, but everything feels different. I just started getting used to being in Oxford again and suddenly it’s time to move back. No longer are my weeks filled with hours at the Rad Cam, spontaneous Swan and Castle trips or Bridge Thursdays. Rather, I return home to find my younger sister has raided my clothes and makeup, and is somehow taller than me (although at 5’ 2, I have no right to act surprised…). While I was busy in the Oxford bubble, the familiar parts of my hometown have also grown in their own ways (like the number of roundabouts for example).

In my opinion, a good vacation should always feature copious amounts of sleep. Even if your tutors may have fed you the age-old line of ‘a vacation is just when you vacate Oxford and continue to work elsewhere’, it is important to take a proper break and to help yourself recover after the trauma of an Oxford term. The lack of impending deadlines is an exhilarating feeling and the threat of collections is not quite enough to destroy that feeling either. I like my recovery days to be punctuated by long naps, mum’s cooking and Netflix’s ‘Are you still watching?’. Although I found this term that Oxford managed to creep its way onto my screen regardless; thank you Saltburn and Wonka. 

At some point, the time for the vacation staple arises – the big termly catch up with home friends. This consists of life updates and embarrassing ‘remember when’s’ and before long all the time apart seems to just melt away. It feels like nothing has changed yet at the same time it feels like everything has. I catch myself accidentally letting words like ‘Michaelmas’, ‘Hilary’, or ‘rustication’ slip and have to make sure not to use the word ‘Oxford’ too much in conversation for fear of sounding absolutely insufferable. One of my friends has developed a Scottish twang in her accent (studying in Edinburgh), another has spent two years in the real world working after deciding not to go to University. There is a bittersweet feeling as I remember how we have all grown as people but also how much our lives have grown apart over the last two years. People are starting to think about jobs and where they might want to settle down in the future. Others are taking the ‘go with the flow approach’. It all feels as though it is moving a bit too fast. 

I often grapple with a persistent feeling of guilt about not staying in touch with home friends in the way I feel I should have. And yet, every year I also feel a sense of guilt for letting those earlier Oxford friendships wane. Throughout my time at Oxford, I have grown so much as a person that coming home almost feels like a bit of a culture shock – even though I live only an hour’s drive away.

It can feel like a bit of a conflict – the home where I grew up now feels like a waiting room before I get back to my ‘real life’ at Oxford. It’s been months, and soon it will be years since I walked down paths I used to take daily. But regardless of where ‘home’ is, or where it becomes throughout my life, there is no feeling quite like returning to the place you were made.

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