Tuesday 5th August 2025
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Live Review: The Fratellis at the O2 Academy

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I can pinpoint the moment I fell in love with live music to the moment Jon Fratelli struck the first chord of ‘Chelsea Dagger’. It was my very first gig, aged 13 and I couldn’t have loved it any more. I came out afterwards dripping with beer (hopefully) and enormously happy. The atmosphere had been raw and energetic; completely infectious. My first gig sparked off endless nights at every venue I could find seeing any band I vaguely recognised.

This time it couldn’t have been more different. Nine years have passed since the band released their exceedingly popular Costello Music, which drew in fans with its addictive raucousness and intriguing coarseness. Their latest album, Eyes Wide Tongue Tied, is far more mature. There are hints of country and even a ballad or two, which the front few rows of the crowd belt out just as riotously as ‘Henrietta’.

This change in tone was reflected in the atmosphere of the gig. There was no sign of the mosh pit I had so fondly remembered and the average age had increased from 20 to 40. Jon’s mop of crazy, curly hair had been tamed and a cocked hat covered the majority of his more angular face. There were plenty of early-twenty-somethings like me living out their teenage rock dreams, but just as many middle aged men slowly bobbing at the back. Their voices and music were however more than recognisable. ‘Whistle For The Choir’ was crooned just as effectively and ‘Vince the Loveable Stoner’ drew just as much admiration. However, it is clear that the band is trying to move away from their debut. The focus was very much on their new material, with them even choosing to end the night with a relatively unknown track, demoting the infamous ‘Chelsea’ to languish in the penultimate spot. The American influence on these Scottish lads is still very clear, although it now tends to seep through in elements of Americana that sound more like country than rock and roll, particularly in new tracks like ‘Too Much Wine’. The live performance of their new material (apart from tracks off We Need Medicine, leave those well alone) convinced me that songs like ‘Me and the Devil’ were genuine developments from the recognisable sound of Costello Music.

Perhaps my 13-year-old gig-virgin self simply saw this in an entirely different light to a 21-yearold with 50-odd gigs under her belt. Perhaps these three brothers have actually matured eight years down the line and after their brief hiatus.

In some ways, this is pretty comforting; I’m not the only one who has got older in the last eight years. The Fratellis are growing with their audience; an effective way to avoid the tendency to become a noughties one-hit wonder.

Review: One Direction – Made in the A.M.

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★★★☆☆

 Three Stars

 

It is safe to say that One Direction has never been a cool or edgy band to like. The disdain and scepticism I have been met with when admitting to liking the band is, quite frankly, tiring, and the arrival of their new album, Made in the A.M., only proves that everyone is being a bit silly. The album is well written, well-produced and the perfect thing to leave fans with as they go on a nearly two-year long break. I would sit up, take notice and give it a serious listen.

Made in the A.M. is a formidable work. ‘A.M.’, the somewhat-eponymous track, plays on the theme established in previous hit singles ‘Up All Night’ and ‘Midnight Memories’, of partying through the night. The change in direction (pun intended) of the band, however, can be seen even here: ‘A.M.’, despite playing off previously established themes, is much more mellow and laidback compared to rocky ‘Midnight Memories’, and poppy, energetic ‘Up All Night’. Other tracks on the new album fit into this theme, with ‘Never Enough’ and ‘Temporary Fix’ echoing previous tracks like ‘No Control’ with a playful sound, but even this is more measured and mature. The more upbeat tracks contrast nicely with ‘Infinity’ and ‘If I Could Fly’, both of which have rather long build-ups , which create a rather mature emotional narrative. Overall, then, a strong set of tracks that deserves to be taken seriously.

The band, in its progression onto newer and better things, is starting to be taken seriously, evidenced by their performance on the BBC Radio 1 Live Lounge this week. Creatively, the departure of Zayn Malik hasn’t created a large hole in the group. Does this suggest that the band is merely the product of a well-oiled publicity machine? Or are the boys just capable of moving on and creating a decent sound without his often-unbelievable vocal range?

And what of their upcoming break? Many were shocked, some anguished, at the announcement that One Direction would be taking a break from now until March 2017. The album seems to be a way for the band to wave farewell: the fan contribution to the chorus of ‘History’ seems to be a final thanks, while ‘I Want to Write You a Song’ says a definite goodbye. There does, however, seem to be hope for the future: lines like “we could make some more [music]” are future-facing, giving us grieving fans a light at the end of the tunnel that this is hiatus. Ultimately, though, this album only goes to prove my point that we need to sit up and take notice of One Direction, but not as an insignificant, manufactured band. They have established themselves as talented and sound performers, with self-propelled creative direction. No one is above listening to One Direction.

Interview: Lucy Rose at the O2 Academy

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When Lucy Rose arrives for our interview, she’s fresh off stage from a “stressful” sound check with her band. Having listened in, it seemed that Rose’s intricate, indie-folk sound was firmly intact and as potent as ever. Trialling some material yet to be debuted live, including ‘My Life’, Rose and her band possessed an element of nervousness as they rehearsed, approaching the tracks with a gentle touch, juxtaposed with the intense, beautiful set they would later deliver.

Over halfway through her current UK tour, Rose explains, “It’s been really good. Long…it’s very exciting to get on the road and play music again”. Maintaining a presence on the touring circuit is of upmost importance to Rose, whose modesty is endearing. “All these people in Oxford just found out about us and they’re coming to our shows!” It’s no surprise, however, that Rose’s popularity has reached such exciting levels given that her recent album, Work It Out, reached the Top 10 in the UK charts. “I’m really thrilled with it,” she says, “I don’t really know what it means. The charts are a weird thing. It seems to be fluctuating from week to week, but everyone is obsessed with it. I think I probably sold as many of my first record as the second one and that went Top 15 just because of the charts’ competition each week.”

We begin chatting about the changing nature of the music industry, spotting an edition of the new free NME on the desk. Rose views such developments as “really positive things. But on a side note, more important things are actually if your music’s had a proper connection with people. And if they do buy your record and they do support you by listening to it and coming to gigs, it just means that you get to make another one, hopefully.” I ask whether the new direction taken in her new album was done consciously. “Every interview asks me why this second album sounds so different and I come up with a different reason every time…to be honest I was probably just a bit bored with the acoustic guitar! I’ve been playing it for ten years and I literally just saved up some money and bought a piano and an electric guitar and I had to write on the road. That forced me to try beat makers, and applications that I just hadn’t used on the first record.”

The impression I get is that Rose’s creative process is often a solitary experience. She explains, “I’ve written everything on my own. There are lots of solo artists – especially female solo artists – that get pushed into doing co-writes. I kind of wanted just to prove that females can write their own records, so I was very anti-co-writing for that reason.” She continues, when I mention recent accounts of sexism in the music industry, that, “I do feel like there’s a lot of image-based conversation that happens, which frustrates me greatly. The more appealing you look as a product, the more people are gonna buy into you. I want exposure, but at the same time, if the only exposure I can get is through posters – which are based on the way I look – it’s hard because a picture has to describe the whole of me as an artist and that’s very difficult.”

It becomes clear during the gig that catching her live is the most enticing way to get to know Rose as an artist. She is softly-spoken, yet delivers immense musical gravity as she runs through her set. Opening with quirky ‘Cover Up’ and fan favourite ‘Lines’, Rose and her band are precise from the off. The set is interweaved with her personal album favourites, incorporating the emotional ‘Nebraska’, and ‘She’ll Move’; those tracks “with slightly more depth than the singles we’ve put out”. Stepping out from the acoustic based sound of her first album, the tempo for the night is consistent and indulgent. With near-spotless vocals, Rose has the audience encapsulated by recently released ‘Like an Arrow’. The songs of Work It Out are tinged with the vulnerability that dominates early tracks like ‘Shiver’, garnering strident applause. The triumphs of Lucy Rose’s artistry include her astounding capacity to stun audiences into silence as she plays. A true master of her instruments, she commands attention from centre stage, switching between acoustic and electric guitars, barely leaving the audience a chance to catch its breath as punchier tracks like ‘Middle of the Bed’ and ‘Köln’ feature next. “I enjoy playing music,” Lucy tells me. It is a fact evident as a sincere smile graces her face during encore track ‘Red Face’. Her band tear into it, drums heavy, guitar parts intricate, vocals extraordinary. The night is overpowering in its authenticity, the sentiment of her music dominating the set. The dedication of Rose and her band to truly connecting with their audiences is left in no doubt. So, what does music mean to Lucy Rose? “It’s like a drug, it’s this gamble that you’re always taking and it’s just addictive. There’s something that’s soothing to the soul, playing music.”

Review: Oneohtrix Point Never — Garden of Delete

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★★★★☆

 Four Stars

Garden of Delete is the latest offering from prolific experimental musician Daniel Lopatin and – while the Oneohtrix Point Never style is still clear in his latest work – that doesn’t mean it’s an easy listen.

It tells the story of Ezra – a story that Lopatin has embellished online through Twitter, videos, and various blogs – a humanoid alien. The album itself is a lot like Ezra – mysterious, slightly off-putting, and yet hugely compelling. After the schizophrenic ‘Intro’, we are launched into a track named for the curious hero. ‘Ezra’ is both familiar footing for existing fans of Oneohtrix Point Never and also a perfect introduction to his work to those unfamiliar. The stop-start, glitchy, introductory notes are blurred into the frantic synth of the body of the track by way of a reverb-heavy guitar. It’s impossible to settle into listening to Garden of Despair – there’s something very uneasy about the sounds Lopatin creates, and the abrupt shifts in style keep you on your toes.

‘Sticky Drama’ stands out in this regard – the track starts out calm, with the chiming synths reminiscent of rain, but almost immediately Lopatin’s echoing synths sweep the calm away, replacing it with booming basslines (riffing, he says, on the tropes of EDM he’s picked up on tour), interspersed with death metal drumming and guttural screams.

Garden of Delete is dystopic, manic, and above all else – raw. Each new element Lopatin introduces seems aimed to throw the listener off, and yet the individual dissonance forms an album that is holistically enthralling.

Why we need to talk about your vagina

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When I sat down to write this article I thought I was well-equipped to confabulate on the topic up for discussion. I am in possession of a vagina. I have actually had a vagina for my whole life. I am fairly sure I know how it works. I think I use it an average amount for someone my age (this is proving quite difficult to empirically confirm).

But, sitting blankly in front of an equally blank Microsoft Word document, I swiftly realised I do not know as much about my vagina as I originally presumed. You see, when we meet people, our first impression of them is how they look. This kind of introduction is denied to women when it comes to our own vaginas. My impression of my vagina is massively inhibited by the fact that it’s inconveniently placed between my thighs. I am pretty inflexible – and I’m fairly certain it’s physically impossible to get your head that far between your legs – so I would have to go to the effort of getting a hand-held mirror to create the conditions for a proper inspection. But I’m also pretty lazy, so that’s not a viable option. Thus, I have never looked my vagina in the eye. The closest I’ve ever got to an eyeful of vagina is the odd cursory glance in any given chrome-plated bathroom accessory that happens to be below hip-height. In fact, I think there might be boys in the world who are better acquainted with my vagina than I am.

Part of this, as I say, is to do with physical positioning. Men might know their penises intimately because – well, they’re just there, aren’t they? Just sort of hanging there, like a weird flaccid windsock on a still day. They’re difficult to ignore. Vaginas, on the other hand, are tucked neatly away, private and internal. Out of sight; out of mind. A school kid will doodle male genitalia all over their friend’s notebook if said friend is looking the other way – doodles so anatomically detailed they include bollocks, shaft, prickly pubes, and a neatly penned dotted line of ejaculate protruding from the head (I say ‘school kids’; in fact this happened to me just the other day in a tutorial. My tute partner managed to draw a dick on my essay when I wasn’t looking. Which is strangely impressive, in its own way. Tutor unimpressed, though).

Yet I’ve never seen the same kind of doodle of a vagina. In fact, in July, BuzzFeed posted a video on their Youtube channel entitled ‘Do You Know What Your Vagina Looks Like?’ In the video, a portrait artist drew pictures of six different women’s vaginas, and each woman had to guess which drawing related to their vagina. Yes, it was an entertaining three minutes and 41 seconds of BuzzFeed’s finest video journalism, but it also highlighted how unused to talking about their vaginas women are.

Likening a vagina to “a very healthy raisin”, or “like two string cheeses” is comedy gold, but the statement from a woman who said “I feel embarrassed that I don’t know as much about myself as I feel I should”, and the words of another who said “I’ve never looked at my vagina”, hint at an underlying reluctance to discuss female genitalia – a reluctance which does not present itself in teenagers doodling dicks on notebooks. Of course, it’s fantastic that BuzzFeed are producing such videos, but when they do they are a novelty and have a certain shock factor. The narrative is still that we struggle to talk about our vaginas because they are awkward and weird and occasionally secrete blood and resemble dried fruit.

The answer to the question, “do you know what your vagina looks like?” is often a resounding “no”. But I think this issue of being acquainted with our own vaginas goes deeper (pun unintended, I promise) than their anatomical positioning, their drawability, and the limitations of language in describing them. The crux of it is that we’re not really taught about vaginas at all. I find myself questioning what my sex education was like at school. The answer: minimal. Frankly, shit. Incomprehensive and incomprehensible. I distinctly remember sex-ed involved a cartoon in which two tadpole-esque creatures intertwined themselves, created an indeterminately shaped mass of pixels on the screen, and had a baby one and a half minutes later, after a whistle-stop tour of a fallopian tube system which, to my disorientated eleven year-old brain, looked more like a sheep’s face than a uterus (a ewe-terus, if you will).

The more serious side of this is that, in light of substandard sex education, young people – children or preenagers – are more likely to turn to pornography to ‘educate’ themselves (I put ‘educate’ in inverted commas because this is not much of an education). It is thought that more than half of boys and nearly a third of girls see their first pornographic images before they turn 13. I don’t want to be a fearmongerer lamenting the state of ‘impressionable youths’, but it is frightening to think that a generation of young people might grow up believing that vaginas are naturally prepubescently hairless and surgically enhanced. That a generation of girls might grow up comparing their vaginas to the nip-tucked labia of professional pornstars. That a generation of boys might grow up seeing the vagina as a vessel for a phallus rather than the doorway through which they entered the world.

Which is why I say to those of us who have been denied a comprehensive education in sex, which stretches beyond the ins-and-outs, the birds-and-the-bees: it’s time to embrace the vagina. To take the vagina into our own hands. You don’t have to channel Carolee Schneemann and slowly extract a paper scroll from your vagina à la ‘Interior Scroll’. You don’t even have to go down the figurative Georgia O’Keeffe route and paint a vagina flowering like the centre of an iris. Only do not neglect it in its shadowy depths. Accept it for all its ingrown hairs and wobbly bits. Excuse me while I limber up, find the nearest mirror, strip off my underwear, and have a gander. After all, you should know your body better than anybody else does.

Milestones: Rokudenashiko’s ‘Pussy Boat’

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Japanese sculptor and conceptual artist Megumi Igarashi was first catapulted to international attention in the summer of 2013, when news of her arrest went viral across the world. Igarashi had been detained by police under suspicion that she had broken Japanese obscenity laws. Her apparent crime? Sharing a 3D-scan of her vagina with around thirty crowdfunders, who had chipped in to assist Igarashi in realising her artistic vision. The result? A quick sojourn in Tokyo’s Tama River in her 3D printed ‘Pussy Boat’ – a canoe created from this scan of her vagina. Unfortunately, this righteous freedom paddle led her into the long arm of the Japanese law.

Igarashi, who operates under the pseudonym Rokudenashiko which translates from the Japanese as “good-for-nothing girl,” has a body of work (ahem) in which recreations of her vagina are constantly reworked, decorated and made available for public display. From dioramas to lampshades and even iPhone covers, figurines and art work, Rokudenashiko is fascinated by taking something so private and, in Japanese culture, repressed and making it available for public consumption. Her utilisation of a Takashi Murakami-inspired super flat aesthetic, which pays recourse to the pop cultural forms of anime and manga fits within her stated M.O. – “I wanted to make Pussy more casual and Pop” she has ambitiously declared.

Though likely to raise an amused laugh here in the UK – where the story being picked up served mostly as reenforcement of the apparent ‘bizarreness’ of much of Japanese culture – Rokudenashiko is fighting a very serious fight. Japan’s pornography laws permit surprising, and frankly disturbing, types of content, but recently progress has been made, particularly with last year’s banning of child pornography (though this was passed into law with a caveat allowing the continued distribution of anime and manga featuring children). But what the country’s obscenity laws seem primarily fixated upon are genitals themselves. Whether pixillated in pornography, or repressed by the police when their architectural coordinates are emailed out, Japanese law apparently does not want anyone seeing a grown woman’s reproductive parts, a fact which Rokudenashiko intends to set right. Her desire to display her vagina is a statement of demystification, and of support to other women who may have experienced the alienation and anxiety that she did regarding the normalcy of her genitalia. Now she offers monthly workshops to other women looking to immortalise their private parts in pastoral scenes.

The treatment of Rokudenashiko has often been contrasted with Kawasaki Prefecture’s officially sanctioned annual Kanamara Matsuri festival, which celebrates a gigantic dick shrine where sex workers would pray for protection from STDs. The annual festival is able to fully capitalise on its infamous sculpture, with merchants crowding the streets to hawk phallic lollies, cock-shaped candles, and most terrifyingly of all, Groucho Glasses with pink knobs flopping about where, by all notions of common decency, the nose should be. Rokudenashiko shares this festival’s sense of joy in the public act of taboo busting. After all, this is a women who created a diorama of the Fukushima nuclear plant collapsing into her vagina. She’s truly at the edges of the vagant-garde

With the legal case still pending, and the boat in question sequestered inside Tokyo’s Shinjuku Ganka Gallery, Rokudenashiko has moved towards illustration and painting, but still focussing on themes of women’s issues in a country where she feels they are too often ignored. But for a woman whose work is so interested in representing one particular part of her anatomy, it’s surprisingly our hearts that she’s really managed to capture.

Challenging architecture’s phallocentrism

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Chicago is a city proud of its architecture. And rightly so: Chicago’s skyline is stunning; not as expansive as New York’s but contained within a smaller area, it boasts a vertiginously beautiful cityscape, one that gives us a sense of an ongoing dialogue between different architectural movements and periods, where Mies van der Rohe’s striking monoliths stare down the neo-Gothic Tribune Tower across the river. Indeed, Chicago offers us something of a potted history of modern architecture. In 1871, the Great Chicago Fire levelled much of the city, and as disastrous as it was for the place and its people (many of whom were killed or displaced in the tragedy), a huge rebuilding project meant Chicago would rise from the ashes a thoroughly modern city, ready for the twentieth century. In 1885, the first steel-framed high-rise building was erected in Chicago – a major leap in engineering which would usher in the new era of the skyscraper. Today it boasts some spectacular features to its skyline, including of course the Willis Tower, one of the tallest buildings in the world, as well as some impressive recent examples of postmodern design.

But there’s one building in Chicago I really want to talk about. In amongst the glistening glass-and-steel spires of the city, breaking up the architectural homogeny of phallic erections, the Crain Communications Building somehow seems different. There’s something about its slanted, diamond-shaped roof with a slit down the middle that stands out from the blunt objects that surround it. As I stood staring up at it from the nearby Millennium Park this last summer, suddenly it clicked. “Hey, you’re right – it does kinda look like a vagina!”

So how does an architectural work get a nickname like ‘the vagina building’? Well, the answer is pretty straightforward: it’s not the most faithful anatomical representation, but the Crain Communications Building does, on a symbolic, figurative level, resemble a vagina. The building’s apocryphal origin story is that the architect was a feminist who wanted to comment on the phallocentricity of architectural practice by breaking away from the monadic, towering forms skyscrapers normally take on. With the divided form on the top level of the building, the imagined architect was giving architectural space to the female form in Chicago’s skyline and evoking Luce Irigaray’s championing of the multiple and boundless female body: the vagina that is both divided and whole, the two labia always in contact with each other and themselves.

Unfortunately, this was all too good to be true. The architect was actually Sheldon Schlegman – a man – who was apparently blissfully unaware of how much his building looks like a fanny. And yet, the name has stuck – the Crain Communications Building will forever be called ‘the vagina building’ by the people of Illinois. But what are we to make of the resemblance? Was Schlegman really so oblivious? Was it some unconscious driver that made him unwittingly find inspiration in the female genitalia?

There is a long history of the relationship between architecture and the human form. Vitruvius, the first-century-BC Roman architect and engineer, explicitly conceptualised what he believed to be the links between architecture and the human form – largely speaking, this was just a matter of the proportions in a building reflecting the proportions of the human, specifically male, form. If there is something male about the external body of upward-projecting buildings, perhaps feminine architectural space was to be found on the inside – in the rooms and corridors of our buildings. In her foreword for The Vagina Monologues, Gloria Steinem pointed out the feminised design of patriarchal places of worship. In churches, for instance, “there is an outer and inner entrance, labia majora and labia minora; a central vaginal aisle toward the altar; two curved ovarian structures on either side; and then in the sacred center, the altar or womb, where the miracle takes place – where males give birth.”

But as the Crain Communications Building demonstrates, it is possible to create an external feminine architecture that doesn’t just reflect a tired Freudian notion of recession to the womb. Most recently, Zaha Hadid’s designs for a yonic new stadium for the Qatar World Cup 2022’s immediately earned it the epithet the ‘vagina stadium’. Hadid has also dismissed the comparison. Intentionality, however, isn’t the point. Whether they meant it or not, it is important that contemporary architecture is breaking up the prevalent phallocentricism of our urban spaces, and hence challenging the insidious ideology of the patriarchy that inheres in the literal fabric of our societies. Our architecture, the spaces we live in, shape our lives in a quite literal way, but also in deeply symbolic ones. Standing in Millennium Park in Chicago, looking up at the yonic tower draped in sunlight, seen by thousands of people every day, I guess it is what it looks like.

OUSU election: why are Oxford students so disaffected?

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From the outset, I will make one thing clear: I voted in every OUSU election for every position for which I was eligible to vote because, unlike Russell Brand (at least when it suits him), I believe in the importance of voting. It appears to be the only thing we can do to exert any influence – however small – on the future of OUSU. And yet, I completely understand why students might not choose to vote: the fact that the vast majority of candidates usually come from a narrow ideological hegemony that can’t possibly represent the views of the average student; the fact that OUSU often seems irrelevant; and that the voice of the ordinary student after election time seems minimal to non-existent strike me as possible reasons, for example. None of these are answered by dismissively telling people to ‘just engage’ and casting aside those who don’t.

Firstly, we cannot escape from the fact that OUSU Council’s democratic credentials are dubious at best. No matter how much you bother to engage with it, you don’t have a vote unless you are a rep, so the obvious question appears: why bother turning up? The argument that turning up might manage to convince reps to vote a certain way obviously has some appeal, perhaps borne out by OUSU Council’s rejection of a ‘no platform for fascists’ policy. But given the overwhelming majority with which a motion not only condemning Le Pen’s visit to the Union but absurdly mandating that the OUSU President canvas every single student in Oxford to join the mob outside passed, I think it’s forgivable to wonder whether the former was simply an outlier.

The suggestion that this problem will be resolved by lobbying OUSU reps strikes me as disingenuous; ultimately (in my old JCR, anyway) the final decision rests with the OUSU reps themselves unless they are mandated to vote a certain way, and it is certainly not a satisfactory response to tell us to mandate our reps on every motion. For a start, have the people who would respond in such a way ever considered that maybe students don’t want their JCRs to be openly political, and would rather use their JCR meetings to discuss whether to fund a magazine or event; or buy new assets for the JCR; or hust for non-executive positions over some pizza in a friendly atmosphere rather than be forced to turn their JCRs into contentious political battlegrounds in the name of controlling OUSU’s political ravings?

Ultimately, this points us to what I see as the root of the problem: that OUSU believes it is entitled to have party-political opinions at all and claims a right not even claimed by elected governments, namely to speak for us – to own the thoughts in our brains, the air in our lungs and the tongues in our mouths. When OUSU steps beyond representing the interests of students to the University on student issues – such as welfare support, academic feedback, contact hours and support for rusticated students, among other commendable things – and claims that it has the authority to speak for us in the party-political arena despite the plurality of experiences and opinions in Oxford, it quickly abandons its credibility and holds itself out as a vanity project whereby ‘student leaders’ can claim that their opinions represent far more people’s than they do.

This problem is only borne out by the kind of candidates many positions traditionally attract, the vast majority of whom are unashamedly left-wing or far-left, with very little room for right-wing, or even centrist ideas, a picture which certainly holds true in the NUS to which we remain affiliated. This perpetuates a vicious cycle: far-left candidates tend to dominate positions; said candidates then use their positions to enunciate their political opinions, in all of our names, on any issue into which they can get a word; said statements fuel the impression nationally that all students think this way; and as a result centrist and right-wing students feel that next year’s election is inaccessible, and don’t stand. And so the cycle continues.

The election of a ‘joke’ candidate to President in MT13, seemingly followed by business as usual from everyone else, only reinforces the impression that reform from the inside is doomed from the start which is why criticism of OUSU from those outside the OUSU bubble is so important . OUSU doesn’t stop claiming to represent you because you don’t attend Council . When OUSU sabs represent their politics as speaking for others through their positions, we must reserve the right to disavow such a representation. When disaffiliated Colleges do not get their votes back from OUSU, we must reserve the right to remind it that it has no claim to speak for those Colleges.

Life in the echo chamber is always more comfortable than the realisation that your position demands you also serve the interests of those outside it. Until such a realisation takes place, OUSU remains open to criticism from all those in whose names it claims to speak.

The OxStew: Time to vote RON

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As Chomsky told us in his great work Media Control: The Spectacular Achievements of Propaganda (2008), the media can convince you to believe anything. And because all student journalists are power-obsessed and all-round evil people, rather than the ordinary students struggling to complete their degrees that they pretend to be, we are going to convince you to vote for RON.

This newspaper has always considered itself a voice for the voiceless, and that is why we have chosen to speak up for the only candidate that no one is speaking for. RON is not just a nice guy. He represents the ability to be OUSU President in all of us (quite literally).

Students have for decades found RON excessively funny – especially since we got to know him personally in all EIGHT Harry Potter films. And yet we haven’t voted for him. We have also refused to admit to ourselves that the only reason we find an acronym which sounds like a name funny is because student elections are so boring.

And aren’t these current elections even more boring than usual? The only position candidates seem to have taken on any issue is “we like nice things”. In fact, we at The OxStew have decided this is the election that almost no one is talking about. So much so that whenever the student press talks about it, it is only really talking to itself (meta).

This election has been dull even compared to those held two years ago (because let’s be honest, last year was pretty boring too). In that election we had a candidate who stole someone else’s website and offered an OUSU petting zoo as the solution to all our welfare needs. We also had a candidate so obscure a certain student publication could not be bothered even to spell their name. We are of course referring to the unstoppable #Jane4Chang slate. Few thought that Jane could provide us with the chang we need. So when Trup offered us change, we took that instead. But two years later we’ve noticed that every candidate offers change, while very few offer chang. And in retrospect it has become clear that we should have taken chang while it was on the table.

The problem isn’t the candidates, who are all charmingly inoffensive, it is the quality of debate and what happens to them when they are elected. OUSU make voting in their elections less appealing every year by adding more and more positions that no one wants to run for. Dare to vote this year and you will even be attacked by a chain of spam emails.

The truth is that OUSU is an organisation which displays bureaucratic tendencies of the worst kind – whether it is allegedly spending £40 per person on sending people to a Free Education demo, when an Oxford Tube ticket is £14, or spending £1,222 on an event that eight people attended. Never has an annual income of nearly £1 million been spent on so little. After all, imagine what your Common Room could do with £1 million? And that is the only joke in our satire column this week.

Debate: keep calm and carry on in response to terror?

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Yes – Freddie Hopkinson

Last Friday’s attacks on Paris represented an attack on our way of life. This year has been marked by major atrocities in France, Kenya and on British tourists in Tunisia, not to mention the chaos that has unfolded across the Middle East. The changes that have seen the rise of Islamic State (IS) across North Africa and the Middle East have spawned a new wave of terrorist attacks – attacks that aim to bring their seemingly distant conflict to our doorsteps. By mercilessly targeting civilians, groups like IS and Al-Shabaab want to polarise our response to current events. Through terror, these groups intend to dehumanise the conflict and to make us respond as unreasonably as they have. Our attackers want to make us feel and behave like we are afraid: we must not let them get their way.

The tragic loss of 129 innocent people in Paris on Friday must be understood from a global perspective. Whether in the 10th arrondissement, or a Kenyan university, an assault of this kind represents an attack on one of the things that we in the West have come to value most; the democratic public space. Our communities work on the basis that we believe that we will be safe when we go out to the shops, to a restaurant, a rock concert, or a political meeting. Our democracies have been built on an understanding that public space matters and that we should not have to live in fear of lawlessness. It was natural for us to revile the horrors of last Friday night not only because of their brutality, but because of their expressed intent. The young people that committed these crimes did them wanting to break our wider faith in our public spaces. If we respond to them by abandoning, or increasing the government management of these spaces, we will be letting the extremists have their way. If fear of attack drives us from our squares, railway stations and universities, we will be accepting the terrorists’ agenda.

No doubt, one of the biggest political winners from France’s tragedy will be the hard right Front National. Only last academic year, we here in Oxford were unfortunate enough to host Marine Le Pen and her rhetoric of senseless Islamophobia. There is a real danger that the exposure to such extremism as we have seen over the last few years will poison our previously tolerant multiculturalism. Whether it is through our approach to Syrian refugees, or our interaction with our own predominantly moderate Islamic community, there are already signs that some people’s patience is beginning to be eroded.

In my opinion, one of the best things Western Europe has begun to achieve since the end of the Second World War has been a consensus that we can gain from a truly tolerant society. If the attacks that have occurred across the Western world since 9/11 have done anything to break down this consensus, I believe that we have truly lost out. Indeed, true defiance of the sectarianism of our harassers should mean a heightened effort to get to know and to tolerate our neighbours. Just like the Australian response to the Sydney coffee house siege of last December, the strongest message we can send to the people that perpetrated these crimes is our support for continued tolerance, integration and cooperation. We should not dignify our attackers with the pleasure of seeing decades of hard work and social process undone at the pull of a trigger.

In the short term, part of the fallout from Friday’s attack has been renewed calls for intensified involvement in Iraq and Syria. President Hollande has vowed that France will destroy IS, sending the Charles De Gaulle aircraft carrier to the Eastern Mediterranean to provide a much larger base for the French aerial bombardment of IS. Yet, even here there is a real danger that we will overreact. Part of the reason why Britain and other countries have been so reluctant to follow the US air force into Syria is that it is unclear how positive an impact our intervention can have. In part, these attacks need to be understood as an invitation from IS to step up our involvement in the Middle East. The extremists want us to fall headlong into the conflict in Syria and Iraq because, on the ground, it will be the biggest propaganda coup they could hope for. In response to continued terrorist attacks, we need to maintain what so far has been a cautious foreign policy. On their domestic front, we should be careful not to privilege IS any more than we already have with the image of freedom fighters defying interventionist Western forces.

Ultimately, drawing from our British experience of terrorism, we need to encourage others to carry on as usual. One of the more amazing images that I can still remember from the 7/7 bombings in London was that, the next day, London commuters were seen taking the Tube to work as if nothing had changed. Despite the emotional turmoil wrecked by the events of the previous day, Londoners reclaimed their public transport system from the memory of their attackers. By carrying on as normal, ordinary people defied the fundamentalists. No grand statement, or policy change carried such a charged message as the resilience of the population. What had started as an anti-democratic assault on British foreign policy was quickly overridden by a collective statement of people power. Londoners did not forget the terror attacks, but, by keeping on as before, they began to forgive them. In the rest of the world, as we saw in London, we can only hope that people are strong enough to respond in a similar way this time around.

 

No – Harry Gosling

People, cities, countries have a remarkable ability to bounce back. Parisians, Paris, France as a whole will recover from this latest atrocity and life will quickly return to normal. In many ways this is an inherently good thing – terrorist organisations thrive off the spread of fear. The West must not cower but stand up to this vicious affront on its values.

Yet herein lies the problem. Once life returns to normal, once media coverage subsides, and once people begin to carry on with their every-day business, it becomes easy to forget Islamic State (IS). It becomes easy to regard it as a distant problem and to underestimate the threat that it poses not only to the West but to citizens in Iraq, Syria, and other parts of the Middle East.

In the past, the ‘keep calm and carry on’ attitude has been the correct response to the atrocities committed by violent terrorists. Yet this time is different. The violence seen in Paris last week, as well as in Ankara and Beirut, has been indiscriminate; even Al-Qaeda advises against such indiscriminate violence for fear that it could inadvertently cause the death of Muslims. Although certain Al-Qaeda cells have breached these guidelines on numerous occasions, their attacks generally reflect more careful targeting, such as with the killings of Charlie Hebdo staff in Paris earlier this year.

Indeed, despite increasing evidence of the willingness and ability of IS to launch spectacular, indiscriminate attacks on European soil, there has hitherto been a relatively insignificant response from Western powers. The ease with which recruits have been able to continue to travel to IS’s stronghold in Raqqa, Syria is astonishing.

Yet even the ability of radicalised young Europeans to take a plane to Turkey before continuing by road to Raqqa is not quite matched by their ability to return home. This isn’t a point about refugees – although Europe’s response to this particular crisis will necessarily be of considerable importance – rather it is a simple statement of fact. Estimates by security services suggest that at least half of the jihadists who have gone to Syria since the beginning of the Civil War four years ago have returned to their home countries. Undoubtedly they have come back brutalised, well-trained, and in many cases ready to commit acts of violence. 500 such individuals are estimated to be in both France and the UK.

Indeed the failure to stem the flow of jihadists between Europe and Syria is only one aspect of the failure of the West to act. There have been few changes to military campaigns either: when IS attacked the government-held city of Palmyra in Eastern Syria in May, the international coalition coordinating attacks on IS in Syria decided not to react for fear of being accused of propping up the Assad government. IS was thus able to seize Palmyra, terrorise its citizens and destroy its ancient ruins.

Coordinated gun attacks are becoming an increasingly regular feature of European life. These attacks require relatively little organisation, at least compared to the kind of attacks that used to be staged by Al-Qaeda. This reduces the amount of “chatter” available to be picked up by the security services, making foiling all of these kinds of plots in advance an almost impossible task. Indeed as the IRA once warned, “You have to be lucky every time; we only have to be lucky once.”

Devoting more resources to the security services cannot be the solution. Instead, the West must take a more affirmative stance against IS in Syria and Iraq. Countries are at present cautious about launching air offensives that could lead to civilian casualties. This needs to change. The West should act to crush IS, its attempts to establish a caliphate, and its poisonous ideology that is helping to radicalise young Muslims across the world.

It is easy to critique this kind of interventionist policy by pointing to past Western invasions of parts of the Middle East. Yet whereas Al-Qaeda is ineradicable because it can survive by going underground, IS’s raison d’être, and the reason why it has appealed to so many young Muslims, is its pretensions to the establishment of a caliphate. Undermine its territorial ambitions and you take away both its resources and its ideology. The propaganda value of the caliphate would disappear and so the pull that IS exerts on some young Muslims would surely diminish.

On the domestic front, keeping calm and carrying on is not an option either. If attacks are becoming a more regular occurrence, as appears to be the case, then some considerable thought needs to be given to the security of public spaces in major European cities. Any place where citizens gather in large numbers appears to be vulnerable. Israeli-style security checks are likely to be politically untenable but life cannot just continue as normal. Greater numbers of armed police and more secure venues are one way in which governments should respond.

Question marks also hover over the availability of automatic weapons in Europe. Britain is largely the exception here with its strict gun controls. For countries inside the Schengen zone in particular, however, automatic weapons are proving relatively easy to move between countries. Ramping up border checks could help to stem the problem.

Paris changes everything. The kind of indiscriminate violence witnessed last week in the French capital means that this time, the right approach is not to keep calm and carry on.