Islamic State (IS) wants you to believe that Islam is a brutal, intolerant religion, and they are doing a pretty good job of it. Wider perception of Islam in the UK is not how it can seem in the cushioned environment of Oxford University: almost every South Asian or Middle Eastern person I know has some story of a brush with Islamophobia (I have two, both unpleasant). Media representation is still catastrophically bad while government anti-radicalisation policy isolates and insults the Muslim community. British Muslims are being ‘othered’ and denied the important fused identity they often wear effortlessly, and the ignorance of Islamophobes is such that the problem is now not only one of religion but of race.

The persistence of Islamophobia in the UK is everywhere to be seen. Just a few weeks ago Mohammed Umar Farooq, a student at Staffordshire University, was ‘questioned’ under the Prevent initiative. He was so intimidated that he quit his course. Why? He was found reading a book on ‘Terrorism Studies’ in the library. Farooq is reading for a Master’s in terrorism, crime and global security – he is quite literally a counter-terrorism student, but unfortunately for him, he’s Mohammed not Michael, and in someone’s eyes his beard said something more like Damascus than Dalston.

Or how about the 14-year-old from north London who was left terrified by a two-on-one interrogation – so afraid that his parents are taking legal action – after he used the term ‘écoterrorisme’ in a discussion in French? And almost everyone has heard about Ahmed Mohamed in the US, the 14-year-old arrested for the terrible crime of building a clock. The BBC reported recently that Islamophobic attacks in London have risen by 70 per cent over the last year, a total of 816 reported incidents, and there have been similar increases across the country over the past decade.

There is a whole cohort of problems here: restriction of academic liberty, growing paranoia, all resulting from an irrational fear of Muslim culture. There is a real issue related to the ‘othering’ of British Muslims: the attitude of seeing them as strange and not-quite-like-me. There is an implied denial, even, of the very idea of a British Muslim. Seeing and treating Muslims as anything less than they are is, for one thing, a hugely counterproductive strategy as far as anti-radicalisation goes. But most importantly it is inhumane and profoundly dehumanising. You don’t have to look very far to see how dangerous that is, but a quick reflection on IS’s treatment of those it dislikes will make it all too clear.

Forming a cultural identity as a person of foreign descent in a country that only gave up on colonialism half a century ago is never going to be easy. But what’s essential is that those identities are formed in a wider community where differences are not brushed under the imported Persian carpet but approached with empathy and openness. It’s from this that we can see the fluidity and emptiness in our cultural identities and focus instead on the reality that is our shared humanity – and the more secure we are in that simple, obvious, often forgotten universality, the weaker both European fascism and Islamist extremism’s grip will become.

Despite recent instances of Islamophobia making headlines, there is some hope that things can be improved. It’s a little surreal to say, but the Great British Bake Off has become a perfect example for the fight against both Islamist radicalisation and creeping fascism. The fact that Nadiya, who won the show last week, wears hijab is a complete non-issue, it’s an interesting cultural difference, an elegant feature of her faith that’s incidental to the fact that, fundamentally, you, her and I are just human beings with a sweet tooth and a passion for good food.

Nadiya empowers British Muslims and all British people with complex cultural identities; her presence on our TVs has been a huge amount of fun, but also declares unequivocally that British Muslims, British Asians, British and non-British people from all over the world are recognised, and welcome. It says that even if we don’t quite know what Britishness is, we are certain that it’s as much about empathy and understanding as it is about anything else, including baked goods. Humanising someone should be effortless, and Bake Off has shown that it really, really is.

This isn’t about ‘political correctness’, or complex race relation theories, or even right vs. left – this is about people, and seeing them as nothing less than that. Keep on isolating and ‘othering’ Muslims, and you both destroy hard won, fused cultural identities and welcome in hatred with a smile and a slice of cake. Fight the effortless fight and reinforce awareness of our shared humanity, and fascism and Islamist radicalism will all but disappear from the UK.

Yes

Niloo Sharifi

Today, I was discussing this article with a friend and she made a good point. She studies Classics, and said she has always been struck by how matter-of-factly she has been exposed to repeated themes of rape, abduction and violence against women over the course of her education. It was not the fact that these works have been included in the canon which she is required to study that she found objectionable, but the implied attitude of this matter-of-factness. What frustrated her was the idea that this violence belongs to the distant past, and shouldn’t move us today. 

Yet, why shouldn’t we be moved by rape just because it happened thousands of years ago? Why do academics constantly ignore our traumas? Flagging up issues of contention in articles, at the very least, seem like a proportionate response to something as abhorrent as rape and I do not believe that refusing to acknowledge the traumatic nature of sexual assault will help us to rid society of it. In terms of this example, I think that a failure to content-note academic articles belies the fact that issues like rape are things that are a hugely pervasive problem to this day. rape often happens at random, when a high proportion of women are assaulted by people they already know, and dealing with this sort of assault is intensely problematic. Academics need to take social responsibility for their work and realise that the trauma of experiences like rape can lead to the development of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Taking this further, it is worth pointing out that some sufferers of PTSD have found the term ‘Trigger Warning’ itself objectionable on the basis that it sets the precedent that the content will ‘trigger’ a panic attack. Put simply, some people have found the term ‘trigger’ triggering. I have also seen blog posts by people living with PTSD who find the notion that they will be triggered somewhat infantilising. I would dispute that anyone has a right to belittle any behaviours or mechanism that may help someone cope with a mental health issue, as long as it does no harm to anyone else, and to suggest those who require prior warning about certain content are infantile seems patronising.

The prior objection, however is perhaps more tenable and I offer a tentative solution in use of the term ‘Content Note,’ abbreviated CN, or something similar – a term that would do the same job without the direct associations with the notion of having a panic attack. Many users who participate in discussions on intersectional forums have made this transition, and from this point I will too: terminology should reflect use and the people who use it.

The main arguments that I have seen against Content Notes in academia are as follows: that universities shouldn’t mollycoddle people, they should prepare them for real life; that education is the place to confront difficult ideas, not shy away from them; that lectures should be exciting and surprising; and that Content Notes are inconvenient, considering they only cater to a comparatively small percentage of the population.

The latter objection is easiest to counter, as it is the most obviously morally void; much money is spent on catering to people with disabilities. To view accessible ramps and lifts designed for wheelchairs in the same way would seem obviously abominable to most of us. I believe the margin of callousness that people allow themselves on this issue comes from an unconscious refusal to recognise mental health conditions as genuine medical conditions.

Whilst social stigma is being fought ever more vocally by mental health advocates, the fight is yet to be won and I believe a little research on the reality of living with PTSD may change some minds. Not enough people go out of their way to engage in the realities of people they don’t understand. If people had a real scope of the symptoms of PTSD they would perhaps think again before putting something as relatively unimportant as being ‘excited’ in lectures before people’s wellbeing and ability to learn well.

Ultimately, using Content Notes in academia seems intuitive when we consider the growing awareness of mental health issues that have developed over the last 50 years. We are beginning to understand that the vast majority of people living with PTSD are aware of the fact that they may encounter triggers at any moment, and for many people this happens often. Many of these people continue to function on a high level and will expose themselves to material they know they may find upsetting in a lecture theatre, for the sake of their learning, or for whatever other reason. Universities must recognise the needs of these people, and appreciate what they achieve everyday living with a condition that for many people is incredibly disruptive to their pursuits.

Universities have a responsibility of care and Content Notes serve less to wrap people in cotton wool, but more to give people who overcome their condition every day a fair warning. Academics’ use of content notes where they can will be of very little inconvenience in comparison to the inconvenience of the person having a panic attack in the middle of their lecture. Content Notes don’t get in the way of learning – they allow it to happen.

No

Lucy Valsamidis

Today, rejecting trigger warnings in academia seems callous at best. The most vocal opponents of trigger warnings insist that they coddle over-privileged students at the expense of free speech, while their cheerleaders squarely occupy the moral high ground. It’s easy to forget that, though they are now increasingly common in US universities, there are also very good reasons that we haven’t– yet–introduced trigger warnings here in the UK.

Trigger warnings in universities are, their proponents claim, a crucial way of protecting the most vulnerable students. The problems are real. Even the most conservative estimates of sexual assault rates on campus are deeply alarming, and studies suggest that perhaps 40 per cent of sexual assault survivors experience post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Meanwhile, concerns over general student mental health continue to rise.

It’s this that has spurred some US colleges to introduce trigger warnings to protect students from trauma in the classroom. That aim is admirable, if flawed – after all, people with PTSD can be triggered by seemingly innocuous things just as well as by descriptions of assault.

It might be pointed out that simply issuing trigger warnings is no substitute for distributing a clear course outline in advance and offering comprehensive mental health support, but at least trigger warnings don’t seem to do any harm when they’re just shielding students from possible trauma.

But the problem with trigger warnings is that they’re not primarily about protecting students with mental illness. As any humanities student knows, it’s practically impossible to pass a week at university without coming across material that could be deemed ‘triggering’; human societies are often just not very nice places. You might think that would mean trigger warnings could proliferate almost infinitely. But, mostly, they don’t. Instead, sexism and racism are deemed worthy of trigger warnings, while other traumatic experiences often simply aren’t. 

This is because trigger warnings weren’t designed primarily to protect people with trauma issues, but people who are part of marginalised or oppressed groups. Of course, there’s considerable overlap: students of colour may experience everyday racism, female students are at greater risk of sexual assault.

Every time you attach trigger warnings to the experiences of oppressed groups and not to the experiences of others, you style their experiences as uniquely traumatic. In effect, as writer Jill Filipovic puts it, you create a “hierarchy of trauma”. Traumatic experiences that don’t fit into the narrative are ignored. When the university transfers this ‘hierarchy of trauma’ out of online activist communities and into the lecture hall, it imposes a very political decision on students.

You might argue that universities have a responsibility to protect marginalised groups as much as students affected by mental illness- and they do: we would do well to remember that our universities were not created with women and minorities in mind and that we still fail to secure equal access to higher education. This is an ongoing struggle not just at Oxford, but at higher education institutions across the western world.

But trigger warnings are not the way to fix that. In giving the negative experiences of women and minorities the privileged status of trauma, trigger warnings make it more difficult to discuss those issues. When a class is presented with Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart with the trigger warning that it contains ‘racism, colonialism, religious persecution, violence, suicide and more’, as Oberlin College in the US put it, it is encouraged to see the text only in those terms. A book exploring what racism and colonialism are and do is reduced to those fixed categories.

Nobody knows what the effect a trigger warning has on most students – the research just isn’t there. But there’s a real risk that trigger warnings simply make them switch off, convinced immediately that other people’s idealised trauma has nothing to do with their own experience.

Meanwhile, the proponents of trigger warnings lose out too. By conflating the marginalisation that they experience with their trauma, they make it much more difficult to analyse critically that marginalisation. Instead, they focus on their individual experiences.

By insisting on trigger warnings for issues that affect comparatively privileged university students supporters of trigger warnings often unwittingly demand that universities treat everyday sexism or racism on the same level as global injustice.

This individualism goes hand in hand with the marketisation of education – both, incidentally, areas where the US tends to be ahead of the UK. Some academics have warned that, with student satisfaction ratings becoming more important and under pressure from trigger warning-happy student groups, universities may increasingly be inclined to excise material deemed particularly triggering from courses. Without anyone particularly wanting it to happen, the university’s unique ability to confront students with material that disturbs and discomfits in a safe environment is eroded.

Tackling both trauma and the marginalisation of women and minorities at university is essential. But by conflating these two issues, the proponents of trigger warnings co-opt trauma into their own political agenda. When universities buy into that agenda, they do little to protect most students with mental health problems. Worse, they stop all students from facing challenging material on its own terms.

At present, universities are not doing enough to protect the more vulnerable members of the student body. They must become better places for marginalised students, but they shouldn’t delude themselves that trigger warnings are the answer.

‘Mutti’, German for ‘Mummy’, is arguably the most common nickname for Germany’s Chancellor, who this autumn completes her tenth year in power. The nickname arose along with her image as being more of an administrator than a politician. Her implicit campaign message was never some sort of master plan for Germany and she always left the impression of a mother-figure, who says: ‘I’ll be at your side, come what may.’ 

To be fair, in many laws and decisions during her government, she was reactive, rather than proactive: Germany’s abandonment of nuclear energy was demanded by activists after Fukushima; the introduction of the minimum wage was her concession to the Social Democrats upon entering into coalition with them. Supporters see in her the calm mind of a conscientious leader, sensitive to the situation she finds herself in. Haters call it opportunism. 

I think the latter are hugely mistaken when considering the most recent events of European politics, in which Merkel was and is fighting a tough battle for her convictions against many opponents, not least within her
own party and people. Take the Greek debt crisis; Yanis Varoufakis with his almost fanatic ï¬ght against austerity became and – looking at the Union’s termcard – remains more popular than a Greek finance minister could hope for. At the peak of the crisis in the early summer of this year, the papers were heralding the end of Europe as we knew it and so-called financial
experts fled into words like ‘unpredictable’ and ‘potential chaos’. But Merkel didn’t waver.

Her credo ‘If the Euro fails, Europe fails’ still stood as a bulwark against the Grexit, when all over Europe the rats began to desert the sinking ship. Even her ever-so-loyal finance minister grew weak facing the pigheadedness of Alexis Tsipras – not to mention the constant frustration expressed by the IMF and other creditors.

This would have been the easy way out: ‘Yes, we originally wanted to save the Euro, but in light of present circumstances we have no choice but to organise a currency reform, which we believe to be for the better of the
Greek people.’ We could have all left the Greeks to deal with their own misery and the majority of creditor countries would have been happy to do just that. Merkel wasn’t, though.

She very likely didn’t know better than anyone else what a Grexit would have actually encompassed. The important thing is that she didn’t let frustration break her beliefs. She said she would save the Euro, so she fought to thelast minute to make it happen. Her iron will was rewarded eventually when the apparently unavoidable was avoided.

This Merkel is not the care-taker ‘Mutti’ the Germans would like to see in her. This is a woman of almost scary determination, who can fight her cause seemingly alone against all odds. We see the same thing happening at present with the refugee crisis, which is pushing Germany to the very limits.
Her own people blame her for the situation, but instead of meeting the refugees with fencing and stricter bordercontrols, she meets the Germans with the charisma of a true leader. “I deeply believe that we can do this”, she says, and if we learnt anything from the Euro crisis, we better believe that too.

Recently consecrated as auxiliary bishop of Los Angeles, the largest Catholic archdiocese in the United States, Bishop Robert Barron has achieved a recognised position as a leading voice in Catholic theology and life. He is known through his books, talks, movies, and television productions, all of which have a significant YouTube presence. Through his Word on Fire online ministry, he has shown that he is not afraid to pour old wine into new bottles. Mingling short videos on medieval philosophers with critical, theologically-minded Woody Allen movie reviews, he is working to give new expression to the teachings of the Catholic Church.

Barron was appointed bishop by Pope Francis on the basis that he would be a vital player in the campaign for “New Evangelisation”; to work as a voice crying out in the wilderness of secular society. He provides a bold challenge for his readers and listeners to a deeper engagement with theological issues which are too readily ignored and, consequently, forgotten. A Doctor of Theology from the Institut Catholique de Paris who is fluent in English, French, German, Latin, and Spanish, and certainly no stranger to the halls of academia, the striking accessibility of his ministry is perhaps surprising. Bishop Barron aims to offer insight both to weathered theologians and laypeople inside and outside the Church.

Barron speaks of how we need to “turn the world upside down, because it is currently upside down, so if you turn it upside down again we’re just setting it right.” The post-Christian world is not some great bogeyman, for “modernity is not some serious enemy of Christianity, modernity is a kind of bastard child of Christianity… We’ve been treating them [the secular world] like we’ve been at war for the past 500 years, but in fact it’s literally more like an adolescent child that’s rebelling against its mother.”

In this way his outreach is characterised by a boldness tempered with a sensitive intellectual gentleness, seeing in modernity a great opportunity for the Catholic Church to clarify and re-articulate its faith. He notes that it has been “taken for granted that secularism has obviously won the day” that the Church has been pushed to “our own little niche over in the corner. I say forget that: I think we should just wade right into the thick of it.”

For the Bishop, “the Church’s job is to be continually witness to God and to continually grab you by the lapels and speak of God and witness to God”. In this vein, he says that his “major task is to awaken a deeper sense of God. So, whatever I’m doing, that’s the ultimate purpose because secular society is suffering enormously because they’ve lost sense of God. And when you lose the centre, everything tends to fall apart, and I see it all the time; that’s when people get lost existentially. And there’s deep suffering that comes from secularism. So my approach has always been to try to find the route of access back to God, how to bring him back into the equation; now whether that’s through a movie or through a song or through a popular book or through whatever is happening through politics: that’s my ultimate purpose, which is to bring God back into the picture.”

In pursuit of this goal, which is both pastoral and didactic, he engages confidently with the “New Atheists — who are new only in their nastiness.” He emphasises the great depth of the intellectual tradition which feeds into Catholicism, with a truly modern vision of being grounded in the giants of the past while making strides to a new making and ever-growing Church. Though “not a Thomist of the strict observance”, he points to Aquinas’ “perennial” relevance, especially in contemporary popular theological and philosophical dialogue. Partial to his “deep realism” and daring rationalism, he told me that “Aquinas would read the New Atheists and he would peck them on the head and say, ‘Well, yes, of course what you’re objecting to is so silly — a strawman— it’s a primitive perception of God.’ Because I think Thomas would just kind of blithely accept much of the criticism and would say ‘I agree with that, I even critiqued the same thing,’ and then open their eyes to a much more authentic understanding of God.”

Of course, the world is not divided between Catholicism and secularism, and the Bishop is equipped with a resonant and simple ecumenical call for our time: “I think the Church should make common ground [with other churches and religions] and bracket for a time for 16th-century debates and we should talk about God together. This directly goes for Jews and Hindus. We should speak of the transcendent dimension together because the common enemy is secularism. We could all [be] witness to God together.”

Speaking of another of his theological influences, the Oxford alumnus Cardinal Newman, the Bishop offered his comments on ‘On the Idea of a University’: “I agree with Newman in that the goal for the university should be in producing what he called the ‘gentleman’ with a liberal type of mind, someone who is liberally educated, a person who is grounded in a wide variety of sciences so he doesn’t have a narrow view. Produce the gentleman who has a liberal education…I think that’s right, the university should produce someone who has a liberal frame of mind, a liberal education. If seeking for knowledge for one’s own sake, why not widen the field? At the centre of which is found religious knowledge. Natural theology belongs at the university. I would subscribe then to Newman’s vision.”

He assured me that, even though he has now assumed the weighty responsibilities and all the business of a bishopric, his output, from his YouTube channel to columns, books and talks, will continue in a more or less ceaseless fashion. In the era of what he calls “the Pope of the provocative gesture”, Bishop Barron’s work will make up a key part in the  reinvigoration of the Catholic Church, crucially maintaining the perpetual relevance of its voice.

Brutal backstabbing politics (if that, in itself, is not tautology), scandal stacking upon scandal, too expensive, too corrupt, too up themselves… we’ve all heard the arguments.

But with the Freshers’ Open Period drawing to a close, and with many pidges full of polemic propaganda, denouncing the Union as an unmitigated waste of money, it seems only right for someone to step out of the mire of criticism and make the case for the defence.

The Union is not perfect. But unlike those who agree with Luke Barratt’s recent article and are ‘horrified by the iniquities of the den of evil that the Oxford Union has become’, I wish simply to make an apology, in the true Greek sense of the word: a defence of the Union as a unique Oxford institution that provides unparalleled opportunities for its members.

It’s worth rebutting the financial point head on. The fee of £223 in the Freshers’ Open Period for life membership is a lot. Even some of the Union’s greatest advocates are known to have hummed and hawed about it at first. So I am not just going to say that, when divided over your university career, let alone your lifetime, taking into account everything the Union has to offer, it’s a bargain. There’s more to it than that.

The value of the Union depends on how much you use it. It may not be for everyone: if you don’t like having the rare chance to listen to world-famous speakers, socializing in the bar, or studying in one of the most beautiful and one of the largest lending libraries in Oxford, then obviously it’s a waste, rather like that swanky sandwich maker you bought last summer but never used after 0th week.

But it really doesn’t take long for you to get your money’s worth.

For all the hacking and devious deal making behind closed doors, it is totally misguided and misleading to say that the Union is merely a political playground for those with egos large enough to have the vain hope, as Barratt puts it, of being parachuted into some safe Tory seat one day. The Union is so much more than this.

At its heart remain the speaker events and weekly debates, when any member can show up, raise their membership card, and give their opinion, frequently scrutinizing internationally renowned speakers on subjects important to them. And, what’s more, the worldwide reputation of the Union draws an unrivalled mix of people from all walks of life, ensuring that there is something for everyone- from Alan Sugar to Alesha Dixon and Vince Cable- and that was just week one.

But the Union isn’t just about its speakers. Its other facilities and social events make Frewin Court one of the best places to be in Oxford to work and socialize. The debate continues in the bar, an ideal location, in the sometimes cloistered social life of collegiate living, to meet with friends from different colleges over cheap drinks. And the library? Well, see for yourself: just take out a book, write an essay or read the papers under its Pre-Raphaelite murals.

It would though be similarly misguided to suggest that Oxford students will ever by united in their opinion on the Union and, ultimately, it is up to freshers to decide whether the Union is worth the money. I just hope that they will be able to make a rational decision that is right for them, unjaded by the current culture of unfair condemnation. For, love it or loath it, the Union will always remain what we make of it.