Saturday 16th August 2025
Blog Page 1179

Degrees of Stupidity – English

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Having recognised the futility of awarding people degrees for studying other people’s languages, the absurdity of giving someone a degree for studying their own language is impossible to deny. As English students would say with their penchant for using other people’s words to repeat other people’s thoughts (in most subjects, it is called plagiarism), it follows like “an overwhelming question”.

You cannot award degrees for reading novels, any more than you can for walking barefoot on beaches, having drunken sex with strangers or all the other things people look forward to doing on their holidays when the pressures of real work temporarily abate. Now of course English students will point out that the degree is English Language and Literature (“It’s really two degrees you know”).  

If English students did no more than read and repeat what others had written, they would be a mild but bearable irritant. Unfortunately, there is something about the degree itself, or those attracted to study it, which leads them to believe that they are destined to create great literature, as well as to study it. They believe Oxford is a creative food chain, and that just as they have enriched their lives by reading the works of others, so their fellow students can enrich their infinitely poorer lives by suffering their own execrable efforts at poetry, or (if fate is being particularly unkind), their “first” novel.  Who has not endured the utter agony of sitting through some adolescent sonnet, wondering what on earth can be said at the end which isn’t too rude but will firmly close off the prospect of any more readings from their Moleskine exercise book of horrors.

An observer sitting in the lecture hall might notice something rather odd – uncanny, one might say – all the English students look the same. There are broad types of course: our female English students comprising of the long-haired, Keatsian Romantics or alternatively the post-modernist “fuck the canon” look with the piercings and doc-martins to prove it. The male English students are even easier to predict: I’m looking at you slightly-stubbly specs-man, with the ankle boots and leather satchel.

As with all the degrees considered for exclusion, there are entries on the credit side of the ledger as well as debits. No other subject can have contributed so much high quality hair to the Oxford scene. Certainly no other set of students can have committed so much love and care to their own hair. The sight of English finalists walking to Schools shaking their locks in a light breeze is one of nature’s great events, the image of lions in the Serengeti coming irresistibly to mind.

And they would have greeted the original title for these articles – “Six Degrees for Separation” – with a smug nod of recognition rather than the look of blank incomprehension it actually received. But these are mere makeweights in the overall balance. If it makes it any easier, they can be given the satisfaction of choosing their own epitaph from whatever they happen to be studying, but the knell of parting day has tolled for English nonetheless.

Bar Review: Merton

★★☆☆☆

Two Stars

Arriving at Merton’s lodge, we were halted by a locked door and a porter who insisted that we needed to be meeting someone in college to get through. We started sheepishly listing off the few Mertonians we knew, only to be told that they had to come and pick us up from the lodge. We sat in the corner and texted them all, but about five minutes into waiting for a response the porter decided we probably weren’t bluffing and let us in anyway. This shocked our Merton friends, who told us we got the nice porter. Despite his directions we ended up lost in a garden that, while very tranquil, did not have any ales on tap.

After doubling back we discovered this was entirely our fault; the bar is right by the lodge and clearly indicated. As we were wandering, my phone buzzed with the belated arrival of my Merton friends’ responses and I realised that I hadn’t had signal in the lodge. When I entered the bar, having found my friends, I immediately lost it again.

Despite being underground and devoid of windows, and the dated wood panelling, the bar was somehow not pubby. The smallroom was depressingly well-lit and cheerily coloured, which confused my body clock’s sense of time immensely, and the lack of signal prevented Facebook notifications functioning as reminders of the outside world. Similar to the Gladstone link, one can spend hours in there only to emerge surprised by the dusk. On your left when entering, you find a dozen or so annual “wacky” JCR photos, reminiscent of the back page of a high school yearbook. I told the Mertonians that I was shocked at how small the JCR was, and they explained that the photo just always had poor turnout. I was less shocked. They identified the star feature of the bar as the free jukebox, but we were unable to take advantage of it due to the crowd of six people watching Eurovision on the one small corner TV. They insisted that the bar is normally buzzing, but as it failed to break double digits (excluding our group) on the biggest televisual night of the year, I remain sceptical.

When we approached the bar, we met a Merton icon: Dave, bartender of 29 years. From speaking to students, I got a mixed review of his patter. Some said he was hilarious and friendly, others identified him as the king of grumpy curmudgeonly banter. I was told he was once witness to a near-assassination attempt on Bill Clinton in Christ Church Meadows. I was sceptical. My conversation with him mostly surrounded the modest drink choice, which had recently upgraded to boast more than one type of fruit cider. I tried one of these on his recommendation, but I’m pretty sure he was just trying to clear stock. Later, I found myself more impressed by the fact that all spirits are equally priced, and deeply enjoyed the bargain sloe gin.

The bar’s cheap, but easily beaten by any of the high street pubs. 

The problems of the new Vice-Chancellor

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Much has been made of the announcement that Oxford is to have its first woman as Vice Chancellor, with many hailing this as a symbol of progress. A statement from OUSU, not seen by some members of the elected executive prior to its release, welcomed the news, but has since disappeared from the OUSU website. Since then people have been reluctant to call a spade a spade, and point out that Richardson is, well, just another Vice Chancellor in the same mould as that pinstriped clown, Andrew Hamilton.

On the greatest threat facing universities at the moment, which is that of creeping marketisation, Richardson has shown herself to be at odds with both the principles and policies of our students’ union and the views of students. In 2010 she told journalists, “£9,000 a year is very little to pay for a St Andrews education,” which presumably from the perspective of a former Harvard administrator could be true.

In the same interview, Richardson called the marketisation of education “corrosive”, but if that’s the case, then why hasn’t she called for universities to be publicly funded? In Michaelmas we had a debate across the university as to whether or not OUSU would back the NUS’s call for free education to be paid for by greater taxation on business and those with higher incomes. The vast majority of JCRs that debated this voted in favour, as did OUSU Council. Louise Richardson should be told sooner rather than later that students do not agree with her that £9,000 a year is “very little” to pay and that we will not accept quietly any comments of the kind Andrew Hamilton enjoys making, calling for higher fees.

The role of Vice Chancellor, while questionable in itself in a university that ought to be run by and for students, workers and the wider community, is presumably to secure the long-term future and act in the best interests of all stakeholders.

The greatest threats facing us are the international education companies like Apollo and Pearson and the policy-makers who want to rip open higher education to the forces of the market. Overcrowded classes, a casualised postgraduate workforce, pay cuts to the cleaners and librarians while management cronies rake in six-figure salaries. These are all hallmarks of the processes unleashed into education by the Blair years and accelerated by the Coalition.

Vice-chancellors play a vital role in shaping education’s future. Richardson will work with the Russell Group and Universities UK, the VCs’ club, who tend to adopt a pro-fees stance with the government. In their goal of securing more cash for their institution, these vice-chancellors prefer that the tuition fee cap be lifted than for the government to raise taxes on millionaires like themselves.

When the next big tuition fees fight comes up, I very much doubt that Louise Richardson will be on the side of students and those who work in this university – and I don’t think her appointment is the godsend that some people are hoping for.

Strasbourg having a say on British civil liberties

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Pretty much since the election, many people have been talking about the government’s plan to scrap the Human Rights Act and replace it with a British Bill of Rights. The narrative of those nasty Tories depriving us of our civil liberties and turning us into a police state has already developed. Whilst a very easy narrative to run and buy, it is mind-blowing how the debate has been lacking in any knowledge of the facts.

First and foremost: the government is not proposing to ‘scrap’ any human rights. This policy has nothing to do with rights and liberties, it is about changing our relation with the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg. At the moment, any judicial decision made by the Supreme Court in London can be overturned by the Strasbourg court, which kind of renders the Supreme Court, well, not really supreme. It is fully consistent with a strong belief in human rights and civil liberties to say the British courts should be sovereign in Britain.

The number of people who seem to have convinced themselves that there were no human rights in this country before 1998 is quite staggering. Was pre-1998 Britain a place where no civil liberties were protected, where the Crown Prosecution Service randomly picked out people it pleased to imprison without any good reason, was there no freedom of press, religion or expression? The idea that we need to be ruled by a foreign court to enjoy civil liberties in Britain is simply absurd.

To claim that there is correlation between one’s membership of the ECHR and the extent to which civil liberties are protected is quite frankly factually incorrect – and let’s not even talk about causation. Where do you think rights and liberties are protected more strongly: in Albania or Canada? Azerbaijan or Australia? Russia or New Zealand? These are meant to be rhetorical questions, by the way.

I am not saying the Strasbourg court is a useless and evil institution. In fact, I think it has done a lot of good in many countries with a weaker record on human rights, many of which are post-Communist countries – in the Czech Republic, for example, Strasbourg helped rectify the poor treatment of the Roma community in the 1990s.

British common law has been the basis of human rights legislation throughout the world. We have had freedoms and rights in this country since even before the Magna Carta. The government’s policy merely reasserts the historical state of aff airs: that there is a convention – incorporated into British law – on whose content virtually everyone agrees which guides British courts in their decisions on human rights issues.

Before getting all angry and agitated, let’s just pause for a second. This policy does not eradicate human rights. The only thing this would do is to say that if the British Supreme Court comes to a judgement which disagrees with judges in Strasbourg, it should be the British Court which is supreme in Britain. I actually think that’s quite a good idea.

And may I just add: this policy was in the manifesto and people voted for it!

Changing perceptions towards mental health

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Sometimes, it’s important to hold your hands up when you get it wrong. When OUSU passed a policy to support a free 5th Week, I opposed it, thinking it would take away from the other important challenges facing students with mental health issues in this university. I was wrong. The campaign led by WomCam this 5th Week has demonstrated that a reading week would be enormously beneficial to many students. But more importantly than that, it’s challenged some of the entrenched prejudices we hold around mental health: the way that we have normalised mental health problems so much that it’s become normal to be ‘blue’ in 5th Week, and that debilitating stress is called ‘pressure’ and ‘just part of the Oxford experience’.

In order to make this university environment one which is truly accessible and welcoming to those with mental health problems, we can’t simply change policies. Unfortunately, we must do more than just criticise the University and colleges, although there is no denying that there is plenty which we can and should criticise. We also need to challenge those underlying attitudes which are present within us: among our peers and among this student body. The WomCam campaign to #Free5thWeek has challenged some of those attitudes by making us recognise that the way we talk about work pressure at Oxford is not acceptable. We shouldn’t dismiss and trivialise the real and unacceptable effects of this university’s work structure on many of our students as ‘tradition’ and ‘why we’re such a great uni’.

There’s so much more that we need to do in this regard. And it starts with every single one of us: we need to look at our attitudes and ask ourselves if they are making students with mental health problems feel valued and welcomed, or worthless and excluded.

Just go ahead and ask yourself some questions. Have you ever challenged someone as to why they have decided to rusticate? Have you ever thought to yourself, ‘They’ve just done it because they didn’t prepare well enough for exams.’ Have you ever turned up to a tutorial, essay in hand, only to find your tute partner hasn’t completed their work for this week, and put it down to that student being lazy, or just spending too much of their time in Park End and Bridge? Have you ever seen a common room officer not fully commit to their role for a few weeks, and instead of trying to support them, decided that they simply aren’t fit for the position? If the answer to any of these questions is ‘yes’, ask yourself a few more.

What if that person who rusticated didn’t manage to prepare fully for their exams because of depression? What if that tute partner without an essay in hand didn’t complete their essay because of anxiety: and found themselves in Park End and Bridge because they were genuinely terrified of losing all their friends if they didn’t go? What if that common room officer had received some terrible news a few weeks ago, and is so keen to get back on track with their role if only someone would ask to make sure they’re doing alright?

Mental health issues can affect people in so many different ways. The ways that they can distort people’s perception of the world a round them can prevent people suffering from mentalillness from getting done what they want or need to do.

If you ever come across a friend or peer who seems to be falling behind, or being unreliable, just remember these three key things. They almost certainly aren’t being lazy. They almost certainly want, desperately, to be able to get on with what they want and need to do. And those attitudes, as discussed above, are likely to be just as big a factor in preventing them from doing so as the mental health problems which they face.

So constantly question your attitudes. Most importantly: give people the benefit of the doubt. And do whatever you can, as much as you feel able or comfortable to do (with no judgment for being unable or uncomfortable doing so), to remind people that they are welcome here, that they are wanted, and that they are of immeasurable value. And remind them in any way you can, that no matter what is holding them back: they are brilliant, and deserve to be at this university.

Are extracurricular activities more important than degrees?

Yes

Sara Semic

As much as I would like to say that I geek out over my course and take great pride in my essays, starting with the outline and fi lling it in gradually like a painting with nuance and depth, the reality is that I bash it out in order to submit it by the deadline, and hope that it’s legible. As a humanities student blessed with a schedule unfettered by labs and a workload that can be crammed into one arduous weekend, perhaps I ought to check my degree privilege before waving aside the case for the importance of the Oxford degree.

However, with so much flexibility and freedom it seems a waste to spend my time chained to a desk, going through the reading with a finetooth comb when I can achieve just as much by skimming the texts. And if, according to the old maxim, ‘the vast majority of humanities students get a 2:1 anyway,’ then why would I want to look back on my nine short terms of university and remember the abyss of the Gladstone Link, or obsessing over the origins of WWI?

The real privilege of being at Oxford lies not in the unique tutorial system nor the abhorrent subfusc, but the roulette of societies and extracurricular opportunities available – from student journalism to quidditch and everything in between. At Oxford you have the privilege of being able to try out things that you’ve never done before, and most probably won’t have the chance to once you’re stuck in the rut of the nine to five. It is by joining the countless societies, or indeed starting your own project, that you can discover where your true interests lie (once you’ve realised that your heart just isn’t in Macroeconomics). Plus, to those of you complaining about catastrophic backlogs, given our obscenely long breaks in between, we have more than enough time to catch up on lost sleep and missed work and still binge on Netflix.

On a purely social level, the importance of your extracurricular ties is a no brainer. We defi ne ourselves here in relation to the diff erent Oxford ‘scenes’, distinguishing the thesps from the rowers and the union hacks, rather than the Classicists from the Theologians. On top of this, it has to be remembered that without any society allegiances you run the risk of falling off the radar and sacrifi cing any chance of a spot in Cherwell’s illustrious Top 40 list.

Jokes aside, getting involved in the wider university network allows you to escape the college bubble and meet more like-minded people, who share your interests and niche tastes. Is that not more valuable than attaining a distinction on an essay or a tute sheet?

But even for the career-minded, your extra curricular involvements are all the more vital, both for building future contacts and for standing out from the legion of other students hoping to climb the greasy pole of success in a Magic Circle firm. For the careerists, your time at Oxford is as much about rampant CV building as it is churning out essays and attending lectures. Indeed, being able to show that you can head the Guild and CapitOX whilst holding down a 2:1 is what will stand you in good stead in the overcrowded job market. Employers want to see that you can juggle multiple commitments, lead projects and solve real problems. As much as your tutor will try to impress upon you that your self-worth rests on you acquiring a First, employers will tell you it really isn’t the be-all and end-all, and can even be off -putting for those who think all Oxbridge off spring are just socially inept creatures.

Furthermore, it’s easy to become so absorbed and caught up in the ivory-tower learning of your degree that you lose a sense of perspective and forget that there is a world beyond the dreaming spires. Countless societies and organisations actively engage with political debates and try to tackle the problems that face us all. The Oxford Hub, for example, gives you the chance to make a real diff erence in the wider community, rather than just theorise about solutions in your essays or tutorials.

But does it need to be an either/or question? Surveys have shown that those who maintain an extracurricular commitment are more likely to receive a First in their examination compared with those who ‘just study’, so there’s no reason to sacrifi ce an interest for the sake of your degree either. And I doubt that I’ll look back on my reel of Oxford memories wishing I had had more sleep.

No

Josh Caminiti

I feel somewhat obliged to begin my piece with the small caveat that the irony is not lost on me, and neither, I hope, on my readers, of using an extracurricular engagement (Cherwell) to argue against the relative value of extracurriculars.

This is a helpful, crystallising irony, as it is to show that my true thesis is not to advance a scholarly hermeticism (as Chaucer’s ‘Sire Clerk of Oxenford’ does), or that extracurriculars are wasteful or useless, and should yield in favour of our academic pursuits in every instance, but rather that it would generally be better for us to excel academically than in extracurriculars. However, the essence of the old adage preserved in Brideshead Revisited that to get anything above a third, if not a first, is a waste of time, still chimes a ring of truth for many students. They feel that to be at Oxford means, firstly, to be at Oxford, and secondly (only secondly) to study here. But the 1920s, and the frolicking days of the ‘gentleman’s Third’, are long gone.

To move past a fashionable evaluative nihilism, it would be helpful to establish the grounds on which one thing can be said to be more important than another, or, value-conferring properties. An exhaustive purview of them would neither be commensurate with the allotted length of the piece at hand nor the patience of its readers, and so we will be restricted to considering two: being beneficial for our futures (loosely interpreted) and being fulfilling (socially, existentially, epistemologically etc).

Although, as an arts student, I try my hardest to avoid thinking about future employment prospects, this debate would be incomplete without considering them. When it comes to that great and beckoning hereafter, the ‘real world’, there stands the question, ‘Would I value more walking away from university with several solid extracurricular achievements and engagements under my belt, or a swanky scholar’s gown, a relative mastery of my subject-matter, and the pedigree confirmed by a well-respected degree?’ Oxford boasts that over 95 per cent of undergrads find themselves employed or engaged in further studies six months after graduation, so it seems like, whichever side you take in this debate, you will be ‘just fine’.

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If we had to venture a guess as to why Oxford students seem to do so well on the market, I am confident the answer would lie in the universally-recognised high standard of education we have received, indicating both a passably industrious work ethic and commendable learning. In the outstanding majority of cases, employers tend to strongly favour applicants with good degrees in a relevant field compared to those who have dabbled in extracurricular activities. For a minority of students, perhaps, their extracurricular activities will lead them away from the path set out from their degree: but for every rower who participates in the Olympics there are thousands more law students who become lawyers, economics students who go into finance, and medicine students who go into medicine. Our degrees have, for the most of us, already plotted the trajectory of our future lives, and to excel along this path is to excel in the future.

Il faut cultiver notre jardin – what is too often overlooked, and often can only be appreciated in retrospect, is the intense fulfilment and self-cultivation that our academic life can provide us with, in a way that equals if not outstrips the fruits of extracurriculars. Putting aside sloppy considerations of utility for a moment, the knowledge and skills that we receive as part of our degrees (provided we maintain our end of the bargain as students) are of inestimable value, and “the best provision for old age” (as an aside: spurious Aristotle quotes are the best Aristotle quotes). I genuinely enjoy my degree, or rather, the content of which it is so constituted, and for me some of the greatest opportunities offered by Oxford are to be found in a reading list, not a boat house.

A good education teaches us to delight in the education received; Hamlet to an English student, or Cicero to a classicist, or (even) the Krebs Cycle to a biochemist. To respond informatively and creatively to questions that matter to us is one of the noblest tasks we can undertake and a fundamental part of getting a degree here.

This is the only time in our lives where we will have the outrageous privilege of dedicating our days to the increase of knowledge in an ever-growing depository (or rather flame, for ‘education is not the filling of a bucket’), with access to some of the greatest educational resources in the world and under brilliant tutelage.

To see our degrees as slavish contracts we have unwittingly entered into, with extracurriculars our only hope of real fulfilment and enjoyment, is too see incorrectly. In all this discussion, I am reminded of the words of Ecclesiastes (non-inclusive, blame King James) that, “to rejoice in his labour; this is the gift of God”. Now, to avoid charges of hypocrisy, I should really get started on that essay. 

Milestones: Jusepe de Ribera’s ‘The Bearded Woman’

“Look, a great miracle of nature. Magdalena Ventura from the town of Accumulus in Samnium, in the vulgar tongue Abruzzo in the Kingdom of Naples, aged 52 and what is unusual is when she was in her 37th year she began to go through puberty and thus a full growth of beard appeared such that it seems rather that of a bearded gentleman than a woman who had previously lost three sons whom she had borne to her husband.”

Thus reads the Latin inscription adorning what is arguably one of the strangest pieces of the art to emerge from seventeenth cen- tury Italy. Whilst Flemish artist Sir Anthony van Dyck was busy wooing the English court with his intimate style of portraiture, his delicate hands and features, Spaniard Jusepe de Ribera was attempting to do the same with his work in the Neapolitian court. His career as leading artist in Naples was sealed with his beautiful portraits of religious figures and court ladies.

So what is a man who prayed so heavily at the altar of Caravaggio doing painting such a subversive subject? And what is it even depicting? It appears the Duke of Naples at the time, Ferdinand II, had rather a strong interest in collecting art depicting the wonderful and strange: he indulged in the fashion for subversive art. Naturally, wishing to cosy up to his patron and earn himself a few extra gold coins in his rich leather purse swishing at his belt, Ribera was more than obliging to indulge in the Duke’s interests.

But what is the scene unfurling before the viewer’s eyes? In his inscription, the artist provides the viewer with all the information he or she could want: and apparently all there is surrounding the woman in the painting. She is celebrated within the limits of oil on canvas, a ‘miracle of nature’. But simultaneously, she appears to be treated as a novelty for her bearded appearance. In her facial hair, she bypasses the pubescent mass upon the chin of her husband. He is emasculated almost to the point of castration in the light of Ventura’s flowing locks.

In the seventeenth century, the sight of the portrait and its female sitter was undoubtedly a curiosity for many viewers. Even now, it isn’t common to see a bearded breast-feeding woman bearing her naked breast in the street. It is tempting to read the column at her side like an advertisement for a freak show: merely another oddity in the Duke’s vast collection.

However, look closely at the expressions of the sitters. The couple’s expressions are worried, forlorn at the woman’s strange condition now believed to be brought on by an ovarian tumour producing excessive testosterone. What appears to be a curiosity contains a heart-breaking story of the fear of social prejudice: of being viewed as a freak. The Duke’s eyes may have glinted with glee when this sad tableau first adorned his palace walls. However, for the sitters, Ribera adorns their eyes with the beginnings of a stream of tears. As opposed to the laughs emerging from the tourists led around Bedlam Hospital to look at other ‘miracles of nature’, the viewer is stupefied into a contemplation of the uncertain fate of a woman facing so many stigmas in the early modern world. 

Joan of Arc — “Tell the boys their time is through”

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The tragically short life of Joan of Arc, fifteenth century peasant-girl-turned-visionary-and-military-leader, has inspired countless literary and artistic representations taking wildly varying perspectives on just about every aspect of her character and story. Not least in the catalogue of controversies lies Joan’s adoption of male clothing (think tunics and fab gold armour), and her role as a young woman occupying a position of status independent of her relationships with men – God and the Archangel Michael being, of course, the exceptions.

T.S.Eliot remarked upon watching George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan that “[Shaw’s] Joan of Arc is perhaps the greatest sacrilege of all Joans: for instead of the saint or the strumpet of the legends to which he objects, he has turned her into a great middle-class reformer, and her place is a little higher than Mrs Pankhurst.” Eliot’s objection to seeking a middle road between saint and strumpet on the grounds of the supposedly pedestrian result of such a route is telling in its reluctance to abandon the conventional but seductive polarisation of women – especially women in power – as the embodiment either of absolute purity or absolute depravity.

Writers in the first couple of hundred years after Joan, when her reputation and story was being codified, negatively and positively, for future generations, can be seen to move with ease between praising powerful women they favoured as pure, and decrying those they disliked as promiscuous, regardless of the facts of their sexual behaviour. Writing in 1558, Protestant John Knox derides Catholic Mary I as a ‘monstrous Jesabel,’ and then only thirty years later Cardinal William Allen claims his ideological enemy Elizabeth I had spawned numerous bastard children, despite her repeated emphasis on her status as a virgin queen. At the same time as Joan’s story was beginning to be experienced by those who had not lived through its events, there was a notable emphasis on women in power as either chaste or depraved, and the influence on her legacy can be observed to have long-lasting effects. Though The Maid of Orleans, a tragedy by Friedrich Schiller, later adapted as an opera by Tchaikovsky, has Joan fall in love with an English soldier, there is no sexual component to the relationship, and those representations of her story in which she is anything other than virginal are exclusively those in which she is the enemy.

Throughout her time as part-mascot, part-military advisor to the French army, Joan wore men’s clothes and her hair short, but artistic representations of her will often give her long, flowing locks, and occasionally put her in a dress, even though her refusal to don feminine clothing was so vehement as to contribute to the charges of witchcraft brought against her by the English. This is indicative of her dedication to male dress and the transgressive nature of her attire, for her accusers but also for later sympathisers. Though Joan herself is notable for her occupation of a space outside of traditional gender roles, fictional accounts of her life stray inexorably towards pinning her to archetypal images of womanhood, irrespective of the more complex, and more interesting, place she forged for herself in a male-dominated society.

‘He that hath no beard is less than a man’

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You may have noticed that, despite what some UKIP candidates and professional Pick Up Artist bloggers may have you believe, feminism has moved on a bit since Shakespeare last picked up his pen. We’ve since all figured out that women don’t need to be broken like horses in order to make good wives, and that universities don’t need to be men-only in order to allow anyone to get any work done. Modern adaptations of plays with plot devices hinging on these outdated beliefs handle them in different ways. Some, like Polanski’s Macbeth, put a strong visual emphasis on the historic setting, suggesting that we should see these values as superficially worn, like the codpieces and ruffs, to give an authorial representation, but clearly not recommending them for adoption off-screen. Some are reimagined freely. In Ten Things I Hate About You, it is instead Petruchio/ Patrick who finds himself tamed by Kat, as she teaches him the joys of feminism, quitting smoking, and “angry girl music of the Indie Rock persuasion”.

Such dramatic tonal changes are harder when the original text is kept, but Branagh manages it in his Love’s Labour’s Lost. The men who contractually give up women for academia are played as young buffoons: the audience finds a lot more sympathy with Alicia Silverstone’s wry glances and sarcastic tone than a more traditional Princess.

However, it’s a lot more difficult to reconcile Shakespeare with modern feminist thinking when that thinking isn’t so orthodox, as with cross-gender casting and character cross-dressing. Although casting women as female characters and men as male characters has become the norm, there is an ongoing trend of all-male productions, a novelty usually marketed to tourists and English undergrads and defended by claims of authenticity and authorial intent. It is certainly true that Shakespeare wrote with boy actresses in mind, and many of the jokes are lost without this visual clue. Beatrice’s complaint in Much Ado About Nothing that “He that hath no beard is less than a man” is a lot more ironic when made by a beardless boy in a dress.

The key word there is “boy”: female parts were played solely by specifically trained pre- pubescent or pubescent boy-actresses, often apprentices loaned to the companies by their masters. This was done at the time out of necessity, as women were not allowed on the stage and to have adult men play women was considered to be distracting and degrading. Beardless boys were both socially and biologically immature: they are not yet men. Beards were interpreted by early modern scientific thought to be a type of seminal excretion, and therefore a sign of reproductive capability and sexual maturity. This was accepted to the point where it was frowned upon by some for a man to marry before he could fully grow a beard, as he would not be expected to be capable of fulfilling his marital duty and produce children. On top of this, they indicated social maturity and financial independence. As financial dependents with no source of income or ability to take on dependents in the form of wives or children, apprentices were closer in social status to women within the patriarchal economy of early modern England. They could play female characters, and female characters could play them.

Which leads us to the cross-dressing. We see a wide range of characters try and fake it as the opposite sex but one specific model reoccurs as the acceptable method: a young woman (Viola, Rosalind, Julia, Portia, Nerissa…) dresses as a boy apprentice, and interacts with adult male characters (Orsino, Orlando, Proteus, Antonio…) who, crucially, remain at a higher social stratum to them. These girl-pages never wear prosthetic beards, despite discussions of wearing codpieces and men’s clothing. This is partially a matter of practicality, as a high-voiced, small-statured girl character or boy-actress simply could not make a convincing strapping, hirsute, older man: socially or physically.

Modern all-male productions of Shakespeare plays cannot be considered more accurate, as the way gender is viewed has changed. The actors playing male and female characters are not divided by whether they have earned their beard, and an audience does not see the latter as more similar to women. When the only point the pro- duction is trying to make is one about historical correctness, the change is at best “distracting” (as Telegraph reviewer Dominic Cavendish put it) and at worst unpleasantly comic. Whether or not the exclusion and imitation of women in these modern productions is insulting on a semantic level, or to glorify the sexist history of the English stage, it inarguably reduces the already disproportionately low number of Shakespeare roles available to female actresses, a serious problem in the theatre business.

For this same reason, there has emerged a trend for all-female productions and women actors playing male parts. This is done either as a result of gender-blind casting, where the director didn’t necessarily envision a woman in the role but the best actor who auditioned was one, or to make a point about gender nuance. These attempts are, in themselves, contentious. For some, they highlight the slipperiness and non-binary nature of gender by demonstrating the ease with which one can alter one’s self, and even exist simultaneously in multiple roles. Further, less restrictive limitations on the visual performance of cross-dressing or cross-gender casting can allow for complex power dynamics that the use of beardless boy actresses sought to prevent in the early modern theatre: the power dynamic of Viola-as-Sebastian and Duke Orsino in She’s The Man is definitely more equal than the master-servant relationship in the original text of Twelfth Night.

Others would argue that by trying to make a point about the (gendered) characteristics of characters, you risk reinforcing stereotypes. When the gender of the cast member is changed but not the character, that actor is then seen to “pass” for the rest of the characters, but not the audience.

It is not my place to speak from my position of privilege on behalf of the transgender community or women or decide for them whether Shakespearean cross-dressing and cross-gender casting is offensive, but I think the potential for offence, or expression, should be considered. It is impossible to stage Shakespeare’s plays as he would have intended, as visual symbols like dresses and beards do not possess the same meaning for modern audiences, and equally impossible to ignore the sources of controversy in his work.

OxStew: Terrorism expert new VC to combat leftwing students

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The nominations committee of the University of Oxford has proposed the counterterrorism expert Louise Richardson as the University’s next Vice-Chancellor. The OxStew understands that expertise in terrorism and security matters was a key criterion for the committee, in light of recent ‘terrorist’ acts by gangs of left wing anti-austerity students. These acts include holding protests every now and then, endless meetings, and the aggressive use of jazz hands.

Jason Akehurst, an expert in ‘terrorism’, told The OxStew, “Ever since the government started trying to pass the Counter-Terrorism and Security Act 2015, everyone has been scared shitless. Universities across the country have started seeing terrorists everywhere – so much so that they have started redefining what terrorism actually is. “The University of Oxford is perceived as being particularly at risk, due to the presence of ISIS at the University which authorities are concerned is radicalising students by spreading their dangerous hipster ideology.

“The last straw really was when students started questioning Andrew Hamilton’s salary. How students could criticise the pay gap between the highest and lowest paid at the University is beyond comprehension. Clamping down on any students who question this really ought to a priority for the next Vice-Chancellor.” The Oxstew understands that the University is also currently considering the purchase of several drones and Kevlar gowns, in order to bolster the University’s security capability. In addition, documents have been leaked to The OxStew revealing that Richardson plans to convert Exam Schools into a new secret service headquarters for the Oxford University Security Service (OUSS) if appointed, which, yes, is a real thing and, no, is not the Oxford University branch of the Waffen-SS.

Giles Ashwood, a privately educated communist and ‘student activist’, commented, “It’s no surprise that we have the University on the run, considering all the protests we’ve organised recently that are attended by the same very small group every time. If we just organise one more poorly attempted demo, the University will have no choice but to give us what we want.” “Maybe the University has concluded that we’re terrorists as a result of our excessive use of militaristic language when it comes describing things, despite us all being anti-war vegans. We’ve been talking about ‘fighting’ and ‘resistance’ against austerity for years, and yet only now is how hip and radical we are being fully recognised. In any case, there’s only one place this battle will be won and that’s the streets!”

A spokesperson for somebody commented, “I am delighted that Louise Richardson has been nominated as Vice-Chancellor and hope that she will continue this great university’s tradition of having shit library hours on weekends. Being extremely well paid is both challenging and rewarding and I wish her luck in her new role.”