Why is this particular cup of coffee this price here, and is it different somewhere else? Why is it different somewhere else? What are the possible explanations for that? Life is full of all kinds of puzzles: such as why is there a rental market in dinner jackets when you can buy a dinner jacket and use it many times, but there isn’t a rental market in wedding dresses even though people only use wedding dresses once?”
 At times, I temporarily forget that it is I, the interviewer, who is supposed to be asking the questions. Yet this is typical of Tim Harford’s approach to economics and to life more generally: ask lots of questions, reflect on what you see, and think about the world around you. His weekly column in The Financial Times and bestselling book The Undercover Economist are based on this entire premise.

“The real world applications, they are the most interesting. They make us think rigorously but at the same time they make us face up to some complexity. There might be all kinds of psychological and institutional details that do not easily fit into the models. But thinking about those details, that’s all part of being a good economist.”

Harford, who studied PPE at Brasenose before doing a masters degree in Economics, believes that many recent approaches to the subject have paid too little attention to what is actually happening in the real world. He thinks that while there is “tremendous value in the maths”, there is a risk that we “crowd things out that do not easily lend themselves to being expressed mathematically”. The popularity of Economics has soared in recent years. Since 2007, for example, the uptake of Economics A-level has risen by about 50 per cent. Harford thinks that this can only be a good thing.

“It is a great subject and I think it is absolutely fascinating; the different mixture of topics that you have to wrestle with and the importance of the ideas and the subject matter.” However, Harford accepts that this was not part of any attempt on his part or anyone else’s to popularise economics. The rising interest in the subject is more of a “symptom of a bad thing, which is that we have had a catastrophic financial crisis. There is always going to be more interest in Economics – certainly in the media – as a result of that. People have realised that it matters.”

Given that the study of economics is assuming ever greater importance, I question him on the nature of statistics. By analysing variables using alternative methods, statistical analyses generate different numbers. Inflation, unemployment, and economic growth, for example, can all be measured using different methodological approaches and each approach tells a different story.

As Harford exemplifies, “Are median wages stagnating or not? It turns out that there are two perfectly good ways to ask the question and you get a different answer. If you look at everybody who is working, the median wage is stagnating. If you look at everybody who has had a job all year, the median wage is growing. So if you have a job, your wage is going up. But there are people quitting the labour force at the top with good jobs and people entering the labour force at the bottom with bad jobs and that means that the median wage isn’t going any where.”

Yet how are we to choose between alternative methods of measuring certain variables? Harford is quite clear on this issue: we do not need to make a choice because statistics “measure what they measure”. Rebutting my question, he argues, “To ask which statistic we should choose, that’s like asking which frame of your favourite film you should choose. Well no, you’ve got to watch the whole film.” His answer brings us back to the point about not being reductive in our approach to looking at the world. Statistics can be useful even though they “do not tell us everything”.

But the moment we think that they are telling us everything, that is when we encounter trouble. According to Harford, “We are in even more trouble when they start getting used as targets because then you immediately get distortions”.

The classic example of this phenomenon is ambulance waiting times. In the late 1990s, Tony Blair introduced a target: in life-threatening emergencies in urban areas, ambulances should arrive within eight minutes, 75 per cent of the time. “Even saying the target you realise that it is quite complicated,” comments Harford. “Immediately after that target was introduced, it started being hit for sure but the definition of life-threatening emergencies started changing. The definition of ambulance changed, so that suddenly paramedics would arrive on bikes. The ambulances were relocated from rural areas to urban areas to make it easier to hit the target in urban areas. People would just lie about the numbers and an awful lot of calls finished at seven minutes 59 seconds. And of course if you breach the eight minute target then you’re screwed because you’re no longer valid for the target so you might as well make them wait two hours.”

Harford continues, “You need to collect the data but the moment you turn the data into a target you are inviting all kinds of weird stuff.” This use of small real world examples to explain economic phenomena is typical of Harford’s approach.

However, Harford acknowledges that macroeconomics, which studies broader economic themes such as economic growth and unemployment, needs a “different approach”.

“Purely as a writer you have got to talk about macroeconomics in a different way. It is impossible to give a simple everyday example for a lot of 
everyday
 macro-
economic phenomena 
because the
whole point
is that they
 are systemic.
You cannot point
 to one cause because
 the moment you point to one cause there is something else going on behind your back which is connected via invisible strings to the other cause.” The nature of macroeconomics is such that there is significantly more controversy. Theories are inevitably less concrete, but Harford hopes that his writing on the subject is “still fun”.

One of the most significant aspects of macroeconomics is its attempt to forecast future events. Harford’s talk to the PPE Society following our interview was on ‘How to See Into the Future’. He talks of a new type of research which comes from psychologists rather than economists. This supposedly ground-breaking research characterises ‘super forecasters’ as those who work in a team, who have received training and, most importantly, those who adapt their forecasting technique in response to past errors.

Tentatively, I suggest to Harford that these characteristics give the impression of being somewhat superficial. Why are forecasters not already working in teams, partaking in training, and learning from their mistakes? He responds by suggesting that most forecasters do not face particularly strong incentives to attempt to produce accurate forecasts.

The chief economist at an investment bank is one example. “ Your job is to get the bank on the evening news and to sound authoritative.” Political pundits “may well just be cheering for their side in an argument,” whilst as an author trying to sell a book then “maybe you want to make a forecast which is eye-catching and controversial” rather than wholly accurate.
 Even independent think tanks such as the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) and the Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR) have a relatively poor track record when it comes to forecasting. Indeed, not a single forecasting agency has correctly predicted a recession since 2007. Part of the problem, according to Harford, is that the “IFS for example is not usually graded on the accuracy of its forecasts, it is graded on other things: the detail, the independence of its analysis.” The principal job of independent forecasting agencies is, Harford concludes, to ensure that their forecasts are not “influenced by politicians trying to sell a particular idea”.

With no forecasting agency able to produce consistently accurate forecasts, I ask Harford why politicians, businesses and individuals commit so heavily to them.

“They’re very seductive, they’re very persuasive. They’re a great way of saying, ‘Oh well I don’t really know what’s going on in Syria; it’s all very complicated, but someone tells me that he believes that Bashar al-Assad will be out of office within six months.’ I feel like I have learnt something about Syria from an expert on Syria. I haven’t really but I feel like I have.”

The solution, according to Harford, is instead to engage in scenario-planning, “which is more about telling coherent, plausible stories about the future without making any claim that this story is definitely going to be correct.”

Reflecting on historical trends and real world problems as well as asking his own questions about what he sees appears to be Harford’s approach. It is an approach from which we all have much to learn.

Oxford University is our institution of learning and in many cases also our home, so why does it often not feel that way? Whose University? is a campaign highlighting the ways in which the University fails to put its students first. There are several aspects to this. Many students feel that their mental health is ultimately less important than the ‘academic excellence’ and ‘reputation’ associated with Oxford’s intense terms and famously high workload. While the University puts a lot into mental health support services, there seems to be no willingness to think radically about changing the model we work with, or being flexible to meet different students’ needs. ‘Work hard, play hard’ is a hollow phrase used to excuse the huge toll our degrees can put on our mental state.

Another aspect is about our spaces. Many of us live in college, but we struggle to feel like it is really our home when strict accommodation policies force us to move out at regular intervals. We may pay comparable amounts for accommodation as our friends at other universities, but we can only call this room our own for eight weeks at a time. Even around exams, we have to move out to make way for conference guests, collect up our lives and transport them home, to what may not be a stable and happy living situation.

Financially, many of us struggle when weekly accommodation rates are high, and a scarcity of kitchens forces us to eat expensive college food. All these issues affect those students already in difficulty – be it with money, health, or home life – disproportionately.

Whose University? is a movement of students who have come together to talk about these issues, collect student experiences, and work towards changing these problems. So far we have been working on collecting testimonies, in order to connect our experiences. We’ve also been compiling data about the huge disparities between what different colleges charge and what they provide in return, with the aim of producing a ‘Nottington Table’ about the stuff that really matters. But most of all, we want to hear from you. Like us on Facebook, submit a testimony with your own experience, and follow and share what our campaign is doing.

This is our university. We must avoid being cowed by the weight of a traditional and elite institution, and start talking about the various ways in which, in all honesty, it needs to sort its shit out.

The question whose answer every Oxbridge student wants to know: which is better, Oxford or Cambridge? This is how I begin my interview with Myriam Francois-Cerrah, a journalist working to bridge the gap between feminism and religion, and, coincidently, an alumna of Cambridge. In response to this crowd-pleasing question, Francois-Cerrah is very down-to-earth. “Oxford and Cambridge both have their charm and their downfalls. They are both places of huge privilege, which could do with an injection of reality. They are both genuinely in a bubble.” This injection of reality is precisely what Francois-Cerrah was trying to get across in the feminism debate at the Union last Thursday.

The debate, ‘This House Believes Feminism Has Been Hijacked by White Middle Class Women’, focused on the different faces that feminism can have and how everyone, not only women, need to recognise that. During the debate, Francois-Cerrah emphasised that one can’t fit every feminist into a specific categorised box. The fundamental necessity of feminism is to ensure that every woman feels supported and represented in some capacity in those situations where she may feel hindered, prejudiced towards, or alone and unsupported. It is precisely this lack of solidarity within the feminist movement that catalysed Francois-Cerrah’s interest in trying to bridge the gap between those that call themselves feminists but refuse to stand with everyone who identifies as a woman.

Whilst obviously concerned with the universal feminist project, she is also interested in female subjugation within a religious sphere – specifically, considering recent events, France. “The majority of the feminist movement in France has not shown itself in solidarity with the struggles faced by Muslim women, specifically the overlapping issues faced by ethnic minority Muslim women. My mission is to be truthful and the truth is that there are huge inequalities facing Muslim women and that feminist women have failed to stand with them, but have stood with the establishment.”

Francois-Cerrah goes on to state that France is actually “increasing restrictions on the visibility of Muslim women under the pretence of a universality which promotes Eurocentric ideas”. The government, and a large part of the French ‘majority’, fail to recognise the steps that need to be taken to achieve equality amongst the population as a whole.

But, I ask Francois-Cerrah, is there any way to counteract this? Specifically, in light of the Union debate, does she think that there is a way for feminists to rise up and establish their own suppressed voices within their hijacked movement?

It would seem that in today’s world, the best way for minorities to raise their voices is to make them heard through the media, especially social media.

The reaction of the Australian people to the anti-Muslim attack in Sydney is a good example of this: #IllRideWithYou overtook most of the negative press against the Muslim community in Australia. This is the type of solidarity that Francois-Cerrah is looking for and hoping to establish within the feminist movement.

As Francois-Cerrah says, “[The] job of journalists is to report accurately. Uncover the alternative narrative, those whose voices are not put in the spotlight. In the case of France, hashtags are an important indication
of solidarity with the disenfranchised.

“The French media has perpetuated the idea of an alien, foreign minority that needs to be controlled.

“To increase conceptions of a wider narrative view of citizenship, Muslims, especially Muslim women, should be considered just as much of a French citizen as anyone else with a French passport, regardless of their colour, mother-tongue, and especially their religion and gender.”


Francois-Cerrah ends our conversation by telling me that the “dominant perception of religion can be imposed upon Muslims, in the name of their so called emancipation. Where the feminist movement has failed is where they do not stand with Muslim women, as they see them as if they are victims of their religion and do not stand with them in respecting the value which they put on their religion and their choice.

In a significant development in the war of words concerning far-right French politician Marine’s Le Pen’s controversial appearance at the Oxford Union, a member of the Union has issued a denial that his cardboard sign with the words ‘We <3 Marine’ was in any way a statement of support for her.

James Yeo, a History and Politics student at Oriel College and member of the Union’s Secretary’s Committee, was seen waving the glittercovered banner as Ms. Le Pen entered the chamber, with other members bearing posters with statements such as ‘Front National Rocks!’ and ‘Je Suis Le Pen’.

Yeo clarified that the creation of elaborate posters is in fact a Union tradition dating back to the late 19th century, and is part of a deeply sophisticated form of irony which ultimately facilitates an informed critique of its ‘target’, lamenting that most people just aren’t really able to understand such a level of intellectual complexity.

He did concede that there was a greater ambiguity as to why Le Pen was allowed to crowdsurf following her response to an accusation of Holocaust denial, and promised that there would be a full investigation.

As Le Pen left the chamber, a number of audience members saluted her with the Front National’s trademark ‘Le Pen’ salute; an outstretched right arm holding a pen. The pen symbolises freedom of speech, a principle which is famously important to the far-right, as well as being a pun on ‘Le Pen’.

Accusations that this resembles the Nazi salute have long been denied by members of the Front National, with the Party Secretary describing the ‘Le Pen’ salute as “simply a statement about how much we value free speech for all, even the Jews”.

Other critics have questioned how the ‘Le Pen’/holding a pen pun would even work in France, seeing as the French for ‘the pen’ is ‘le stylo’ not ‘le pen’.

On Tuesday, the President of the Oxford Union defended the fact that Marine Le Pen’s invite puts her in the same company as a number of Nobel Peace Prize winners, saying “we haven’t offered her special treatment in any way – at the end of the day she’s only been afforded the same platform as the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu.”

This has been queried though, as it has emerged that the golden throne on which Le Pen was seated is not typical.

Late last night, James Yeo attempted to defuse the tension by reminding people of the ultimate triviality of the entire situation, posting a witty paraphrase of The IT Crowd on social media, “If people have a problem with fascist politicians being granted a prestigious platform to speak here in Oxford, then maybe we should all just move to Iran.”

In response, Ibrahim Ali, a PPEist at Balliol and prominent figure in the Oxford Activist Network, conceded, “I suppose it is all pretty hilarious really, I feel a bit daft for being such a killjoy now.

“Ultimately what does it really matter if a virulently Islamophobic Holocaust-denier is welcomed into one of the most prominent institutions associated with our University and applauded by my fellow students?

“It’s not as if granting increased status to racist views makes hate crimes against Muslims and other groups more likely. And when you think about it, it is so important that people in the UK get more and more opportunities to hear what she has to say.” 

The upcoming General Election is going to be one of the tightest in decades. The surge in support for the SNP and the Greens, as well as for UKIP on the right, have squeezed the traditional centrist parties, with Labour in particular being punished for abandoning their working class base under Blair. As well as being close, the election is of great importance. The ownership of public services, like the NHS and universities, could be decided, along with workplace rights and young people’s benefits. Given that politics for the next generation could be shaped on May 7th, why are young people not going to be voting in droves?

Young people are always far less likely to vote than those older than them. The Trade Union Congress has found that in the 2010 election, just 33 per cent of 18-34 year olds voted, compared to 64 per cent of those aged 35 years and older. In other words, there are four million missing young voters, an average of 11,000 per constituency, more than the average majority. Young people could decide the next election, but they probably won’t.

While the Greens are ‘surging’, as everyone now likes to point out, they will struggle to win more than a single seat, even if they are the second most popular party among young people. They’ve attracted young voters with their brand of anti-austerity politics and antifees rhetoric, as well as just looking like the authentic alternative to consensus politics.

Meanwhile, Labour’s youth wing is flagging, mostly dragged along by those whose political vision doesn’t extend beyond the next door they have to knock on, and can’t understand why most young people have been turned off by the New Labour years, which they (understandably) associate with tuition fees, ASBOs, and the Iraq war.

Most attempts to counter this ‘apathy’ (an incredibly condescending word when used about young voters) focus on non-political solutions and buzzwords like ‘engagement’ and ‘the student voice’. Much of the debate, especially in the Labour Party, to which I belong, has almost forgotten that you have to offer something to people in order to get their votes. The ‘not Tories’ party isn’t much of a ticket on its own.

Labour’s higher education spokesperson Liam Byrne was caught this week admitting he’d like to see free education. If Labour actually came out with policies like that, young people might feel they had something worth voting for.

Yes

Freddie Hopkinson

At the height of the Sydney Café siege in December, Rachel Jacobs wrote a Facebook post describing how she had offered solidarity to a Muslim woman intimidated into removing her hijab on the train. Within two hours, there were over 40,000 tweets using the hashtag #IllRideWithYou.

By offering their company on public transport across Australia, tweeters showed their support for the Muslim community and their rights to freedom of identity. At a moment when Australians could have easily scapegoated the Muslim community, social media activism moved the Australian public to show solidarity and understanding.

It demonstrated how much Australians care about multiculturalism and freedom of expression. Through online activism, a global movement proved the gunman wrong: community ties were far too strong to be broken by senseless violence.

The growth of social media over the last 20 years has revolutionised the way communities interact with each other. Through Twitter, Facebook and other platforms, almost all of us can get in touch with the latest news instantly. Like the invention of the printing press, this media revolution has undoubtedly reshaped our social discourse. Entirely new international dialogues about concerns for the future of our planet are being opened up through the Facebook pages of organisations like Amnesty International and Greenpeace. More than ever, people are being given the chance to express their visions for a better future.

Not every revolution set in motion by a new generation of media-savvy activists has been successful. We need only look at the horrific consequences of the Arab Spring for the people of Egypt, Libya, and Syria to begin to doubt the merits of social media activism. In Ukraine too, it is easy to draw a direct link between the optimistic young bloggers of the February 2014 revolution and the bloodshed we see today. Social media campaigns have been pivotal catalysts in the development of unrest in many regions of the world, but that doesn’t mean that the form of media itself is inherently bad.

Looking back to the social media campaigns of January and February 2011 in Egypt, it is hard for us to deny the constructive vision of young bloggers calling for democracy in a nation deprived of it for so long. The sentiments of these activists may well have been hijacked by both the Muslim Brotherhood and the Egyptian army, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they weren’t a force for positive change.

Most of all, social media activism should be seen as a force for good as it makes politicians of every persuasion listen more closely to the concerns of the people. Rulers may well choose to ignore the demands of social media campaigners, but in the Twenty-First Century, it has become very hard for them to claim ignorance. At the last UK general election, figures as diverse as Gordon Brown and Michael Gove rushed to address the concerns of Internet activists on Mumsnet. Through the complaints of Mumsnet bloggers, social media redirected politicians back towards the concerns of the ordinary voter.

Ultimately, social media activism expands public debates on issues that matter to us. The consequences of these debates may not always be positive, but better that they be had rather than side-lined. As a result of social media activism, the Twenty-First Century is becoming an era when ordinary communities can affect change, and be heard like never before.

No

Lucjan Kaliniecki

The Internet has made a lot of things very easy. 50 years ago, it was inconceivable that anyone could order anything they pleased, know about everything or communicate with anyone, and do all this within such a short amount of time. To say that the Internet has revolutionised our society is an understatement.

We must be cautious, however, when it comes to considering what the Internet actually does. It doesn’t create the products that we can buy or the knowledge we can find on it. Rather, it gives us a very convenient way of doing the things that humanity had already been doing for a very long time.

Another activity we’ve been doing for a very long time, and something we are pretty good at, is complaining about the things we don’t like and seeking to change them. The process of change and adaptation is more often than not a difficult one, and getting things done takes a lot of grafting and personal effort.

That said, human beings, whilst ingenious, are also pretty lazy. We often don’t implement changes because it would be too much effort to do so. This is good and bad: we human beings need a certain degree of consistency to be comfortable, but glaring injustices can go unchallenged due to our lethargy.

What better galvanising force for our social lassitude, then, than the remarkable tool that is the internet? In the same way that gaining knowledge and trading goods has been accelerated, so too can the very mechanisms of social change. We can be made aware of causes and pledge our support for them at the click of a button. It couldn’t be easier.

But what does clicking that button actually do? What connection does a Facebook ‘like’ or a Twitter ‘retweet’ provide between the social media activist and the cause itself?

I’d argue that in fact it doesn’t actually do that much at all. We may feel that we have helped a cause and done our bit, but in reality the minimal amount of effort we have expended in doing so will only be matched by a small change for the cause in question. At best this is harmless, the impact minimal, our actions go unnoticed. Even here, though, the faux sense of benevolence just shields us further from the worthy causes we purportedly support.

But at worst it may prevent us from actually taking any meaningful action. Where before we may have felt guilty for not taking the time and effort to help others, a feeling that may have compelled us to do something, now we can assuage that feeling of guilt through perfunctory actions such as sharing a Facebook post or signing an online petition. We fill our personal good deed quota and get on with our lives, even though our actions have had little impact.

In this sense, social media activism is self-serving and vapid when used as a means to an end. As I have said, the Internet does not do anything new for us. It provides a more convenient way to do things we’ve always done. In this way, as a tool, the Internet has allowed us to be aware of causes and issues of which we may previously have been unaware. This is good, but it does not negate the fact that a real effort must be made in order to achieve real change in the real world.

Social media activism has meant we often mistake the means for the end. It should be used as a starting point for achieving tangible change, the basis on which hard campaigning is built, but unfortunately it has instead become the proxy for it.

Just because you cannot see a physical impairment or an obvious problem with someone’s everyday behaviour, that does not mean they are not suffering from a serious illness. Mental health affects around a quarter of the population each year and ranges from depression to schizophrenia. These illnesses are most common amongst young people, meaning that all of us are likely to know someone suffering from one, even if we are unaware of it.

So why has this government made major cuts to mental health services? According to the Royal College of Nursing, since 2010, there are 3,300 fewer nurses who specialise in mental health, and 1,500 fewer beds, while demand has increased by 30 per cent. After serious progress towards recognising the legitimacy of mental illnesses in recent times, it seems we are now going backwards. Of course, money is tight at the moment, but personally I condemn the cuts to the NHS by a government that has clearly misplaced its priorities.

Perhaps because mental illnesses come from within, the government is under the not uncommon misconception that those suffering with a mental illness should ‘just try harder’. It’s difficult to see how this could be more insulting. Imagine you were suffering from a fatal disease, and when you went to the doctor about it, they told you that you just need to change your outlook, put some effort in, and pick yourself up. Just like mental health, it simply does not work like that.

We often forget that physical and mental illnesses sometimes go hand in hand. A serious mental illness could lead someone to cause physical harm to themselves or others. A serious physical problem could cause a mental illness such as anxiety or depression. It is thus irresponsible of the government to put mental illness on the bottom shelf while claiming it is doing otherwise.

How does this happen? With more than half of local councils in England having to cut or freeze budgets for mental health services between 2014 and 2015, over 80 per cent of GPs are concerned that they cannot manage, believing things to have dramatically deteriorated over the last year. Indeed, in the last two years, there have been seven suicides and a homicide, partially due to a lack of psychiatric beds. One in five family doctors has witnessed a patient come to harm because they were unable to get specialist help in time.

One of the most appalling repercussions of these cuts is that nurses are being forced to prioritise patient’s safety instead of their treatment. This can only exacerbate the suffering of patients and add to the costs of eventually treating them.

What is more, some mentally ill patients have to be held in police cells due to a lack of beds and resources in the NHS. They do not deserve to be incarcerated; they have not committed a crime and are in urgent need of help and care.

Despite the government’s assurances that mental health would be given increased attention, their promises have thus far proved empty. Indeed, NHS England decided to cut mental health expenditure by 1.8 per cent last year. With the NHS not even making David Cameron’s top six priorities for the upcoming general election, it is an increasing worry that we could face another five years of severe cuts to mental health services.

This is an urgent matter. It takes a lot, firstly, for someone to admit to their mental illness, and then to seek help for it. An inefficient and unreliable mental health sector serves merely to increase that burden unjustly.