Yes

Harry Gosling

There is nothing quite like the experience of an Oxford ball. A night of decadence, debauchery and indulgence in the beautiful surroundings of a centuries old Oxford College is for many students the highlight of their time at the University. And quite rightly too, given the price of some of the Commemoration Balls. I am not writing to market Ball tickets, but to suggest that the virtually unique nature of an Oxford ball is well worth the price paid in most cases.

From an objective perspective, it may appear that Oxford balls are not all that they are made out to be. Copious amount of food and drink are consumed, yes. But £95 worth?

Perhaps not. But this misses the point. The old adage that something can add up to an experience that is greater than the sum of its parts holds firm in this case. It is the almost unique experience of an Oxford ball that makes it worth the price that is paid. There can be few events as magical as a ten hour party with hundreds of guests dressed in ball gowns and black tie, all moving to an eclectic mix of jazz, funk and disco. There are a million activities: laser quest, dodgems, fireworks and more, with barely a dull moment as the party flows from one sixteenth century quad to the next.

Part of what makes these college balls such a fantastic experience is that they are so well-funded: the bigger the budget, the better the party. Reducing the price of college balls would only diminish the experience. The slightly cheaper balls, such as those held by RAG and the Union, are great but many students justifiably regard the college balls as better value, given that they can offer a more memorable night, rather than just a great one. Some students will of course disagree, arguing that college balls are too expensive for what they are. But the fact that ball tickets appear to sell out within minutes of their release is in itself proof that they are not too expensive: students evidently think that the experience that is offered by college balls is worth parting with up to £180. Repeated attendance at balls proves that many students regard them as well worth the money.

An oft-cited argument is that the price of many of these college balls excludes poorer students who cannot hope to pay the ticket price. This argument is farcical. Would we suggest that a car, or a restaurant or a holiday was too expensive on account of the fact that some people could not afford it? Attendance at a college ball is not an essential part of being a student at Oxford and indeed for those who are adamant that they do not miss out there is always the option of working at the ball and then enjoying the second half.

Oxford is a tremendously intense environment and so many students rightly value a college ball as the climax of their time at Oxford, or, alternatively, one final night of excess before exams season commences. Regardless of why different individuals agree to part with large sums of money in order to experience a college ball, it is clear that they are justified in doing so.

College balls are the most glamorous of Oxbridge traditions. What makes them such a unique and special experience is the decadence and the luxury that can only be supported through high ticket prices. Shelling out £100 or more for a ticket to a College Ball is not for everyone. But I for one believe it to be worth every penny.

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No

Patrick Mullholland

Spring has sprung and Trinity Term is now in full swing. Freshly pruned, it’s been a year of ‘firsts’ for our 2014/15 harvest of chundergraduates. Matriculash and Oxmas, bops and bopstivals, crew dates and formals, choir hymns and welfare buns, prelims and 2:1s (well, I guess it hasn’t all been firsts). Still, it’s the glitz and glamour, an evening of extravagance that is marked out, circled and scored across our calendars. Admit it, by now we’ve all tried it on, ‘playing the bon vivant’ (do pardon this, the first of many chic loanwords). The hors-d’œuvre (I told you so…) has been served up – the pièce de résistance is yet to come! I am, of course, referring to the main event, the crème de la crème of Oxford soirées: the college ball.

Yes, for a limited time only students from Cowley to Summertown will grace the city of dreaming spires. Expect three-piece hires, lace dresses, pocket squares, dress shirts and that one guy that always wears a kilt… However, while life may look free-and-easy, it’s most certainly not free. Rather, it comes at a price – and a very heavy one at that.

Or maybe that’s just me? With this question in mind, I took to Trinity’s JCR, posting one of those annoying, probing surveys (N.B. – there is no conflict of interest here, I swear). In total, there were 42 respondents that partook in the investigation, ‘Are college balls too expensive?’ Sadly, I’ve elected to omit the popular answer of ‘Ed Balls’ but I am pleased that someone bothered to vote for him. The results were as follows:

Yes, college balls are too expensive – 71 per cent; it depends on which college ball – 29 per cent; no, college balls are not too expensive – 0 per cent. Granted, I can’t imagine too many people would have the gall to name and shame themselves by saying ‘no’ – “Goodness gracious no! They’re as cheap as chips, what am I supposed to do with all this money weighing down my pockets?” Notwithstanding, there is a point here (somewhere) and it is this: overwhelmingly, students feel as though they are being ripped off when it comes to admission prices. Sky-rocking into triple digits, Trinity’s lavish Commemoration Ball last year would have set you back £155 for members, or £185 for non-members. St. John’s tallied up to a similar figure of £150. Gulps, take that student loan. On a purely economic basis this is almost extortionate, regardless of how enjoyable it may be. Needless to say, this also feeds into a popular extramural misconception of Oxbridge as a ‘posh playground’, a bastion of the privileged. Naturally, this is not a critique of hardworking ball committees that endeavour tirelessly to conjure up thrilling themes and cherished memories. That it is, however, at the very least, somewhat exclusive remains something of an issue. Surely it goes without saying that all students, not just the jeunesse dorée, ought to have the choice of deciding whether or not they wish to attend. Financial constraints really shouldn’t factor into the equation.

On the flipside, not all balls will have you re-mortgaging your house. Take St Hilda’s for instance. Quite a few of my friends were impressed by how affordable it was. Tickets were available for as low as £64, which, while pricey, could hardly be said to be breaking the bank. One student, Abi Willett, commented how she was “pleasantly surprised” by the great value for money, saying, “The food was excellent and the Beyoncé tribute was a particular highlight.” This model is something for other colleges to aspire to. Organisers should strike a balance; accessibility and quality need not hinder the other. A ball is at its heart an excuse to dress up and look nice. People anticipate some expense but not a crater in their bank accounts.

Added to the mix we also have the small matter of preparation, of ordering your suit off ASOS and hoping it arrives before the warehouse burns down. Failing that, a quick peek inside Ede and Ravenscroft will remind you why there’s a Marks and Spencer in your local shopping centre, and not the former. Truth be told, dress codes can place enormous un-costed burdens upon attendees. One must also go through all manner of difficulties before settling on the appropriate attire. But rest assured, Balliol College, in 2012, graciously decided to make this decision for you, tough as it is. A white tie birthday bash was held in celebration of the college’s 750th anniversary (overcompensating for 458 years in its neighbour’s shadow no doubt). Now, I’m not lashing out at white tie per se, only that it is indicative of an inherent feature of ‘ball culture’: frivolous spending for frivolity’s sake. So, in the end, don’t be shocked if you run up bills that match or exceed your ticket price.

On the whole, I think it’s fair to say balls aren’t always what they are cracked up to be (I’m looking at you, infamous Pembroke Ball 2013). From time to time, it really is a bit of a balls-up. And sure, many may meet the mark or surpass it once in a while but even then they’re often overpriced.

To put it crudely, it depends on whose balls you prefer. Some, like Hilda’s, are relatively cheap and deliver, but many don’t. Most balls are purposefully too expensive. They are kaleidoscopic carnivals, showy displays of pomp and circumstance. If this is of discomfort to us then our approach is in need of an overhaul. 

It was very hard to feel cynical last Saturday. 23rd May was a day about which all descriptions sound trite, sentimental, hyperbolic, but there was nothing trite about the joy across the country this weekend. Leo Varadkar, Ireland’s openly gay Minister for Health was right to call it a “social revolution”; the resounding ‘Yes’ in the marriage referendum was the culmination of decades of shifting social attitudes in what was once called ‘Catholic Ireland’- the yes result may see a long overdue moratorium on that phrase. Regardless of how it might appear in retrospect, social change is never a creeping gradualism; the slow erosion of homophobia in Ireland has come about through 30 years of ceaseless campaigning by activists like David Norris and Katherine Zappone.

For LGBTQ people in Ireland, the referendum has been as personal as it has been political. All over the country, people were sharing their stories and speaking honestly about what the ‘Yes’ vote has meant to them. In Dublin, I heard people say they felt safer on the streets after the extraordinary support for the amendment – upwards of 70 per cent in most Dublin constituencies – I heard many people talk about their hopes for the future where young LGBTQ people would not have to experience the shame and isolation that they once did. I heard gay people in their 70s talk about weddings they never thought they would see.

As a queer Irish person, I have felt overwhelmed by the compassion and enthusiasm of the straight majority. Flying home to vote, I found myself sitting behind two straight women who were doing the same thing. They chatted about the gay friends and family they wanted to support, and there was something endearingly didactic  about the way one said, “Not voting is as bad as voting ‘No’.” The ways in which straight people have made it their duty to stand up to homophobia is a model of how straight allies should behave. In theory, human rights should never go to a vote – in practice it became a beautiful way for Irish people to make their support irrevocable.

Gay marriage is not a panacea for homophobia, let alone for transphobia. The Taoiseach Enda Kenny has said that the ‘Yes’ vote would “obliterate prejudice”; that is sadly not true as no legislation or amendment can eradicate all prejudice in schools, workplaces and homes.

Young LGBTQ people are still far more likely to attempt suicide or experience mental health issues than their cisgender or straight counterparts. This is particularly the case for young trans people who have no legal recognition of their gender identity under Irish law and who are forced to undergo an excruciatingly lengthy process of medical and psychological examination before they may have their gender legally recognised. These are issues that must be addressed as a matter of urgency.

In discussions of the Marriage Equality campaign, phrases such as ‘the final hurdle’ reappeared. Same-sex marriage is far from the ‘final’ anything. Ireland has much further to go in treating its LGBTQ citizens with empathy and dignity.

But there is no denying that on Saturday 23rd May this year, something seismic changed in Irish society that went far beyond marriage, and even beyond the LGBTQ community. Rather than the final hurdle, perhaps we are witnessing the tentative beginnings of a new, inclusive and secular Ireland. After 23rd May, I feel confident that we will get there.

Having had British Council postings in a dozen countries over 33 years, Paul Smith, Director of the US branch, has come to know more than most about the significance of “culture” in the twenty-first century.

Indeed, his experience of working on promoting education and cultural interaction across five continents means Smith can offer expert opinions on a diverse range of issues. However, underlying everything we talked about was a fi rm and intentional emphasis on the great importance of the multiple cultures he has had contact with. Having read some articles he had written, I knew the concept would play a key role in the interview, but was not expecting such an expansive and detailed answer when I asked what he meant by the term. First, he quickly explained that he is not simply referring to plays and music when he talks about culture, rather “that whole gamut of things which gives people a sense of identity; where their home is, whether they feel included or excluded, concepts of nationhood, obviously which religions (they belong to)”.

For Smith, such cultural issues are at the core of conflicts which continue to take place in nations across the world. A key element of this is that, “[While] the world is populated by nations, even more so it is populated by cultures, [and] cultures don’t always have the same political boundaries as nations.” He makes this point clearly with the case of Afghanistan, where he was based for two years prior to moving to the USA. His time there was not an easy one, with the country in a constant state of unrest and the ‘Green Zone’ area in which he worked being bombed while he was on leave.

However, despite this proximity to the brutal violence which continues in the country, he seems to be quite hopeful of its future. Here he again chooses to distance his argument from the overtly political and economic, as he states, “The real enterprise for Afghanistan, for all these different peoples, is to say, ‘We want to be a nation,’ and really it is an act of the will of the people, it is a cultural act, not just a political act.”

The idea of a decision being an “act of the will of the people” is a recurring theme. He repeatedly argues that it is essential to have self-determination based on a firm feeling of identity, where people come together within a nation and willingly defi ne themselves as such. He seems passionate on this point, as he repeatedly points to examples ranging from 9/11 to secession movements in Scotland, Belgium and Spain as cases where clashes over differences of identity have seen people attempt to assert their differences through whichever means they can.

While he takes care to emphasise that these issues are important domestically, he also repeatedly makes clear that he sees them as equally key on the international stage, at one point even stating, “There is nothing more important in geopolitics than culture.”

In explaining this statement, he slips into the tone of the double first Cambridge student he is, as he notes, “Culture is a deep undertow under the waters. The surface froth of the sea is today’s politics, but the deep things that are causing the waves or the froths are the cultural undertows.”

This point is clearly evidenced in the USA, where his job brings him into direct contact with the politics of the day. I bring up the recent civil unrest in Baltimore, and he again sees identity as playing a key role, noting that these “fi ghts are about recognition”, as peoples of diff erent groups with diff erent legacies and ties attempt to assert their sense of collective and individual rights. The issues here stem in large part from the fact that, in his words, America “is the greatest experiment of the last 200 years of the creating of a nation”. Thus, in the period since it became federalised, it has continued to be a “laboratory” in which radically diff erent groups attempt to find “common means to live together”, as they “try to fi nd the right kind of dynamic to truly respect and live with one another”.

From here, I ask what role Britain can play in a world that is so divided. Here, he says, we must step away from the actions of the past. As an imperial power, Britain played a key role in causing the difficulties which presently exist. A case in point is Afghanistan, which he notes is greatly inhibited by that fact that as a nation, its formulation was largely founded in imperial rulers who said, “We’ll draw a line here and here’s a nation.”

Instead, he says, “This country has developed some of the most democratic behaviours around tolerance which the world has ever known.” Here he seems understandably proud of the role of the institution he works for, as it attempts to peacefully extol the importance of education and understanding.

Turning again to the world stage, I ask what he thinks the future holds. Again, he chooses to highlight “the will of the people” as the key factor in determining what lies ahead, as with the rise of social media and an increasingly globalised and interconnected world, “The weight of authority is moving from the government to the people.”

However, while this may seem a positive vision to many, it comes with the assessment that alongside this rise comes increased friction between two jarring movements, in the form of globalisation and localism.

Smith does not try to predict the result of this conflict. Clearly, the central point of his analysis is that we must not underestimate the role of culture in geopolitics. 

Colleges are funny places. They inhabit a mixed identity: as historical institutions with timeless characters, as groups of modern individuals and as hierarchical structures. An atmosphere can change for no easily grasped reason.

Reports of intimidating behaviour, although rare, were increasing in Somerville. As Women’s Officer, I was increasingly aware that different groups in College felt either intimidated or unfairly implicated, and members were talking at cross purposes. Cases of harassment were being reported anonymously, making it difficult to take disciplinary action.

But action we needed to take, and the question as to how now reared its head. To tackle the issue, Somerville needed to simultaneously employ its hierarchical structures for disciplinary action, come together as a college and take a stand against harassment, and change the behaviour and attitude of individuals.

This became an issue of two questions: how do you tackle sexist behaviour, and how does a college acknowledge, condemn and tackle such issues? The Principal sent an email to the student body about the decrease in an atmosphere of tolerance, and we held a JCR meeting to condemn the actions, also donating £200 to Oxford Sexual Abuse and Rape Crisis Centre (OSARCC). The rugby team wrote an open letter following that meeting in support. And we received national press coverage, some of it unkind. I felt buoyed by the action of college students and leadership, but I couldn’t help but feel helpless. I was not sure whether these actions would convert into actual change. As Women’s Officer, I felt powerless. A failure.

Mostly I felt unspeakably sad that any of my peers had experienced harassment, as well as intensely furious that I was not sure how best to prevent such behaviour.

But soon after the JCR meeting, we received an email from OSARCC thanking the JCR for the donation and for the action College was taking to stand up and condemn sexual harassment. This email gave me the hope that we had taken a step in the right direction. Our Principal was also flooded with similar emails from alumni, students, fellows and acquaintances praising her for her actions. I by no means think that we hit upon a fail safe formula for implementing change in colleges.

Students are now asking questions, raising awareness, and thinking more carefully about how they act and speak. The atmosphere is changing simply by articulating the issues College is facing. I am sad that this seems to be required, given how difficult this must have been and continues to be for survivors for whom such awareness raising may be painful. I hope students will go about this process tactfully. Peer to peer conversation is a potent way to educate, to show support for survivors and also to make clear that harassment has a very human cost and will not be tolerated. It is difficult for a college to change. It is difficult to scrutinise yourself when you are a body made up of over 400 individuals. Ultimately, it is bloody difficult to fight sexism.

Somerville is beginning a process of evaluation and change. I have faith that we will deal with these issues with compassion and sympathy. I am proud of the individuals who have led the campaign over the last few terms to tackle this behaviour and especially admiring of the welfare and decanal team. And I am proud of the historical character of Somerville as a college which has traditionally pioneered women’s rights. I’m proud that, as a united front and as a college community, we faced harassment head on. It’s only in this way can we learn how to implement change, target unacceptable individual behaviour, work together, and look after one another. 

This week it’s Summer Eights. If you’re new to Oxford, or just not into the rowing scene, you can expect to see a whole lot of activity down by the Isis and, on Saturday, a wide array of parties at each college’s boat house. The college men’s and women’s boats will be out to ‘bump’ (read: hit) the college in front’s boat, and carnage is guaranteed to unfold. I’ll be somewhere out in the melee, at the bow seat (back seat) of Trinity College’s second men’s boat.

Rowing has been much maligned for its reputation as an elite and boorish sport. Events like the Royal Henley Regatta, the Boat Race and the social world that revolve around them mean that people associate the sport with upper-middle class consciousness. Equally, within Oxford, peoples’ experiences of the ‘lads’ and ‘gals’ cultures that are supposedly reinforced by the gender binary social set up of rowing crews put them off. From crew dates to OURCs blazers worn to night clubs, college rowing has not always presented a positive image of itself to those on the outside- I would like to address this.

I started rowing when I came to Oxford at the start of Michaelmas term this academic year along with almost everyone else on my boat. None of us had the elite training a public school rowing club could have offered us, nor do we represent a homogenous white middle class group. Over the last three terms I have rowed with crew members from Hong Kong, Mainland China, Romania, Poland, Zimbabwe, and from across the UK. The guys that will be starting with me this week will have come from completely different backgrounds, yet they will have been brought together by a single desire to compete together as a team.

Going beyond this, the idea that the rowing world is dominated by an Oxbridge elite is a total misrepresentation of the truth. It was Oxford Brookes, not Oxford University, that won the most prestigious university men’s eights cup in the world last year; the Henley Temple Challenge Cup.

What attracts me to rowing is not the crew dates, not the ‘rowing lad’ chat, nor even the vulgar blazers, it is the importance of collective work in a team. In a successful eight man or woman boat, the focus is not on the ability of a few star rowers, but rather the cohesion of the group. Too often, the intra-university media focuses on the presence of a single Blue in an elite boat, yet forgets that the boat will only move forward effectively with the collaboration of eight men or women in perfect sync with each other. Eight blades must hit the water at the same time with an evenly balanced amount of power between the two sides for the boat to make any impact on the race. This means that the interests of the collective in the boat are put above that of the individual. For once in our Oxford lives not everything is about ourselves; we learn that sometimes there are more important things than the lone ‘I’.

As a rowing boat speeds down the Isis, it needs to remain balanced. Without balance, none of the rowers will be able to apply the maximum amount of power through their blades into the river. To maintain balance in a boat, everyone needs to keep their oars level, to ‘tap down’ (read: push your blade down at the end of a stroke) at the same time. Rowers, therefore, need to be aware of their team mates. They need to be sensitive to the issues facing their comrades and they need to respond to them. In a constant drive to make the most efficient body movement to shoot the boat forwards together, rowers have to know and care about those with whom they are racing. For the two kilometres or so of the Isis course, rowers strapped into a boat together become a single organism – they endure the pains and elations of the race together.

Instead of constantly criticising rowing culture, looking at our society as a whole, we should try and learn from the sport. If the most capable at surviving in the capitalist system cared for the balance and harmony of our society as much as a rower cares for the harmony of his/her boat, imagine how much further we would move as a nation. If ordinary people tried to row in time with each other, giving time to community projects for example, we could have a more cordial society.

Globally, we face races to feed and house a growing population, protect the environment, and stave off future conflicts to name but a few. Maybe if we thought more like rowers, and less like self-indulgent individuals, then humanity’s boat might just win.