Wednesday, May 14, 2025
Blog Page 1258

900 students ready for Queerfest

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Over 900 students will be attending Queerfest on Saturday at Wadham College, round off the college’s Queer Week which has celebrated gender diversity and equality.

Scheduled to start at 6pm, the event has the dress code ‘Let it Go’. Organisers stated on the Facebook event page, “All are welcome regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity”.  Acts from Oxford and Cambridge are set to perform, including a cappella group Out of the Blue and Rock Q, a Queen tribute band. 

President Lucy Halton emphasised that Queerfest and Queer Week are entirely run, organised and funded by the Wadham Student Union, explaining, “It’s a huge undertaking and something we’re very proud of.” Of the importance of the event to the LBTQ community, Halton said, “it’s both fun and educational and really brings people together in a spirit of learning and solidarity.” 

The OUSU LGBTQ campaign, led by Officer Adam Ward, has been highlighting their own Bye Bi Prejudice campaign, which aims “to dispel stereotypes non-monosexual people face” as part of Queer Week. Ward congratulated the organisers, telling Cherwell, “they have done a fantastic job of planning an engaging and diverse itinerary.”

First year Anna Lewis at Catz said that she thought “Queerfest is a great idea”, adding, “So many queer events are based around politics that it’s wonderful to have an event celebrating queerness in a more light-hearted atmosphere. The theme is unfortunately reminiscent of Frozen, which I’m not a big fan of, but I can’t wait to see the range of interpretations and costumes that people come up with.” Asked what she hopes the event will achieve, Anna said, “probably getting me very drunk.” 

Other events this week have included sexual health workshops, art shows, hair styling and open mic sessions. Wadham has also flown the rainbow flag as part of Queer Week. It was the first college to do so in 2011, inspiring at least ten other colleges, including Oriel, Univ and St Catherine’s, to follow suit in the following years. Some colleges, including Brasenose, drew criticisms from their JCRs for refusing to fly the flag.

Should Oxford award scholarships to its undergraduates?

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YES

Charlotte Clark

Motivation to work hard is more difficult for some to come by than others, especially when you are caught up in the bewildering rat race that is Oxford University life. In this light, scholarships can be seen to provide a motivation for success that, for many students, is difficult to find.

Yet, this is just one of the many things that scholarships can achieve. They also provide recognition for those who perform at an excellent standard, and make people feel that their work is being acknowledged by their college. The financial incentive offered by several colleges is possibly the sweetest incentive, something with which students can reward themselves in whichever way they like. Exceptional performance is praised throughout other walks of life, in the form of bonuses and other incentives, so why shouldn’t this also be applied to students too? This is not simply an Oxford expression of praise, but a common expression of gratitude for hard work and achievement. Scholar’s gowns provide a visual representation of achievement, and in the same way that graduates have this recognition shown in their gowns, scholar’s gowns show visible achievement within the undergraduate body. Whilst I have never had the opportunity to wear a scholar’s gown myself, I think it represents an apt recognition of accomplishment. I’ve often looked on jealously at the swishing, almost regal, gowns, whilst fumbling to adjust my commoner’s gown into place.

Not everyone who wears a scholar’s gown, however, is awarded it solely on academic basis: some wear it to show musical talent which, much like academic achievement, aids the College. It is not the gown itself that is important, but what it represents – achievement at the highest level.

Wanting the status that the gown represents is not a vanity issue, but shows an aspiration to accomplish the best that you can. To wear the gown is not (to my knowledge) compulsory, and while not everyone wants to be seen wearing a scholar’s gown, the majority of people wear them with pride.

Prelims also gain a greater sense of purpose if scholarships are on the cards, rather than simply only the requirement to pass to continue the course. Scholarships give students a benchmark to achieve at Prelims, especially since Finals are far too faraway for many first years to envision. It’s not quite immediate gratification, but is a clearer goal for Freshers to aspire to. For those who need greater encouragement, scholarships are there to make sure that first year is not meaningless, but rather provide ample opportunity for reward.

In a university that prides itself on maintaining academic excellence, scholarships allow achievement to be recognised throughout the course of one’s degree, rather than merely at finals. Scholarships aim to raise academic standards in a positive way, by rewarding students for working hard.

Admittedly, efforts should be made to ensure that college practices in awarding scholarships do not vary so wildly as to be unfair, and rewards should be regulated between colleges. Nonetheless, the important thing is that some sort of award is available for undergraduates. Such awards are a bonus, and do nothing to degrade the worth of students who do not achieve a first, but merely reward those who do. Scholarships are not a criticism for a 2.1 or anything below, and many graduate schemes and jobs accept a 2.1 as a benchmark. If there were no incentive to work beyond this, I suspect fewer people would aspire to earn a first.

Scholarships are a fitting prize for a great achievement, and while there is reward in itself for achieving a first, scholarships provide the icing on the cake. 

 

No

Zaeem Bhanji

Scholarships are widely respected as symbols of achievement in first year exams. Purporting to reward hard work and intelligence, it may seem difficult, at first glance, to argue against them. Yet, upon closer inspection, I believe that Oxford should not award scholarships after Prelims. This is because scholarships are fundamentally misguided as rewards, reinforcing as they do structural inequality, and encouraging a narrow view of what is important about a student’s experience of Oxford.

Scholarships are, importantly, monetary rewards. Proponents of scholarships argue that these rewards incentivise hard work, or are fair because they are given to the deserving. Both of these views are misguided. High-achieving students ought to be motivated by intellectual challenges, by the satisfaction of achievement itself, not by a token sum taken off their battels.

Indeed, we might go as far as to say that if the accolade of a scholarship represents a greater motivation for hard work than the development of one’s critical faculties, then that person does not deserve a scholarship, as it would be awarded for the wrong reasons. Any such reward should be predicated on a love of learning, not on a love of recognition.

The most important reason why Oxford ought not to award scholarships is because they encourage systemic inequality. The argument that scholarships chip away at inequality by acting as grants is a hollow one: after factoring in the cost of the compulsory scholar’s gown (which can be as much as a third of the annual grant), the termly value of the scholarship can be as little as £40 per term. Where gowns are successful, however, is in the perpetuation of the self-same inequality and elitism which Oxford is trying so hard to divest itself of.

Those who fail to become scholars are left clad in the “commoner’s gown”, whose name asserts a hierarchical divide, which at its worst manifests itself as a split between the haves and the have-nots, the successful and the unsuccessful, to the detriment of the values we would like to preserve as a community.

Just rewards ought to be allocated according to effort made throughout the year, not merely according to test results at the end of it. As a result, scholarships are not the rewards for academic success that they pretend to be. A genuine attempt to reward academic merit ought to be the result of deliberation amongst tutors on the subject of the general application of each student, not the result of cramming and stressful exams. In fact, it’s even possible that scholarships will, in the long run, be harmful for those who win them, since the resulting sense of intellectual superiority could lead to complacency, and a decline in hard work in the run up to finals.

Lastly, scholarships promote a dangerously narrow view of what should constitute the Oxford experience. They stress the importance of achieving a First in Prelims, but they fail to address the wider opportunities for learning and personal development that are on offer. The first year at any university is not just about exams; it is also about adjusting to a new lifestyle, and developing independence. We should be encouraged to judge neither our academic progress nor our personal worth on the basis of exam performance.

Though scholarships are superficially appealing, they are both largely ineffectual, and actively reinforce some of the most damaging Oxbridge stereotypes. They succeed only to cement inequality within the University and cloud our perception of what is important for our intellectual development. Far from encouraging academic progress, they could be seriously hindering it. 

A response to the rise and fall of Dapper Laughs

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It’s been a bad week to be a misogynist. First the vine star, comedian and self-titled “proper lad” Dapper Laughs saw his ITV2 show, Dapper Laughs: On the Pull, cancelled after footage from his stand-up tour was posted of him telling a girl she was “gagging for a rape”. Last Tuesday, the “character” was indefinitely retired by his creator Daniel O’Reilly, who appeared on Newsnight in a black turtleneck and with messy hair, like an earnest student about to put on a production of The Caretaker at the Edinburgh Fringe.

Then, the pick-up artist Julien Blanc was deported from Australia, after a video surfaced of him giving advice to a room of men on how to sexually harass Japanese women. Over 100,000 have signed the online petition demanding he be banned from entering the UK. It has been a rapid rise and even faster fall from grace for Dapper Laughs and Julien Blanc, although how permanent such a decline will be remains to be seen.

Dapper Laughs became famous through his vines — six second “comedy” clips featuring his own brand of “banter” — in which he makes jokes about girls, mostly, but also makes knob gags and cheesy one-liners. The tone of the vines is hard to place. Sometimes he presents himself as the archetypal lad, able to charm any woman. At other times, the joke seems to be that he doesn’t know how to talk to women at all.

Either way, it is unclear whether Dapper Laughs is presented as someone to laugh at or with. Julien Blanc refers to himself as the “international leader in dating advice”. He became famous, like Dapper Laughs, through his online presence, but also travels the world giving talks as a professional pick-up artist. Much of the advice he offered men bordered on assault. In one video he describes how, in Japan, white men had carte blanche to do what they liked, “I’m just romping through the streets, just grabbing girls’ heads, just like, head, pfft on the dick. Head, on the dick, yelling, ‘Pikachu’.”

In the wake of the past week, there has been much discussion about whether “lad culture” is to blame for figures such as Dapper and Blanc. A much-used but frequently misunderstood term, “lad culture” is often seen as coming out of the 1990s. In its more innocuous form, it was epitomised by the England Euro ’96 song “Three Lions”, in which two university-educated comedians, Frank Skinner and David Baddiel, sang a beery song about football. In a parallel more sinister development, the rise of “lad mags” such as Loaded and FHM signposts the emergence of a casually misogynistic culture appropriating the worst stereotypes of male, working-class culture.

Dapper Laughs represents the final stage in the lad-culture takeover; a figure from Hogarth’s Gin Lane with a pair of Ray Bans. He is the caricature of every chino-wearing, “wife-beater”-sporting, WKD-swilling, lad that you’ve ever met. His now-cancelled show opened with the line, “Dating is out, pulling is in.” Defenders of the former estate agent have argued that Dapper Laugh’s antics are simply a joke, and that he is ironically mocking the ridiculous lengths some men will go to in order to “pull”. This was certainly O’Reilly’s defence when he appeared on Newsnight and retired the “character”. However, unlike other comedy creations it is much less clear where the boundary lies between the creator and the character.

Both Dapper Laughs and Julien Blanc made a living appealing to a certain audience. It would be wrong to dismiss figures such as Dapper Laughs and Julien Blanc as charlatans who got lucky. Undoubtedly their material is crass and misogynistic, but they knew there was a market for this sort of material, and they exploited it ruthlessly. But what sort of people make up this audience? Judging from YouTube comments, tweets and other social media interaction defending Dapper Laughs and Blanc, the picture is more mixed than one might imagine.

True, it is undoubtedly mostly male, but there is a spectrum of people, from the Men’s Rights Activists through to those who are mostly ambivalent, who see such material as simply a joke, or, in the case of Blanc, legitimate dating advice. The success of their material tells us that there are a large percentage of British people who, at least tacitly support Dapper’s views, or believe that culture exists in some sort of vacuum, removed from the real world, where what people say or do have no consequences.

It seems fitting, for two stars of the internet age who rose to prominence through their online presence, that both were taken down by videos posted of them online. Their downfall reveals the transitory nature of success gained through social media; in both cases online petitions brought about public outcry. Cancelling Dapper Laugh’s show or rejecting Julien Blanc’s visa applications won’t bring an end to misogyny. The ways in which keyboard warriors sprang to the defence of their two fallen heroes this week makes that clear. However, if the backlash against Dapper Laughs and Julien Blanc leads to greater accountability both in comedy and in culture more generally, we need never see the likes of Dapper and his apology turtleneck again. 

 

Everything in moderation… including moderation

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Wasted, smashed, hooned, trolleyed, battered, boozed, fucked, wankered….all words expressing inebriation and, interestingly, all words in the passive voice. This linguistic peculiarity implies that alcohol is somehow a living and active entity. Indeed, its place in our culture is unparalleled. It is both social lubricant and social barrier, signifier of prosperity and mark of desperation, intensifier of emotions and desensitizer of the body. Consequently it has been both glorified and vilified over the cultural history of the world.

The Greeks are normally associated with orgies replete with unbridled debauchery, including loose sexual morals and plenty of booze. Indeed, at the Dionysian festival people consumed vast quantities of wine, believing that it would bring them closer to their deities. However, apart from these displays of inebriety, the Greeks were

fairly moderate in their consumption of alcohol. There are few references in literature to mass drunkenness among the Greeks and both Xenophon and Plato praise moderate use of wine as beneficial to health and happiness. The father of medicine, Hippocrates, would prescribe wine for medicinal purposes. Most of the art that survives from these times is painted on amphorae which were used for transporting wine. In a nice little nod to self-referentiality, these were sometimes decorated with drawings of grapes or scenes of wine drinking. The drunken few have given the sober masses a bad name.

Similarly, according to modern historians, at the start of the Roman Empire, the Romans practiced great moderation in drinking. From the Fifth to the First Centuries BC, the traditional Roman values of temperance, frugality and simplicity were gradually replaced by heavy drinking, ambition, degeneracy and corruption. The Dionysian rites (Bacchanalia, in Latin) spread to Italy during this period and were subsequently outlawed by the Senate. Certain prominent political figures, such as Julius Caesar and Cato the Elder were praised for their moderate attitude to drink; the fact that this was worthy of mention shows that it was a rarity. Marc Antony, however, took pride in his destructive drinking behaviour. With boozy politicians aplenty, it was clear this was a society on the brink of collapse.

With the Roman Empire falling into a drunken stupor, the emerging Christian Church outlined clear and consistent rules on its consumption. St Paul in particular focused on alcohol in his writings: he strongly condemned drunkenness, but saw wine as inherently good. After all, in John’s gospel one of Jesus’ miracles is his conversion of water into wine, and the grapey substance is still at the centre of Catholic mass. Interestingly, the spread of Christianity and viticulture (the making of wine) happened simultaneously. St Martin of Tours was engaged in the seemingly rather dissimilar missions of spreading the Gospel and planting vineyards.

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Throughout the Middle Ages monasteries were the primary producers of wine and beer. In Medieval England, ale was often used to pay tolls, rent or debts. The most important development at this time was the discovery of distillation knowledge of the process spread slowly among monks, doctors, and alchemists. During the Black Death and other plagues in the 14th Century, people increased their consumption of alcohol in the mistaken belief that it might protect them from mysterious deadly diseases. Needless to say, apart from numbing the pain, drinking alcohol did them few favours. On balance, compared to modern standards, alcohol consumption was very high.

Despite the disruptive impact of the Reformation, attitudes towards booze remained mostly unchanged: alcohol was a gift of God and created to be used in moderation for pleasure, enjoyment and health; drunkenness was viewed as a sin. This moderate attitude was not always practiced. For example, Medieval Swedish beer consumption was forty times that of modern Swedish consumption. It is said of distilled alcohol that “the sixteenth Century created it; the Seventeenth Century consolidated it; the Eighteenth popularized it”. Arguably, the greatest product of the Seventeenth Century was sparkling champagne, invented by a monk, with the name — and I’m not kidding — Dom Pérignon. While drunkenness was still an accepted part of life in the Eighteenth Century, the Nineteenth Century would bring a change in attitudes as a result of increasing industrialization and the need for a reliable and punctual work force. Self-expression was replaced by self-discipline. Over time, more and more personal, social, and moral problems were blamed on alcohol. The brief period of Prohibition in America proved that far from eliminating crime, the banning of alcohol created more outlets for it.

In modern society, the attitude towards alcohol is actually rather similar to the one which has endured throughout the whole of history. NHS leaflets and alcohol awareness talks have replaced the pulpit in preaching moderation towards alcoholic consumption. In culture, the portrayal of it is mixed. One in four songs in the UK Top 40 make reference to booze. While it is normally portrayed overwhelmingly positively as the crucial component of a good night out, sometimes its darker side is discussed. Rap group Cypress Hill gives a touching ode to tequila in ‘Tequila Sunrise’ and Ludacris notes that “errbody drunk as fuck” in ‘Everybody Drunk’, but Lil Wayne delivers a more sentimental and thoughtful song about solitary drinking in ‘Me And My Drink’.

Booze, in all its various forms, has outlived nations, epochs, generations and ages. It is a part of our cultural heritage, and fortunately so. For although alcohol will always be the master of some, for most alcohol is slave to man.

Interview: Tanni Grey-Thompson

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We haven’t even got out of Oxford train station before it happens. A young woman rushes up, beaming with excitement, almost unable to get the words out:, “Are you Tanni Grey-Thompson?” Baroness Grey-Thompson — winner of 11 Paralympic golds in wheelchair racing, breaker of 35 world records, disability rights campaigner, member of the House of Lords, and according to Woman’s Hour one of the 100 most powerful women in the country — admits that she is. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing. Sorry! I don’t believe it. You are such an inspiration.” And she goes off wearing a huge grin, her day made. It must happen fairly often, I suggest. “It’s really nice, actually,” Grey-Thompson says.

She says “actually” quite often, which is appropriate for someone who has spent so much of her life correcting false perceptions. Used to being a role model, Grey-Thompson has always refused to tell her story as a triumph over adversity.

She was born with spina bifida and gradually lost the ability to walk during early childhood, but she describes it as no great setback and, indeed, something of an opening. “I’ve never cried because I’m in a wheelchair and I’ve never felt bitter,” she writes in her autobiography Seize The Day. If she comes across as strong- willed, Grey-Thompson says that’s down to personality, not hardship. In 2000, when she came third for BBC Sports Personality of the Year, the organisers had failed to provide a ramp and Grey-Thompson was left stranded in the audience, looking up at the stage. Characteristically, she took no offence, whilst seeing the fiasco as an excellent chance to highlight how society marginalises the disabled.

On her lap she carries a folder crammed with House of Lords business: copies of legislation, piles of research, letters from the public. Since entering the Lords in 2010, Grey-Thompson has become a prominent voice in the Upper House, especially on disability issues. “I was always interested in disability rights,” she recalls. “I didn’t feel it was right when I was competing to have a very strong personal opinion. But then when I retired [in 2007], it gave me the freedom to think more about what I wanted to do.” She became involved with Transport For London and the Women’s Sport and Fitness Foundation, among several other positions. Then she was offered a place in Parliament as a crossbench peer, she tells me, “I might have liked to have done it a couple of years later, but you’d be stupid to turn it down.”

“The Lords listen to public opinion, and they spend a good deal of time researching and reading, but the one advantage of us not being elected is that people vote with their conscience and don’t have to think about the electorate. There is both good and bad in that.”

One might think that she would be intimidating — the great athlete turned distinguished politician — but part of the reason Grey-Thompson charmed the publicto begin with (apart from all those medals) was her unassuming warmth of character, tangible even on screen. When she won the 400m at Athens 2004, becoming at the time GB’s most decorated Paralympian, she was already a figurehead for disabled sport — no, make that British sport.

What was the career change like? “Transition out of sport is really hard because you have this completely and utterly regimented life. There’s all these people who tell you what to do and when to do it.” In the Lords, nobody tells you what to do, especially when you’re unattached to any party. “As a crossbencher, you have to kind of make your own legislation, you have to find your own way. People are incredibly nice and helpful. In sport, you get stabbed in the back; in the House of Lords, they’ll look you in the eye and stab you in the chest, which is really weird, but in some ways quite refreshing.”

One of the biggest disagreements has been over the changes to the Disability Living Allowance; changes that Grey-Thompson argued could “ghettoise” the disabled. Though her proposed amendment to delay the reforms was narrowly defeated, the government did make concessions. Her amendment to legal aid reforms was later overturned in the Commons. But she sees it as an ongoing task.

“There’s always some bit of legislation that you can use to discuss disability rights or access or transport.” She names her biggest concerns in the Lords as “welfare reform, legal aid, and this one. But this one feels like it’s been going on forever.” “This one” is Lord Falconer’s Assisted Dying Bill — though Grey-Thompson thinks “assisted suicide” a more accurate term. Even the vocabulary is disputed in this most fractious debate. Grey-Thompson is here tonight for a talk hosted by Oxford Students for Life (full disclosure: I’m one of them), entitled “What’s Wrong With Assisted Suicide?”. Falconer’s Bill proposes to allow doctors, in some circumstances, to supply the terminally ill with lethal drugs. Grey-Thompson has opposed the idea from the start.

“I get a bit frustrated when the media try to make it a very simple debate, painting assisted suicide as compassionate and caring and a lovely, peaceful end (and there’s lots of cases where that’s not happened); and those of us who oppose it as nasty people who want people to suffer. I think actually people on my side are as caring and compassionate, and we don’t want people to suffer.” So what’s the compassionate objection to Falconer?

For Grey-Thompson, assisted suicide threatens society’s most vulnerable, by making death an easier option. “It gets into this really uncomfortable debate about a person’s worth and contribution to society, which I don’t really want to have. If we start talking about whether people contribute to society — and I don’t mean to be flippant by this — there’s a whole pile of people I’d put on the list to get rid of before terminally ill people. So it’s really dangerous.”

The right to die, she says, can become a “duty to die” — an idea already put forward by one of her fellow members of the Lords. “Baroness Warnock has talked about people having a responsibility to end their lives, not to be a burden on society, and you go, wow, OK.” She compares the situation to Logan’s Run, a “really dreadful, naff science fiction movie”, in which everyone who reaches the age of 35 is killed. “But it’s a little bit like that if you look at the legislation in Europe.” Belgium recently introduced child euthanasia, which has long been practised in the Netherlands.

Grey-Thompson’s own experience suggests that a law which smoothes the way towards death might be all too convenient. Take a single phrase in the report of Falconer’s original commission, which said that assisted suicide should not be available to the disabled “at this point in time”. She finds that phrase chilling, given the attitudes she has seen. A doctor once told a pregnant Grey-Thompson that “people like you” shouldn’t have children (“People from Wales?” is her standard reply to this kind of thing.) She was recently told she had “no right” to go through a barrier at a railway station. “What else might I not have the right to?”

The idea of the disabled being pressured towards an early death might perhaps be classed as slippery-slopism; except that Grey-Thompson tells me she gets hundreds of letters and emails from disabled people saying they would feel that pressure if the law changed. Indeed, 70 per cent of the disabled, according to a Scope poll, agree that this is a likely prospect. Grey-Thompson can also remember less tolerant times. She couldn’t have had her education without the help of her headmaster, who concealed her existence from the authorities; during one snap inspection he had to bundle the teenage Tanni into a cupboard.

We’ve come a long way, Grey-Thompson says, but, based on the daily experience of many, not so far that we can be complacent. OK, but what about the safeguards in the bill? It only covers those with a terminal illness who are expected to die in the next six months. But six months is not the kind of period about which doctors can make confident predictions, she replies; it could encompass a large group of people. And assisted suicide would radically change the doctor-patient relationship. “I mean, this is really way off, but — pressure for bed spaces, funding. Do you then have a doctor who has to start weighing up — I mean, they already have to do it to some extent, about what medicines are given to certain patients, how expensive the medicine is… This completely changes the dynamic of someone’s worth.”

Last Friday, three days after our meeting, Grey-Thompson was putting some of these points at the Committee stage of the Falconer Bill. “For me,” she told the Lords, “this is about the constant drip-drip of ‘You’re not worth it.’ I am a very resilient person. If I got upset every time somebody said to me, ‘I wouldn’t want to be like you,’ I would be depressed.” Has Grey- Thompson always opposed changing the law? Her normal conversational pace unexpectedly slows. “My mum’s death wasn’t great, and my dad’s was slightly better, but I still wouldn’t have wanted a doctor…” She leaves the sentence unfinished. “My sister and I were very clear that we didn’t want my father to be in any pain, but we didn’t want them to end his life.”

She wants the debate to focus on more than the perils of changing the law. “I think we have to have a much bigger discussion about social care, palliative care, funding of hospices, that sort of thing. I’d rather try to sort some of that out before we talk about killing people. Because it’s a really long-term solution. You can’t go back from assisted suicide.”

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Picks of the Week MT14 Wk6

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Northern Lights, Friday, 7pm The Pitt Rivers Museum

Immerse yourself in an atmospheric Arctic soundtrack, including a specially recorded voice-over by author Philip Pullman, explore the darkened galleries by torchlight, and come face to face with polar creatures.

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Queerfest ‘14, Saturday, 6pm Wadham

One of the most popular fixtures in the Oxford calendar, this year Queerfest bring you five hours of eclectic music. Dress code: Let It Go. Free Noodle Nation before nine. After party at Plush. Get glittery.

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OBA Short Film, Monday, 4pm The Phoenix Picturehouse

An afternoon of shorts by budding Oxford film makers, including the winner of the Portobello prize, The Wishing Horse by Alex Darby. We can’t promise they’ll be good, but we can promise they’ll be short.

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Carousel, Monday-Saturday, 7.30pm Oxford Playhouse

Performed by the Oxford Operatic Society, Carousel is set on the New England coastline, and tells of the ill-fated love affair between charismatic carnival barker Billy Bigelow and innocent millworker Julie Jordan. When trag- edy strikes, Billy is given the opportunity for redemption, but is it too little too late?

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Hockney: Live from LA, Tuesday, 7pm The Phoenix Picturehouse

An exclusive gala screening of the highly antic- ipated new feature Hockney, followed by an in- depth conversation with David Hockney from his Los Angeles studio. The film chronicles his vast career, from his early life in working-class Bradford to his relocation to Hollywood.

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Ridley’s Choice, Tuesday-Saturday, 7.30pm The Burton Taylor Studio

A failing writer, frustrated by yet another ter- rible review, throws in the towel on society to pursue the simple life in a woodland cabin. But when his new lifestyle reaches the attention of the outside world, his ideological standpoint creates a sensation.

 

Buzz Aldrin, Wednesday, 8pm The Oxford Union

The Oxford Union welcomes the guy who’s gone down in history as the second man to walk on the moon. He will no doubt talk about comet landings, Mars missions, and the future of space exploration.

 

Supermarket, Thursday, 10.30pm The Cellar

The top alternative to Bridge Thursdays, Cel- lar may not have as big a smoking area (does it even have a smoking area?) but hey, you’ll look alternative. Hit the dancefloor to the backing of your favourite Pop/Disco/UKG/90s House. We know we’ve mentioned it before, but it’s just so good. £3 before 11, £5 after.

 

Interview: Stuart Skeates

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“You should address him as ‘General’, or ‘General, Sir’ if you want to be extra polite”, a vaguely anxious Adjutant tells me before the interview. I am shortly to be introduced to Major General Stuart Skeates, the Commandant of Sandhurst, the British Army’s officer training academy, responsible for over- seeing the training of the Army’s next generation of leaders. With this direction from the Adjutant, I begin to wonder exactly what sort of blunt, gruff individual I am about to meet. Perhaps I should be on my my guard?

In fact, I am greeted by a grinning, friendly character. Meeting him is slightly awkward at first: he extends a hand to shake, and questions me on the prospects of my journalism career. He speaks in an articulate and confident manner, and — perhaps unsurprisingly — with an air of authority.

Skeates joined the Army in the tough economic climate of the late 1980s, intending it to be a stop-gap while he waited for better employment opportunities; but as he puts it, he hasn’t yet got around to leaving. Across his career he has witnessed the end of the Cold War, and served in the Gulf War, Afghanistan, the Balkans, Cyprus and Northern Ireland.

“When I reflect back on the 30 years since I joined the University of London OTC [Officer Training Corps], it’s remarkable how much change there has been,” he tells me. “Back in the mid-1980s, the Army was obviously significantly larger than it is now. It had a very clearly-defined role; countering the Soviet threat, and also conducting operations in Northern Ireland, and having something of a contingent capability to deal with situations such as the Falklands War.

“When I look at what we do today, I would say that the role of the Army has changed very significantly indeed. We have just come out of ten years plus of very busy operations, very demanding operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, which have challenged us physically, conceptually, morally, and has — I think — made us realise that the demands that we place on our people, particularly our officers in the modern British Army are far greater than they were 30 years ago.”

Skeates served for 18 months as a senior officer in the US Marine Corps; I question him about how the British and Americans do things differently. He pauses for a moment, apparently musing, and before proceeding to answer the question, issues a clarification, “One should never make the mistake of assuming the Americans are just like us because they speak the same language. America is a foreign nation, in the same way that France or Germany is. And the culture is different, and their outlook, and personal, national and individual backgrounds are very different”. 

He then goes on, “But actually the British Army is about as similar to the Marines as any American fighting force, and the reason for that is the Marine Corps see themselves as being a small force. Now, they are a force of 180,000, which compared to the British Army is very considerable indeed. They have their own aircraft, they have their own ships, they have many helicopters — far more than we do. But regardless of that, because they see themselves as a small organisation, they feel they have to do more with less, and that is a very similar outlook and mindset which we in the British Army have had, and have always had for many years. We have often found ourselves in circumstances where we have been up against it, either in terms of the mission, or in terms of the enemy that we are fighting in any particular campaign and we have had to try to achieve very significant, very difficult missions, with pretty modest resources. And that similarity we share very clearly, very closely with the Marine Corps.”

It seems natural that I should ask the Commandant of Sandhurst – an institution which, in Skeates’ own words takes “young people who have very little, if no military experience, and trains them to be leaders, to command soldiers who have got experience” — exactly what has stayed the same in the way they train their officers. 

“The constant is probably best defined by the Sandhurst motto, which is ‘Serve to Lead’”, he explains, “and it is the expectations that we have of our officers as leaders, which is timeless, and indeed probably hasn’t changed for a couple of hundred years.’

This notion of instilling a moral authority is a consistent theme whenever I raise the issue of leadership. “Clearly ‘Serve to Lead’ is largely about selfless commitment”, he remarks. “I think any treatise or book on military leadership from the past 100 years would absolutely bear out the fact that you put your soldiers first, your equipment second, and your own needs a very very distant last.

“But I also highlight courage, and particularly moral courage. Physical courage is a given, as far as being a soldier is concerned, and one is expected to demonstrate physical courage when required. But the far more difficult type of courage to display is the moral courage. The dilemmas, moral, ethical and professional that an officer is faced with every day, means that he or she is going to have to make good decisions based on sound moral or ethical principles.”

I get the impression that in asserting the importance of more abstract ideas about leadership, he is perhaps embellishing the realities of physically and intellectually demanding officer training; when I question the Commandant on the process of officer selection, a rather different insight into Sandhurst emerges.

“We look at three things really”, he explains. “Firstly, character: do you have the right personal qualities to be a good leader, particularly under duress, and in situations of extreme pressure? And we try to emulate stress in order to explore that in a little more detail. Secondly, we look at intellect. Officers really are our conceptual component, they are the ones that do the thinking, and who make the decisions, so we’ve got to make sure we’ve got bright and able officers. And the third issue is physical ability, really, in raw terms. And that is an element of professional competence.”

Yet, discussing selection, the impression the Commandant gives is very much that he is running a business, with a clear strategy to that effect. “Sandhurst is a brand which is recognised throughout the world,” he tells me. “And there are many other officer academies around the world which try to emulate precisely what we do. There are many civilian firms who beat a path to our door in order to understand how it is we turn young people into leaders.”

Indeed, when I question the General on employment, he replies, “I really sympathise with graduates today who really have to fight hard to get noticed by employers in a brutally competitive market to get jobs which are going to give them a degree of security, which are going to fulfil their ambition, which are going to make good use of their skills.”

Much like any other employer, he clearly sees his job as working to further the prospects of employees, explaining, “As a civilian employer, if you get a graduate who has been in the Officer Training Corps, or indeed has commissioned into the Reserves, their leadership training is ongoing, and it means that they will be in a position to take on greater responsibility and do more to the benefit of the company, far earlier than their peers.”

Concluding the interview, we look at what distinguishes military and civilian leaders. The General returns to the rhetoric of moral leadership. “I suppose the easiest way to define integrity is doing the right thing on a difficult day when nobody is watching”, he tells me.

“And doing the right thing is incredibly important in the long term, because integrity is as valuable a commodity in the way in which we conduct our operations, and the manner in which we are regarded by the public, by the population we are trying to help, and also, it has to be said, by our adversary.” 

Milestones: Prohibition

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People have been getting drunk since the dawn of time. Most of the time, no one sees any problem with it. A cuneiform tablet discovered at the ancient city of Ugarit, now at least 3,200 years old, offers a recipe for a hangover cure. Clearly no one thought any less of booze then. Judaism can actually encourage drinking. At the festival of Purim, one is said to be meant to get so drunk that you can no longer distinguish between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordecai”.

Islam doesn’t look favourably on liquor, it is true, but as a rule, throughout history, drink has been universal. Until, that is, 1920s America. Never before had alcohol been completely banned in a culture that was used to drinking it, and America is still living with the consequences.

The promoters of the idea were of course various types of Protestant, mainly Methodists, who had been campaigning for the ‘temperance movement’ for over a century before the state actually gave way and outlawed alcohol altogether. With this move, American culture was changed forever.

People still wanted liquor, and organized crime grew up to supply it to them. We take this so much for granted that it’s odd to imagine a time when gangsters were not just an obvious stereotype. But the situation is worse than this. For the first time criminals could make big money, and Prohibition corrupted even the respectable institutions of society. Lawman on your tail? Pay him off or bump him off. Governor got a temperance bee in his bonnet? Run your guy against him and rig the election. And one doesn’t even need to imagine what could go on if a case actually went to court.

Banning alcohol ridiculed the state for another reason; if everyone’s doing something, how do you stop them? Well, for one, you overburden the system, and secondly, you don’t ever really stop them, despite overburdening the system. Suddenly, it became apparent just how ineffective the law was.

Prohibition also changed the way America (and probably the whole of the western world, by influence) drank. There’s a reason why you associate gin and bourbon with bootlegging rather than any other liquors: cheap to produce, and needing no time to age, the simple fact is that the high alcohol content of spirits makes them the ideal liquor to smuggle. And if you’re only buying hard liquor, you’re going to need to invent better ways to mix it, hence why the so-called ‘Roaring Twenties’ are characterized by the cocktail. It’s mildly ironic that it is thanks to the temperance movement that we all drink cocktails now.

Of course, the attitude to drinking in the US is still somewhat uptight — you can drive at 16, but only drink at 21. The result of this is the same now as it was in the 20s: more smoking. Tobacco consumption nearly tripled under Prohibition, and college students in the States still smoke far more than their British counterparts.

It’s hard to imagine an America without the effects of the temperance campaigners. Still, it wasn’t all bad. As the famous humourist Will Rogers said, “prohibition is better than no liquor at all”.

Review: The Jam Factory

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First impressions matter, and waiting for a table at the Jam Factory was awkward; with no one to show us the way to our table, we hovered tentatively. This was an unfortunate start, because once we had told them that we were staying, my friend and I were treated with warmth, humour, and enthusiasm.

Being in the Art Centre, we expected the decor to be chic and it didn’t disappoint. The seats were simple but stylish, and on the walls were hung a plethora of watercolours. The bright lighting and simple furnishings make it seem like you are sitting on the garden patio or a conservatory. The cutlery and water jugs were clean and heavy, the flowers decorating the table were real. Most impressive was the love and respect for the food, and even our waiter could talk at length about the very specific questions we had. He gave great service, and was very attentive, even though we were mere students. He explained that the menus were written up daily around which fresh ingredients were available. We ordered Nick’s Tongue and Cheek (£14.50) and Whole Cornish Plaice (£15.00) in the end. Prices were steep, but matched what we had been told about the creative efforts in the kitchen. And although the dishes were simple in presentation, and could have done with some vegetables on the side, the food itself was cooked to perfection.

My ox cheek was tender and glutinous after being slow-cooked for ten hours, and the tongue was not chewy but tender and firm. The mashed potato was smooth and buttery and superbly seasoned, laced with horseradish that you barely notice on the tip of the tongue but which then packs a punch at the back of your throat. This was all topped off with a generous portion of meat jus. My only complaint would be that the few salad leaves added for garnish brought nothing to the plate, and it seemed wrong for them to be served in a dish with gravy, which, of course, made them wilt.

We had already spent well beyond our miniscule student budgets but the mains were so tasty that we were persuaded by the waiter into having dessert. We followed our hearts and not our heads and opted for a plum crumble (£5.95) and a chocolate brownie (£5.95) in one of the quickest decisions we’d ever made. My crumble was neatly presented and colourful, and the flavours still worked well together, and the fruit didn’t turn mushy — I am often put off by the waterinessof crumble.

Finally we sat back, satisfied and ready to leave, only to discover that the evening does not end with the arrival of the bill. Rather, the instructions for how to turn your bill into a paper airplane helpfully distracted us from the cost of our meal, which was quickly covered up by folds and flown to and fro. Dinner at the Jam Factory is an expensive evening out, but not one that you will forget for a long time.

Bar Review: Mansfield

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A couple of weeks ago, I berated The Tab for saying that Keble bar was the worst bar in Oxford. As I correctly stated, Keble bar is not the worst bar in Oxford. However, Mansfield bar definitely comes close. Walking in through a maze of fences, I see what looks like some kind of poolside country club patio. Unfortunately you can’t smoke in the entirety of Mansfield (which is approximately the size of a school football pitch anyway) and it was pissing down, so despite the fact that the courtyard could be quite pleasant if you could smoke in Mansfield, you can’t, this courtyard currently has no purpose. 

Upon entering the building, I am shocked by how void of life this place is. The interior is bleak. Half hospital canteen-half airport waiting lounge, this bar has all the charisma and character of an abandoned nuclear bunker. The lighting is so poor that I’m unsure as to whether they updated it when they did up the rest of the bar. The space is vast but the way the couches have been set up right next to each other in almost military-esque lines means that the space is tiny and you can’t really chat. It’s also not particularly private and conversation is kind of minimal, especially since the low ceilings and huge space create the worst acoustics possible, meaning you will need to scream in your friend’s ear to be heard but still manage to overhear those obnoxious drunken postgrads on the other side of the room.

Apart from this the actual bar itself is tiny, with a poor selection of drinks. The official drink is just a WKD with Sprite and the bartender wasn’t particularly friendly. Service here seemed to be less “the customer is right” and more “scowl”. My pint was pulled alright, but the prices weren’t fantastic for either drink and it took so long to get a drink from this tiny tiny bar that I couldn’t be bothered to get another round.

Next to the bar were a whole variety of breakfast foods on display (who eats yoghurt in a bar?) but apparently no one eats breakfast in here. I don’t know why they’ve created a bar with this set up but it seems as though they managed to get the worst of both worlds, with the people who seemingly were trying to study being interrupted by the people at the bar who were a little put off by the people in their pyjamas who weren’t talking to anyone but seemed to be really interested in their Spotify accounts.

Honestly, the one possibly dubious claim to fame for Mansfield is the fact that this is the only bar I have ever been to which sells sauerkraut in jars. With no pool table, no darts, and no real form of entertainment, there is no real reason to come to this bar, and to be honest, if I could give this a minus star rating, I would. The Tab definitely needs to get around Oxford more because of all the bars in Oxford that I’ve been to, this is almost without a doubt the worst. I won’t be returning soon.