Debate: Should you give directly to the homeless?
Yes
As I was leaving my department building at the end of last term, I was surprised to find two homeless men standing over my bike in deep discussion.
Having already had a bike stolen from the St. Giles area, I was naturally suspicious of their attention. I asked them sharply what they were doing. One of the men, answering frankly, told me that my bike was not secure, and that all someone needed to do was release the front wheel and walk away with a moderately valuable frame. He went on to tell me that certain components of my bike were ideal for a project he was putting together with “reconstituted” parts. “This is my job,” he shrugged finally –it was clear that this was more about survival.
Handing out spare change to beggars comes with its own set of problems. Bob Price, Leader of the Oxford City Council, has said that alcoholism and drug abuse are two of the issues which make dealing with homelessness so complicated. Many of us are instilled with the belief that money handed over to rough sleepers will invariably be spent on unhealthy addictions. But, in Oxford just as elsewhere, it is still essential that homeless people can hope to make a small income from donations from the public.
For one, the 56 beds at O’Hanlon House, the shelter operated by Oxford Homeless Pathways, are almost always full, according to Chief Executive Lesley Dewhurst. The shelter is even prepared to offer floor space when temperatures drop below freezing for three nights in a row. But with austerity cuts of up to 40% expected to hit very soon, it is likely that the growing number of homeless people in Oxford will be forced to pay for accommodation elsewhere.
Figures show that there were 19people sleeping rough in Oxford in November 2013, compared with 12the previous year.
Monetary handouts are a short-term solution which can only be effective when employed in tandem with the work of charitable organisations, offering support to those overcoming addictions or illnesses.
But, as Mark Johnson of the Guardian (a rehabilitated drug user and former rough sleeper) argued in2012, every donation by a member of the public to a homeless person helps to prevent a crime.
If we are feeling charitable enough to hand over a few coins to a less fortunate individual, do we automatically have the right to dictate how that money should be spent? Whether it goes towards a hot dinner or heroin is not necessarily any of our business: we can still be pleased that we have alleviated an individual’s need to resort to theft to meet the same ends.
Back in 2000, the Labour government’s ‘Change a Life’ campaign, which discouraged members of the public from making small hand-outs to the homeless, was condemned as a failure by major charities including Shelter and Crisis. Oxford City Council’s policy makers seem oblivious to this failing.
Giving directly to the homeless will not turn their lives around, but it will prevent them from turning to crime until they are ready to seek the social support they need.
Louee Dessent-Jackson
No
While giving money directly to the homeless might feel like a moral imperative, it is actually counterproductive. Giving money will often merely contribute to prolonging rough sleepers’ terrible situation.
Homelessness has recently made headlines in Oxford – Cherwell recently reported that the number of rough sleepers increased by more than 50% since 2012, and the City Council recently pledged a £235,000fund meant to ensure that no one spend two consecutive nights on the street – but it is clear that this problem is far from anything new.
Writing on this same issue in 1891 Oscar Wilde came to the same conclusion; people who give directly to the homeless “very seriously and very sentimentally set themselves to the task of remedying the evils that they see. But their remedies do not cure the disease: they merely prolong it. Indeed, their remedies are part of the disease.”
The reality is that the way to help the homeless is not to give money directly to them. There are several reasons for this. Over 65% of American homeless people, according to a US Department of Urban Housing and Development report, have chronic drug or alcohol problems. Last year, the anti-begging campaign “Your Kindness Could Kill” attended Freshers’ Fairs at Oxford and Oxford to encourage students to give money to the Oxford Homeless Medical Fund instead of to those begging on the streets.
Seeing as the homeless generally have no practical way to save money, most money earned will be spent very quickly, and often on the same drugs or alcohol that stop homeless people, or those who work with them, from improving their situation. Giving money to the homeless is an admirable act, but studies show that improving their situation comes not just from giving them money, but from the resources and funds with which measurable improvements can be made in their lives.
Anything from new clothes, to rent money, to job or skills training will show a genuine improvement in their living conditions, and contribute to getting them off the streets. Giving money risks doing the opposite.
But one of the most insidious effects of giving money to those who beg is how it incentivises people from improving their lives.
We generally don’t give to beggars indiscriminately, but based on the perceived level of their need. They are more likely to let their appearance or situation deteriorate, in the knowledge that our sympathy will increase. It’s a vicious cycle.
As Wilde says, “it is easier to have sympathy with suffering than with thought.” The way to help the homeless, if one is serious about it, is to donate to a homeless shelter, a homelessness charity, or even volunteer to help, yourself. Giving directly to the homeless is merely a salve on our own consciences.
It makes us think that we’ve given our requisite pound for the day and that we can forget about the social ills around us. But it is counter productive. Though well intentioned, giving directly is part of the problem, not the solution.
Nick Mutch
Bargain Bin: Vanilla Ice – To The Extreme
When Glee’s cover of a pop classic is more entertaining than the original, you know it’s bad. Those were my thoughts when I heard ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’, the opening track from To The Extreme by the infamous Vanilla Ice.
I found this shit heap in a shoebox at a giant flee market in Copenhagen for less than a quid. This is an album that manages the difficult task of being not only cripplingly awful, but quite possibly the most snooze-inducing piece of rubbish hip hop has ever produced.
I know, I know: it’s cliché to hate on Mr Ice, but in my mind I had remembered him as being at least catchy and kitsch, instead he’s mindnumbingly boring. ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’ was the first hip-hop track to enter the Billboard 100 and dominates the album.
Track seven is one of the only other singles, ‘Play That Funky Music’, but it has a weird echoey ring in the background that either sounds like post-coital snoring or an alarm clock. Then there’s the high degree of irritation one feels at a) his rapping skills, b) his misogyny and apparent poor sexual technique, and c) his constant need to reassert his skin colour.
A more half-arsed album is difficult to imagine.
Subverse Radio: Musical Marginalia
Subverse Radio – founded by James Shirley, Maria Fred Perevedentseva, Harry Scholes and Alex Hinkson – has been making ripples on the Oxford scene for over a year now. “When we started, we were kind of on the fringe,” says Harry. “Most Oxford nights at the time gravitated towards the bassier end of the spectrum, but we were, and always will be, House.”
Now, of course, House music seems to be the go-to genre for all the nights on in town. “But it’s funny because we still seem to be on the fringe,” Maria confirms.
It’s hard to deny that their sound has matured, into something more polished over the year; I ask them if their attitudes have similarly changed. “Not really,” says James, “our goal has always been to bring the best House and techno to Oxford.” Alex adds, “We’re in a lucky position where we can invite our favourite DJs to play at the night – not just international ones but our local heroes too.”
They continue by discussing the benefits and difficulties of catering for bigger names. “We have to be careful,” Harry affirms. “Booking Levon (Vincent, 7th week’s headliner) isn’t exactly a smart move financially. The Cellar’s capacity is small, it’s a Wednesday night, and we’re charging a fiver for one of the biggest DJs in the world!”
I note that meeting big names must be intimidating. “You picture your favourite DJs, those nondescript figures behind an oppressive booth. But then you meet them, have dinner, and realise how human they are, how they light up when talking about tunes. It’s awesome,” says James. “We probably should have found these experiences more intimidating. We ate with Tama Sumo – an absolute hero of mine – and listened to her accounts of the Berlin scene in the ’90s.”
Next I ask whether they’ve ever had a negative experience with a guest. Alex responds, “We’re not mentioning any names! But if we have someone who turns up ten minutes before their set and bounces straight after, it doesn’t do much good for the vibe or our stress levels.” So what makes a successful night? “It relies on there being common purpose,” says Maria. “Knowing our guests are there because they want to be, and letting them know that they’re wanted, and that’s something the crowd can sense.”
They admit that every part of the process has been a learning curve, not least with the radio side of things. “At the beginning, Maria and I were broadcasting together,” says Alex, “but we quickly realised that we wanted to do different things.” “That’s the thing about a continuous engagement with music,” Maria adds. “Your palette will change but the filtering process is constant.”
James and Harry, who were broadcasting on Oxide before Subverse was born, are changing tack in 2014. “We’re going to look at the formative works of electronic music, really go back to the roots,” James explains. Harry adds, “Radio is the perfect platform for exploring the more experimental parts of your collec- tion. It’s easy to become obsessed with flawless transitions, but you run the risk of your sound becoming stale and one-dimensional.”
They’re clearly excited about the upcoming term. “We love the guys who broadcast for us,” James says. “They’re all individual, and they’re doing what they want. We’ve never tried to dictate what or how they play. All we’ve done is give them a platform to do their thing. There’s a lot of love here.”
Subverse Radio broadcasts Wednesday – Sunday from 8-10pm. Subverse Presents runs on Wednesday of odd weeks.
Interview: Kris Hallenga
Since being diagnosed with stage four breast cancer in her early twenties, Kris Hallenga has made it her mission to stamp out late detection of the disease. Her charity CoppaFeel! aims to raise awareness of the signs and symptoms ofbreast cancer among young women, and to highlight the importance of checking their breasts regularly. I talk to Kris about the success of CoppaFeel!, and why educating people about cancer from a young age is so important.
Since founding CoppaFeel! with her sister Maren in 2009, the charity has gone from strength to strength, massively expanding its work over the last few years. Not that Kris expected such rapid success from the outset: “I didn’t really know what to expect. I was doing something that’s quite different from what I was doing before, but when I saw how it captured people’s imagination I realised I was onto a winner! The fact that I had no background in PR or things like that meant I really didn’t know what to expect, so it came as an awesome and pleasant surprise – although I was always determined to make it as successful and big as possible.”
Astonishingly, Kris founded CoppaFeel! scarcely a month after being diagnosed with breast cancer herself, aged 23. She tells me that she wanted to do it because “it was an issue so prominent in my mind given my recent diagnosis, and the way I’d been told I was too young for the disease. I was frustrated about the many factors which had contributed to my late diagnosis, and I just needed something other than treatment to focus on. Suddenly back living with my mum, going to hospital every week, the charity idea seemed like a brilliant way to focus my mind on what was happening to me. I found that actually finding a solution to the problem was probably the best way around it.”
After being diagnosed, Kris wanted CoppaFeel! to target young people in
particular. “We learn so much when we’re young. That’s when we pick up the most important life lessons, and it’s incredibly important for young people torealise how useful it is to get to know their bodies – to help prevent any cancer, not just breast cancer. As children we learn to crossthe street safely, and that’s not just to protect you there and then, it’s a lesson for life. It’s about teaching people good habits before fear kicks in. I hear of a lot of people who are in their 30s but avoid checking their boobs because they’re afraid offinding something, because they’re more likely to have had someone in their life suffer from the disease. Whereas we speak to 16-year-olds, who may have had grandmothers or mothers diagnosed with the disease, but who are much more fearless and more susceptible to new ideas and learning new habits – good and bad!
“If we can instil the message from a young age, we can instil healthy habits for
life. Why wait until you’re older to start doing something which could potentially save your life? We shouldn’t just wait until we get our letters inviting us to a mammogram – a lot of breast cancer is found through self-detection.”
The charity aims to raise awareness of the ease with which women can check their own breasts and detect the early signs of cancer, Kris says. “It’s so easy to check yourself. Unfortunately, lots of people think there’s a really regimented and tricky way of doing it, but it is just a case of getting to know your boobs, what they look and feel like and having a good look and a good feel – however you want to do it. The logical time to do it would be in the shower because you’re naked anyway. Just try to notice any changes, and if there’s anything there that’s abnormal for you, go and get it checked out straight away. Also, remember that breast tissue goes right up to your armpits and your collarbone, so have a good check all over your chest.”
What’s striking about CoppaFeel!, from its very name to its fundraising events (‘Bikin’ for Boobies’ and ‘Joggin’ for Jugs’), is the irreverent humour it employs to reach out to young people. “I think our brand is young and fun and light-hearted because that’s the kind of messaging our target demographic respond to. It’s far more effective than going down the scare tactic route. Most of the time we’re talking about boobs and not necessarily about breast cancer – we want them to get to know and love their boobs!
“We’re not denying that this is a horrible disease. Obviously the founder (me) is a sufferer and has to deal with it cancer’s painful realities every single day. However, I also know that people don’t have to be in my position; people can actually find breast cancer at a time when it can be treated successfully and then get on with their lives. It’s not necessarily as deadly as we perhaps fear, or as is sometimes portrayed in the media.”
Since she founded CoppaFeel!, Kris has been invited to Downing Street and won a Pride of Britain award,but it’s not these glitzy events that make her work worthwhile: “I think my personal highlight is actually hearing that people have taken our message on board, and that it has potentially saved their life incase where they have got a diagnosis early. That for me is the pay off to every stressful situation: every time I’m working late or I feel like I just hate my job – success stories allow everything to make sense again.”
In the next few months, CoppaFeel! is launching a series of fundraising lectures, the first of which takes place on February 4th at the Hoxton Hotel inLondon. Kris explains, “I’ve done lots oftalks myself and I can see the impact that they have on people’s lives. Lots of people have good stories and we just want to spread a little bit of positive spirit. It’s something we’ve never done before, and we think people will be interested in them; there are lots of very inspiring people in this world and we just want to showcase that. It’s a fundraiser for CoppaFeel but it’s also something people can learn a lot from.”
2014 is set to be a big year for Kris and the charity, with a new documentary already recorded which charts Kris’ desire to bring cancer education into schools. “We want to make sure cancer education is happening during the school day. It should be wedged into people’s lives from a young age and, given young people are in schools, it makes sense.”
The charity is also pioneering another innovative textile-based initiative. Kris
tells me, “We want to make sure our labelsare in all bras – it’s our ‘Bra Hijack’. We want to remind more people of our message through the strategic placing of labels in bras. The hope is that when women are putting their bras on they get a quick reminder to have a check of their boobs. As you can probably tell, we’re really engaged in finding new and interesting ways ofreminding people to do that.”
As this interview demonstrates, another major aim for Coppafeel! is to reach out to more students. This is a priority for Kris. “We’ve got new people starting at the charity this year and there are lots of new opportunities. We’re only at 55 universities so far, so we’re unfortunately only touching about a third. We’d love to have some presence in all of them soon.Wherever there are young people, we want to be there helping them out.
CoppaFeel ’s student-run Oxford Boob Team went university wide last
term. Their aim is to get to as many JCR Welfare Teas as possible. The Boob Team will also be PhotoBoobing in the Coppa Feel Boob Suits by the RadCam and on Cornmarket on Saturday of 3rd week to raise awareness, and running fund-raising Zumba classes in 5th week.
Text ‘OXFORD’ to 70500 to receive a free monthly reminder to check your boobs.
Cherwell Culture Tries…Battle Rap
During pre-drinks, I am often to be found alone in my room, hunched over a squawking laptop and slurping Lambrini in the dark. It is with only the slightest spasm of embarrassment that I admit I commonly eschew social interaction in order to watch grown men trade insults through the medium of extended metaphor, multisyllabic rhyme and elaborate mum jokes.
Don’t Flop, the UK’s leading rap battle league, recently celebrated its fifth birthday with a 2-day extravaganza for a crowd of over a thousand in Leeds. I might forget my mum’s birthday every year, but there was no way I was going to miss this. A £45 entrance fee and a gruelling 6-hour journey on Megabus surrounded by a bevy of cackling Scousers was a small price to pay for me to fulfil my lifelong dream of watching people I’ve never met threaten to shoot one another with guns they probably don’t own.
The event was as well-organised as you would expect for a company run exclusively by heavy weed smokers in their early twenties. I spent most of the four-hour delay on the first day feeling faintly uneasy about how my Youtube hobby was translating to reality. Given the almost exclusively male turnout, the strong smell of skunk and the obsessive statistical analysis in the smoking area, there didn’t seem to be a whole lot separating this event from an IRL meet-up for World of Warcraft aficionados.
Then the battles started and all my existential worries vanished in a puff of acapella aggression. Most of the Don’t Flop roster work day jobs as shelf-stackers, bus drivers and small-time drug dealers, but to me each rapper looked like Jay-Z, Mike Tyson and Lawrence Olivier rolled into one snapback-wearing demigod. It is occasionally tricky to get through customs when your job description is “threatening to shoot people in the head in return for a cash payment”, but when those international performers who did make it across the border took to the stage I was delirious with excitement (though admittedly also a little high on the thick Lynx fumes billowing from every armpit in the crowd).
When Mos Prob proposed to his girlfriend live on stage, or Psychosis Holochaust came within a hairsbreadth of punching Unanymous, the room held its breath and released it as one. I was already familiar with these rappers’ lexical dexterity (and with their truly awful names) from Youtube. But far more than is the case even with live music, something is lost in the transition from stage to screen. Battle rap teeters between performance art and reality, and this tension is largely dissipated when filtered through tinny laptop speakers.
Like a giddy toddler sent to bed early after drinking too much birthday pop, I lay in bed that night unable to sleep, fantasising about saying unpleasant things to a terrifying man from Brooklyn about his grandmother. Perhaps the closest I will ever really get to a rap battle is a civilised debate about current affairs over tea and cake, but seeing Don’t Flop live turned my already obsessive hobby into a raging addiction.
Creaming Spires: 1st Week Hilary
By ninth week of last term my purse was as empty as my timetable. My housemate and I looked dolefully at each other. Could we ward away Tuesday night boredom with only a fiver? We would try.
Our chosen bar was apparently as strapped for cash as I was: Taylor Swift warbled on a loop at three different volumes in an attempt to create the illusion of musical variety. I tottered towards an edifice that promised to be selling vodka, and leaned in to scream my question at a passing bartender: “What’s the MOST ALCOHOL that I can get for the LEAST MONEY??!” He cocked an eyebrow at this tight-arsed twit. “If you give me a kiss, you can have the house special for free.” The monster of my impending sobriety deftly flicked away any polite inhibitions I reckon I might have maybe felt, and I immediately lunged towards his cheek.
Mr Bartender didn’t look at all surprised. He was no stranger to the opportunistic flirt. It had got boring. Perhaps… could he push this one further? Ah, Mr Bartender, you had met your match. My desire for sordid sexual anecdotes knows no bounds. Star-crossed lovers, we tumbled joyously into an appropriately tawdry staffroom, and got down to work.
Foolishly engrossed in the task at hand, neither of us had counted on the very distinct possibility of company. The door burst open. Ever so slowly, I disentangled myself from Mr Bartender’s nether-regions and turned to look at the intruder. A very flustered manager observed us incredulously for a painfully long three seconds. As he opened his mouth to speak, I searched fruitlessly through my bank of Polite Excuses. I needn’t have worried. “Don’t keep him all night, eh?”, he said before leaving. A club manager turned reluctant madame. Mr Bartender was as spooked as I was, but we’d be damned if a little trifle like a P45 was going to cockblock us tonight.
Having finished and tidied up, Mr Bartender offered me that promised drink. I looked thoughtfully at my vodka and cranberry. How would the world’s oldest profession look on my CV?
Interview: Jack Gleeson
When I first meet Jack Gleeson, he’s pointing an umbrella at the throat of a girl, whilst her friend snaps a photo on her iPhone. Graciously, he smiles and announces that it was his ‘pleasure’.
Jack and I go back a long way; right back to Season One of Game of Thrones, the international hit TV show in which he portrays evil King Joffrey. When he’s not shooting prostitutes with his crossbow, he’s a philosophy student at Trinity College, Dublin.
Gleeson’s talk at the Union has become something of a viral hit with, at time of writing, almost a million views on YouTube. The reason for the wildfire is that Gleeson seized the opportunity to talk about retiring from acting at the end of Game of Thrones, and his general dislike of celebrity culture. The comments on the video range from ‘Man i feel so slow o.o most of the words and things hes talking about is making me confused it’s like inception all over again’ to ‘Too bad his celebrity draws mostly the worst possible audience to his insightful speech.’
‘I do feel uncomfortable in celebrity,’ he tells me, ‘It’s a weird, like, adoration and elevation. It’s uncomfortable to be on another echelon, it’s nicer to be on the same level as someone but when someone puts you there it’s hard to get out of it.’
We’ve just sat down in the corner, away from the braying masses and he seems somewhat relieved. It’s a pretty rare occurrence for an interviewee to consider talking to a journalist as an escape from celebrity culture, but, lager in hand, Gleeson seems more comfortable.
When I ask him how he manages to remain civil whilst being treated like a fairground attraction, he tells me, ‘There’s no other way to do it. I always just say yes. For you it’s just 30 seconds, but they really get a kick out of it. It might make you feel worse, but they really want the picture and they enjoy the picture. I’ve only had one or two experiences where I’ve been in a really cranky mood and the atmosphere’s been toxic and I’ve just said ‘no’, but that led to a lot of negativity at the time, so I’ve learned to get over myself and just be patient and say yes.’
What really sticks out is the idea that it might make him feel ‘worse’. This isn’t just an unwanted by-product, but something that can be actively negative.
‘Yeah I find it really hard. I don’t find it so hard when I’m on my own, but I find it hard when I’m with friends. Like I’m with my cousin there and he had to leave to get a pint. It makes me uncomfortable that friends might see me as arrogant or see that I enjoy it. And my friendships have to bear the burden of my celebrity, when they’re asked to take photos!’
At this point in our interview, we’re interrupted by some more fans – who have brought the collected works of George RR Martin to be signed, and clearly don’t respect the journalistic authority of Cherwell. Gleeson signs their books with a resigned smile on his face, and when another fan can’t produce a piece of paper (she seems to expect him to provide one) he ends up signing the back of a Tesco receipt.
When the autograph hunting hordes have finally receded, I ask him whether his theatre production company, the Collapsing Horse Theatre Company in Dublin, is something that gives him more satisfaction.
‘I take more of a behind the stage role for that, helping out with the production and writing. That’s really fulfilling, especially as it’s with friends and you have some creative control.
With Game of Thrones I see it as just a job. You just do it and learn the lines and turn up for work and that’s that.’
With minimal interest in Game of Thrones (he drew a shocked silence from the Union’s audience when he revealed that he didn’t even watch the show), I can’t help but feel like we’re not in too different a situation. Sure, he’s a super-rich, super-famous actor, with a devoted following, and I’m just a student with a dictaphone, but we’re roughly the same age and at roughly the same juncture in life. So what does he want to do with himself, once he’s no longer acting?
‘I’ve no idea. I enjoy the comfort of third-level education. I’ll certainly do a Masters and flirt with the idea of doing a PhD. I like writing, but I’ve no idea what.
I’m a huge fan of social theory, even though I come from a philosophy background. I’m a big fan of Žižek, for example. That would be an ideal line of career, to be a philosopher and get paid to think, but it’s tough.’
I don’t disagree with him, especially when he turns the question back on to me. When I tell him I’ve been rejected from all management consultancies firms, he responds with a short laugh and says, ‘Thank god you did!’ So are we just the same then?
‘For me, the stakes might be slightly higher in some ways. All my friends are thinking the same way as me, but the thing I’m withdrawing from just happens to be in the public eye. Loads of my friends have been doing stuff since they were young and they’ve realised they’re not interested anymore. It’s natural to do something for a while and then realise that it’s become stagnant, especially at the age we’re at. But it just happens that mine is alluring. It’s just not alluring to me.’
With that, we turn out discussion to the classic Oxford careers escape route: further education. I suggest that if he’s concerned about his celebrity, he might consider applying using a fake name.
‘I’d like that- I don’t know if you can do that. I am worried that there’s a bias there. Do you think universities would have a positive bias because I’m famous? [I mention Emma Watson] I’d hate that, to not be validated. What kind of academic research is Emma Watson fucking doing?!’
Unlike Emma Watson (although, perhaps that’s unfair, I have no idea what her interests are), Gleeson seems serious about withdrawing from the public eye. I raise the dreamlike prospect of not being recognised on the street to try and test his resolve.
‘It’s funny; at the moment I feel I’d appreciate that. But because I’m so ‘in it’ at the moment I find it quite hard to get an objective perception of it. Only in two or three years’ time will I be able to look back at it and realise how crazy it was. At the moment I can’t really say whether it’s been a good or bad experience. But I happily wait for the time that I become anonymous again. Perhaps I’ll look back and be like ‘that was amazing’.
At the end of the day, celebrity’s a cultural anaesthetic and I don’t deny that. People enjoy it as a respite – all those celebrity machine shows – but I certainly believe that it’s the public who create the celebrities. It’s interesting that they can be seen as ideals that are representative of the public because, if they’re created by the public, then it’s just inherent that they are representation of what they view as good or bad. So I think there’s a lot of power in the public in terms of celebrity, which isn’t perceived a lot.’
His candour is arresting and I find myself wondering how this will go down with the bosses at HBO. Nobody wants one of their lead actors smack talking the production process of the show they’re meant to be promoting. But still, I ask him what he really makes of the whole Game of Thrones culture.
‘I’ll try and be honest,’ he says, after I interrupt him by asking him not to be tactful, ‘One part of me screams ‘no, I don’t give a shit!’, and then a part of me says ‘well, it’s a big part of my life and a lot of people care about it and I have a duty to care about it.’ I don’t care about the banal questions and the trite questions that I’ve answered a thousand times, but I think I do care about the duty I have as a result of Game of Thrones. And that’s not a tactful answer, it’s an honest answer.’
Whilst I’m tempted to take the ‘no, I don’t give a shit!’ sound bite and use it out of context, Gleeson appears to be speaking the truth when he talks about the show. Much as he is unable to reject the autograph hunters outright, he is unable to dismiss a show, which, he acknowledges, brings pleasure to a lot of people.
But that experience is coming to an end, and, just like most students everywhere, he doesn’t know what’s going to come next. There’s an interesting conflict to observe, meeting someone who is heading towards gentlemanly retirement, whilst only being 21 years old.
‘It’s a bizarre tension. That’s why I’ve done a lot of publicity stuff with GOAL, the humanitarian organisation, and really putting myself out there, whereas, in the past three or four years, I haven’t at all. Perhaps it’s a desire to use this weird thing that’s been given to me: for good, or for selfish means, like tonight. I feel like I’ve resented it for so long that, in five years time, I’ll look back and think ‘that was pretty cool’.
You just have to make sure it meets your moral standards rather than whoring yourself out.’
Before he leaves (supposedly to Park End, although he vigorously shook his head when I asked him about it), I undermine everything he’s talked about over the last hour by requesting a photograph. It takes about 30 snaps for me to get the perfect shot; the perfect Facebook profile picture.
He doesn’t complain.
Letter From…Amman
Having returned to Jordan’s capital, Amman, for a second term, I have now finessed the brief cultural differences I serve up when faced with various questions along the lines of “What’s different?”. Among my favorites have been, “Do they have pizza?” and “Is fun legal?”, both of which I can answer in the affirmative.
It is very possible to live what can be called an almost entirely “westernized” lifestyle in Amman – shopping malls, night clubs and fast food joints are all readily available. When surrounded by such familiar comforts it is easy to forget the differences between Jordanian and British culture, but they are often betrayed in the most subtle of social interactions. On getting in a taxi a man must always climb into the seat next to the driver but a woman should sit in the back seat. One male classmate made the error of attempting to shake our hijab-wearing teacher’s hand, leading her to flush noticeably and awkwardly fumble in response.
As with the cases above, most of these differences stem from gender. The status of women and relationship between the sexes varies enormously throughout neighborhoods of Amman as well as Jordan as a whole. This might seem obvious enough, but the uncovered Queen Rania’s many jaunts across the pages of OK! magazine give the impression that most Jordanian women are free to dress as the please and live independently from husbands and male relatives. This is not true.
Anecdotal evidence suggests that even wealthy, middle-class Jordanians often face what British girls would see has heavy restrictions. At one gathering where everyone was at least university age, all of the (again, non-headscarf wearing) girls suddenly got up to leave at 11.30. When I asked one heavily intoxicated male guest of the same age why they where all leaving, he explained they were all subject to 12 o’clock curfews – an inconvenience he did not have to contend with.
If this is the standard procedure for wealthy, educated women I imagine that life for the poorer is far more constrained. Women’s status in Jordanian law certainly affords them little scope to battle for autonomy. Although verbal and physical harassment are both illegal, this small concession is overshadowed by far greater legal oversights.
Perhaps the most horrific is article 308, known by its detractors as “crime 308”, which allows a rapist to avoid prosecution if he agrees to marry his victim, and then stay married to her, for at least five years. This law is supported by 55.8% of the Jordanian population, who see it as a win-win situation for rapist and victim, which gives a very upsetting picture of Jordanian society.
Perpetrators of so-called “honour killings”-when a woman is murdered for having an illicit relationship with a man in a way considered to be shameful to her family, are also able to escape harsh punishment. If the victim’s family do not wish for the murderer to receive a harsh sentence, they may get away with as little as three months spent in prison – a common occurrence since those who carry out the crimes tend to come from the victim’s own family. Depressingly, a recent study of secondary school pupils in Amman showed that almost half of boys and one-fifth of girls believed that honor killings were justified.
Protests and campaigns against this harsh treatment of women are far and few between. Women and a few men have protested against the article which bars children born to foreign husbands from inheriting Jordanian citizenship, but presumably the stigma attached to calling out for women’s rights in a patriarchal country where freedom of assembly is still relatively constrained discourages many from making their voices heard.
With sexism so entrenched in society, and defenders of women’s rights understandably unwilling or struggling to make their voices heard, I feel it’s not too culturally imperialist to suggest that countries where women have more rights should pressurize Jordan to shape up. In 2013, Jordan ranked 6th highest amongst countries receiving US aid. Surely the international community, if it wanted to, could encourage the Jordan to stop treating half of its population as second-class citizens?