Thursday, May 15, 2025
Blog Page 1493

Protestors criticise Kagame at Said Business School

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Protestors marred the visit of Rwandan President  Paul Kagame to Said Business School on Saturday, hurling dozens of eggs and other debris at the front of the business school in order to inveigh against what they claimed was Kagame’s record of genocide and corruption.

At his speech inside the school, Kagame was questioned by business school Dean Peter Tufan on his human rights record, among other issues.

Kagame visited Oxford to receive the “the inaugural Distinction of Honor for African Growth Award”, an award organised by students at the school. Having been President since 2000, he was central to the reconstruction of Rwanda after the 1994 genocide. However, critics argue that his regime has presided over human rights abuses.
 
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Salvator Cusimano, a postgraduate student at St Antony’s College, launched a petition against the visit. The letter, which has been signed by tutors including the founder of Oxford’s Refugee Studies Centre, states that Kagame should not be invited due to his allegedly undemocratic record.
 
 “Inviting Mr. Kagame to accept an award suggests that the Oxford Business Network for Africa, the Saïd Business School, and the University of Oxford condone Mr. Kagame’s actions, and sends the wrong message about the University’s commitment to peace, development, and human rights”, it said.
 
Professor Peter Tufano, Peter Moores Dean at Saïd Business School, told Cherwell before the protest, “The Oxford Africa Business Conference is a student-led event, held by the Oxford Business Network for Africa, a student organisation.
 
“We prize open discussion and in line with the University’s Freedom of Speech policy we have not sought to prevent the students from extending this invitation. President Kagame’s presence in the Saïd Business School does not imply any endorsement by the School or the University of his views or actions. We are aware that President Kagame is considered by some to be a controversial figure and there will be the opportunity for those present to challenge him as appropriate.”

Cusimano has previously told Cherwell, “I’m organizing the campaign not because I oppose Mr. Kagame’s visit; I think that it could have provided a platform for an excellent discussion if framed appropriately. I started the campaign because the event was not only happening without any apparent critical discussion, but was lauding him at a timewhen the extent of his government’s abuses are becoming ever more apparent.”

President Kagame visited to give the keynote speech the 5th Annual Oxford Africa Business Conference. Conference attendees arriving at the business school Saturday morning were met by a group of a dozen protesters wielding signs stating, “Paul Kagame = War Criminal / Stop His Impunity;” “Kagame a Criminal in Power Rwandans Need: Justice, Democracy, Free Expression;” and “Peace in Congo.”

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The protestors also distributed literature claiming “Kagame has more blood on his hands that Hitler: 6,000,000 Congolese 500,000 Rwandans.” The literature also blamed Kagame for the assassination of four former Rwandan presidents. 

At noon, when the hundreds of conference attendees converged for lunch in the foyer, which has a full glass façade facing south onto Park End street, protestors, whose numbers reached around forty, launched raw eggs, water bottles and other debris at the glass window.

Conference attendees responded mostly with laughter, as over a dozen Oxford University security guards and Oxford City police, two of whom were on horseback, enforced a fifteen metre barrier between the protesters and main façade.

President Kagame and his entourage entered the business school through the rear in order to avoid the protestors. Shortly after one o’clock he spoke in the Nelson Mandela Lecture Theatre on the catalysts behind sub-Saharan African economic growth, before answering a series of questions from Tufan, the Dean, and audience members.

Tufan initially praised Kagame’s economic policies, before launching into a critique of his human rights record phrased in the form of diplomatically-worded open-ended questions. Kagame responded that these critiques were predicated on incorrect facts, and that most of his critics were foreign, whereas an overwhelming majority of Rwandans approve of him. 

According to Amnesty International, “opposition figures and journalists remain in danger of arbitrary and impartial prosecution” and Freedom House has said that Rwanda is “not free”.

Yet Kagame’s regime has been praised by some commentators, with Bill Clinton describing him as “one of the greatest leaders of our time.” Rwanda was the second country which wasn’t associated with the British Empire to join the Commonwealth in 2009. Until last year, the UK contributed £21m in development aid to Rwanda annually, and Tony Blair remains an unpaid government advisor.

Renaissance Man: Week Five

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It’s the Finals countdown, as 1980s Swedish rockers ‘Europe’ might have sung had they been studying at Oxford instead of playing sold-out stadium concerts. Students are procrastinators without peer – apart from of course their peers, who are also very good at procrastinating.

However, there comes a point when one simply hasn’t got the time to procrastinate, as the dread hour of Finals approaches for some of us. What’s the black-belt procrastinator like myself to do? Giving up procrastination suddenly is a dangerous move that can leave you with withdrawal symptoms.

Fortunately, the free market has come up with a solution: simply outsource your procrastination to an overseas worker. There are a number of companies out there which offer this indispensable service.

For as little as £22.50 a day, you can have a dedicated Indian graduate procrastinating on your behalf, allowing you to get on with the work you have to be doing. These procrastinators work in huge procrastination centres, where they’re trained in particular British ways of procrastinating, like making endless cups of tea. It’s not impersonal; I get a daily email update from my current surrogate Sanjeev, telling me all the ways in which he’s wasted his day so I don’t have to.

Customers can choose from a variety of packages, ranging from a simple one-off procrastination for an imminent deadline to a permanent state of procrastination.

Depending on how serious you are about procrastinating, you can also choose to give your surrogate access to your Facebook, where they will regularly post idle statuses and draw up a quick summary of your news feed so you can stay in the loop.

Critics may say that outsourcing procrastination is immoral, on a level with paying for essays from a dodgy company. But it’s simple supply and demand: I want to procrastinate, but I don’t have the time.

So it makes perfect sense to pay a highly skilled graduate to waste their time instead. In fact, they’re probably much more intelligent than me, making the procrastination even more effective.

However, I should warn readers before eagerly signing up to any old procrastination service. The industry ombudsman is currently investigating complaints that some companies shirk their procrastination duties, with staff spending their time studying for part-time qualifications or achieving other useful work. Not Sanjeev though. Last I heard from him, he was rearranging his desk for the seventeenth time that day, while I was hard at work writing this column. Oh… shit.

Creaming Spires: Week Five

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The tone is about to be lowered, along with your undies. This week Creaming Spires focuses on anal sex – the dirty (in both respects of the word) kind of fucking that divides the masses. But whether you love it or hate it, you have to try it at least once – if only to verify that you aren’t one of those girls whose G-spot is located up your chuff, in which case perhaps you’ll make a full conversion and start poo-pooing ‘normal’ sex.

Anal sex is what my girlfriends and I have always referred to as the ‘eight-month milestone’. Unless you are uber kinky and love taking it up the bum, in general, anal sex gets brought up in conversation around eight months into any heterosexual relationship. Eight months is around about the time when you have aced vaginal sex and feel sufficiently comfortable with your partner that should any mishaps arise as couple – such as those horror stories you hear of girls shitting the bed (quite literally) – you could laugh it off and give it another whack.

The trick to anal sex is two-fold: alcohol and copious amounts of lube (what ever you do, don’t be stingy). For any first-timer, the rumours are true – it will hurt, A LOT.

In hindsight, I wish I had prophelactically popped a couple of paracetamol; then perhaps I would speak more highly of anal sex. I tried to battle through the initial pain – stopping halfway to put a finger up my boyfriend’s bum so that he could relate to the pain. He had the audacity to complain at the pain of a spindly female forefinger, when I was having a six-inch (eight-inch if he is reading this) baton pummelled into me.

I certainly was not aroused by the whole experience, and without the build up to a climax, and the fact that I was in pain, my boyfriend wasn’t particularly a fan either.

The last helpful piece of advice I can offer is to ensure a clean and slow dismount – after all, no one wants a smeared duvet cover

Review: Vampire Weekend – Modern Vampires of the City

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Vampire Weekend’s latest effort, Modern Vampires of the City, is very strange. Vampire Weekend are renowned for their preppy, peppy afro-pop records, but on this, their third album, they’ve done something a bit different. The first track alone is enough to spell out the difference. ‘Obvious Bicycle’ is a slow, sparse number, with subtle piano work and choral vocals. It sounds like something that Fleet Foxes might have recorded in a contemplative moment.

The record as a whole is more chilled out than their past hyperactive selves. Where the music is fast, it is less self-consciously jerky and more anthemic. Where it is slow, it often employs piano or organ to provide a gently undulating backdrop to the wonderfully wordy lyrics (“stale conversation deserves but a breadknife”). ‘Don’t Lie’ is a case in point, with the quiet thump of drums submerged under layers of harmonies, all singing a refrain of “Listen, don’t wait”. If it wasn’t Vampire Weekend on the album cover, you could be forgiven for thinking this was an off-cut from Beirut’s The Rip Tide.

The lead single, ‘Diane Young’, is a bit of a return to form: an upbeat, quirky jaunt of a song, with a catchy chorus. If your summer isn’t spent singing “baby, baby, baby, baby, right on time”, you have no appreciation for the simplicity and brilliance of nonsense lyrics.

Perhaps the only real problem with the record is VW’s obsession with pitch shifting Ezra Koenig’s voice. He has a wonderful soulful croon (showcased at its best in ‘Unbelievers’). It seems a shame to mess with it simply as a stylistic device. The second single, ‘Ya Hey’, is practically unlistenable as a result. This can probably be forgiven though, on the basis of all that is so very right with this album.

All in all, this is a good record, but a departure from past form. It’s unsettling to hear Vampire Weekend doing something so unlike their past work. However, as long as they remain the literate, sensitive pop-minstrels they’ve always been, that is no bad thing.

Track to download: Diane Young

 

Review: Treetop Flyers – The Mountain Moves

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★★★★☆
Four Stars

One thing that is starkly clear from the opening janglyriff on ‘Things Will Change’ is that this is a band that have bided their time. Named after a Stephen Stills song, the influence of West-coast rockers such as the Byrds and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young is highly evident. These influences become transatlantic with a languid groove in ‘Waiting on You’, which would sit comfortably in any Green-era Fleetwood Mac output, and the voice of Morrison morphing into Rod Stewart and the Faces circa 1975.

The band also moved to LA to record The Mountain Moves and, with their only direct connection across the pond coming from drummer Tomer Danan, it’s hard to imagine that the band hail from London at all. This is reinforced by the Americana groove of tracks such as ‘Haunted House’ and ‘Picture Show’. The latter in particular evokes images of long, desert highways and lonely gas stations with its twanging guitars and haunting vocals.

‘She’s Gotta Run’ is possibly one of the poorer conceived of the tracks on the album, lacking the subtlety of the band’s other offerings. However, the only acoustic performance on the album, and the closing track, ‘Is It All Worth It?’, stands out as a beautifully, and particularly well-crafted, song with vocal harmonies reminiscent of Fleet Foxes and a finger-picking style lifted from Bob Dylan’s ‘Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright’. Similar odes to master songwriters from times gone by can be seen in tracks such as ‘Making Time’ and ‘Storm Will Pass’ where Morrison’s ragged drawl culminates in a contribution where the Neil Young influences are so overt that it might as well have mutton chops and a cowboy hat.

Treetop Flyers represent a growing trend of looking to the past for inspiration but not being embodied by it. “Looking back now, when I was a kid,” Morrison sings, and on this beautifully put together album, hopefully Treetop Flyers will be looking forward too.

Track to download: Things Will Change

How to have great taste and alienate everyone

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‘it’s sad that you think that we’re all just scenesters – and even if we were, it’s not the scene you’re thinking of…’ 

I’ve never been able to work out which is more objectionable: those who self-define as ‘hipster’ or those who self-define as ‘twee’. The thick-rimmed, obviously-not-prescription glasses vs. the Book, Tea, and Picnic Lovers. There is overlap, of course: the carefully-cultivated predilection for gin, adoration for Wilde, near-intolerable aura of “kookiness”… 

One thing I will say, however: these scenes, terrible as their occupants are, have spawned some truly gorgeous music. What follows is a crash-course intro to the Great Music Of Our Epoch That You’ve Probably Never Heard Of. And by that I do mean – wait for it – pop. But not just any pop. Twee, happy, post-Pastels indie pop. Soon you, too, will be waking up every morning (driving your neighbours insane) to the sound of Sarah Records.

To avoid terrifying the Park-Enders amongst us (this is a community of support), let’s start with something gentle. We’re thinking jangly-guitars-but-light-on-the-synth, lyrics that are unarguably sweet but not so sickly that you want to throw up; a generally unobjectionable aesthetic.

The obvious choice: Belle and Sebastian. Great for anyone who thinks that Juno was the zenith of indie film and that (500) Days of Summer is “just really cute”. Also, however, anyone with ears. It’s so happy. Here is ‘Another Sunny Day’ (I like to think that they took the title from the eighties band of the same name – more of them later! – but who cares, it’s lovely regardless) 

That’s it. That, right there, is the beautiful apex of indie pop – but we’re not finished yet. Rough Trade (a name you’ll come to cherish, if you don’t already) have had their turn, so now to Sarah. Home of the Field Mice, the aforementioned Another Sunny Day (best-known for their debut single ‘You Should All Be Murdered’, which has a very Smiths-esque vibe, though with added misanthropy)… and the lovely St. Christopher:

As Good As Married. How I feel about my relationship with my iPod. There are soft, echoey hints of psychedelic dream-pop in the chorus, but this is the track for sunbathing in the warm and sleepy afternoons of Trinity (please God, please). Take a four-minute (four-hour) break from the library and relax.

Right, now it’s time for the heavy stuff. And by heavy I mean super-light, super-fun, genreepitomising bubblegum pop. The lyrics say it all (“well, you can keep your punk, rock, ska, rap beats and house – fuck me I’m twee”). 

I would also recommend Tullycraft’s ‘The Punks Are Writing Love Songs’, as well as ‘Pop Songs Your New Boyfriend’s Too Stupid To Know About’ (“True he likes the Breeders/He thinks Green Day’s pretty swell/But what about the Bartlebees/And Neutral Milk Hotel?”). 

This list would never be complete without something a bit more violent, of course – for the shy, would-be punk in all of us. You might have heard this one in a Budweiser advert… or Baby Love on a really good night, maybe. 

 

And we’re all like, how Rousseau depicts man in the state of nature (trying too hard). For an even more recent variation on the twee-punk theme, try Tigercats: 

40 views on YouTube say you’re probably a lot cooler (have a lot more spare time) than anyone who hasn’t heard this song.

To ease us into the more lyrical, melodic side of indie-pop, we have what is probably the best Swedish music since ABBA: dear, dear Jens Lekman. Here’s my very favourite song about the impending apocalypse – ‘The End of the World is Bigger Than Love’. 

 

He’s got a point. On a similarly heartstring-tugging theme, let’s move to our final band of this rough-and-ready introduction to wonderfulness: expect synths in their dozens, and probably having to Google the lyrics (you’ll never regret it). I give you the best wordplay I’ve heard outside of 90s rap, and the greatest-ever song about having sex in a library. If you needed any encouragement to try, here are The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, with ‘Young Adult Friction’. 

 

So, thank you for reading – it’s been a rollercoaster ride, and we haven’t even scratched the surface. But you should now venture forth, well-equipped to infuriate everyone with your embarrassingly niche knowledge of indie pop. Dust off your polka-dot skirts/prohibitively tight jeans, steal all your parents’ eighties records, perfect your shoegazing abilities – and stay cool, I’ll see you this summer.

Did Made in Chelsea deserve that BAFTA?

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So Made In Chelsea won a BAFTA. Seriously. This is not a joke. This is a fact. One that suggests we all need to sit down and have a long think about the meaning of life. And the future of humanity. Which, given the aforementioned fact, is probably bleak. 

Responses have, predictably, ranged from outrage to…well more outrage. Graham Norton responded snappily ‘They were insufferable before– what are they going to be like now?’ and Alan Sugar tweeted in a fit of jealous pique ‘Young Apprentice did not win a BAFTA tonight. Made in Chelsea won. Can’t believe it.’ Twitter pretty much exploded. 

And outrage is certainly a natural response. Because this is a show which essentially just follows rich people around and watches as they…well…are rich. The characters are fairly vacuous (Millie? Cheska?) when they’re not downright despicable (yes Spencer, we’re looking at you). The dialogue is beyond stilted; apparently being rich negates your ability to speak in actual sentences without using the word ‘like’ every third word. And let’s not even get started on the way they portray their female characters: the whore-virgin dichotomy is so overused it’s actually wearing thin. Everyone took great delight in tearing down whiter-than-white Kimberley, Louise is constantly lambasted just for being in love and crying a bit, and Lucy is presented as a witch just because she doesn’t fall at Jamie’s feet. This is not great TV. On this, I think we can probably all agree. 

But. It is sinfully addictive. Trust me, I know. I’m hooked. And what’s more, its plot may be drivel and its characters grating, but by heavens it’s got good production values. The camera work is excellent. Honest to God, all those serious TV dramas could learn a thing or two. And we have to give them kudos for making the most of shooting in London – true, nobody actually breaks up by a river, but it did mean we could watch the Thames instead of Spencer’s face, which is a blessing indeed. What’s more, the music on this show is amazing. Seriously, what other show on TV will play Alt-J, Daughter, Foals and Bastille in one episode?  And you can’t pretend it’s not popular: 950 000 people tuned into the premiere of Season 5, and it’s Channel 4’s most tweeted about programme (lest we forget, these people know how to work the social media!). 

So what we have here is a show about not really very much, but that looks really good. It’s the ultimate victory of style over substance, which in all honesty, sums up the show and its characters pretty well. The question needn’t be why people prefer slick production over substantial plot, it can be why anybody hasn’t yet managed to combine the two. Because MIC’s competition, in the highly contested category of Best Reality and Constructed Factual was The Audience, I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here! and The Young Apprentice. Go figure.