Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, Alistair Darling, Nick Clegg, Louise Mensch and now, we discover Chuka Umunna, have all done it. David Cameron has made a point of not telling us whether he has or he hasn’t. Bill Clinton allegedly did so in the beer garden of Oxford’s very own Turf Tavern. David Miliband, on the other hand, has said that he never tried himself because at university he was ‘a bit square’ – mmm, funny that. The topic of discussion? Smoking marijuana, of course.

When it emerged that Bill Clinton had smoked pot in his student days as a Rhodes scholar in Oxford, it almost derailed his presidential campaign. However when Barack Obama confessed to doing the same, hardly anyone batted an eyelid. The black chalkboard propped up against the wall of The Turf, laying claim to be the place where Clinton did or did not first inhale, is now a key attraction, drawing visitors from afar to this historic pub.

In the past decade, views and attitudes towards youthful experiments with cannabis have changed beyond imagination. Across the pond it is whispered that Obama may legalise the drug as his latest big political move. Of course, it’s still a controversial topic to bring to the fore, and the hard facts aren’t available yet to back up any proposed policy. Nonetheless, with drug related violence continuing to increase in America, especially over the border in Mexico, the advocation of marijuana reform is no longer a taboo subject. With a presidential election looming that will probably be closer than most Democrats want to believe, the fact that legalising marijuana could be one of the big policies fronting Obama’s campaign sends out a pretty big statement that perceptions have changed. 

With the expenses controversy, the phone hacking furore, and now the banking scandal in full swing, politicians are desperately trying more than ever to keep ‘in touch’ with the public. Right now, every little bit helps. If that means demonstrating that they were, once at least, just like any other university student, experimenting, trying to fit in with their mates, then so be it. And all that could involve soft drugs. I’m surprised public relations gurus across the land aren’t pushing MPs to come out with it. It won’t be long now before Jacob Rees-Mogg is the next politico to admit that he was ‘rather partial to the odd puff now and again…’

Despite this growing social acceptance, however, we shouldn’t forget that the side effects of smoking marijuana are extremely dangerous. A recent report from the British Lung Foundation shows that there are established scientific links between smoking cannabis and tuberculosis, acute bronchitis and lung cancer. The risk of lung cancer from smoking cannabis is 20 times higher than that from smoking tobacco cigarettes. Smoking cannabis could also expose users to a vastly increased risk of developing a psychotic illness, such as schizophrenia. So despite the growing social acceptance, despite the increasing number of public figures admitting to having smoked cannabis and despite this show of humility, honesty and proof of being ‘in touch’, we shouldn’t just sit back and give them a pat on the back for this achievement – smoking marijuana is dangerous and in the interest of public health deserves to remain a controversial issue. Debate, anyone?

The first thing that strikes you about Hazel is her height – 4ft.10, the ‘motorized munchkin’ of British politics. The second thing I learnt precluded me from mentioning the first; she’s fiery – sugary sweet but not to be crossed. Suggesting a resemblance with Dolores Umbridge of the Harry Potter series would be cruel, but since the thought provokes a chuckle then superficially at least the comparison contains truth.

The daughter of a maintenance fitter, Hazel came into a firmly working-class tradition. She went to grammar school followed by Trent Polytechnic. Practicing law was her unambiguous aspiration; she describes herself then as ‘an angry young woman’ who saw law as a way to ‘stand up for people’. Was it simply a stepping stone into politics? Apparently not, though through emotively recounting the story of a job interview after graduating, it seems to have been on the agenda from the early days. After sending out ‘300 letters without reply’ she’d only been given one interview, and only since her father was doing nuts-and-bolts stuff on the company’s shop floor. ‘Half way through the interview’ however ‘the partner asked what my Dad did for the company. When I told him he was a fitter on the shop floor he closed his folder and said ‘Good Morning, I think I’ve heard enough’ and showed me the door’. This New Labour politician was inducted into the Old Labour world view of class politics at a fragile young age.

‘I realised then that it wasn’t lawyers who changed the world…the people who really change the balance of power between rich and poor are politicians. That really gave me the impetus to go for Parliament’. That wasn’t easy either. Before 1997, she had fought two seats – one ‘unwinnable’ (Tatton, then Neil Hamilton’s fiefdom) and the other (Bury South, where she lost by only 700 votes) distinctly ‘winnable’. Her disappointment over losing in Bury was an experience she coyly describes as ‘character building’. She recounts having to abandon her job and livelihood to stand, and for a while it seemed she would win. In the final week of the campaign however, following Kinnock’s notoriously hubristic Sheffield Rally and a concerted attack by the Murdoch Press, her hard work was undone. You can’t help but feel sympathy for those swing-seat constituency candidates. They must sacrifice almost everything to acheive victory, even though the end result is ultimately the consequence of national mood-swings which, on a local level, appear whimsical and callous.

A tough ride into Parliament meant that once inside she wasn’t afraid of rubbing people up the wrong way. Frank Dobson once expressed his enthusiasm for global warming through a deep aversion to Blears since ‘the rising sea levels would get her first’. Her most theatrical moment came in 2009 when she unsubtly sought to ‘rock the boat’ by resigning from Cabinet. The Labour Party prizes collegial loyalty above all else; such a blatant act of treachery combined with an unreconstructed Blairism and dodgy expenses claims has seen her stock fall among Labour insiders, rendering a return to the front-bench inconceivable. [mm-hide-text]%%IMG%%5658%%[/mm-hide-text]

Yet at 56, in one of the safest seats in the country (Salford, a city ‘deep in my blood’), Hazel’s career is far from over. Like a large number of former New Labour ministers who face backbench renunciation in a Miliband government, Hazel has become a vigorous parliamentarian, campaigning most recently for universally paid internships.

The current arrangement, whereby new graduates in competitive industries must submit to years of slave labour before maybe getting a paid contract, is tough to argue for. Having Hazel as the opponent makes it all the more difficult. I had thought I was fairly clued up on the issue, insecure in the knowledge that I’ll shortly be entering the rat race. Yet my ignorance of the law, and Blears’ expertise in it opened up a fruitful discussion. ‘Unpaid internships are illegal. Under National Minimum Wage legislation, if a person has set hours and set tasks, then they are legally an employee, entitled to the [NMW]’. Indeed the concept of an ‘intern’ has no definition in British law; as Hazel describes it’s a wholly ‘American import’. If you are not an employee, you are a volunteer. Interns – with their concrete working shifts and very real workloads – very much fall into the former. Try taking a day off work as an intern and see what happens.

The point is that no new legislation is needed; the government simply ‘needs to enforce what’s already on the Statute’. However a quick scan of the popular w4mp website, where most parliamentary internships are advertised, shows how Parliament flouts the law it approved itself fourteen years ago. Martin Vickers, a Tory MP, has recently advertised a 6 month unpaid internship. When I contacted his office, his parliamentary aide was quick to reply pointing out that, having himself worked as an unpaid intern, ‘[he] benefited immeasurably from the experience and was [subsequently] successful in securing paid employment in a career I love’. In the past some interns had been paid, ‘depending on their individual circumstances and the availability of funds’ in the office.

I put it to Blears that the good intentions of the campaign betray its naivety. If the problem is a deficit of working-class people in politics, then isn’t the requirement for MPs’ offices to pay them a salary – making it more costly to offer internships – counter-productive? In the murky world of upper-middle class patronage, the few remaining ones will be doled out by MPs to personal contacts and family friends. She’s not persuaded, recounting Tory scaremongering over the NMW, which despite concerns about youth unemployment substantially raising living standards in the bottom decile with no extra unemployment. I suspect the two cases are less than analogous. Indeed it simply is not credible that salaried internships will lead to anything other than their intense scarcity, especially given how sensitive politicians like Vickers are to be seen to provide taxpayer value. But this misses the point, which is that the number of internships available does nothing for social mobility if they are all occupied by rich kids. In other words, fewer overall internships are a fair price to pay for a more equitable distribution of the opportunities entailed by them.

As she rightly notes, it’s not just young people who have a stake in this; ‘the country as whole loses out [in terms of] talent and creativity’. Indeed by allowing internships to be captured by the wealthy we are hugely restricting the talent pool from which to dram tomorrow’s leaders. If Roy Hodgson, the England Manager, decided to only pick players with rich parents, there would be uproar. Not just because of the unfairness – debasing an honour (playing for ones country) by discriminating on income as opposed to merit – but because the team would be pants. The decision would rightly be seen as a massive, self-inflicted own-goal (to exhaust the metaphor).

Leaving Portcullis House I speak with Kay, Hazel’s intern, about her experience. She’d previously nurtured vague political aspirations but hadn’t realised, until now, how getting ahead in the Westminster village ‘is all about the connections’ which she’s tentatively started making. Gazing around the central atrium Kay is a refreshing contrast to the other floppy-haired, self-assured SPADs I observe busying about. If more parliamentarians adopted intern-pay, if we had more Kays, I daresay the next generation’s political leaders would seem considerably less odious.

Tom Beardsworth: Why it’s time to get big-money out of university education.

Cherwell reported last week on the extent to which Oxford continues to rely on large donations from wealthy individuals. There is no doubt that universities rely on philanthropy; this will become ever more the case as central government slashes higher education budgets. As students we benefit from the facilities and teaching that donations allow. The Said Business School, founded with £23 million seed money from Wafic Said, and the Blavatnik School of Government, which with a £75 million gift from the Russian billionaire, will take its inaugural class this year, both enhance the educational opportunities that Oxford offers in competition with other global leaders.

Why then would we wish to restrict big-money donations? Most donors have been well-regarded philanthropists but others, it must be said, have made their money in a less-than-scrupulous fashion. Said made his fortune courtesy of the Saudi Royal family, and achieved notoriety for the Al Yamamah defence contract between BAE and the Saudi Air Force which later led to charges of corruption in a US court. Another benefactor of the school, the Italian industrial giant ENI, has fallen victim to charges of institutional bribery. The dirty money trail has brought the university into disrepute, feeding the perception that Oxford’s dreaming spires are the playthings of oligarchs and klepotocrats.

Why does it matter where the money comes from, as long as it goes to good use? Well we have to recognise that other factors should be considered alongside, and occasionally trump, the amount of money that is being given. Most importantly the University should think about its integrity, which it too often neglects. Philanthropy to renowned educational institutions like Oxford is a classic way for businessmen to legitimise their wealth if its source would otherwise be condemned. If the University takes money from an arms deal then it, and by extension we, wholeheartedly endorse the practice. It’s the same argument that Exeter College provoked earlier this year, when it profited from Christian Concern, a bigoted anti-gay group, using college accommodation over the vacation. The income would have benefitted students, but ultimately they did not want to pay the price of association entailed by accepting the money. The college latterly donated the money to charity. Aren’t the University’s vetting procedures sufficient to filter out dodgy donors and keep the well-intentioned ones? I’d argue that they aren’t, as the Said case shows. When big-money is offered, dollar signs inevitably float about the administrators’ heads, prejudicing the Board’s decision. But the case for a cap is more fundamental. It’s about the character of the institutions we participate in.

Where will it end? If the ‘British Petroleum Oxford Ecological Institute’ and the ‘Roman Abromovich Centre for Management’ taste bitter to you, then it’s because what we value about quality education – its intrinsic merits – are debased by the rotten foundations which underpin them. In the long-term Oxford will be fine, with good facilities and dynamic teaching. What is in danger is our reputation, which can rapidly evaporate. The University is fortunate in its wealth of successful alumni. We should therefore aim for a plurality of small to medium sized donations, allowing us to cap the big ones. Small is beautiful. Let’s make it that way.

Isabelle Westbury: Capping donations is severing a much needed lifeline for our universities

On discussing the topic of wealthy donations to educational institutions, the most immediate concerns that may spring to mind are the occasional less-than-legitimate methods by which some donors acquire their vast fortunes – a topic the popular media love to publicise. However, the most immediate issue here is not the source of these donations, through unscrupulous means or otherwise, but more the amount and whether this should have a limit imposed upon it.

Of course, on receiving donations, the source, reputation and background of that donor should always be taken into account. It will always be a fine line which divides the necessity for donated funds and the morality of the donor contributing said funds. Don’t be misled in believing that this is a matter taken lightly, however. Notwithstanding any unwanted temporary negative publicity, it is firmly in the interest of any university to judge wisely on the donations they receive; not only are the finances at stake, but the reputation and morality of said university also come under scrutiny and can leave a lasting mark – much more damaging than any one-off cash boost. Oxford University has a policy in place whereby they will only “…consider gifts from that donor if the behaviour which led to the donor’s reputation being tarnished has clearly ceased.” Oxford also has many more specific guidelines in place; donations from those “actively working in the tobacco industry”, for example, are not accepted. Few donations towards institutions the world over will be found without their controversies; we must trust that it is in the interests of the university that they have both the integrity and common sense to make the sensible decision.

Back to the real issue, however – the cap. Cuts to higher education dominated last year’s press, with swathes of students protesting against the rise in university fees. Less attention, however, was paid to the reason behind these rises – that universities simply haven’t got the funds to sustain the vital service that they provide. The government’s proposal to curb tax breaks on charitable donations – which encompasses universities – is one of grave concern. The Vice-Chancellors of both Oxford and Cambridge have already written private letters to George Osborne urging him to reconsider his decision, highlighting the extent to which universities rely on large financial donations. The fact that the issue is being handled this far up the ladder at the two leading universities in the UK is a reflection of the gravity of this issue. Of course, the government’s proposals are there for a reason – charitable giving is an effective form of tax avoidance for the wealthy – another issue popular in the current media with the likes of Jimmy Carr’s tax arrangements recently in the spotlight – but it doesn’t mean that this is the right way to go. In the long term, sufficient university funding and development is what will matter to the UK – without it, economic growth will stagnate, and for what reason? For a few rotten-but-incredibly-rich scoundrels to stop avoiding tax by donating to charity, only to use their personally hired accountants to exploit another tax loophole? If it’s not through charitable gifts, there will be new ways found – mark my word.

The culture of university philanthropy and the simple fact that universities now rely on charitable donations far outweighs the need to stop tax avoidance through this one avenue. If it were a trade-off between the two, I know which choice I’d make.