Saturday, May 3, 2025
Blog Page 190

The House of Lords – Necessary reform?

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A recent YouGov poll[1] confirmed that the most important issues for Britons are; the economy, an overstretched NHS, and a beleaguered immigration and asylum system. Unsurprisingly, major constitutional reform is not high on the list of priorities for the average voter.

Yet the Labour Party has placed major constitutional reform on their agenda for the UK. The leader of the Labour Party, Sir Keir Starmer, and former Labour prime minister, Gordon Brown, have joined forces to make the abolition of the House of Lords, the upper chamber of the UK’s parliament, a “radical” centrepiece of the Labour Party’s 2024 election manifesto[2]. Sir Keir has described the House of Lords in its current incarnation as “indefensible”[3] and pledged his commitment to abolition “as quickly as possible”[4]. In its place would stand a democratically elected assembly of nations and regions. 

The issues with the House of Lords

Admittedly, there is credence to the criticism that the Lords has become unjustifiably bloated in size and its composition unrepresentative of the UK. For instance, the size of membership is north of 800[5], which makes it globally second only in size to the Chinese National People’s Congress (which caters for a country of over a billion people), and the size dwarfs the 100-member strong US Senate. Not to mention that the average age of a sitting peer is 71 years[6].

There are also undeniable problems related to the manner of appointment. Despite the enactment of the House of Lords Act 1999 by New Labour, which removed the entitlement of most of the hereditary peers to the Lords, there remain 92 peers who trace their role in the legislative process of the UK to their birth[7]. The current system also places no real limits on the number or quality of members who may be appointed to the chamber by the prime minister. Despite the existence of the independent House of Lords Appointments Commission, which vets party political nominees for propriety, the vetting criteria is relatively narrow and the recommendations are not binding on the prime minister [8]. For example, in 2020, Boris Johnson could simply overrule the concerns raised by the Commission over the appointment of Peter Cruddas [9]. These shortcomings have ultimately led to concerns that appointments to the Lords have been “rather profligate”[10] and led to “unchecked political patronage”[11].

Advocates for abolition also focus significantly on the need to allow the nations and regions of the UK to be better represented. But, it is not clear that a democratic upper chamber, like the one in Labour’s proposal, would be able to deliver on this ideal. Voter engagement in the UK is consistently at a level lower than at most points historically[12], casting doubt on whether there is an appetite for yet more elections. One would need to carefully define how the chamber would interact with the devolved assemblies so that there is not a conflict of responsibilities, and there would be a danger that the party-political candidates nominated would simply duplicate the current diversity of sitting MPs, which one may argue is not adequately representative.

The case for retaining the House of Lords

Yet, there are more fundamental critiques of the case for abolition, especially in light of the idiosyncratic role that the House of Lords serves in our constitution. It is precisely the Lords’ uniquely unelected character and sui generis composition that enables it to enrich our dynamic political constitution. 

Firstly, the House of Lords is conventionally known as the ‘revising chamber’, given that its primary remit is to scrutinise and amend legislative bills drafted by the government. In this manner, it serves as a pivotal check on the power of government and functions as an effective counterbalance against elective dictatorship by preventing bills from being passed with minimal scrutiny by the party-political House of Commons. An elected upper chamber would upset the Lords’ remit in balancing the House of Commons. Currently, and indicative of its mature average age, the Lords is composed of a panoply of personally distinguished experts in their respective fields, from politics, the arts, finance and manufacturing, which can lead to debates of high quality and a broad level of intellectual firepower. It is this that makes peers uniquely positioned to temper problems with proposed legislation, maximise legislative effectiveness, and hold the government to account in a way that elected representatives may not be able to do. This is epitomised by how the Lords’ Secondary Legislation Scrutiny Committee was able to prevent a statutory instrument from being instituted by the government that would have slashed billions of pounds of welfare payments without a debate on the issue in the Commons[13].

Secondly, the unelected nature of the Lords facilitates independent thinking as members are free from the constraints of party whips or the ever-present threat of re-election, both of which affect the decision-making of MPs. Indeed, currently about a quarter of the Lords’ members sit without party political affiliation – ‘crossbenchers’[14] – and even the ones affiliated with a party need not worry about defying the government for threat of expulsion given their security of tenure. These facets of independence combine to enable the non-partisan scrutiny of government bills, less rancour and more collaborative debates, and concerted cross-party work, allowing peers to obtain a more nuanced understanding of the minutiae of bills and how the law will impact the UK. For example, in 2020, the Lords defeated the government and the House of Commons in its bid to enact the Internal Market Bill on the grounds that the provisions would break international law and erode the UK’s international standing[15]. An elected chamber poses a distinct risk of sacrificing this expertise. In all likelihood, the electoral system, with its campaigning, canvassing and electioneering, would encourage seasoned political operators (former MPs and Ministers) of the major parties to run for election, leading to the most politically astute candidates or best campaigners, not necessarily the most competent, winning on party-lines at the expense of the most expert and nonpartisan professionals. This political bias could limit the industry-based capital of a second chamber.

Thirdly, Labour’s report has not made clear the precise power distribution and relationship that their second chamber would have with the House of Commons; this is problematic because a new chamber could challenge the primacy of the House of Commons. The members of the new chamber would have just as much legitimacy as the members in the Commons, which could lead to the expansion of the chamber from a revising one and the upsetting of numerous political conventions constraining the Lords. Hence, the proposal could risk legislative inertia from longer delays and the frustration of the elected government’s legislative agenda due to blockages.

A more pragmatic approach to reform 

Instead of expending vast amounts of political endeavour on abolition, a more pragmatic approach would be to enact targeted reform to the existing model which would neatly preserve the Lords’ constitutional effectiveness.  

Firstly, as opined by the Lord Speaker’s Committee in 2017, its size could be capped to around 600 members, which would make total membership slightly less than the House of Commons but large enough to allow it to maintain its current level of activities and expertise[16]. This is a sensible idea and akin to what happens in most legislative chambers globally. If appointments could only be made when there are vacancies or prime ministers could only appoint members from an annual party allocation, the numbers would remain stable and appointers incentivised to only ennoble those genuinely intending to make a contribution to the House. This limit could be complemented by a mandatory retirement age, modelled on the compulsory retirement age of 75 years imposed on the judiciary[17]. The corollary would be the continued space for new members, refreshing the Lords’ expertise with up-to-date business insight, and the maintenance of public confidence in the health and capacity of members to work. 

Secondly, the House of Lords would greatly benefit from a more demanding appointment process and a more robust appointment commission. The independent House of Lords Appointments Commission could be endowed with a statutory mandate to veto ‘unsuitable’ nominations by the prime minister and political leaders. Buttressing this power should be more demanding propriety criteria, which could include requiring nominees to demonstrate a sufficient willingness and capacity to contribute to the work of the House of Lords. The robustness of the appointments process could be further reinforced by imposing on the Commission the duty to take account of the total number of appointments, overall size, and composition of the House (including peers’ political affiliations, geographic region of representation, and industry) when nominating members. These measures would take a leap forward in fostering a more fair and meritorious system and ultimately benefit the quality of law-making. It would lead to a broader pool of talent at the public’s service and enhance the legitimacy of the chamber without undermining the positive contribution that it makes to the UK.  

It is, thus, accepted that the House of Lords is imperfect and would undoubtedly benefit from constitutional reform. However, Labour’s answer is regrettably to use ‘a sledgehammer to crack a nut’. 

Image: CC2:0//Roger Harris via Flickr.

“Refreshingly ambiguous” – Review of Wishbone

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It would be most people’s worst nightmare to break up with a partner only to immediately find out that they are bound to seven days of each other’s company in the same apartment. It is in these very circumstances that Ti and Ro, the protagonists of Peach Productions’ Wishbone, written by Coco Cottam and performed at the Burton Taylor Studio in sixth week, suddenly find themselves, when they test positive for COVID-19 hours after Ro breaks up with Ti. Giving the audience a glimpse into seven days with Ti and Ro, Wishbone offers an insightful and tender portrayal of the complicated emotions tied up in a relationship which is far from perfect, but too good to lose, and what happens when a couple is forced to confront these feelings together.

The play opens with Ti (Rosa Calcraft) and Ro (Kaitlin Horton-Samuel), who are dressed in flowing skirts and glittering shirts, moving to music on a stage shimmering in dark blue light. An interpretative dance sequence sees them coming together and splitting apart again, by turns intimate and hostile, delicate and violent, so that it is unclear as to the nature of the relationship of the two flitting figures; an image which prescores the play’s exploration of the changing tides of the characters’ emotions. The music accompanying the dancing is Sound Designer Julia Males’ remix of a classic Schellenberger piece with the introduction to WTC by contemporary alternative trio Unloved; its jolting beat complements the dancers’ alternately abrupt and fluid movements. There is something electric in this opening, appropriate to the electricity we come to discover still fizzles between the two, no matter how much they may try to deny it.

Cottam’s original script is as engaging as it is honest. Arguments and simmering anger are balanced with intimate dialogues, and conversations about apparently mundane topics like a chicken sandwich are compellingly humorous. Lydia Free’s direction subtly brings out the complexities of the characters’ feelings of resentment, nostalgia, love, and anger, and draws out the script’s most poignant moments, fusing Cottam’s lyrical writing with the magic of the visual and auditory components of the play. However, as dynamic as the play is, it remains grounded in truth – as an audience, we felt that we were being given a privileged look into the lives and conversations of a real (ex-) couple.

This was certainly aided by the onstage chemistry between Horton-Samuel and Calcraft, which was some of the best I have seen in student theatre. The actors bounced off each other, meeting energy with energy, making their interactions wholly entertaining to watch.  Horton-Samuel’s Ro is down-to-earth, straight-forward and resolute, but Ti is clearly her weak spot. Calcraft makes for a bubbly Ti, and believably delivers her lines with notes of humour and exasperation.

In days 1 to 3, indicated at the beginning of each scene by text projected onto the back wall, we witness why the two might be crushingly incompatible, a request to spread some jam on bread quickly escalating into a row. Many of their exchanges are in raised tones, Calcraft and Samuel-Horton convincingly portraying the catharsis of finally being able to express months of pent-up frustration. Equally, in days 4 to 6, we witness why the two work so well together. In a lengthy phone conversation, Ro explains her feelings about Ti, saying how she is experiencing ‘the ache’ about their break-up – but she emphatically reiterates that ‘it’s not love’. We doubt this, as we see an increase in their physical proximity as the play progresses, and they transform from being aloof with one another to being more tender and intimate.

By Day 6, it seems like they might almost choose to stay together after all, snuggling in bed, laughing, and remembering happy times, like their first giggly meeting at a life-drawing class. It is heart-warming to see. The delicate pink and white tapestry suspended on the back wall of Izzy Kori’s set softly underscores the tenderness and beauty which, despite everything, is at the core of Ti and Ro’s relationship. At the end of Day 6, Ro asks, ‘what happens tomorrow? What happens to us?’, a nod to their life after their period of compulsory confinement ends. The audience is wondering the same thing, but all Ti replies is ‘I don’t know’.

Wishbone’s ending is refreshingly ambiguous. Whether Ti and Ro end up staying together or not is unclear – it could genuinely go either way, as the play has so successfully shown. The symbol of the wishbone serves to underline this sense of the uncertainty about their future; Ti and the audience both are keen to know what it is that Ro wished for with the wishbone earlier in the play, and what it could mean for her and Ti’s relationship. As Peach Productions’ first show, Wishbone was a sold-out success – and with good reason. The introspective script, paired with strong and nuanced performances from the two actors and suitably graceful visual and auditory elements rendered the play a beautifully crafted piece of theatre.

Image Credit: Coco Cottam

Oxford Vice Chancellor receives Damehood for services to education

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Vice-Chancellor Professor Louise Richardson has been awarded a Damehood for her services to Higher Education.

Dame Richardson received the honour of a Damehood from King Charles at Windsor Castle on Wednesday, December 14. The award ceremony follows her being named Dame Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (DBE) in June 2022 in recognition of her distinguished career as both an academic and a leader of various universities. In a statement released after the announcement of the 2022 Queen’s Birthday Honours, the Vice-Chancellor expressed her delight at receiving the award and was honoured that her and her colleagues’ work, as well as the field of High Education in general, was recognised in this way.

Dame Richardson began her career as a professor of political science with a focus in international security and terrorism at Harvard University. There she received numerous awards for her excellence in undergraduate teaching. She made history in 2009 and 2016 when she became the first female Principal and Vice-Chancellor of the University of St. Andrews and the first female Vice-Chancellor of Oxford respectively. During her tenure as head of Oxford, she has worked to secure important donations to the university, such as the £150 million donation from Stephen Schwarzman to fund humanities research. Under her leadership access schemes have also increased, including a pledge to admit 25% of British students from underrepresented backgrounds by 2023 and the creation of the Astrophoria Foundation Year programme. Her management of the university during the COVID-19 pandemic was also crucial for the development of the Oxford-AstraZeneca and other therapies for the disease. 

Her work at Oxford included vital institutional changes, but did not erase Oxford’s often controversial past. Dame Richardson has spoken out against renaming buildings and demolishing statues of controversial figures like Cecil Rhodes, arguing that we should not hold historical figures to our constantly changing and oftentimes hypocritical modern standards. In an interview with Cherwell earlier this year, she reiterated her stance on free speech, stating that no student at Oxford should have a “right to not be offended” and that discomfort with one’s ideas was a fundamental part of personal and academic growth.

In January 2023, Dame Richardson will begin a new position as president of the philanthropic fund, the Carnegie Corporation of New York. She will be succeeded as Vice-Chancellor of Oxford by Professor Irene Tracey.

Image credit: OUImages/John Cairns

Voter Identification: A dangerous pathway to unnecessary discrimination

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As Britain enters its so-called ‘winter of discontent’, the biggest change to our electoral system in decades quietly passed through the House of Commons to little fanfare on Tuesday night.  From now on, everyone voting in the UK will be required to bring with them a form of legal identification.  It might seem like a harmless and sensible change on the surface but the potential problems run far deeper.

First and foremost, it is important to consider why the Conservative party claims that these latest measures are necessary.  The only practical reason that they have come up with is to put an end to ‘voter fraud’.  The reality though is that this barely features in UK elections, this new policy is, as Angela Rayner put it, “a solution searching for a problem’.  According to the House of Commons Library there have been just four convictions of voter impersonation in the last decade.  During that time there have been 242 484 668 votes cast across elections in the UK (that comes in at 0.0000017%).  Newcastle University’s Alistair Clark conducted a nationwide survey that found just 0.7% of poll workers had any suspicion of voter fraud at their stations.  So, given that voter fraud is clearly not a significant issue in this country, one is left wondering what the true motivation is for the Tories.

The biggest problem with ID requirements is that they are inherently discriminatory.  Although they might be commonplace in other countries in Europe and across the world, these places also provide their citizens with ID cards.  If it wasn’t for Conservative opposition during the Blair years, the chances are that we would have it here too.   As a result, voting is restricted to those with passports, driving licences, and other paid forms of identification that 4% of the population (1.9 million people) don’t have.  Not only does this lock those people out of the democratic process but those without are disproportionately younger and poorer, thus skewing the electorate in favour of the Conservative party.  For an example of this, one need look no further than travel passes.  If you are over the age of 60 you can use your travel card as a form of official identification but for those under that age, they are invalid.  The reality is that this policy is clearly one instituted as an easy win for the Conservatives that pleases their supporter base and goes unnoticed by much of the opposition.  Ideologically, it is completely incongruous with a party whose official policy is still against ID cards. 

Even among those who have photo IDs, countless studies and trials have shown that when these laws are introduced, electoral participation falls.  Northern Ireland introduced the policy in 2002 and supporters point to its success.  However, subsequent elections saw turnout fall by 3%.  In 2019, people in 10 local areas were required to bring identification to vote as part of a pilot scheme.  These small-scale schemes saw hundreds turned away and 0.7% of them failing to return with suitable ID despite the fact that they had access to it.  In an environment where electoral participation is looking to be maximised any restriction or added difficulty in the democratic process is surely counterintuitive.

Aside from the clearly dangerous slippery slope of making the fundamental right of democratic participation more difficult, there are clear practical issues with the policy’s implementation.  These have been identified and outlined by the Electoral Commission.  The government is insisting on implementing these changes for the local elections in May 2023 despite the fact that councils across the country have warned that they have ‘insufficient time’ to prepare.  After disastrous late changes to rules ahead of the Scottish local elections in 2007, the Electoral Commission recommended against any alterations within six months of polling day.  Elisa Irvine is the head of administration at the Commission and said, “We have raised concerns with the UK government that the delays we have seen to date, and the timetable for introduction, mean that these important considerations may not be fully met when the new policy is implemented.” The fact that the commission itself is calling so clearly for a delay and reconsideration of these proposals should easily be enough to cause concern.  The training of officials and introduction of the technology to make the systems workable are estimated to cost £180 000 000 over the next ten years – a cost coming at a time when the country is in a more dire economic state than at any point in recent memory.

So, this policy represents an expensive and unworkable solution to a problem that doesn’t exist, rushed through parliament to little fanfare in an attempt to find an easy win for the Conservative base.  Even more worrying though is its discriminatory nature and the dangerous restriction on the democratic process that it represents.

Image: CC2:0//via Wikimedia Commons

The Silenced Majority: The Forty-Year-Old Conspiracy to Abolish American Democracy

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People across the world were rightfully horrified when a mob of angry Trump supporters descended on the U.S. Capitol on 6th January 2021, attempting to overturn the 2020 election. But this brief and spontaneous act was harmless in comparison to a much more covert, forty-year long, institutional plot to overthrow American democracy. And it might all come to a head this week in the Supreme Court case, Moore v. Harper.

As of now, state legislatures set the rules for how both federal and state elections are conducted. They determine how people register to vote, when polls open and close, and what ballots are valid. They also have the power to redraw the boundaries of electoral districts every ten years to account for shifting demographics. This is a tremendous amount of power to give elected lawmakers—especially since the rules that they set have direct bearing on their own re-election. They can redraw district boundaries to favour their party by ‘packing’ and ‘cracking’. ‘Packing’ involves concentrating all voters who oppose them into a single district, while ‘cracking’ thins out any remaining opposition voter power by dividing it across many districts. State legislatures can also make it more difficult for people to vote by shortening voting times, suddenly moving polling locations, and altering the rules of registration at the last minute. Republican lawmakers have wielded these two tools—gerrymandering and voter suppression—with expertise. For example, in the 2018 state elections, the Republicans won the most seats in both Wisconsin and North Carolina, despite the Democrats winning a majority of the popular vote. Since all their support was ‘packed’ within one gerrymandered district, most votes for Democrats were ultimately wasted.

So far, these powers have been somewhat checked by governors and state judges. Both North Carolina and Wisconsin have Democratic governors who have vetoed Republican attempts at voter suppression, and State Courts that have blocked redistricting maps on account of racial gerrymandering, arguing that it violates the constitution. But now, the North Carolina legislature is asking the U.S. Supreme Court to eliminate these checks on their power. They are citing the so-called ‘independent state legislature theory’, a misreading of the U.S. Constitution that gives state legislatures near-unlimited power over how elections are conducted. The Supreme Court will hear this case, dubbed Moore v. Harper, this week on December 7th. If the state legislatures win, they will be able to redraw district boundaries however they want and pass as many laws suppressing voters based on race, gender, and political affiliations as they please. They may even be able to nullify their state’s popular vote in presidential elections—something Trump attempted to do in 2020. Governors and state judges would be made powerless, state constitutions would be made worthless, and the United States would be made into a Putin-style regime, where instead of voters choosing their leaders, leaders choose their voters.

It is difficult to imagine the Supreme Court suddenly ruling in favour of such a blatantly anti-democratic effort. But this has been a long time coming. Since 1992, Republicans have only won the popular vote in a presidential election once, and as the country gets more and more diverse, the Republican voter base of white men will continue to shrink. The Republican establishment knows this. After the Democratic victory in the 2022 midterms, Republican leader Mitch McConnell told the press that he “never predicted a red wave”, and that moderates and independents were “frightened” by his party’s extreme stances on abortion and social security. Rather than attempting to moderate and reach out to a broader base, the Republicans have embraced minoritarian rule, doubling down on defending undemocratic elements of the American political system, relying on legalised bribary to win elections, and filibustering the policy goals favoured by a majority of Americans when they lose.

The Supreme Court has been more than happy to accommodate these efforts. In the 2000 election, when the results in Florida were incredibly slim, the Supreme Court halted a recount (which would have resulted in a victory for the Democrat), and instead handed the presidency to George Bush. In the 2010 Citizens United v. Federal Elections Commission decision, the Supreme Court ruled that campaign finance laws somehow violated the right to freedom of speech, allowing large corporations to spend an unlimited amount of money on election campaigns. And in the 2013 Shelby County v. Holder decision, which overruled a part of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 which prohibited states that historically discriminated against African Americans from changing election rules without federal approval. With this cases in mind, it is difficult to imagine the Supreme Court ruling against this new effort to further America’s institutional decay.

The Supreme Court wasn’t always a hodgepodge of the worst reactionaries in the country. In fact, in the 20th century, they made some of the most progressive rulings, including ending segregation in Brown v. Board of Education, creating the Miranda warning in Miranda v. Arizona, and of course legalising abortion nationwide in Roe v. Wade. But these decisions sparked backlash. In 1982, a group of conservative law students founded the Federalist Society, a reaction against what they deemed ‘judicial activism’, their term for rulings in favour of basic civil rights. They advocated an alternative judicial philosophy called ‘originalism’, which argued that judges should interpret the U.S. Constitution with reference to the ‘original meaning’ intended by its writers, rather than as a living document. The Federalist Society quickly became a factory for conservative jurists, and the Republican administrations of Reagan, the Bushes and Trump eagerly accelerated their careers, placing them in some of the highest legal positions. Judges were increasingly appointed based on ideology, rather than merit.

As of 2022, six out of nine Supreme Court justices once belonged to the Federalist Society – five of which were appointed by presidents who lost the popular vote. With Supreme Court appointments being for life, it is unlikely that this number will decrease any time soon. And in the meantime, they have done and will continue to do whatever they can to undermine American democracy. Returning to the upcoming Moore v. Harper decision, Trump-appointed justices, Brett Kavanagh and Neil Gorsuch, have explicitly endorsed the independent state legislature theory, and Samuel Alito and Clarence Thomas, appointed by the Bushes, have an abysmal record on voting rights. Chief Justice John Roberts has become less conservative over time in an effort to restore some legitimacy to the court. But even if he joins the three liberal justices, unless he can bring one of the five conservative justices with him, it is likely that December 7th will be one of the most infamous days in American history.America is often viewed by Europeans as a very right-wing country—but it is not the American people who are right-wing. In the midterm elections, they firmly rejected Trump, draconian abortion laws, and election denialism. Yet against their will, conservative elites have entrenched themselves into multiple levels of the American government, from lawmakers who gerrymander election maps to lock themselves in power, lobbyists who obstruct legislation combating climate change, and conservative justices who are all too willing to stand by and let democracy slowly be strangled. While QAnon-spouting Trumpers certainly are frightening, these black-robed theocrats send a shiver down my spine unlike any other.

Image Credit: Kjetil Ree/CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The palace gates are opened: watching Spain vs Morocco live from Rabat

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RABAT, Morocco – Not knowing a single soul in the entire country, I was sceptical about what lay ahead of me. Pressed against the window, a stocky Moroccan man was seated next to me, his name was Imad. We soon began talking and got along quite well, so much so that he offered for me to stay with his family. Another man, on the end of the row, quickly butted in, also offering to host me. They asked me about my travels. I barely knew the answers myself but, in short, I was to attend Darija (Moroccan Arabic) classes for three months, whilst polishing my French.

After haggling for some time with a taxi driver, I arrived at a Riad in the Old Medina: the souks were narrow, busy and bustling with an array of colours, smells and characters.

Several weeks later, I wanted to start fending for myself, so I moved to a more residential quarter – l’Océan. Rabat, compared to Fez, Casa Blanca and Marrakech, is fairly calm – a small costal hub that was once a port for Berber pirates. Although it is the country’s administrative capital, rabaati life is relaxed, close-knit and always behind schedule. The one occasion you can guarantee punctuality, however, is when the nation plays football.

It is the first time Morocco has ever reached the semi-finals of a World Cup. For many, the Atlas Lions represent not only the Arab world, but all of Africa; the weight of a continent is spread across their shoulders.

Last week, I was fortunate enough to experience Morocco’s football enthusiasm in their relentless match against neighbouring Spain. Hours and hours before each previous game, Moroccan fans could be found excitedly blowing horns and waving flags. But, on the morning of the 6th, against the Red Fury, the ambiance in the city was somewhat different. There was an eerie silence, with an occasional dima maghrib, as people paced down the streets, finishing up business for the afternoon – nervousness would be an understatement. Every single café, tearoom and bar in Rabat was jam-packed from the moment they opened their doors at 8am. Finding breakfast and a coffee was near impossible. With no place to watch the match, by some miracle, my friend Hamada called me 20 minutes before kick-off, urging me to join him and his new girlfriend. So, I marched over to the regal zone of the city known as Hassan, where I was met at a restaurant-bar named Les Deux Palais. With just ten minutes before the match started, there were no chairs left. Hamada worked tirelessly to find us a seat. By chance, a group of men were outside smoking the last bits of what they will, when they saw our struggle and simply asked “sblyoonee?”, my friend replied, “la, ngleezee.” Magically, an armchair appeared in front of me.

The secluded bar was rather uninviting from the outside; each time the grand cedar doors opened, a thick cloud of smoke was let out. Inside, it was a ruckus, everyone was fidgety and restless, making anxious small talk to try and calm their nerves. Five minutes before kick-off, the doors were bolted shut, Les Deux Palais was well beyond its capacity. Most people were eating tapas; my friend and I tucked into a tortilla on our laps. As the national anthem rang out, a sea of red and green swayed gently from left to right. The whistle was blown, and everyone sharply found their seats.

In the first few minutes I was probing for predictions. Normally, the fans are optimistic about how many goals the Lions will score, this time however, everybody was clueless, “any goal will be a blessing, inshallah”, Rania El Hibari; “our team is super strong brother, but I cannot comment. I have no idea what will happen in the next 90 minutes”, Ahmed Chmichat.

The first half was indeed tight; there was lots of applause and high pitch weleweleweles. Morocco had its first chance with Nayef Aguerd but there was no success; Marco Asensio of Spain narrowly missed a goal. At halftime, Morocco were on the ropes as Spain had greater possession and presence in their opponent’s box. Hope was still not lost though; after all, Morocco scored its two winning goals against Belgium in the final 15 minutes. Later, Spanish midfielder, Dani Olmo, would make an attempt, but Yassine Bounou would bat it away. With the match going into extra time, a penalty shootout was looking more and more likely. For the fans watching in Rabat, it was a sickening wait, for I, a foreigner, it was thrilling.

Morocco’s first goal was sweet and sure as Abdelhamid Sabiri pounded the ball into the centre of the net. Pablo Sarabia for Spain then attempted to place the ball in the bottom right corner, instead hitting the post; 1-0 Morocco. Hakim Ziyech then secured Morocco’s second goal with yet another powerful shot; 2-0. Next, it was Bounou’s chance to shine as he quickly jerked before diving to his left to deflect a Spanish shot. Badr Benoun then tried to slowly tap the ball in, but it was brought to an immediate halt by Unai Símon. Again, Spain had no luck against Bounou as he palmed away another shot. Finally, it was down to Achraf Hakimi who would bring the match to a close and score the third goal for Morocco’s win.

Shortly after, the entire city took to the streets in revolutionary fashion. It was a race to Morocco’s Telecom Tower in Hay Riad. On our way, people of all ages were hanging out of cars singing to Raï and Chaabi, draped in flags and waving at pedestrians dancing in the road. On this one occasion, the guards outside the Palais Royal removed the barrier to the road adjacent to the King’s garden, saluting us as we sped past. Outside the Telecom Tower supporters were waving red flares; letting off fireworks; climbing up flagpoles; and beating drums. Even the King made a surprise appearance. Everyone was in high spirits and car horns rang out into the early hours of the morning.

In football, yes, but in life in general, Moroccans are extremely proud and friendly people. They kindly shared their victory with me and will do so with every other country not remaining in the World Cup. Even if they do not win, their progress to tonight’s semi-final has been enough to build a new confidence for underdog countries in tournaments to follow. Dima maghrib.  

Image: Alfie Williams-Hughes

How to effectively pair food and wine

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It was only six months ago that I began to take a real interest in wine, and it has significantly enhanced my appreciation for good food. When ordering at a restaurant, or enjoyed a meal at home, I found that I would accompany my meal with water or perhaps a soft drink. However, water often dampens flavours from the food and a soft drink may annihilate them altogether. The effect of a well-chosen wine can help enhance these flavours, tying over the tastebuds between bites. Although discerning the correct wine from an array of choices can seem daunting, hopefully this short piece will help to shed light on the process and elevate your next evening with friends or date night.

         I would like to highlight a particular work that has really deepened my initially rudimentary understanding of viniculture, and that is Karen McNeil’s The Wine Bible. This book provides a reference for grape varieties from all over the world, which can help to give context to novice wine drinkers or act as a training manual for hopeful sommeliers. Also provided are some words of wisdom with regards to learning how to pair the perfect wine with your meal. For the student who finds themselves eating a variety of foods, McNeil advises consideration of a wine’s flexibility. A wine with high acidity will lead to you wanting to take another bite, which would be complimented with more wine and the meal is nicely brought together. Red wines with high acidity may include Californian Pinot Noirs or red Burgundies. Fruity reds will have a similar effect: think Zinfandel or a simple Italian wine, making these choices very flexible. Another simple trick is to match like with like. For example, a dish including pork and apple would be paired nicely with a white wine with notes of apple, which will usually be described on a wine’s label.

         For novice wine buyers, the number of varieties and countries of origin can be overwhelming. However, I encourage readers to venture into many of the local wine shops which operate in Oxford. Many of the offerings are surprisingly reasonably priced, and shop assistants are usually more than happy to provide advice accommodating any budget. If asked what kind of wine you are looking for, then let your dinner plans be your guide. Rather than mentioning a specific grape, mention which meal you intend to pair the wine with, and a suitable wine will be recommended to you. A final word: remember what you like! Make a note of wines you have enjoyed and buy them again and again. Everyone’s palate is different, and the best advice I can give is to buy what you like. With this in mind, I hope you find wine shopping a little easier in future and you enjoy your Christmas break.

Image Credit: Pixabay via Pexels.

‘After Life’: A review

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If you could choose one memory to live with for the rest of your life, what would it be? 

Despite their name, Last Minute Productions has us in good hands with their production of After Life (23rd-26th November). 

The original play by Jack Thorne, based on Hirokazu Kore-eda’s 1998 film of the same name, debuted in 2021 in the National Theatre’s smallest space: the Dorfman Theatre. With this in mind, Lucas Ipkendanz and Daisy Gosal’s refreshingly intimate, coordinated and dreamlike adaptation was very much at home in the cosy black box of the Michael Pilch studio.

The play sees those entering the afterlife asked “If you could choose one memory to live with for the rest of your life, what would it be?”. A team of ‘guides’ then re-creates this memory and it is recorded for the ‘guided’, to replace all other memories. Much of the play situates itself in the interview process, as the characters, with varying resistance, talk through their possible choices. Inescapably, the lives and attitudes of the ‘guides’ begin to interfere.

The bittersweet humour in After Life catches you off guard. It is at once sharply funny and sad, a bit like a good Black Mirror episode, but without all the violence. 

Composer Rose Olver’s expert original score was  professional, cinematic and dazzling, and the fragile, wobbling, ambient undertones gave After Life a strong finesse. Tom Anderson’s lighting and tech operation was accurate and well-done. Sonya Luch’s set design was minimal and effective: several large plastic crates served multi-functionally as table, chair, and platform. 

Many of the characters do not interact with each other, so it is down to The ‘Guides’  – those here to make us feel at home in the after life – provide a linking constancy in the play. They are a strong group, with fraught dynamics: Emma Pollock (Five) was a formidable and amusing boss with a harmonica. Gracie Oddie-James (Four) was a hilarious, emotive scene-stealer, with a beautiful dynamic with father-like Nici Marks (Two). Siena Jackon Wolfe (Beatrice) and Agnes Halladay (Jill) were excellent character actors in particular.  The ‘guided’ – that is, the deceased who are asked to choose their memory – rose from the Pilch’s seating in a stunning directorial choice which reminds us of the unity between Thorne’s protagonists and his audience. The play presents memories as permeable, fragile  and fickle, making it difficult to pose the same question to ourselves.

In After Life, some are frustrated with the lack of judgement they receive, while others just want freedom from the central choice that dominates the play. Hero (Ariadne Si Suo) was a sweepingly sympathetic character, whose chosen memory  – a moment with his ethereal, ghostly wife (Avania Costello) – was fantastically sad:

“I don’t feel like she loves me at the moment. But she is my best friend… […] I’m a good man.”

The script leaves the play in a state of significant cheesiness. Spoiler alert: the guides bid good-bye to one of their own. There are hugs. Teary goodbyes, but they’re just inescapably overshadowed by the strongly emotive and more sympathetic characters that have just left.   We are tired of goodbyes by the time one of the Guides – Nici Marks’ Two –  tries to follow them, claiming his own best memory, as the guiding process itself. It feels overdone, and the script ends with a whimper. 

But Last Minute Productions rescued it from this fate. The adorable concluding sequence, in which a series of home-made videos are projected onto the Pilch’s back wall, turns the central question outwards, to the cast and crew themselves:

“If you could choose one memory to live with for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

They draw their memory on paper as we hear it. It was an ending that was both tender and grounded in realism, a welcome awakening from the stage hugs and hamminess that concluded the script.

After Life was an understated joy – a brilliant, bittersweet highlight of Week 7.

Image credit: Last Minute Productions

“In here, it’s just pretending…”: ‘Posh’ and the brilliance of impersonation.

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According to its marketing, An Exciting New Productions’ Posh promises to “bring ‘Oxford’, to Oxford”. A staging of the elusive, super-elite leagues of Oxford University, as seen in Posh’s ‘Riot Club’, is certainly relevant given the direct links between current UK Cabinets and the real-life Bullingdon Club on which the play is based. 

Laura Wade’s play Posh debuted a month before the 2010 General Election, from which Cameron and Clegg emerged as an infamous coalition. Twelve years later, wobbly Tory leadership is hardly unfamiliar to the audiences of An Exciting New’s November production at the Pilch. In the wake of Rishi Sunak’s Prime Ministerial ascension, without a General Election since 2019, concerns over who has power, and what they get away with, resonate more than ever. While it is no novelty to be confronted with the lack of accountability from those in power, enabled by enormous wealth and privilege, Brook and Trim’s production is a refreshing take. 

Harry Brook’s set design imitates the dining room, impressively elaborate compared to the typically minimalist sets one might expect of a black box studio like the Pilch. The dining table takes a central position in the small space, with seats about a metre behind the table, an ingenious echo that places the audience peering over the shoulders of the dinner guests. The chairs we sit on are the same Pilch-property ones that the rioters use. Further, the lighting, designed and operated by Orli Wilkins, beams not only over the supposedly riotous action but also casts an illuminating light on the audience. Like the characters, we are inescapably aware of each other, bar monologues accompanied by spotlight. But we are, of course, unwelcome guests at the Riot Club table. 

Working with the stark lighting, the cast do an excellent job at making us feel uncomfortable. Magnificently unpleasant performances must be credited to Maizie Lambert (Harry), Arya Nagwani (George), and newcomer Susannah Wiedman (Miles). Katie Peachey as Dmitri had a stunning stage presence, as did Frankie Kuczynska as Toby, particularly in one startlingly rousing monologue in which she stomped across the table. The tension between Dmitri and Guy (Hope Kelly) is energetic and uncomfortable, a credit to the actors. Flashes of what we might interpret as a conscience in vaguely more sensitive characters provided contrast to the over-the-top chauvinism, for example those of Leah Aspden (Hugo), Sarah Hussan (James) and Imogan Boxall (Ed). 

The production’s majority non-cis-male cast perform an entitled yet underlyingly anxious masculinity, as they stride, chests-first, around the small performance-space. Ailish Gaughan’s costume design straddles an interesting boundary, as beautifully fitted full tailcoats and suits were paired with the entire cast’s infuriatingly good hair. It was refreshing to see that no attempts were made to re-figure the gender presentation of the cast – long ponytails and glittering earrings swinging. It placed the emphasis instead on a self-aware contrivance of characters and types; these actors are performing a brand of chauvinistic masculinity, just as much as the characters they depict. This resounds well with the script’s emphasis on rehearsing tradition, imitating the past:

“In here, it’s just pretending, isn’t it?”.

Boozy political scorn veers from euphemism to explicit – “I fucking hate poor people” – slurs Alistair, brilliantly performed by Bronte Shelbourne. Emphasising this growing explicitness, credit must be given to the show’s prop design, placing more and more wine bottles on the table as the play unfolds and the characters develop (or rather, degenerate).

The much-anticipated trashing scene is of course a challenge to stage. Co-Producer / Co-Director duo Harry Brook and Ice Trim re-imagine the scene as a slow-moed, extravagant dance that comes to an abrupt halt at its climax. Brook’s classical soundscape, with advice from Cameron Hutchinson, supports the scene’s imitative quality, as the cast clamber onto the table, physically sparring over an armchair-turned-throne. Trim and Brook’s choreography sends the cast briefly, wonderfully, into a thundering and parodic ballet.

Whether or not intentionally, the set was destroyed by the play’s action. The night I saw it, one of the tapestries surrounding the stage-space was pulled down before the actual ‘trashing’ moment, an apt foregrounding of what was to come, as the cast wreak what feels like real damage, tearing at the set itself. We were reminded of our presence in the Pilch, as the props table, bearing handwritten notes and Sainsbury’s bags, was boldly revealed. It was incredible to see the fourth wall torn down by the club’s riotous energy, and whether this was a stroke of directorial genius or a fantastic accident, it felt like a metaphor for the wider social implications of the act.

Significantly, while much of the play centres on the inner workings of the Club, the confrontations between the rioters and outsiders were handled by incredibly hard-hitting, sympathetic, deft performances from Molly Jones, Jo Rich and Emma Pollock. 

At the end of it all, the audience are left in the wake of their destruction, while tellingly, most of the boys have left the scene, unscathed. 

An Exciting New Production’s Posh is brilliant student theatre, the key strength of which is its own quality of artifice. It lets itself be dismantled both conceptually and physically, to prove and highlight the destructive performances of those in power.

Image credit: An Exciting New Production

“We didn’t do Blackface, but you could argue that we did”: Mathew Baynton on Horrible Histories, type-casting, and his acting career

On November 23rd, Mathew Baynton visited the Oxford Union. There was a frenzy of excitement around his attendance, with members queuing from 5:30pm to attend his 8pm talk. Baynton would go on to address a chamber filled to the maximum capacity, a feat only achieved by one other Union speaker this term: Malala. Before his Q&A with Charlie Mackintosh, he sat down with Cherwell to discuss his life and career. 

Whilst Baynton may not be an A-list celebrity by national standards, for those who watched his onscreen performances in Horrible Histories, Peep Show, and The Wrong Mans during their childhood, he is instantly recognisable. It was hard not to feel starstruck when he entered the room, but Baynton strode in with a disarming smile and an appeal to “call me Matt”. 

Baynton’s career trajectory has been far from smooth. Despite his early aspirations to be a musician, he trained with the esteemed “clown guru” Philippe Gaulier. From there, he realised his penchant for comedy. 

When his agent told him about Horrible Histories, he was reluctant to audition for fear of trapping himself in children’s TV: “you can really get on one set of tracks. And before you know it, you turn around and no one will let you jump onto other trains.” Upon reading the scripts, however, Baynton decided that “these are really funny”, and he was drawn by the fact that there was “lots of dressing up”. “The rest”, he says, “is history”.

For post-2000s babies, almost all of our early historical education came from Horrible Histories. Baynton says that the influence of the show is “humbling”. 

“Quite by chance, I ended up in this show that educated people [because] it was entertaining. And so for the first time in my life, I could actually claim that I was doing something of any real benefit other than just enjoying myself.” 

However, educating a generation about their national history comes with a significant burden of responsibility. The individuals that are chosen to be represented, and the shapes that this representation takes, significantly impacts popular memory of the past, especially as it is these memories that form the basis for our preconceptions of history. We ask Baynton about the process of choosing characters to feature in the show, and how this process would change today, especially in the context of race. 

“The first thing to say is, [I] didn’t create or produce it. I wrote a few sketches on it. But was originally just cast in it. 

“That whole issue is one worthy of continuous discussion. The line has been moving. We didn’t do blackface, for example, but you could argue that we did. Because I played Egyptians, you know, for example, where you’d get a spray tan, essentially, and stand in your pants. That whole sort of issue, I think, is one worthy of continuous discussion.

“It’s a really difficult one, because on one side, that was a gang show, essentially. And we were the gang and we were sort of portraying everyone. Now the producers obviously realised that there was a line, because when it came to dealing with Africans and African Americans and slavery, for example, which we touched on, [they] quite rightly cast other people.

“I’m sure now that the core ensemble is more diverse than we were as a core ensemble, where the approach then was basically a bunch of white people.” 

In comparison to much comedy that dates back over a decade, Horrible Histories has aged surprisingly well. “There was a real desire to shine a light on ignored figures. And you know, I remember we did stuff on Mary Seacole quite early on, for example.”

Despite this, there are still parts of the show that may not fit with modern standards surrounding diversity and inclusivity, especially considering the rapid changes to onscreen representation across the last decade.  

“It’s funny, because I look at things [like] Little Britain, for example. Well, you might think that that it have seemed obviously wrong at the time. But I never would have dreamed, then, that a few years later, I’d be looking back at Horrible Histories and going, ‘not sure I should have been playing that’. I think that just shows how we all have to be allowed to some extent to learn and grow and move with the times.”

Baynton is no stranger to comedy’s potential for controversy. He tells us, “there was a brief moment of controversy over Horrible Histories when the Brexit special got put together. And I was really shocked that just presenting history could become hotly political. It really surprised me; I was like, what? This is a song in a sketch in a sketch show on CBBC. And not just that, but one that was done 11 or something years ago.”

In his later Q&A with Union President Charlie Mackintosh, Baynton would go on to describe the backlash against the sketch as “a culture war thing”, with political commentators choosing to paint it as “anti-British drivel”. He disputed the idea that we need to move on from being ashamed of our past, telling the chamber that “shame has a really important function… guilt is a really important part of rearing a child.” 

He argues that children remember the discomfort of being told off for doing something wrong, and thus remember not to repeat their mistakes: “That’s what becomes a conscience. That’s learned through the community – same with a society. Shame has to have a function.” 

“It is a grown up thing to live with shame. It doesn’t mean that I can’t have pride. [We can] hold seemingly contradictory things at the same moment.”  

Another risk that comes with creating a comedy loosely based on history or historical figures is an audience misconstruing elements that serve purely as entertainment with education. Baynton told us, “A lot of people presume because we were the guys in Horrible Histories, that Ghosts is meant to be sort of historically accurate, and it’s really not like. For example, Humphrey, the Tudor, speaks like a modern person; and Mary [a ghost who was burned as a witch], who’s from a more recent time, still speaks… well, she doesn’t speak the way people spoke then, she speaks just this crazy way. 

“The truth actually was really rich, like, you can find a lot of inspiring stuff. So there are elements that are historically accurate, but we only use them if they help us write a story, or make something funny. You know, Mary, for example, was obviously burned as a witch, which didn’t happen. Really. I think maybe there were one or two, but for the most part –  and this is fun – women were hanged for heresy. That was the way it was, that was the way we purged these witches.”

During his time in Horrible Histories, Baynton played a broad range of characters from Charles II to William Shakespeare. However, he often ended up assuming the role of heartthrob or showboat. In Ghosts, a show aimed at an older audience but devised and performed by the Horrible Histories troupe, the process of choosing characters was based largely on the ‘types’ the ensemble were associated with. Baynton told us, “we were really just looking for a good ensemble, like a good mix of characters and archetypes and personalities. And so we spoke about it being like a family, and that you would need a moody teenager. It’s not as if there was ever going to be someone else who played [the moody teenager]. So yeah, initially, I think we all thought we were playing characters that we would find fun, that had nothing to do with us… And then over time, we’ve all kind of realised that there’s an awful lot of us in them. And there’s an embarrassing amount of me in Tom Thorne. 

“I’m not a sex pest, [but] yeah, there were some similarities. I think he and I both share a sort of ridiculous devotion to the idea of romance.” 

Indeed, a lot of Thorne’s artistic passion is derived from Baynton’s own. “I just have the highest appreciation for songs and poems and literature. It’s what makes life worth living. It’s what makes it tolerable even for me. So I didn’t really need to play a poet to have any kind of new appreciation. It’s quite freeing in a way to be able to channel my kind of own artistic failures into a character and make light of them. It’s like airing your slightly embarrassing teenage diaries or something. 

“My hope was to be a brilliant sort of singer songwriter like Jeff Buckley or something and break people’s hearts and make them cry when I sang. And that didn’t turn out to be possible for me. But I can enjoy that through Thomas and sort of laugh at the pomposity of [it]. Why shouldn’t a teenager dream that big? I should let myself off the hook a bit as well.”

Creating a comedy aimed at an adult audience offered Baynton and the Horrible Histories troupe new opportunities when producing Ghosts, especially in the potential for innuendo. Nonetheless, one of the rare qualities of both shows is their agelessness: they can appeal to audiences irregardless of generational divides. Baynton told us, “Everyone sort of cottoned on to the fact that [to] make it funny for kids, you just make it funny. And so, with Ghosts, [the] approach really wasn’t that different. And I guess by then we’d sort of got a taste for the fact that you get a bit more inventive if you can’t sort of swear, or if you kind of have to skirt around the subject. And you know, we take quite a lot of delight in people, entendres, and stuff like that.” 

Towards the end of our interview, Mathew Baynton rapped the Horrible Histories’ “Monarchs Song” with Charlie Mackintosh, remembering a fair majority of the words. In the following Q&A, a member of the Union asked him to sing the “King of Bling” song, and Baynton’s voice was joined by an ensemble of hundreds of Oxford students who had memorised every word. That entire songs can still be etched in the memories of a generation is proof of the cultural relevance of TV history. Whilst this has solidified Baynton and the Horrible Histories troupe as national treasures, it does urge us to question how we present our past, and which figures we choose to shine a light on. 

Editor’s note: This article was amended on Sunday 11th of December to correct an accidental misquote that purported that Baynton himself had said “we need to move on from shame.”, when he was rather paraphrasing the arguments of those such as Boris Johnson and Liz Truss.