Friday 27th February 2026
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Oxford Union cancels Namal Rajapaksa event after backlash

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The Oxford Union has cancelled a planned speaking event with Sri Lankan MP Namal Rajapaksa following backlash from Tamil student groups and campaigners. The Cambridge Union cancelled Rajapaksa’s scheduled visit several days ago. 

Rajapaksa, the son of former Sri Lankan President Mahinda Rajapaksa, is a controversial figure due to his close association with a government accused by human rights organisations of overseeing alleged war crimes and widespread abuses during the final stages of Sri Lanka’s civil war. 

Rajapaksa had been scheduled to address the Oxford Union on 23rd February, with a corresponding event in Cambridge. The cancellations come after criticism from Tamil societies at multiple UK universities. 

In statements circulated on Instagram, Tamil student groups said that to host Rajapaksa was to ignore “the deliberate bombing of civilian ‘No-Fire Zones’ and hospitals”, “the systemic sexual violence used as a weapon of war”, and “the enforced disappearances of tens of thousands”. They also cited “the ongoing militarised occupation of Tamil lands and the erasure of our cultural memory”. 

The allegations refer to the final stages of Sri Lanka’s 26-year civil war, which ended in 2009 with the military defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), when government forces under the presidency of Mahinda Rajapaksa were accused by the UN and international rights groups of committing serious violations against civilians in regions in the country where Tamils primarily reside.  

Tamils are a predominantly Hindu ethnic minority in Sri Lanka, who were at the centre of the conflict. Tamil advocacy groups continue to campaign internationally for accountability over alleged wartime abuses. 

Rajapaksa, the son of former Sri Lankan President Mahinda Rajapaksa, was described by campaigners as “a staunch defender of this genocidal apparatus”. The statement from the Tamil Youth Organisation UK (TYOUK) claimed that inviting him “grants legitimacy to a regime that has consistently denied justice and accountability” and “sends a devastating message to Tamil survivors and victims’ families”. TYOUK had also been planning a protest against the event prior to its cancellation. Oxford Action for Palestine (OA4P) called for a protest on the same issue.

In a statement confirming the cancellation, the Oxford Union President Katherine Yang told Cherwell: “A core part of the Union’s purpose is enabling direct, open questioning from students. In this case, a significant number of the students most closely connected to the subject matter communicated that they did not feel safe asking questions openly. While alternative formats (such as submitting questions indirectly) were considered, … I felt that the inability of those most affected to participate directly undermined the substance of the forum.

“An event where key stakeholders cannot engage on equal footing does not produce the kind of robust debate the Union is intended to facilitate.”

In a statement issued by its Communications Representative, the Cambridge Union confirmed that it had cancelled the event after “urgent and serious discussions”. A spokesperson told Cherwell: “At the present moment, we don’t believe it’s possible to have a balanced and open discussion on this subject, and thus our Standing Committee made the decision to cancel this event.

“We would like to assert in the strongest possible terms that none of our events are endorsements of, or uncritical platforms for, any speaker or their beliefs, actions, or record.”

This is not the first time the Oxford Union has withdrawn an invitation to a member of the Rajapaksa family. In 2010, the Union sparked major controversy by cancelling an invitation to then-Sri Lankan President Mahinda Rajapaksa at the last minute, after his arrival in the UK and amid anticipated protests from British Tamil activists. 

Coverage at the time noted that the Union cited security concerns and the “sheer scale of the expected protests” in withdrawing the event. This drew critical reactions from Sri Lankan officials and students. The Oxford Sri Lankan Society denounced the Union’s decision as “highly unbecoming”, arguing it had agreed to detailed arrangements. Sri Lankan ministers condemned the move as a “scar on the Oxford Union and the British government”, and demonstrations took place in Colombo in response. 

Prior to that a controversy arose in 2008 ahead of a scheduled appearance by Mahinda Rajapaksa, when students and campaigners urged the Union to scrutinise his human rights records. Critics at the time pointed to reports from the US State Department, Amnesty International, and Human Rights Watch alleging violations by state officials and paramilitary groups allied with his administration.

Loaf actually? A guide to Oxford’s sourdough

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Sourdough is a simple pleasure. A perfect loaf should have a chewy, light, tangy, and springy crumb. It’s best enjoyed toasted, with a thick layer of jam, a generous slab of butter, or simply as a base for a sandwich. It reminds me of home, where my family always keeps a loaf in the cupboard. On cold days it’s a reliable and simple comfort – the kind that makes Hilary term feel a little less bleak. Here is the definitive ranking for next time you require some carbs to help you meet your essay deadline. For this ranking, assume a white or wholemeal loaf unless otherwise stated. 

8. Tesco 

Tesco’s sourdough is exactly what you’d imagine. Promisingly, their white loaves have a slightly golden crust. However, the loaf itself is disappointing and lacks the distinctive tangy taste of a good sourdough. The small amount of bubbles suggest that the dough would benefit from further fermentation. However, for just £2.10, you get what you pay for.  

7. Sainsburys 

Sainsbury’s sourdough loaf is broadly comparable to Tesco’s. Both loaves also usually become hard within a day or two. On the other hand, loaves that are slow-fermented do not go stale as quickly as the natural acids produced help the bread to maintain moisture. I ranked Sainsbury’s above Tesco for two principal reasons: it offers a wider variety of loaves and also sells a sourdough baguette, which is of notable quality. 

6. Jericho Cheese Company

This bread is good. It has a delicious crunch, and there are two locations to get your bread fix: Turl Street and Little Clarendon. However, due to its prohibitive price, it ranks sixth: a standard loaf will set you back £6.75. If I were to eat this bread regularly, I would be left unable to pay my battels. So, enjoy this one sparingly. 

5. M&S

In my view, their ‘Signature Sourdough’ is the best loaf currently offered in a supermarket. With its lovely crust and substantial size, there is also the added bonus that they offer to cut the loaf for you in store. The crumb itself has a slightly savoury taste that would combine excellently with olives or cheese. These loaves also last quite a long time if stored well. A solid loaf, certainly, but far from the best best M&S has to offer. 

4. Ole and Steen

Ole and Steen offers Danish bread and is the only non-English feature on this list. They have a few different options. My favourite is the Copenhagen sourdough which is crispy on the outside. However, they also offer an excellent Rye loaf and a selection of rolls. If that wasn’t enough, they also offer great deals: if you use the app, there is usually an offer of the week, which allows you to buy a loaf for up to 50% off. 

3. Barefoot, Jericho

Barefoot has excellent surroundings and multiple locations. If you visit the branch on North Parade Avenue, you can see the bakers at work making the next day’s loaves (as well as delicious cakes and pastries). The bread itself is soft, with a noticeable fermented taste. The only drawback is its density, though the designs on the loaves are some of the most creative I’ve seen, with their signature B the most common. Watch out for the pumpkin-inspired loaves during Halloween! 

2. Gails 

The crumb is much lighter than many other loaves on the list, hence why I’ve awarded Gails second place. 

Gails’ signature loaf has a soft, off-white crumb generously aerated with bubbles. Loaves are replaced daily and you can choose your preferred loaf and have it uniformly sliced –– a small but significant convenience for Oxford students, who often lack a kitchen or a reliable knife. I would particularly recommend their seeded loaf, which has a distinctive sesame flavour, and is unlike any other loaf I have tried. This bread has a satisfying bite on the outside, and internally is both moreish and satisfying. 

1. Hamblin, Covered Market

I had heard great things about Hamblin, and their signature ‘country loaf’ did not disappoint. I was initially sceptical of the dark – frankly rather burnt – looking crust. However, once I tasted it, I quickly realised I’d been missing out on the delights of this bread for nearly half of my degree. With generous helpings of jam, this is hard to beat. If you can’t make it to their store in The Covered Market, there are also a few shops around Oxford that stock Hamblin loaves. If you don’t fancy committing to a whole loaf, 2 North Parade offers half for only £2.50. I would urge anyone who is curious about sourdough to try this loaf. 

So, perhaps you disagree with my ranking. Be my guest – sourdough, like most comforts, can be deeply personal. I have yet to actually make a loaf of sourdough myself, but I do know that this ranking proves that Oxford is blessed with exceptionally good bread. Though my purse is significantly lighter, and, like the dough, my standards have risen, I’d argue that it has been a worthwhile investment: now I can claim (tentatively) to have found the best sourdough in Oxford.  

Quarter of students at London state school receive Oxbridge offers

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A state sixth form in north-east London has seen 62 of its students receive offers from Oxford and Cambridge universities this academic year, making up one quarter of its student body.

The London Academy of Excellence (LAE) is a free, mixed, selective sixth form and is one of the highest performing sixth forms in the United Kingdom. The headteacher, Alexander Crossman, says on the academy’s website that the school “consistently delivers outstanding A-level results for all students”. He adds that the sixth form “has achieved particular success helping students from less-advantaged backgrounds win places at the best universities in the UK and around the world”.

Around half of the students with Oxbridge offers for this academic year come from disadvantaged backgrounds, including several with refugee status. Around half are eligible for free school meals, in the care of a local authority, or are young carers, and over two thirds come from low-income homes with no history of university attendance in their immediate family. 

One student, Ismael, told the BBC that reading the email which offered him a place at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford, for politics, philosophy, and economics was “a very, very surreal experience”.

Another student, Kami, who was offered a place at Selwyn College, Cambridge, also said: “People aren’t defined by their background or any circumstances that they’ve come from.. I think it’s allowing people to flourish and truly reach their full potential.”

Twenty-five students from LAE’s 2024 cohort took up places at Oxford and Cambridge, which is 60% lower than the number for this academic year.

LAE was ranked sixth by The Times in the top 50 sixth form colleges in the UK, based on exam outcomes from last year. A majority of the other sixth forms in this ranking are private, fee-paying schools. That year, 58.3% of LAE students received an A*, A, or B in two or more subjects.

The sixth form was founded in 2012, with the support of private schools such as Eton and Brighton College, which make annual donations. The two other partner schools are Caterham School and Forest School. Each LAE house is associated with one of these partner schools, and students visit their house’s school to make connections with their counterparts there. These partner schools also provide teaching, and many students play sports fixtures against them. 

Pupils from low-income households are prioritised for acceptance, with the majority of students from Newham, Tower Hamlets, and Hackney. In order to obtain a place, students must demonstrate that they are on target to achieve at least eight grades of 7 to 9 at GCSE, including Maths and English.

The school is located in Newham, which is the most deprived borough in London, according to data from the 2025 Indices of Multiple Deprivation (IMD). Over 80% of residents were in the bottom 30% for income deprivation – a substantial increase from 66% in 2019. Unemployment rates are at 8.7%, and child poverty is at 45%, behind only Tower Hamlets. 

Though 93% of the UK population attended state schools, only 66% of UK students admitted to Oxford in 2024 were educated in the state sector.

Art is an argument, so argue back

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Oxford supposedly trains critical thinking skills. After all, what’s the point of our degrees if we can’t think? Yet all too often, this part of our mind switches off the moment people look at art. Unleqss you are an art historian or an artist yourself (neither of which I am) there is often a fear of critiquing art. After all, I lack an encyclopaedic knowledge of art movements, I do not exhibit work, nor do I (much to the annoyance of my Cherwell bosses) write much about art. It is easy to fall into the trap, especially when visiting a gallery abroad, of letting it wash over you, walking from room to room and just looking and moving on. Perhaps you’ll read the occasional exhibition label, but that’s as far as it goes. 

All too often, how much we like artwork comes down to ‘vibes’, initial gut-reactions we make, and then quickly negate by stating that surely it’s all about taste. The primacy of subjectivity is common in contemporary expression. It is often at the centre of debates online sparked when modern and contemporary art are presented with their seemingly absurd prices, alongside commentary from various political accounts on its justification. Yet this reflexive reliance on taste all too often closes down reasonable critiques of art. 

The fact that art challenges uncomfortable realities or assumptions does not mean it should not exist. Frequently, art that is difficult to understand is lampooned from the perspective that only precise artistic expression is permitted – this is not what I wish to argue. The fact of taste and its subjectivity should not make you scared to critique art. Don’t let your supposed lack of qualifications limit your ability to talk about what is being argued in front of you. Yes, argued. Art makes a barrage of criticisms about society and the way in which we live our lives. It must not become a lecture, so return fire.

This is most commonly found in critiques of the claims of historical art. Every tour or discussion of a work will always point out historical inconsistencies, propagandist efforts, or the financial interests at play, particularly with works such with the famous Napoleon Crossing the Alps (1801). Yet, outside of obvious examples, art is often simply accepted. Our earlier default approach to art – gliding through rooms looking for something that catches the eye, or for a famous piece, and quickly moving on to the next one – keeps us outside of the actual art and the discussion it brings forth. 

The little placards, or website descriptions, are not simply explaining the artwork, they are making claims about it. Artists are just like any other producer of work – they are not immune to waffle, flaws in execution, or deception. Artists can lie – don’t trust them. Or, at the very least, they can deliver less than claimed.

Take, for example, Sara Sallam’s recently exhibited work in the Pitt Rivers: Suturing Wounds. Her artwork takes facsimiles of late antique Egyptian burial textile fragments, stitches them together (“suturing” the wound of their separation from their burials) into a tunic that is then worn by Sallam outside the V&A Museum storage where the original cloths are contained. She is photographed wearing them in an act of “embodied protest”. 

These are the basic premises of her work. Yet, these claims should not be so readily accepted. To protest their use as a merely visual item, does stitching facsimiles of them together (irrespective of their unique and highly personal nature) into one photographable outfit actually liberate them? I would argue it merely places them back in the visual space. Is photographing them outside a storage site truly a protest? The blank space on the tunic seemingly emphasises her performance, rather than the imprisoned artefacts. Frankly, I don’t believe that her claims were well executed in the artwork produced. 

Certainly, to the stereotypical British politeness, critiquing art is difficult when the feelings of the artists are so entwined with the work. Much of contemporary art is not designed simply in relation to society, but as a broader expression of the artist’s life and emotion. Emotional vulnerability is fundamental to the creation of powerful art. However, emotional vulnerability requires actual vulnerability, and that means actual challenges to what is expressed, rather than the mere praise of vulnerability.

Next time you visit an exhibition, or visit a gallery, don’t just glide past it. Certainly art is highly dependent on taste, but that does not mean your taste should be kept quiet. Often you, and perhaps the artist, would benefit from some truly critical perspectives. 

County Council raises council tax to 4.99%, citing decreased government funding

The Oxfordshire County Council’s new budget includes increasing council tax by 4.99%, addressing a £5.4 million shortfall for 2026/27.

By 2028/29, funding to Oxford will decrease by £24.1 million as the government plans to redistribute funding to more deprived areas of the country.

The 2026/7 budget was approved on 10 February and allocates a total of £700 million. The budget includes reductions to an East Oxford development plan and some transportation services for “adult social care, children’s services and home to school transport”. 

The proposition for the building of a new mortuary has been pushed back and a local school and leisure facility scheme has also faced a funding decrease. The budget also included funding for road developments, improvements to Wantage Market Place, flood prevention, and libraries.

Pointing to investments in highways, drainage, and libraries, County Councillor Liz Leffman stated: “We have not only been able to balance the budget for 2026/2027 but have included investments that will make a difference to the things which are of greatest importance to our residents.”

A crucial part of the budget is the increased council tax. Oxfordshire also faced a 4.99% council tax increase in 2025/6.

County Councillor Dan Levy told Cherwell: “Obviously we would rather not put up Council Tax, but there isn’t any choice, given the increasing pressures on budgets, including from increases imposed by central government via National Insurance increases, and decreasing support from central government. All the other parties at County Hall proposed the full Council Tax increase allowable, like us.”

Students are not subject to council taxes, but the changes will likely exacerbate the already expensive private rental market. Oxford has been ranked as one of the least affordable cities in the UK, with average private rents growing from £1,657 to £1,913 between December 2023 and December 2025, representing a 15.4% increase. In November, students queued for more than 48 hours to attempt to secure housing through property agency Finders Keepers for the next academic year.

The newly formed Oxford Renters Union has declared themselves open to students renting privately, as the collective believes they “face the same problems as working people concerning the cost, quality and stability of housing”. The union will not try to tackle issues with college- and University-owned accommodation at this time, citing their desire to prioritise problems affecting the majority of Oxford renters.

A spokesperson for the union told Cherwell: “We at the Oxford Renters Union believe it’s deeply unjust that renters pay higher council tax based on the higher valuation of the property they happen to be living in. Landlords of HMOs [house in multiple occupation] often push high council tax payments onto renters – and where renters pay council tax directly, that’s just one more favour they do for their landlord.”

The Renters’ Rights Bill, passed into law last October, also seeks to provide some protections for renters. Coming into effect in May, the law will forbid landlords from increasing rent more than once a year and without at least two months’ notice. However, the new law does not set any limits on rent increases.

Red soles, red flags: Jaden Smith and the celebrity takeover of high fashion

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“Red is the main character of the stories that we tell.” This is how the first ever Men’s Creative Director for Christian Louboutin, Jaden Smith, describes his debut collection. Emerging red-faced (he literally painted his face and torso red) onto the catwalk at Paris Fashion Week, Smith’s debut collection has been controversial to say the least. His appointment to the position in September 2025 caused waves in the fashion community for several reasons. To begin with, it’s the first time that Maison Christian Louboutin has ever had a Creative Director. Moreover, this role was bestowed to someone best known for starring inThe Karate Kid and being the son of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. It’s only natural that Smith’s appointment would raise some serious questions about the extent to which nepotism and celebrity is superseding artistic talent in the fashion industry at present.

To simply discredit Smith on the basis of being a ‘nepo-baby’ is unproductive. After all, the fashion industry is one that has long been deemed dynasty-driven, with many of the most famous houses starting as family businesses and being passed down from fathers to sons, such as Hermès or Gucci. Nonetheless, in the last five years there has been a wave of high-profile and celebrity-adjacent, non-traditional appointments to creative director roles in fashion. Whilst celebrity endorsements have long been common in fashion, what we are seeing now is different: this is not simply the role of a brand ambassador, rather Smith is a celebrity being granted sole creative direction of a brand. One of the first, and perhaps the most significant example of this was Pharrell Williams’ appointment as the Men’s Creative Director of Louis Vuitton in February 2023, with a stated goal to bridge the gap between luxury fashion, music, and pop culture. While Williams had been involved in the fashion world since the early 2000s, founding his streetwear brand Billionaire Boys Club in 2003, and later a subsidiary line named ICECREAM in 2004, he notably lacks any formal design training.

Many would argue that this kind of formal education is no longer a requirement for creative direction – you can’t be taught to have creative vision, so to speak, and streetwear designers frequently have less formal fashion education than traditional luxury designers, falling back on self-taught skills and hands-on experience. But while creativity certainly doesn’t require a diploma, skill, or at the very least a basic knowledge of working with textiles, is essential to understanding craftsmanship in fashion. This is attested by the prevalence of the apprenticeship as a popular form of education in fashion. Consider Alexander McQueen and the emphasis the brand still places on quality tailoring, honouring the late designer’s start as a tailor’s apprentice on Savile Row. While Jaden Smith does have previous experience in creative industries, ranging from collaborations with established brands, to his streetwear label MSFTSrep, his debut collection exposes his lack of hands-on experience and limited traditional design training.

His debut collection for Christian Louboutin, unveiled during Paris Fashion Week 2026, was met with mixed reactions. Louboutin contends that Smith’s appointment was driven by a desire to inject a modern vision into the brand’s men’s line. Hence Smith, a multifaceted artist with previous experience in streetwear, seemed like just the person to embody this new brand direction. However, rather than modern, his designs ranged from uninspired (I would hardly call a red leather sneaker the height of innovation) to frankly ridiculous, prompting a stream of memes expressing concern that Smith skinned beloved Sesame Street character Elmo for a pair of £2,300 boots covered in vibrant red goat hair. 

Another personal highlight of the collection was the harness-inspired bag, which looked less high-fashion and more like the result of a bizarre collaboration between Go Outdoors and Ann Summers, producing practical hiking attire for the BDSM enthusiasts among us. This is not to say that avant-garde design hasn’t been subject to ridicule throughout history – if you’re going to push the boundaries of any medium it is bound to be met with some resistance. But where Smith’s ‘Well Red’ vision truly falls flat is that this ‘boldness’ feels hollow and superficial. The only thing that feels truly luxurious about the collection is the price tag.

Once the internet trolls have had their fun, we are left with the glaring realisation: a 27-year-old with limited experience can’t handle the mammoth task of crafting collections across everything from Louboutin’s iconic red-soled footwear, to leather goods and accessories. While fashion has never been a field fuelled by meritocracy, perhaps it’s time that we stepped away from the pattern of blindly granting celebrities creative direction. It’s about time we started spotlighting creatives with actual experience and expertise in the field. Appointments like Smith’s perpetuate the notion of fashion as a meaningless and shallow art form, one simply exploited for status and lacking any real artistic substance. If we are to save the status of fashion we need to shift the emphasis back toward the garments at the heart of this medium, not the creative directors.

Oxford’s poverty porn addiction

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It was an overcast day in October when I arrived, Ikea bags in-hand, for day one of Oxford Fresher’s Week. High hopes? Sort of. Having just spent two weeks recovering from Opportunity Oxford (OppOx) – a fortnight-long residential which brought with it enough drinking and clubbing to kill a small horse – I felt that I had already found a place for myself in the city. I’d frequented the Swan and Castle, studied in the Radcliffe Camera, experienced a night at Bridge – what more was there to it? Little did I know what awaited me. 

Perhaps fuelled by the implications of participating in an outreach programme like OppOx, I took comfort in being surrounded by people who were broadly like-minded, and whose lives had resembled my own. I had, of course, braced myself for the inevitable Evelyn Waugh or Saltburn-esque stereotypes I expected to encounter; I knew that the Oxford I had come to know – shaped by 250 students from disadvantaged backgrounds – was about to look very different. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what I would come to recognise everywhere, lurking in every corner of the city.

I had been conscious not to allow the judgemental mindset of class categorisation to impact my social interactions, aware of the quickly-developing chip on the shoulders of my OppOx peers. The great clash of private and state school had been long-anticipated. Nobody knew what to expect, there was a morbid fascination with ‘the other’, reinforced by the insulated nature of the programme. 

None of this mental preparation could predict the reality of Oxford, however. It is a city of art, culture, music, intellectualism,but most significantly, privilege. But not in the traditional sense. No, it did not come plastered with family crests, donning a Barbour jacket and a signet ring. Privilege in modern Oxford is illicit, disguised as something it is not.

So, you can imagine my surprise as I discovered the truth about even the most self-styled subversive, ‘anti-establishment’ Oxford students. They may be some of the loudest voices in condemning nepotism, entitlement, and inherited advantage – but many of them were products of just that. 

After mentioning this to friends from home, I began to question what about it I found uncomfortable. What’s wrong with playing dress up? Can people not style themselves however they like? I probably wouldn’t carry around a sign saying: “Look at me! I come from centuries of generational wealth and privilege”, either. Privilege can, of course, mean lots of different things. But something still did not sit right with me, as I came to realise that their arguments about unaffordable mental health support, class discrimination, and the difficulties of breaking into (especially creative) industries were constructed wholly on perceived struggle, not lived experience. 

It’s worth asking: do you really need to have had a direct encounter to comment on these societal problems? They were still ultimately drawing invaluable attention to important social issues, no? Oxford is undoubtedly an echochamber. One could easily go weeks here without thinking about the rest of the world. Was it not understandable that in the ‘UK’s least affordable city’, discourse would look this way? 

But, still, it was the deafening volume of their discussion that just did not sit right with me. Solidarity was becoming substitution, those with lived experience quietly edged out. It became clear that empathy and allyship are not the problem – replacement is. The impact of such ‘performative poverty’ –  the adoption of the language, aesthetics, and grievances of disadvantage by those who have never had to live with its consequences – was drowning out some of the class debate’s most underrepresented voices. 

I first began to see this within Oxford’s artistic circles, after multiple friends told me that they were scared to speak up about their experiences of growing up on Universal Credit, of bereavement, of being in care. If they weren’t able to contribute, then what actually was the art seeking to depict and challenge those issues really doing? My friends originally joked that it was a kind of fetishisation, employing the “my culture is not your costume” line often used in debates around appropriation.

But soon I began to see this pattern everywhere. It exists in the overly sympathetic sighs of ‘solidarity’, the overexaggeration of comparatively minor and mundane inconveniences, and most egregiously in the conversational spaces which so loudly claim societally subaltern status.

I write this midway through my second year as an undergraduate here, after debating back and forth whether writing this piece would merely contribute to a similar culture of class tribalism. However, as the dial on these appropriative voices continues to be turned up, I realised that this was not a debate around exposing imposters, but about encouraging conversation in context. Oxford is at the forefront of providing both life-changing academic and personal support to disadvantaged students. But with a fluctuating national economy and constantly dynamic discourse, institutions cannot be expected to keep up if they are unable to connect with those most deeply and genuinely impacted. 

It may take work – it goes against the very foundations of a contemporary society drunk off short term gratification and performative, trend-based discourse. But I hope that with awareness can come true diversity, as we realise that the loudest voices in the room might not always be the most representative – or the most in need of being heard.

Away day blues: The impact of unfamiliar territory

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Year after year, Cambridge reaps little reward for the surly teams that travel there: no matter the sport, the result is often the same. An away day fixture is always a difficult one – any sports fan knows that. A hostile atmosphere, a longer journey, and an unfamiliar pitch or court all combine to trouble the travelling team. These challenges are further amplified when pitted against a rival. With Varsity season fully underway, conquering the complications of an away day is key to a successful display of Oxford’s sporting superiority. 

Does the answer lie with the fans? In football, there is a common claim that the supporters are the extra man, making the game easier for the home team. For example, Newcastle United’s stadium, St James’ Park, is an away fixture notorious for its intimidating atmosphere. There, away fans are shoed into a high-up corner far from the pitch, making their voices difficult to hear. Their local rivals, Sunderland, are unbeaten at home so far this season with the Stadium of Light something of ‘a fortress’; yet they reside in a modest tenth place due to their away day struggles. Fans do matter. 

Sporting executives have long understood the impact fans can have on a game. During the COVID-19 pandemic, NBA matches were played behind closed doors, with players arguing that these were the most difficult games as everyone performed at their peak with no fan interference. A former Blues captain for Oxford University Athletics told Cherwell of their experience running the 200m at home: “When I made it to the home straight, it hit me. Wow. The crowd pushed me that little bit harder to win”. Perhaps even a small crowd does make a difference on a warm summer’s day: OUAC won handily in the home fixture of Varsity in 2024, yet were beaten away in 2025.

However, replicating the atmosphere of a professional football stadium, lined with thousands of fans, is a task that even the fiercest and most anticipated Varsity matches would struggle to achieve. While Oxford and Cambridge can match the intensity and passion of those fans, the noise is a different matter – especially in fixtures that do not feature two Blues teams competing against each other. 

How is it then that these (relatively) lesser-attended events are still dictated by location? Familiarity must play a role. To refer to football once again, a recent ban on artificial pitches will be implemented from the 2026/27 season in the Scottish Premier League. No doubt this is to force a level of parity, preventing teams from gaining an unfair advantage playing at home. Manchester City recently lost to the (relative) minnow Norwegian team Bodo/Glimt – who play on an artificial pitch – in the Champions League. Whilst the differences between Oxford and Cambridge pitches are not as stark as those of artificial versus natural, athletes are undoubtedly more familiar with the pitches they train on and compete upon regularly. 

What about when neither side is at home? In Eton Fives, a sport akin to squash where points are won by striking a ball against a wall (with gloves rather than rackets), our Varsity match takes place at Eton itself – a neutral, if unsurprising, venue – and consequently the matches are neither a ‘gimme’ nor an uphill struggle. They are even. Rugby Varsity is held at the StoneX Stadium, home of Premier League side the Saracens. Not only is this a neutral venue, but it is also almost equal in distance from Oxford and Cambridge: London. Neutral venues offer the clearest test of skill and pure ability in sport: neither team is familiar with the pitch, and both are allocated an equal number of seats for the travelling fans. 

In order to compensate for those matches that do not have a neutral venue, the location of Varsity alternates between the two cities every year. For those students that are on three year undergraduate courses – or for visiting students and many postgraduate students – this presents either a peculiar advantage or disadvantage, as they play an odd number of matches either home or away. It is a cruel reality of too many talented Oxford athletes that they are forced to play away from home for the majority of their university careers. This cruelty is furthered by the criteria some sports impose for obtaining the famed Oxford Blue award: it is a requirement of Men’s Basketball, for example, to win the Varsity match in order for the athletes to receive a full blue rather than a half-blue. 

Circumstances of Varsity away matches can differ vastly – a former University basketball Blues captain told Cherwell: “Cambridge took us to eat at a burger place, whilst we hosted them at a formal dinner.” The captain was not impressed by the quality of the burger place either. Psychological warfare on show? Oxford Women’s Basketball won the most recent Varsity home fixture, and lost the away fixture. As if the fans and location was not enough of a disadvantage, there are psychological elements in play as well. All of these factors add up: some athletes have an understated disadvantage in pursuing their Oxford sporting dream.

Even with this rather bleak report, hope is not lost. Everybody knows that an underdog story is the best in sport: Buster Douglas vs Mike Tyson, Leicester’s 2015/16 Premier League title win, the 1980 Miracle on Ice. To those brave soldiers advancing to the frontlines of Cambridge this year, bring a packed lunch and some of your mates along with you, and know that all of Oxford supports you in your endeavours.

Haleh Blake: A vessel for the voices of Iranians

Haleh Blake was always told she was worth half a man. “As you grow up as a girl, from very early on, you realise that you’re treated as a second-class citizen”, she tells me.

Blake is a British-Iranian human rights activist who lived in Iran until she was 14. She is co-founder of United4Mahsa, a non-partisan social activist group which works to bring attention to human rights issues in Iran.

Blake’s passion and determination is immediately evident. Her activism is rooted in memory and lived experience rather than ideology and worldview. There is a steeliness, an iron-willed determination about her. She has no time for demoralisation – only action.

We begin our conversation by discussing her childhood in Iran. “In the morning at schools [sic], they make you chant, death to America, death to Israel, death to England”, Blake recalls. “Everything was controlled.” Musical instruments, TV shows, Disney movies – all were banned. Morality police patrolled busy areas, arresting women who did not comply with modesty rules. Blake’s first memory of the morality police was when her brother and aunt were arrested while walking together in the street and were questioned about their relationship.

Growing up in the 1980s without the internet, there was little exposure to the world outside Iran. Yet Blake came across photos of her parents from before the 1979 revolution, in which women wore miniskirts rather than hijabs. She questioned how Iran had transformed from a Westernised society into a “military state” in which basic freedoms were denied.

Iran was once on a path towards progressive expansion of women’s rights. From the 1930s to the 1970s, under the Pahlavi dynasty, Iranian society underwent a profound modernisation and secularisation even as the Pahlavis maintained a monopoly on political power. In 1963, women earned the right to vote. By the late 1970s, Iran had female politicians, judges and diplomats. Family Protection Laws in 1967 and 1975 increased the minimum age of marriage for women from 9 to 18 years old. But in 1979 these advances were sharply reversed. The Islamic Republic, headed by Ayatollah Khomeini, overthrew the Pahlavi dynasty in the 1979 Revolution and introduced Sharia Law, rewriting the role of women in Iranian society. Mandatory hijab laws were introduced and gender segregation returned in a new era of state-imposed ‘modesty’.  

I ask Blake how Iran has changed since her childhood in the 1980s. “Nothing has really changed”, she replies regretfully. “What has changed is that people are more educated. There’s been a shift where Iranian youth have become so integrated mentally with the rest of the world through social media.” As Blake speaks, I’m struck by the cruel reality of young, aspirational teenagers being exposed to a world of freedoms and opportunities which are denied to them.

“This is so personal to me”, Blake says. “I’m a feminist, first and foremost, and the reason for that is because of what happened to me.” It is evident in her words that she carries with her the experiences of her past – the memories of being worth less as a woman, of being controlled in every aspect of life. It will never leave her. Now, it is these memories that propel her forward, urging her to speak out for those who have no voice.

Blake was 14 when she moved to the UK with her family. “Coming to the UK, I was striving to be equal”, she says. Blake gained opportunities she would never have had in Iran. Having grown up under authoritarianism, Blake does not take for granted the life she leads. “All I want is for Iranians inside, Iranian girls, to have the same opportunities, because I’m essentially the same as them”, she says. “I was born there, and I just had an escape route. My parents didn’t want their daughter to grow up in Iran.” 

It was in 2022 that Blake became a leading advocate for human rights in Iran. On 13 September of that year, Jina Mahsa Amini, a young Kurdish woman, was detained by the morality police for failing to wear the hijab properly. Eyewitnesses say that police pushed her into a van and beat her severely. She died three days later in hospital. A UN fact-finding mission later found the Iranian state responsible for the “physical violence” that led to Amini’s death, which sparked a nationwide protest movement united under the slogan ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’. Iranian authorities responded with force, firing live ammunition and tear gas into crowds of largely peaceful protesters, leading to an estimated 550 deaths.

Blake was compelled to act. “What I realized is there’s a whole network of lobbyists for the regime that are paid from inside Iran, who are running the regime’s narrative globally”, she says. Indeed, the National Iranian American Council (NIAC) is widely viewed as a de facto ‘Iran lobby’, due to its endorsement of positions which align with the interests of the Islamic regime, including opposition to sanctions on Iran and objection to the designation of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) as a terrorist organisation. To combat this misinformation and propaganda, Blake posted daily updates on the situation in Iran on social media.

She also started going to protests in support of the ‘Women, Life, Freedom’ movement. At the start, there were only a few people holding placards in Trafalgar Square. Nobody knew each other. “We were all very scared. We used to go to protests in the UK with our face masks and sunglasses”, Blake notes. “That’s no longer the case. We’re still afraid, but at least we trust each other.” Blake’s caution is understandable: the Islamic regime has long targeted activists abroad, through both online harassment and physical threats. A 2021 report by Freedom House, an advocacy group in Washington DC, found that Iran engages in transnational repression in at least nine different countries, using tactics like assassinations, constant surveillance and threats to family members still in Iran.

Blake was among a group of protesters who decided to collaborate on social media to raise awareness collectively rather than individually. They founded the advocacy group United4Mahsa. It aims to provide information on the Islamic Regime’s repression of its people by providing English updates, translating reports that British-Iranians like Blake were receiving in Farsi from inside Iran. United4Mahsa quickly created its own press release to direct journalists to this information, sharing and verifying information for The Guardian, The Times and other news outlets. 

Speaking to people inside Iran is a crucial aspect of Blake’s activism. “I don’t come from a monarchy-loving family. My family revolted against that”, she says. Yet it quickly became evident to her that many Iranians were supportive of Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi, son of the deposed Shah. “If those inside Iran are telling me that they support him and they don’t trust anyone else, then who am I to say anything else?” Indeed, the anti-regime protests which gained momentum last month saw widespread support for Pahlavi. Videos showed masses chanting “Javid Shah”, meaning “long live the king”. 

Many Iranians see Pahlavi as a transitional figure best placed to oversee the country’s transition to democracy. Pahlavi himself has said he does not wish to stand for political office. But in April 2025, Pahlavi’s office unveiled the Iran Prosperity Project, a group of papers which set out a roadmap for a post-regime Iran. Clause 12.6 outlines the need to hold a referendum for the nation to choose a system of government: a democratic monarchy or a democratic republic. A transition to democracy enjoys broad support among Iranians. A June 2024 survey found that just 20% wanted the Islamic Republic to remain in power, and 89% supported democracy.

Blake emphasises that her role as an activist is not confined to promoting her own specific viewpoint. “I see myself now as a vessel”, she emphasises. “All my personal views are on hold until Iran is free.” This duty to faithfully represent the views of Iranians stems from Blake’s conviction that she must use her platform to speak for the tens of millions who have no voice. She views herself as connecting Iranians to the rest of the world; personal preference is a privilege to be gained upon democracy’s ascent.

Blake and I turn to the most recent anti-regime protests in Iran, which started on 28 December 2025. The protests originated in the bazaars – the commercial heart of Iran’s economy – as the Iranian rial plunged to a new low against the US Dollar. Demonstrations proliferated in Tehran and other cities across the country in ensuing days. The focus of the protests quickly became political, as demonstrators began chanting anti-government statements such as “Death to the Dictator”. By 4th January, videos emerged showing security forces shooting indiscriminately at protesters. Four days later, the government imposed an extensive internet blackout which aimed to prevent details of the regime’s crackdown being beamed to the world.

The 8th and 9th January were two of the bloodiest days of the protests. The Crown Prince called for protests on both days and “millions came out”. Intelligence suggests that at least 1.5 million people took to the streets in Tehran alone on the 8th January. “The accounts I’m getting from people is that it was a sea of people”, Blake tells me. “The first thing that everyone said is that everyone’s out, we won.” Yet any illusion of victory was shattered once the regime started shooting.

The protesters came from all aspects of society. “I’ve seen videos of 11-year-olds asking people to come out, and I’ve seen a 70-year-old woman in crutches on the corner, in her hijab, chanting death to the dictator”, Blake explains. “These images really show the diversity of those who are unhappy.”

“Some of these stories I have been translating, honestly, I don’t wish anyone to hear them”, Blake says quietly. I sense that she shares with Iranians across the globe a feeling of helplessness, watching on from afar as the regime’s oppression continues unabated. What remains in her power is remembrance: ensuring the stories of those killed are never forgotten.  

Blake is keen to emphasise that the protests were not motivated solely by a concern for women’s rights. It was not simply a feminist movement. “Men are very much also a victim of this regime”, Blake observes. Ultimately, people were protesting for so much more than human rights within a theological framework: they were calling for an end to the Islamic regime entirely. It is a regime viewed by many Iranians as an occupying ideological force which cannot be modified and requires dismantlement.

Amidst the ‘Women, Life, Freedom’ protests of 2022, Blake says she was “bombarded with requests” from western media for information. Many interviews were particularly interested in the feminist angle. Earlier this year, she received media requests during the height of the protests, but with their brutal suppression the media coverage quickly died down. Undeniably, the Western media has been restrained in its coverage of the government crackdown in Iran. Blake tells me she reached out to hundreds of journalistic contacts to implore them to cover the protests, only to be rejected. An expression of despair crosses her face as it’s clear that she feels many have not truly recognised or supported the bravery and sacrifice of the Iranian protesters.

The regime’s crackdown killed over 36,500 people in just a few days. Why, then, has the political left been so conspicuously silent about these human rights abuses? Blake points out that many of those who were so outspoken about the humanitarian situation in Gaza were markedly muted about the Iranian regime’s crackdown. Tom Fletcher, the UN Humanitarian Chief, for instance, has been silent on the killing of protesters in Iran. This, she says, is the latest iteration of a years-long trend of progressive figures turning a blind-eye to the regime’s crimes. She recalls in 2016, when Jeremy Corbyn accepted £20,000 to appear on Press TV, the Iranian state broadcast network, a channel banned in the UK for its part in filming the detention and torture of an Iranian journalist.

“In the last few weeks, I have been trying to engage with left-wing political parties, and they’re not engaging”, Blake says, her head lowering in disappointment. She observes that the left sees the Islamic Republic as a victim of imperialism, oppressed by America and Israel. This worldview means that many “can no longer deem them as oppressors of their own people”, she notes. “It comes from a place of privilege for some of these people, where they sit in a higher moral ground of ideologies, but actually don’t understand what it’s like to live under some of these dictatorships. They are so removed from the realities of the Middle East.”

What can the British government do to aid the Iranians who want an end to the regime? Blake’s eyes light up as I ask this. Her answer is clear and determined – it’s a question she’s evidently been waiting to answer. “Stop negotiating with our killers. Prescribe the IRGC. Close down the centres of the Islamic Republic on British soil.”  She wants to see the expulsion of Iranian ambassadors, because “you can’t negotiate with a terrorist organisation”. Finally, she implores political leaders to “engage with Reza Pahlavi” as a legitimate leader of the pro-democracy Iranian opposition.

When I ask what will need to change for the protests to succeed, Blake’s response is immediate. “Every single Iranian I’ve spoken to is asking for intervention”, she asserts. “How do we avoid more violence? How do we protect more lives? Surgical intervention is actually the most logical way.” 

I end my conversation with Blake on an optimistic note: her vision of a post-regime Iran. Imagining what Iran could become brings a small source of comfort amidst the grief and trauma which lingers a month on from the government crackdown.

“My dream is to be able to work with Iran, work for Iran”, Blake says. She envisions an Iran which is “prosperous and friendly to the world”, with a thriving economy, burgeoning trade, and good relations with other countries. “I want to get to the ballot boxes. I want to see that people have the choice to decide their own fate”, Blake emphasises. She does not care whether the outcome is constitutional monarchy or republicanism, only that a true democracy with genuine checks and balances emerges.

For 47 years, Iran has not been able to contribute its culture and heritage to the world.  “Imagine what’s going to come out when it’s all free”, Blake points out. “We are a 7,000-year-old nation with a deep-rooted interest in literature, in history, in architecture, in music, and in art.”

“Tourism will be incredible. We’re so excited to share Iran with everyone!”, Blake exclaims, a smile spreading across her face. “I can’t wait to take my husband and my friends, just to share a piece of everything I’ve described to them.”

As my conversation with Blake draws to a close, I’m reminded of the principle guiding her activism: true solidarity is not about speaking for others, but rather ensuring they are heard. Her message is clear: listen to Iranians and stand with them in their fight for freedom. It is a promise she upholds in every social media post, every television appearance, and every protest. She will never give up. 

The ‘Silent’ Film

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Not speaking does not necessarily mean having nothing to say. As much can be said with an image, movement, or glance as with a word. Since film is an inherently visual medium, the concept of ‘show, don’t tell’ is precisely what differentiates it from literature, which relies on the memory and the intrinsic and ineffaceable meaning to be found in language. Words are clumsy; they carry in them presupposed connotations and histories, and can allude to what is not present, while film images belong to a concrete ‘now’. The ‘silent’ film (a film which uses silence as a filmmaking tool), then, can be seen as film in its purest form, and the form which requires the most attention, intuition, and interpretation from its audience.

Silent images do not explain themselves. We do not hear what Chow Mo-wan whispers into the wall at the end of In the Mood for Love, or what Bob Harris whispers to Charlotte at the end of Lost in Translation. Nor do we need to – images speak only for themselves. Silence allows for anything to be said; it contains infinite meaning. It is when the film trusts its audience to come to their own conclusion, and to feel things without being told what to feel. Silence is therefore an act of restraint and respect – the refusal to translate feeling into language, when language would only limit it. It expresses the inexpressible, and acknowledges that language is sometimes inadequate. The final shot of Call Me by Your Name depicts emotion expressed without articulation, and while In the Mood for Love or Lost in Translation could tell us anything, this shot tells us everything. In silence, the concepts of joy, loss, and memory can coexist – concepts which existed before words and which can exist without them.

Silence makes you aware of what is usually silenced, or what we have subconsciously tuned out. The bomb detonation in Oppenheimer is silent in a way which makes you realise that your heart is racing, and the silence and isolation of space in Gravity reminds you of your own breathing, and your presence sat wordlessly in a cinema surrounded by people. Through silence, cinema stops addressing the mind and instead speaks directly to the body. It is a tool that makes the spectator aware of their own presence, disrupting passive immersion. It also makes them aware of what is absent, what they have taken for granted: music, company, life.

As a result, the elements which were once silenced by the speaker – expression, gesture, costume, set, music – gain a new expressive power. They now are equals with the speaker, sharing in silence. It is in the traditional silent film in which this idea finds its most concentrated expression. The Last Laugh, an underrated gem from the German Expressionist movement, and a true ‘silent’ film because of its lack of intertitles, communicates everything to its audience through body language, emotional and evocative facial expressions, camera movement, and framing. It is able to transcend language barriers and we can engage with it on a purely visual and instinctive level, as film is boiled down to its essence – images which create meaning through their construction and arrangement in sequence.

Because ‘silent’ images rely on their filmic construction to create meaning, they demand our constant attention. Movies in recent years have been criticised for the ‘dumbing down’ of scripts, such as through dialogue which overexplains, with the assumption that films are being watched by people who are also scrolling on their phones. Silence allows for dedicated attentiveness, or even scrutiny, towards what is being shown to you, rather than passively accepting what you are being told. Films may therefore feel harder to understand, but it is the role of the filmmaker to risk being misunderstood in order to preserve the integrity of the image.

“Feelings are intense, words are trivial”, as the Depeche Mode song goes. Choosing silence, then, is to preserve the emotional complexity that language so often flattens. If silence redistributes responsibility from film to spectator, it also demands a different mode of viewing. Appreciate the pleasures, emotions, and pains which films can bring without words. Take back responsibility as a viewer, allow yourself to come to your own conclusions, engage emotionally with what you see. The world is noisy enough; people are ceaselessly telling us how we should be thinking and feeling. In times like this, the most meaningful form of escapism is to put on a film, and enjoy the silence.