Wednesday 10th December 2025
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Distance does make the heart grow fonder

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Being a student at Oxford certainly comes with its challenges – something that, as Oxford students, we love to lament. The workload is intense, the nightlife limited, and the caffeine dependence debilitating. But whilst the University is not without its faults, since embarking on my year abroad, I’ve come to realise just how much there is to love about it. With this in mind, I think we could all use a reminder of the charm that lies at the heart of our wonderfully unique student experience. 

I’m currently about three months into my semester studying at the École Normale Supérieure (ENS) in Paris, and whilst it is just as wonderful and surreal as you would imagine, I feel as if my academic muscles are beginning to atrophy. Without the weekly essays and the accountability that comes with tutorials – all of us with horror stories of turning up to tutes woefully unprepared will understand – I’m not doing anywhere near as much work as I would in an Oxford term. On one hand, I’m relishing the chance to step off of the academic conveyor belt for a bit, breathe, and enjoy all of the opportunities that living abroad as a student boasts (at this point I remember my tutor’s comparison of termtime to a lorry going down a mountain at full speed without any breaks).

But equally, there’s a part of me that misses the productivity and the fast-paced nature of a normal Michaelmas. Maybe this is the result of a kind of Stockholm Syndrome but, regardless, I’ve been reminded of why I chose Oxford in the first place. The opportunity to study my passion under the tutelage of leading experts is not something to be overlooked. At the ENS, my experience as an international student has been very different. Cours or classes are more like lectures, with little discussion or interaction, and the only assignments to validate modules are due at the end of the semester. This, whilst a welcome break at first, is definitely less effective at cementing my understanding of new topics and less engaging than the tutorial system.   

Beyond the scope of the purely academic side of Oxford, there is so much more that I’ve come to miss – the little idiosyncratic oddities that make Oxford what it is. Formal dinners as a regular indulgence; heavily subsidised college bars never more than a stone’s throw away; gazing in awe at the dome of the Rad Cam every time I stumble across it… All of this is part of a microcosm of quirks and traditions that we might occasionally roll our eyes at but ultimately is close to all of our hearts. I know it’s embarrassing when you catch yourself using Oxford-specific vernacular with friends from home (“What the f*** is a bop?” – a dear friend of mine) but it wouldn’t be our university without it. With this in mind, I would venture to argue that the romanticisation we tend to deride so-called Oxford influencers for is not necessarily the crime we purport it to be. Why are we so intent on denying that (true to its Harry Potter connotations) Oxford can feel magical? Whilst I don’t deny that the intensity can of course be damaging, and too much pressure can erode the novelty of gorgeous libraries and eating in resplendent halls, I think we can also become desensitised to our University’s beauty too quickly. 

Even the allure of Oxford itself springs to mind, which might seem odd considering I’m currently living in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But the small-but-mighty Oxford holds its own against the boulevards of Haussmannian buildings and views of the Eiffel Tower peeking around street corners. The way that the University is intrinsically intertwined with the city grants its students a special relationship with every nook and cranny of the place, allowing it to truly feel like home. So whilst running into an ex-situationship in the Tesco’s on Magdalen Street is a nightmarish reality, there is also something comforting about the snug muddle of colleges, libraries, and faculty buildings that makes up Oxford.  

As I’m typing now, I cast my mind back to that day in Year 13 when I received my offer and was, predictably, overcome with disbelief and euphoria. I would urge fellow students to do the same – remember that attending Oxford is both a huge achievement and a colossal privilege. Amidst the essay crises and the weight of your sub fusc, remember to look up every now and then to appreciate where you are (unless you’re in the glink). 

The Gee’s knees: Brunch in North Oxford

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Good things often come in threes. Having reviewed both Parsonage Grill and Quod, it was only right that we complete the trilogy with their North Oxford sister restaurant, Gee’s. 

On a crisp November morning, after a short walk up Banbury Road, we were welcomed into the warmth of the restaurant’s iconic conservatory dining room. The neighbourhood certainly set the tone: spacious 19th century townhouses lined with trees stretched down the road, the kind that most of us could never dream of affording in our lifetimes. The dining room was gorgeous, brightly-lit by the sunshine pouring in through the glass roof. The service was extremely attentive, and always friendly, contributing to a relaxed and accommodating atmosphere. 

For me, brunch at Oxford has never escaped the confines of the college, and so I welcomed the chance to try a mid-morning meal that didn’t involve undercooked hashbrowns at Christ Church, or watery mushrooms at Somerville. Thankfully, Gee’s provided an altogether different culinary experience. 

We began by ordering coffee, which, with a rich flavour profile, was clearly of a very high quality. Faced with an eclectic menu, we chose several dishes to share. The eggs benedict were perfectly cooked, with a rich yolk that spilled over the dish when broken into. The citrus notes in the sauce, combined with the freshness of the chives, really elevated the dish. 

The highlight, for me, was the smashed avocado and burrata on toast. The creamy burrata and the chewy sourdough transformed the dish from the typically millennial photo opportunity into a truly decadent brunch option, complemented perfectly by a generous drizzle of olive oil. We also opted for a pain au chocolat, a pastry which, in the UK, can so often be disappointing. Yet the beautifully flaky pastry, combined with the rich filling, would have exceeded the standards of even the most pretentious French patisserie connoisseur. We also ordered the pan con tomate; the juicy tomato mixture, enhanced by olive oil, provided the ideal texture to accompany the sourdough toast. Ordering a cocktail at 11am on a weekday felt a little indecent, but the bellini was a delicious balance of sweet peach and dry prosecco, exalting the entire meal to heights that the college brunch could only dream of.

As with its sister establishments, Gee’s is definitively an occasional restaurant. The other diners included a disproportionate number of people in black tie, the kind of place people with wealthy parents and substantive allowances might stop by before a graduation ceremony. But in a gorgeous setting, with an appealing menu, a cocktail in hand, and amazing company, Gee’s was the perfect place to spend a long, leisurely morning as I congratulated myself on my excellent life choices.

What we ate: Pain au chocolat £3.95; Pan con tomate £9.50; Eggs Benedict £11.95; Burrata & smashed avocado on sourdough toast £12.95; Bellini £10.95; Americano £4.25

The luxury of political ignorance

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PPE at Oxford is often seen as a one-way track to ending up in the House of Commons (usually on the wrong side of the house). Introduce yourself to anyone as a PPE-ist and you’ll inevitably receive the displeased sighs or disgusted face befitting the discovery of a bit of chewing gum on the bottom of a shoe. This is understandable, of course: many politicians do take PPE at Oxford and go on to make a mess of the country they were ostensibly taught how to govern. So perhaps this article is just a futile effort to avoid the unfortunate association of my degree.

However, believe it or not – and certainly don’t inform my politics tutor (sorry Federico) – over the last year or so I’ve found it impossible to engage with political news, especially British party politics. Whilst in Sixth Form I was one of those (super cool) people constantly refreshing Twitter to find out the latest fiscal announcement or policy U-turn, ironically enough, being in Oxford has slowly but surely reduced this desire to the point where I have to make an active effort to keep on top of what’s going on in the world. Recently I opened the Financial Times and was genuinely baffled by an editorial reading “Labour has shredded its claim to competence” – having missed all mention of the budget, an event which looms large in the calendars of political aficionados (and those who wish they were).

Perhaps this is simply because you naturally get sick of the subject you’re constantly studying – just look at the mockery English students face when they complain about having to read novels all day. No matter how much you might think you like something, subjecting it to endless academic scrutiny is a surefire way to prove yourself wrong. Yet this isn’t the case for me. Contrary to the beliefs of all those politicians-in-waiting, the academic politics course in Oxford is very far from lessons in governance; even less so is it training to be a backbencher (apart from induction into not having much real thinking to do). And the kinds of quantitative analysis and theory-testing that we do is, in fact, very enjoyable for me – precisely because it is so different from what you get in a current affairs programme. 

The real explanation, I think, as to why getting through a news article feels like an ever more insuperable task, lies in a dangerous conjunction of four facts: (1) there’s not (that) much you can do to change things significantly; (2) many of us are fairly isolated from its fluctuations, or can at least pretend that we are; (3) politics is very boring; (4) Oxford is pretty interesting. I don’t intend to debate the first here: whilst lowering the voting age to 16 is a good step in giving younger people more of a voice, the overall nature of representative democracy means that individuals’ impacts are inherently minimal, so it takes some kind of aggregating movement to have a discernible effect on the composition of government. I hope for your sake, dear reader, that (4) is true – whether that’s because you have back-to-back nights out or because you get to have tutorials with academics you love, it seems fair to suggest that student life in Oxford is, on the whole, pretty damn good. With a huge range of events, societies, work, and interesting people, the usual problem is having too much, rather than not enough, to do.

If you are deeply exposed to the vicissitudes of short-term policy decisions, then naturally politics will be of some interest to you – even if not out of choice. And this is true for lots of students. Many people simply cannot afford (quite literally) not to pay attention to politics. Even if you aren’t allowed to work during term time, when the vacation rolls around again, you suddenly realise that someone has to pay for all those formals – and not everyone can pull out daddy’s chequebook. But still, if you aren’t dependent on the government for some kind of benefit, seeking refuge, or any number of other cases, it’s (all too) easy to pretend as though Westminster is far away. (Tuition fees? No such thing.) 

If that’s not convincing – which it really shouldn’t be – then consider (3). Oxford’s own politics tutor Matt Williams is fond of describing politics as “Love Island with nukes”. This can be taken in two ways: if you love soaps and have little else going on in your life, then perhaps this high-stakes production will be just the opiate you need. Alternatively, if you wouldn’t watch Love Island even if held at gunpoint, it sounds like just another reason to clock out. With so much else going on, who in their right minds wants to follow a cabinet re-shuffle? That’s not helped, of course, by some of the least charismatic politicians ever to grace Parliament’s seats. (Say what you like about him, Tony Blair’s PMQs are some of the finest lessons in British debating you could ask for. His successors? Not so much.) When you stop to think about it, it’s almost amazing that so many people read about politics so frenetically. If you aren’t sure, I can recommend a hundred more enjoyable or interesting things to look at (Try Cherwell’s Lifestyle section). 

To all of this you may well say: it might be just lovely for you to frolic around, blissfully unaware, in your ivory tower. But you have a duty to be informed, to participate in social and political affairs. In the past, I myself was one of those moralising evangelists for being an ‘active citizen’ – it was being informed or the guillotine. But Tim Harford, a staple of the centrist dads, makes a fair enough point: why? There’s certainly a level of knowledge and attention which you should pay to the goings-on in the world – these things do matter. You should vote and have opinions on who runs the country – god knows other people will if you don’t. But after a certain point, the marginal gains of another news story or six drop off rapidly. Who does it help? It might feel like doom-scrolling The Guardian is a necessary response, forced upon you by the wrongs of ‘the system’. But if you’re not organising a movement, attending a protest, door-knocking, or voting (none of which I intend to diminish in the least here), then why bother? At a certain point, following politics just doesn’t help. 

And whilst I wouldn’t want to suggest that my life in Oxford is making the country, let alone the world, directly better off, it’s too quick to just dismiss it. At the least, study gives you critical and (if you’re lucky) practical skills, and I think much more besides. After all, it is a luxury to be able to do this – to turn off the news and read a book, chat with others, and explore an ancient city. So make the most of it. You’ll have the rest of your life to follow Labour’s “shredded claim to competence”.

Hague to confer nine honorary degrees to celebrate first year in office

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Lord William Hague has announced the conferral of nine honorary degrees to mark his first year as Chancellor of the University of Oxford. The degrees will be awarded during a special ceremony on 24th February, or at the University’s next Encaenia, Oxford’s annual honorary degree ceremony.

Hague told Cherwell: “I have nominated exceptional individuals whose achievements have been an inspiration to me and also made lasting contributions to society. I am very much looking forward to honouring their accomplishments next February.” 

The nominees include Oxford’s Vice-Chancellor Irene Tracey; former US Secretary of State John Kerry; presenter of ‘The Rest is History’ podcast Dr Dominic Sandbrook; journalist and Cherwell alumna Christina Lamb; and the British elections pollster Professor Sir John Curtice.

Christina Lamb, who will be conferred with the honorary degree Doctor of Letters, told Cherwell that “Doctor of Letters sounds so cool. And getting a doctorate without having to do any of the academic work has got to be good”. 

Lamb added: “I’ve been a foreign correspondent for 37 years since an unexpected wedding invitation took me to Pakistan, and have covered most of the major wars and conflicts of the last 25 years…as a woman in what was very much a male field, I have always focused on what war does to women. In particular I’ve tried to raise awareness of the horrific and widespread use of sexual violence as a weapon.”

Sir John Curtice has also been nominated for an honorary Doctor of Letters. Reflecting on his nomination, Curtice told Cherwell: “I have spent much of my career, which began as a student at Oxford, trying to understand and explain the interaction between what politicians say and do and what the public believe and demand. It is humbling to have this work recognised.” 

The University normally confers honorary degrees once a year during the annual Enceania ceremony. But by longstanding tradition Oxford’s new Chancellor is invited to nominate candidates for additional honorary degrees, including the serving Vice-Chancellor of the University and the current head of the Chancellor’s former college.

Hague graduated from Magdalen College in 1982 having read Philosophy, Politics and Economics (PPE). Dinah Rose KC, President of Magdalen, told Cherwell: “I am utterly delighted to have been nominated for an honorary doctorate by the Chancellor. It is a great privilege to represent Lord Hague’s own College, Magdalen, in this way.”

The other nominated honorands include the author and conservationist Isabella Tree; New York University Professor Jonathan Haidt; and Lord Clerk Register of Scotland and former St Hugh’s College Principal Lady Elish Angiolini.

Isabella Tree, who is expected to receive an honorary doctorate in science, told Cherwell: “I feel something of an interloper accepting an honorary degree that has fallen into my lap but I take it in the spirit of it being an honour – and it’s a huge one. It’s incredibly kind of Lord Hague to consider me in such amazing company, including Christina Lamb who has long been a hero of mine.

“I don’t see myself as an academic or scientist…I’m just the chronicler, someone who has told the story and – I hope – can tell it in a way that is accessible and can inspire people to see the value in nature-based solutions to the climate and biodiversity crisis. Without inspiration and hope it’s easy to give up, but nature needs a voice and the world needs change. It’s an incredible honour to be recognised for helping to do something towards that change.”

A comical approach to a classic text: ‘Hedda Gabler’ reviewed

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Tiptoe Productions’ Hedda Gabler, co-directed by Ollie Gillam and Gilon Fox, delivered a strong version of the classic text, impressive in its ability to make the differences between characters so comic. Laughs were consistently drawn from the audience, balancing out the fact that some moments lacked polish. 

Hedda Gabler follows the strife and eventual downfall of aristocratic Hedda (Georgina Cooper), confined unhappily to a marriage with George Tesman (Sam Gosmore), reimagined as an uninspiring and, bumbling economics academic in the political setting chosen by the directors. As they return from their honeymoon, Hedda’s discontent with her life manifests in a series of elaborate manipulations centred around her past lover Eilert Loevburg (Rohan Joshi) and his new fling Thea Elvsted (Thalia Kermisch). 

Cooper played the titular role wonderfully. Every movement was poised and calculated, reflecting her control over the play’s disastrous events. She was outstanding at appearing focused and unfazed as chaos unfolded around her, and her ability to maintain this stance enhanced the comedy of Gosmore’s George Tesman. 

I have no doubt that the audience would agree that Gosmore was sensational. In a play that has the potential to become stagnant due to its dark themes, his version of George Tesman brought genuine hilarity. There was a constant sense of not knowing what he would do next, as he seemed willing to push his physicality to a comedic maximum: he cheered for joy, hung his head in upset, and jovially patted his wife on the head as she spoke to another man. He brought humour even to the more dramatic moments simply by making Tesman so unaware. 

Commendation ought to be given to Thalia Kermisch as Thea Elvstead. Her approach to the role made Mrs Elvstead seem wide-eyed and fearful, consumed by love for the wrong man. Her convincing portrayal of worry served to emphasise the relative lack of concern of her false friend Hedda. Likewise, Ezana Betru as Judge Brack brought the calm certainty required for his role as confidante and bearer of bad news. He was the only man in the play that seemed to have some control over the direction of the narrative: the only one, in other words, who held some power l against Hedda, and his more relaxed tone of voice matched this. 

In this adaptation, it was the women who held the power onstage. Rather than making the men’s control over their lives seem sinister, it was presented as nonsensical: neither Tesman nor Loevburg were able to contain childish outbursts of emotion. Memorably, upon finding out that Hedda has destroyed Loevburg’s manuscript, Gosmore as Tesman put on a face of exaggerative upset, only to be placated by Hedda very briefly being sexually suggestive towards him. His failure to match the patriarchal masculine ideal was reinforced by Cooper’s constant disdain towards him, which reached into the entirety of her physicality. 

Another man whose emotional instability contrasted the steadfastness of the women surrounding him was Eilert Loevborg (Rohan Joshi). Joshi had less onstage time than the other actors, making up for this with the fact that every line was delivered with a splitting emotional intensity. His confrontations with his past love Hedda and current fling Mrs Elvsted were placed centre stage, allowing the audience to closely observe the consuming nature of his anger: a loose canon in comparison to Hedda’s calm certainty and Elvsted’s determined attempts to hold their relationship together. Making the male characters so vocally and physically unstable was effective, given that Ibsen’s focus on writing women who defied the patriarchal standard and made the men around them seem less entitled to their high social status. 

The acting in the production was impactful, but I felt some of the directorial aspects adhered too closely to the script at the expense of originality. For example, the scene t in which Judge Brack and George Tesman have a drink offstage was taken so literally that it distracted from the central onstage conversation. Similarly, the moment where Hedda burns Loevburg’s manuscript, professing that she’s “killing” his “child” felt like it was included out of necessity rather than being carefully thought out, as it created some unnecessary emptiness onstage. The set was functional rather than original, but this is likely justified by a need to focus on the raw emotion of the actors’ interactions. 

Overall, Tiptoe Productions, while not quite adding the originality promised, created a portrayal that balanced tension and hilarity.

‘Rage bait’ named Oxford Word of the Year

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Oxford University Press (OUP) has revealed that “rage bait” is their official Word of the Year for 2025. Over 30,000 votes were cast from a shortlist of three, which also included “aura farming” and “biohack”.

“Rage bait” is defined by OUP as: “Online content deliberately designed to elicit anger or outrage by being frustrating, provocative, or offensive, typically posted in order to increase traffic to or engagement with a particular web page or social media account.”

According to OUP, the word has tripled in usage over the past year, although its first mention can be traced back to 2002. Back then, it referred to a form of road rage, when a fellow driver flashed their lights to indicate they wanted to overtake, in a form of “deliberate agitation”.

The other two contenders have also seen a significant rise in usage through social media. “Aura farming” rose to prominence after a video of an Indonesian boy dancing seemingly effortlessly on the front of a boat went viral. OUP defines the word as: “The cultivation of an impressive, attractive, or charismatic persona or public image by behaving or presenting oneself in a way intended subtly to convey an air of confidence, coolness, or mystique.”

Meanwhile, “biohack” is defined as: “To attempt to improve or optimize one’s physical or mental performance.” It has risen in prominence as efforts to find ways of reversing, or even halting, the process of ageing have increased, particularly among the rich and famous.

Every year, OUP announces a word – or expression – which was of the most “cultural significance” over the past twelve months. Last year’s winner was “brain rot”, while previous selections have included “rizz”, “vax”, and “climate emergency”.

Casper Grathwohl, President of Oxford Languages described 2025 as “a year defined by questions around who we truly are; both online and offline”. He added: “The fact that the word rage bait exists and has seen such a dramatic surge in usage means we’re increasingly aware of the manipulation tactics we can be drawn into online.

“Year after year, it’s incredible to see the campaign spark curiosity, conversation, and – most importantly – participation. The Oxford Word of the Year invites us to pause and reflect on the forces shaping our collective language.”

50 years of women’s cross-country Varsity

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The 50th anniversary of women’s cross-country in the Oxford-Cambridge Varsity Competition is set to be celebrated on Saturday 6th December. The event will be held at Roehampton Vale, the headquarters of Thames Hare and Hounds, the oldest adult cross-country running club in the world. 

The Oxford-Cambridge University Cross-Country Races is one of the oldest inter-club matches still in existence, with the very first race occurring in 1880. However, it wasn’t until the early 1970s – 1975 for Oxford – that both clubs welcomed their first female participants, with the first official women’s race taking place in Shotover, just outside of Oxford. The following year, in 1976, the race was granted official status; hosted at Thames Hare and Hounds, Oxford were victorious with Lynne Wightman (Lady Margaret Hall) winning the first official race.

Since then, over 300 female runners from Oxford and Cambridge have participated in the Varsity race, including Olympians Louise Shanahan and Mara Yamauchi. 

Women’s Captain of Oxford University Cross-Country Club, Tamsin Sangster, said: “This special anniversary will be an exciting celebration of past and present members who have contributed to our achievements. OUCCC is forever grateful to the women and men who paved the way for women’s participation in the Varsity Match.” Lilian Lewis, Women’s Captain of Cambridge University Hare and Hounds, reflected a similar sentiment: “In this anniversary year it is exciting to be able to bring the number of Women’s Varsity teams equal to the Men’s side. I can’t wait for this year’s Varsity and to see what the next 50 years of Women’s Varsity brings.”

Originally, races would alternate location between Oxford and Cambridge, before the decision was made that this system was “shockingly unfair” for the visiting side. As a result, the races have since been held at the neutral grounds of Thames Hare and Hounds. Nestled in southeast London, this location provides competitors with the essential cross-country obstacles of deep mud, logs, and the ‘watersplash’ across Beverley Brook. In 2021, Thames Hare and Hounds received recognition of their importance in the development of cross-country. The club was named as one of seven new recipients of a World Athletics Heritage Plaque, awarded for “an outstanding contribution to the worldwide history and development of the sport of track and field athletics and of out of stadia athletics disciplines such as cross country”.

Simon Molden, Secretary of Thames Hare and Hounds, told Cherwell: “Thames Hare and Hounds is proud to be hosting the University Races in 2025, particularly as this year sees them reach another important milestone with the 50th anniversary of the women’s contest.”

The men’s and ladies’ races are run in an eight-a-side, six-to-score format and, with competitive selection, the races have seen the likes of Sir Roger Bannister and Stephanie Cook MBE participate over the years. Bannister, famously known for running the first sub-four minute mile at Iffley Sports Centre in 1954 – which is now home to the Sir Roger Bannister Track – won the 1949 Varsity race. Cook also took victory for Oxford in the 1966 race, going on to win the gold medal for Great Britain in the modern pentathlon at the Sydney Olympics in 2000.  

After 133 years, competition is close between the universities on the men’s side, with Oxford in the lead by just one victory (67 wins to 66). The women’s side sees Oxford lead with 28 wins against Cambridge’s 20. Last year, Oxford were victorious on both the men’s and women’s sides, winning 7-0 against Cambridge in the first clean sweep in several years. 


This year’s edition of the race will take place at 3pm, with results available on the OpenTrack website after the races conclude. Both female and male former members of the Oxford and Cambridge clubs will be welcome to take part in the Old Blues’ Race, with the Gentlemen’s and Ladies’ Races occurring afterwards.

Jeremy Hunt on OUCA, Silicon Valley, and the post-war world order 

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Cherwell: What was your experience of Oxford when you did PPE at Magdalen? 

Hunt: They were some of the happiest times of my life, but there were lots of ups and downs. In my first year I struggled a bit, found it hard to make friends. I had such high expectations of ‘Oxford’ that I was a bit disappointed when it didn’t quite live up to what I hoped for. In my second year I found a great group of friends. I really enjoyed my subject. My main passion was actually philosophy, of the three. I also did university politics, I became president of the Oxford University Conservative Association, that was my first exposure to the sort of – madness – of politics. I made lots of friends who I’m still friends with today. I do think that studying at Oxford or Cambridge is one of the greatest privileges you can have because they are the only two universities in the world where you get the chance to sit down once a week, one-to-one, with one of the greatest experts in the world in the field you’re studying. That is an extraordinary privilege. 

Cherwell: Would you say your time at Oxford shaped your trajectory towards politics? 

Hunt: In some ways it slightly put me off. There was a lot of backstabbing in those elections, I’m sure that hasn’t changed. I think what you get in university politics is actually the worst of what you get in the real thing. In university politics, because you’re only president for a short period – say, a term before someone else comes in – people’s track record doesn’t count for much, you just have to be good at winning elections. Whereas, in the real thing, in Westminster, your track record does actually count for something –perhaps not as much as it should, but it does count for something.  

Cherwell: Why would you say you entered politics? 

Hunt: I didn’t give it too much thought. I was just really interested in political issues. I was at Oxford 1985-88 when Margaret Thatcher was at the height of her powers. She inspired me to do something first, which was to set up my own business. I was a kind of card-carrying Thatcherite, perhaps a bit more than I am today. I just thought the political world would be fascinating to be a part of, but I didn’t really understand the personal sacrifices that were necessary for a political career – the crazy pressure you can be under in certain jobs, the impact on family life, it is not a great career for families. I didn’t really understand any of that. Perhaps I should’ve given it more thought. Despite those downsides, I don’t regret a second of my career, and I do think there is no greater privilege than public service. That could be being a teacher or working for charity – not necessarily politics – but doing things that make the world a better place is a wonderful thing. Despite all the flack that politicians get, it’s worth it. 

Cherwell: What’s your proudest achievement since you entered Parliament? 

Hunt: I was in Cabinet for most of the fourteen years the Conservatives were in office, and I did four jobs. It’s just impossible to be around for that long without making a lot of mistakes. For sure I didn’t get everything right. Probably most people will remember me as the chancellor who came in during a crisis, when inflation was 11%, and got it down to 2%, got the economy growing again despite predictions of the longest recession in history. But if you ask me what I’m most proud of, when I was Health Secretary I was very unpopular – a 2016 YouGov poll put me as the most unpopular politician in the country, because of the junior doctors’ strike – but my focus was on patient safety, reducing the amount of avoidable deaths. During my period, the number of baby deaths fell by about two-a-day. I think that’s a statistic which for me personally I’ll be proud of until the day I die. 

Cherwell: What’s your biggest regret in politics? 

Hunt: What I’ve been doing is trying to write – I want to be a writer now – and as a writer you do reflect on things you got wrong. I think, looking back, that I was generally thought of as a safe pair of hands. As an entrepreneur, I was a radical innovator, and I think the system made me more of an incrementalist, and less radical than I would really like to have been. 

Cherwell: So, your regret is more about things left undone than anything you did which you wish you hadn’t? 

Hunt: When I was Chancellor, working with Rishi Sunak, I steadied the ship. We had less than two years before the end of parliament. I would like to have done more radical welfare reforms, which are badly needed, and which, sadly, it doesn’t look like the current government is going to do either. Whether Rishi Sunak would have wanted me to do them, I don’t know, but it’s much more about wishing I could have done more, perhaps with a bit more time, than regrets about things I actually did do. 

Cherwell: When Labour won the election in 2024, you said, “Whatever our policy differences, we all now need them to succeed.” Do you think you made it more difficult for them to succeed when a few months earlier you cut National Insurance by 2p? It was an unnecessary pre-election giveaway which you must have known would create problems for the next government. 

Hunt: Not at all. The biggest problem facing the country is low growth and those NI cuts were independently forecast by the Office of Budget Responsibility to increase GDP by 0.6%, which sounds like a small number but makes a big difference in terms of the tax receipts the Chancellor gets. That was my growth strategy; to reduce tax in ways that would get the economy growing. In truth anyone who criticises that, that’s fine, but they need to say what their growth strategy is instead, and I don’t think we’re seeing that from the current government. 

Cherwell: Do you foresee a return to government? 

Hunt: I really, passionately, want a Conservative government. I think as a country we only succeed when we have parties in power that understand business. All the things we want to do – funding the NHS, the police force, the education system – can only be done on the back of a strong economy. But I think it’s pretty unlikely that I will ever go back into government. Times move on. I think my wife might have something to say as well! But I want to contribute to public life and hopefully I can do that through my writing. 

Cherwell: You’d ideally like to see the return of a Conservative government. Do you think that’s been made less likely by the fact that, a) a lot of the moderate wing of one-nation Conservatives were expelled in 2019, and b) the pressure from Reform has driven the current party further and further to the right? 

Hunt: I don’t think so. I think we are a long way behind in the polls but you would expect that just over a year on from our worst-ever election defeat. Having been in office for fourteen years, the country clearly wanted a change. Even though Labour’s first year has been pretty disastrous, people won’t come running back straight away with buyers’ remorse. It will take time. What the Conservative Party is respected for is, time after time in our history, taking the difficult decisions to get the economy growing after some kind of crisis. I think as we approach the next election, that’s what people will be worrying about. They can see the mistakes that have been made by a Labour government. So, I think we will be back in the race by the next election. You mention Reform, but they have no economic credibility at all, and so this is our area of competitive advantage. 

Cherwell: Which contemporary figure do you find yourself most in sympathy with, in politics? 

Hunt: Now, that’s an interesting question. [Long pause] If you’re talking sympathy, I feel for Rachel Reeves, because it’s a pretty tough gig being Chancellor. I don’t agree with a lot of the stuff she’s done, but I do recognise it’s a very tough job. If you’re asking who I’m in sympathy with ideologically, I think I am very aligned with what the current Conservative Party is saying. I think that people want radical change and if we’re going to persuade people that we’re a better option than Reform, we have to embrace a rational radicalism. I think that some of the ideas that Reform are championing are very badly thought-out. We have to show people that we will deliver big change but that it will be thought-through change, not chaotic change. So, I don’t tend to look at everything through the prism of left and right. What people want is a leader who will give them confidence that they are actually going to be able to sort out the big problems that we face. Frankly, that’s a challenge for Labour as much as for the Conservatives. At the moment, people are worried that both parties are unable to tackle the big problems we face. For the Conservative Party, that’s what we’ve got to show everyone. 

Cherwell: Moving onto your new book, Can We Be Great Again? Why a Dangerous World Needs Britain, a sort of memoir-cum-manifesto. What inspired you to write it? 

Hunt: I think we have become too gloomy as a country. There are various reasons for that, but there’s a paradox which is that you can do surveys where nearly a third of young people want to move abroad and then you ask young people across the rest of the world what they think of Britain, and we are considered the third most attractive, appealing country in the world, after Japan and Italy. We are the second most trusted country in terms of its government and people. When it comes to the country that’s a force for good in the world, we’re rated top in the world by 18-to-34-year-olds surveyed across G20 countries. There’s a disconnect between how we see ourselves and how the world sees us. I wrote this book to understand who’s right. 

What I found when I was Foreign Secretary was that we are much more respected than we perhaps understand in the UK. After the Second World War, Britain and America set up a global order which has been the most successful in the history of humanity. It has been better at reducing poverty, maintaining peace, helping people to live in freedom, than any other order – that is until quite recently, with big problems in Ukraine, and the rise of China, which is an avowedly autocratic system that doesn’t share our democratic ideals. In my lifetime, the proportion of the population living in extreme poverty – which is defined as less than $2 per day – has fallen from half the world population to only 10%, and that too in a period where the world population has tripled. That’s an extraordinary achievement but people are saying, “is this going to continue?”, they’re looking to the countries that set up that order, saying, “are you going to step up to the challenge?”. 

This book is not a jingoistic book. I’m not saying that Britain is superior to other countries. I’m saying that in a really dangerous world the worst thing is to underestimate your own influence and that we – and the same is true of the Germans, the Japanese, the French, Americans, and Australians – are countries of influence and we need to use it. We need to work with our friends and allies around the world to solve these big problems. 

Cherwell: You speak about our place in the post-war world order, and in the book, you talk about the position we should have in promoting democracy, security, human rights. Do you think these values are undermined when in world affairs we do not practise what we preach? Most recently, it’s been in the Middle East, but that hypocrisy has been there since the early days of the liberal international order. To give the example of a friend who you praise highly in your book, Henry Kissinger in the 1970s helped overthrow a democratic regime in Chile and killed hundreds of thousands of Cambodians through carpet bombing. That doesn’t sound to me like either democracy or human rights. Don’t you think things like that undermine the American-led world order? 

Hunt: For sure, we haven’t got everything right. Sometimes we are hypocritical. But remember that in the 1970s and 80s, during the Cold War, we were up against the Soviet Union that was actively trying to subvert regimes all over the world and turn them into part of the Communist bloc. When you’re dealing with a threat like that, there are trade-offs. It’s not possible to conduct a foreign policy where all you think about is talking to people with exactly the same values as you. You need to deal with the world as it is, not as you’d want it to be. I think there is a world of difference between what Britain and America did in Afghanistan and Iraq and Libya – where we made big mistakes – and what Russia is trying to do in Ukraine. We’ve got things badly wrong in all those three countries but we were never trying to turn them into imperial possessions, it was always the plan to go in, install a democratic regime, and then leave again. We were naive and made big mistakes and we need to learn from that. That’s not the same as what Putin is doing in Ukraine by invading an independent country and turning it into a vassal state. I think it’s a big mistake to conflate those two and we should be very clear about the difference. 

Cherwell: Clearly there’s a difference between Britain and Russia insofar as we didn’t invade Iraq to make it an imperial possession again, but surely you can see why these wars, and their enormous human cost, have delegitimised the West and its world order. 

Hunt: Yeah. For sure. When you make mistakes, you lose moral authority. And that means that we go into this global struggle between autocracy and democracy not being in as strong a position as we might otherwise. Despite that I think it’s important that we don’t lose confidence, that we recognise that our system is better, that open societies are morally superior to dictatorships in which people who disagree with the government get locked up. And it’s really important that we don’t forget that basic truth. The evidence is that, in the global migration crisis, people aren’t banging the door down to become Russian citizens, they’re not trying to get into China. They want to live in Europe and North American and Australia and Japan and Korea, because they know that for them, and their families, our system is more humane. One of the things Henry Kissinger said to me is that his concern about the West was that there was so much self-doubt, even self-loathing, and we need to be really careful not to let that get out of hand.  

Cherwell: On China and the need to stand up to their autocratic system, you’ve spent a lot of time in China, what do you foresee in the years to come in its relationship with Britain and the West? 

Hunt: We’ve had this rather fake debate between hawks and doves. I think the truth is that both sides have a point. The hawks are absolutely right to say you need to be strong because that’s the language that autocrats respect. The doves are right to say we need to keep talking to China, because we’re not going to bankrupt them as we bankrupted the Soviet Union in the 1980s. It’s a formidable economy and it’s growing very fast. There’s no solution to global problems like climate change without having discussions with the world’s biggest emitter. We need to talk to China but do so from a position of strength. We need to recognise that there is a global struggle between democracy and autocracy. Only 20% of the world’s population lives in fully free countries, according to the American think tank Freedom House. When it comes to flying the flag for open societies, the UK is one for the most influential countries on the planet: our universities are the most respected in the world outside the United States, we educate more foreign students than anywhere outside America. Our media, whether its the BBC or the Financial Times or the Economist, is read all over the world. That kind of makes us a global leader in washing our dirty linen in public, because when something goes wrong in the UK everyone knows about it. But we, in truth, have a big influence in how that argument unfolds, and I think that we should stand up for our values. 

Cherwell: In the book you talk about the UK’s path as the next Silicon Valley. What do you think is the path forward with that, and do you welcome, for example, the Oxford-Cambridge Silicon Valley which the government is trying to create? 

Hunt: I do. In every speech I gave as Chancellor I said that Britain should aim to be the next Silicon Valley. The new government has endorsed that, they say they want us to be an “AI superpower”, but it’s the same vision. I think the first thing to ask is, “why with all the problems Britain has, are we not being laughed out of court when we say these things?”. The reason is that people can see we have a couple of really fundamental strengths that are difficult for other countries to imitate. The first is that, as the most respected universities and biggest financial centre in the world, outside the United States. This means we have the most extraordinary ideas which are now coming out of science parks, business parks, Oxford, Cambridge, Imperial, and many major universities. Ten years ago, you’d only find those business parks in the Ivy League universities in the US and Stanford. Now we have them everywhere in the UK. Ten years ago, you could say that Britain was really good at inventing things, but it always ends up being commercialised by the United States, but now we have more unicorns than France and Germany put together.  

Cherwell: What are you writing next? 

Hunt: It’s an interesting thing, writing. When you do a job in government, let’s say you’re Health Secretary, you know nothing about the NHS, but you’re answering non-stop questions about it day and night. You get quite good at answering these questions and after a month or so you think you’re quite an expert. It’s only when you sit down and write a book that you find all the gaps in your knowledge. I want to write optimistic books that give solutions to some of the big problems we face. The book I published this year, Can We Be Great Again?, is about Britain’s place in the world, trying to answer the question of whether we can be a great country. The next book will be about how to fix the economy and I want to write an equally positive book that says the problems of economic growth are intrinsically solvable. If you like, Can We Be Great Again? is the book I wish I’d been given on the day I became Foreign Secretary, and the next one is the book I wish I’d been given on the day I became Chancellor. 

Jeremy Hunt’s new book, Can We Be Great Again?: Why A Dangerous World Needs Britain, is available now from Swift Press.

The inescapable exhaustion of the tennis season 

The fatigue is inescapable as the tennis season draws slowly towards a close. Players compete with their last fragments of energy, willing their weary bodies towards the finish line. Simply getting through an entire season has become an endurance sport, a physical feat to be admired. Contrast the buzzing energy and novelty displayed at the Australian Open with the muted jadedness of the US Open and one realises what is lost when tennis never stops. 

Sport is not supposed to be an exhausting grind. Yet the tennis season, which lasts for eleven months and encompasses 116 tournaments, has become far too long. Last year, the 2025 season started on 27 December 2024, highlighting how one season begins just as the previous one ends. 

Record numbers of players have ended their seasons early this year, despite missing out on the points and prize money offered by the year’s remaining events. Australian Daria Kasatkina, ranked 37th in the world, was surprisingly candid about the reality of life as a pro: “Truth is, I’ve hit a wall and can’t continue. I need a break. A break from the monotonous daily grind of life on the tour.” Other players have echoed her concerns about the relentlessness of life on tour. Elina Svitolina posted on Instagram in September to announce the premature end to her 2025 season. “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately”, she wrote. “I’m human and need time to rest, to feel, to breathe and to just be.” 

Taking a break from tennis doesn’t just mean missing out on ranking points and prize money – it’s contrary to the official rules. Both the WTA and ATP tours set strict requirements on how many tournaments players must enter: male players must play at least seventeen, female players twenty. Ranking points are deducted for a failure to play enough tournaments, as Iga Swiatek found out in 2024 when a points deduction caused her to lose her ranking as World No. 1. 

Tennis is not moving in the right direction. Not only are there too many tournaments – the events themselves are getting longer.  In 2021, Masters 1000 events – the tournament tier second only to the grand slams – were extended from one week to twelve days, spearheaded by ATP Chairman Andrea Gaudenzi. This change was intended to increase ticket sales and thus prize money. This part has gone to plan. For instance, the money pot at the Italian Open enlarged by on average 60% in the four years since the changes were introduced. Yet as the 2025 season nears its end, the increased length of these events has ignited a firestorm of criticism from players, who lament the fact that they must now spend 21 extra days on tour. 

The never-ending nature of tennis isn’t just a problem raised by journalists to dramatise the final weeks of the season. Many top players have spoken out about it, including British No. 1 Jack Draper, who agreed to be interviewed by the Tennis Podcast specifically to express his concerns. He said the extended Masters 1000 tournaments left players “feeling like you’re on a constant treadmill”. Speaking about the off-season, Draper added: “I’d say a month and a half would be more than enough. Just not two, three, four weeks…if I were just watching tennis, I’d want it to be a bit more scarce.” Other stars of the sport have aired their grievances, including Jannik Sinner and Iga Swiatek. Last year Carlos Alcaraz, deploring the length of the season, said: “They are going to kill us in some way.” 

In his interview, Draper acknowledged that words can only do so much to address the length of the tennis calendar, saying: “I think it’s now up to the players to stop talking about it all the time and actually take some action.” He’s right: it’s easier to complain about a problem than to propose an answer. To effectively push for change, players need to speak with a united voice, rather than expressing their concerns individually in separate press conferences. Draper agreed to be interviewed so that he could use his platform to encourage other players to join him to consolidate that common position. Crucially, players must first acknowledge that if the Masters 1000 events are to return to their shortened format, prize money will decrease. Only by recognising this can their concerns be taken seriously. Other elements of their stance could include a six-week off-season and a reduction in the number of mandatory tournaments. Such steps would allow top players to focus on the most significant events, avoiding the strain and burnout that comes with the current status quo. 

Ultimately, it remains to be seen whether players will be able to convert words into action and unite around a pragmatic but ambitious programme for reform.

‘Lux’ by Rosalía review: A breath of fresh air

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On Friday the 7th November, Catalan musician Rosalía released her most anticipated and controversial album to date. After the world experienced a brief and tantalising foretaste with her single Berghain, which featured Björk and Yves Tumor, everyone was eager to experience her fourth album when it dropped in full.  

The Latin title ‘Lux’ perfectly embodies the concept and overall aesthetic of divine femininity, as well as the multilingual aspects that run throughout the work. With complex and meaningful lyrics written in 13 languages, and split into four movements, the record is a breath of fresh air for the pop scene. 

In terms of genre, the album has proved difficult for critics to define. Some argue that Rosalía’s mainstream position as a cultural and fashion icon unavoidably renders her work ‘pop music’ regardless of the album’s individual identity. Others have labelled it classical, even operatic, with hints of flamenco, which was a key part of her earlier album, El Mal Querer

In an article for Elle, Samuel Maude writes of influence from Vivaldi, as well as various other Baroque composers. Likewise, Rosalía’s decision to work with the London Symphony Orchestra has dramatically elevated the style of the album. When paired with the cinematography for Berghain’s music video, the effect of this collaboration is particularly striking. Director Nicolás Ménendez collapses the boundaries between everyday domestic life and the high art sophistication of an orchestra, which alongside Rosalía’s angelic voice makes for an exquisite theatrical experience. 

It is interesting to observe how the different languages play a role in the feel of each song, and how Rosalía adapts the melody and arrangement to complement or contrast each one. For instance, the song ‘Mio Cristo Piange Diamanti’ showcases operatic Italian music at a slow tempo, which creates a dramatic and emotional listening experience. Whereas in ‘Porcelana,’ the Latin lyric is sung over an upbeat and modern sound. This creates a different kind of complexity through the contrasting sophistication and antiquity of the Latin language against the modern, high-tempo beat. 

There are also lyrics in Sicilian, Ukrainian, Arabic and English. This adds a unique dimension to the listening experience. In essence, to have a multilingual album is to accept the fact that listeners will not understand it at face value: they must engage closely. 

In a world that seeks instant dopamine hits, the depth and complexity of Lux is more than welcome.  

From beginning to end, the music maps out a divine journey for its listeners. Through various interlocking fragments, which broach heavy topics of religion, memory and feminist theory, Rosalía pieces together a powerful and thought-provoking body of work. 

As anticipated, Lux is also full to the brim of contributions from compositional and lyrical icons. In ‘La Rumba del Perdón,’ Estrella Morante’s feature complements the song’s flamenco style perfectly. Morante is well-known across Spain, especially for her single ‘Volver,’ which features in the cult classic Almodóvar film of the same name. On a side note, Rosalía herself had a cameo in the Almodóvar film Dolor y Gloria (Pain and Glory) just a few years ago. She is also set to appear in the third season of Euphoria

Some of the album’s other featured artists appeared more unexpectedly but have nonetheless created exciting and diverse listening experiences. Among them are British singers Sophie May and Matt Maltese, who are credited for the writing of her sombre closing song, ‘Magnolias.’ Rosalía even sampled a few words from American songwriter and poet Patti Smith towards the end of her song ‘La Yugular.’ 

Throughout the four movements, the lyricism is awash with mysticism and metaphor. Notably, Rosalía includes multiple allusions to the number three, the Holy number across religious texts. This is seen in ‘La Rumba del Perdón,’ “Para hacerlo como se debe, tres cosas necesitarás.” (To do it right, you will need three things). In the same song, the phrase ‘Yo sé que tú eres pa’ mi’ (I know that you are for me) is repeated three times. 

As the album draws to an end, Rosalía closes the cyclical journey by returning from Heaven to Earth: ‘Hoy me convierto en polvo / Pa’ volver con ellas.” (Today I turn to dust / to return to them). Many have been quick to point out the album’s stark difference to her third album Motomami. Perhaps Motomami is a more earthly, hip-hop exploration of pop, whilst Lux emerges as a contemplative, introspective and divine branch of Rosalía’s versatile musical talent. 

Lux has gained a tremendous deal of mainstream success and provoked a lot of discussion within just weeks of its release. Thanks to her latest masterpiece, Rosalía is positioning herself as a pioneering figure of this decade’s eclectic music scene.