Mediocre individuals have never been attracted to Oxford, nor is it a place that nurtures mediocrity. In fact, it is despised. The atmosphere is inescapably intense and the thought of being described as ‘average’ fills many students with a sinking dread and an urgent need for self re-evaluation.

But what is it that drives students? An 8-hour day in the library or lectures, followed by an extra-curricular drama or sport, and then a night with friends, whether in the pub or Park End. Sleep (sometimes). Repeat. We don’t stroll between one activity and the next but hurl ourselves irrespectively. And yes, most of the time it’s fun, and there’s definitely a strong argument that we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t find it exhilarating. But its far too easy to get caught up in a cycle of higher expectations. There just aren’t enough hours in the week to fit everything in, but as Oxford students, we’ll try.

Mephedrone’s described as an easy switch. A way to instantly pick yourself up and flick between exhausted at 9pm and ready to go at 10. No effort required. But why are more and more finding that increasingly they need something to, effectively, flick this switch for them? And to flick it quite so aggressively? Mephedrone as a student drug of choice is hardly limited to Oxford, but here it seems to be required by many, rather than simply as a casual party aid. It’s become somewhat elementary, made all the more ambiguous by unclear legal restrictions and imprecise health concerns. Increasingly, mephedrone’s seen as an easier way to party; you’ll reliably be commandingly confident and continue to ‘have it all’. Just like we’re supposed to.

The notion of ‘a healthy body and a healthy mind’ certainly has scientific credence, yet is there not something highly amusing about the lengths and sacrifices we’re willing to entertain to ensure this ‘balance’.

Escapes and distractions from work are undoubtedly necessary to keep one sane, noted particularly as Finalists are starting to enter libraries not to be seen for the next four months. But when students are switching from drugs such as modafinol to enable them to stay awake and study for days (literally) on end, then exchanging this for something such as mephedrone to ensure they can party as hard as everyone else, there is something sincerely amiss.

Mephedrone may be the flavour of this term or year, but once it’s illegalised or too difficult to get hold of, something new and unknown will take its place. Individual’s disregard for their long-term health demonstrates that this is a systemic problem that certainly can’t be blown away by updated health advice. The larger question is why students willingly jeopardise themselves rather than slowing down, if even just a little. Questions, however, are far easier to pose than find solutions.

Health risks (largely unknown, which is possibly more concerning), and legal technicalities aside, why do we bring this upon ourselves? And do we really want to change the intense lifestyles that it prompts?

See Cherwell’s investigation into drug use in Oxford: http://www.cherwell.org/content/9568 

How important is Google’s presence in China?

Google is a fairly minor player in the search engine market in China. The prominent company is baidu (baidu.com) – an indigenous Chinese search engine which takes the largest share of the market. It is estimated that Google has approximately a 30% share in the market, against the 59% taken by baidu.

Why have Google threatened to pull out of China?

There are two reasons, really. Google seems to have faced a real moral dilemma about compromising their normal freedom of search in line with Chinese censorship laws, even during the period of their initial entry into the Chinese market in 2006. At this point, and since, they have received a lot of flak as to how this impacts on their core brand values and many argue that their decision to withdraw from China is shaped by this.

The second reason, offered perhaps by the slightly less generous onlookers, is that Google’s gesture is a result of their failure to win the majority share of the market from indigenous competitor baidu. Some argue that this decision comes from a company who is second in the market, and that if they were number one, Google may have gone a different way.

How strict is censorship in China?

Censorship in China is very real, and there are restrictions in place which would certainly not be tolerated in a Western liberal democracy. However, it is a much freer place than forty to fifty years ago, during the period under Chairman Mao, and there is a tremendous amount of freedom of information which was not available then.
There are however certain things which cannot be questioned in China; the single party rule of the Chinese Communist Party cannot be contradicted, and there is strict laws against the mention of events such as the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989, or the separation or independence of Taiwan and Tibet.

How has the internet impacted on Chinese attempts at regulations?

The internet has been one of the biggest revolutions in the way in which the Chinese state can interact with its population. As a result of the internet, there exists a kind of virtual conversation between the government and areas of the Chinese population. People can post complaints about corrupt officials, for example, and the internet can be used to debate and discuss the situation in China. It has become a powerful social tool.

More generally, what difficulties are faced by Western companies operat

ing in China?

For Western businesses going into China, the market is a place where they can go and make a lot of money – but they can easily lose it again. There are laws which are constantly in flux, and the society and mode of doing business are significantly corrupt – there is a need to keep local officials happy in order to be allowed to continue, and ultimately to succeed. For Western companies, the Chinese market is extremely lucrative, but very unpredictable.

How fair are Chinese claims that Google should adapt to local rules when operating in China?

The Chinese would argue that any company who wants to do business in China has to obey Chinese law. However, companies – as is the case with individuals – have to think about what they stand for, and what are their brand values. And for an information company like Google, being asked to limit or censor the information which they distribute puts them into some fairly tricky moral knots.

Rana Mitter is the Professor of the History and Politics of Modern China at the Institute for Chinese Studies.

It is perhaps necessary at this point in the year, before January slips past and we stumble head long into 2010, to reflect on the significance of the passing of the first decade of the 21st century. Looking back it is perhaps the great misfortune of our generation that we were to come of age in the ‘noughties’; a decade which began shakily and went on to implode in a spectacular fashion.

‘9/11 ruined the prospects of the decade’

In retrospect the disasters of the later years were foreshadowed by the of tragi-comic images that greeted us in the early years of the new millennium: Tony Blair singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ with a bored Queen whilst hundreds of functionaries saw in the New Year stuck in public transport en route to the Dome, the inauguration of George W Bush as 43rd President after an election which he almost certainly hadn’t won, and then, as if on cue to cement these unpromising portents, came 9/11 which was turned from a human tragedy into an excuse for a group of academics to start justifying the carpet-bombing of slums from Fallujah to Jalalabad.

Essentially, 9/11 ruined the prospects of the new decade. There seemed little possibility after that any world power would behave in a responsible way. While Cheney set the Justice Department to work to find more Byzantine methods of justifying torture, America and her allies lost sight of other parts of the world, and from Myanmar to Grozny and Lhasa governments quietly got to work on the violent repression of minority groups.

Throughout, the one axiom we clung to was our own economic invulnerability. Even if the British had become partners in crime with Bush Jr, even if we were widely despised in Europe and the Middle East for our spinelessness, even if our country had become unhappy and dispirited – at least we were still rich.

As if inevitable, came the crash and we were left laughing emptily at old footage of a younger Gordon Brown announcing an end to boom and bust. A broke and unpopular Britain has emerged into a new decade – which will no doubt have its own chances ruined by being a given a name like the ‘teenies’ – and our generation is left wondering what exactly to do with ourselves. My advice: start learning Chinese, maybe Hindi.

Thirty years ago Cherwell help change my life. I wanted to meet Richard Branson – who was much less well known in 1980 than today – to ask advice about how to become an entrepreneur. So a friend (Hugh Osmond) and I asked a colleague who edited the paper if we could interview Branson for publication. It was agreed and we met the bearded one on his houseboat on the Regent’s Canal in Little Venice – curiously only a few streets from where I now live.

It was an inspirational visit – we heard about the Sex Pistols, recording studios and the importance of taking risks to seize your objectives. And it helped us both on the road to self-employment.

Since then attitudes towards entrepreneurs at Oxford University have changed dramatically. In those days students aimed to become management consultants, bankers, advertising executives or train at the BBC once they had graduated. And while they still do, no-one planned to start a business. In fact we started one in our first year by accident. We held boisterous parties in my college rooms, and the Dean threatened to send me down unless they stopped.

So we stumbled upon the idea of using the nightclub in the Westgate Centre then known as Scamps as a student venue on a Monday night, with a different musical theme each week – hence the name, The Era Club. Originally we simply wanted a place so we could carry on meeting girls – and then Hugh suggested that we charge on the door, while the club took the bar money. And instead of hosting a party, we were in business – using zero capital.

I can still recall the moment I arrived half an hour before our first evening: a queue of guests had already formed outside the door. The exhilaration was fantastic, and I knew then that I wanted to build and own companies – the freedom and excitement of creating new ventures, with the satisfaction of seeing them succeed. We ran various clubs in Oxford, and also in Cambridge and Bristol – and even Hollywood, California one summer.

So even when I came down and took up respectable employment for a few years, I moonlighted in various projects at weekends and the evenings, knowing I was merely deferring the inevitable. And when I was 27 I decided that I wanted to control my own destiny: as William Ernest Henley said in his poem Invictus: “I am the master of my fate/I am the captain of my soul.”

And that is really my message. That if you want to make a difference, if you want to feel the pride of invention and ownership, if you want to live life to the full, then I know of no better way to achieve that ambition than by embracing capitalism and working for yourself, rather than being a wage-slave for a boss.

Today the university boasts Oxford Entrepreneurs, the largest society of its kind in the world. I came to speak at an event a few years ago, and was hugely impressed by the enthusiasm of the attendees. I am enormously impressed by this level of keenness towards business, and it gives me great hope that Britain will continue to be a source of brilliant new commercial ventures and that Oxford will play a big part in that renaissance.