Monday 30th June 2025
Blog Page 22

Hand over Heart

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Through the blankets of night
and the soft silk sheets of our bed you slip 
out of sight, the door creaking as you ease it open. 
I watch as you pad your way to the hall
lioness caged in a fleshy being, long-limbed
and elegant even in haste. You turn,
the moonlight a guilty eye – mine are closed.
Faking sleep in the silence. So bite the heel
that walked you home in the rain,
our skirts half torn and my top undone,
that midnight hour – don’t you remember how we ran?
I would give you half of my liver, nearly did
when the doctor pumping your stomach
came out with such a sad, sorry look on his face.
I held your hand so tightly I swear I knew the shape. 
My Galatea, refashioned in your image, 
marble skin cool to the touch as you change
your colours with ease – flighty as the leaves
on the trees. New green, fresh God. I’ll arch my back
for a novel deity this April. I’ll hand over
my heart in a basket; my hands too, nearly did – 

The door makes such a soft noise when it 
closes. 

Oxide Radio is a breath of fresh, musical air

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Almost all music can now be listened to on demand online, if not smugly on vinyl, or smugly on CD. Sometimes it can feel like there’s no room for more methods of consuming music, but here’s why Oxford University’s own Oxide Radio has earned a place in my regular listening habits.

Its highlight is undoubtedly the diversity of shows, reflected in its packed schedule. They’re not always live in the traditional sense; during term time, about half of them are broadcast live from their studio on Worcester Street, while the others are pre-recorded and streamed over the website. While this could be argued to be needlessly complicated, this provides convenience for the hosts’ busy term-time schedules and serves as an imitation of the kind of analogue inconvenience that drives some music-lovers wild.

Each show lasts around an hour and is hosted by its own student volunteer. They provide an expert’s (or at least a passionate enthusiast’s) insight into their own musical niche. For example, Radio Ant, the host of Make Noise!?, describes their show as “a place for all things weird, funky, strange, and unconventional”, testing the boundaries of what is considered music. Cállate focuses on songs from “Latin America, Iberia, and beyond”. Funny Internet experiments with exploration of the humorous and abnormal corners of the internet sonically. The theme of Jamuel L. Jackson is even more fluid, changing from week to week according to the host’s whims.

The enormous variety of shows ensures appeal to every listener and expression to every host, which station manager Luis Hewitt describes as their top priority. He told Cherwell: “Our top priority is giving students an uncensored platform over which they have full creative control. We have over 80 shows and each one is a student expressing the things that are important to them. We do not censor opinions, we do not edit or micromanage any shows, and we’re not pretentious about what kind of content can air – we have everything from tipsy gossip panels, to experimental DJ mixes, to rich journalistic podcasts. During my two terms as station manager, I haven’t rejected a single show proposal on account of its content, and don’t plan to (though let me affirm that we wouldn’t tolerate anything particularly hateful or incendiary).”

Of course, being run by a small group of busy student volunteers, it’s not without its flaws. The automated transitions to and from shows can be stuttery. Additionally, the hosts are occasionally too quiet and difficult to discern behind their tracks, and the hostless Oxide Mix that plays in-between the shows is unfortunately short. However, considering the station acts as a “platform for students to […] learn how to broadcast”, difficulties are understandable.

In Hewitt’s words, the Oxide Mix is a “chance for student musicians (and other local acts) to have their music played on Oxide”. It currently features Keble College student Lucy Peer’s ‘Who Are You’ – a moody and grounded rock song with dramatic bite and plenty of confidence, as well as Oxfordshire band The Scarlet Chevrons’ ‘Why So Robotic?’, a funk song heavy on slap bass, sci-fi synth, and imitatively mechanical vocals. EXHERMITT’s (Hewitt himself) ‘Creu De Gaudí’ features as a more experimental and ambient track. Inspired by the temptation of the devout Catalan architect Gaudí, he wrote it to reflect the language of modern masculinity and the sentiments of the archetypal “stoic male”. The mix is a way of engaging with Oxford’s music scene and providing listeners with local talents, making the station relevant to its student demographic. It could definitely do with expansion, though, and Oxide’s planned Trinity term campaign and future collaborations aim to deal with this.

In the future, Oxide Radio plans to get its show on the road, interviewing students live at big events in the Oxford calendar. Through another of their campaigns, they also aim to be broadcast in some of Oxford’s shared spaces, such as JCRs and local cafés, providing an opportunity for community integration. In addition, the next term should be populated with events hosted by the station.

Oxide Radio is genuinely impressive in its quality and dedication to the sounds of Oxford, be that what its people are producing or what interests they’re sharing. While there are aspects that could do with some polishing, the station seems committed to its improvement. This free station is worth a listen.

Exhibition 004: Oxford artistry across all mediums

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When I first walked into Exhibition 004, my gaze was immediately met with Magda Adamczyk’s Nightmare. A demon, swirling with hellish strokes of red, stared at me. The demon invades. It conquers the viewer’s mind, through the floral dream of the foreground, and then swallows them all into the darkness, tongue first.

To escape, I glanced rightward, chasing a way out of the nightmare, and Aman de Silva’s Window Shopping installation of garments and printed photographs roused me awake. What particularly caught my eye was a shirt – wet-looking and glistening, as though it were still clinging to a rain-soaked body. De Silva told Cherwell that he achieved this effect by moulding a shirt to his body with slow curing epoxy resin. Next to it, a Union Jack fashioned dress and waistcoat – “bizarre white middle-class British uniforms”, De Silva told Cherwell – both white-colored and contrasted against brown. De Silva said this piece was inspired by the “anti-immigration riots” which generated a dissonance in his once-comfortable British-Indian identity. And thus, De Silva uses this piece to navigate these emotions, through the use of the themes of brownness, whiteness, uniforms, and performance, rewriting his own sense of self through his artistic innovation. 

Visual Arts Worcester’s Exhibition 004 showcases art across all forms and mediums. While being only two artworks in, I began to think that I was already knee-deep in its immersive diversity. However, unbeknownst to me, the exhibition had already begun before I even knew it. Upon entering Worcester College, I passed a cello drawing made against the cloisters. Lewis McCulloh, president of the Exhibition 004 committee, told Cherwell:  this was a “live drawing from the launch night”, a symphony of lines created by Rowan Briggs Smith in collaboration with the playing of cellist Matthew Wakefield. 

Tiger Huffinley, Head of Installation, told Cherwell: “there was a large variation in the mediums.” As a result, a priority of the exhibition was to find a configuration that would make the pieces complement one another. Huffinley also told Cherwell: “we were lucky with the space we were given to make that happen” – that is, the Sultan Nazrin Shah Centre in Worcester. The idea here is to integrate the diverse mediums and thereby create a sense of balance. 

The concept of culture and identity is prominent in Exhibition 004. Right on the mark is Camilla Albernaz’s photograph Carnival in Salvador: A Celebration of Culture and Identity. The outsider is dropped straight into Salvador’s Carnival, a deeply rooted Brazilian tradition, becoming another among the colorful, laughing, singing people. The photograph calls both sonder and oneness to mind; the people dance together yet each to the sound of their own respective tunes. “I aim to offer a new perspective of Brazil”, Albernaz told Cherwell, “one that reveals the strength of a community which, even in the face of historical inequalities, reclaims public space.”

Lisha Zhong, too, reflects identity and culture in the eye-catching piece Like a thousand cranes. The artist used their mother’s suitcase to build a bridge between British soil and their ancestral Chinese home. Inside the suitcase, Chinese immigration cards hang from a laundry rack, airing out their lineage in the sun and illuminating it. But as Fern Kruger-Paget’s My F**king House shows us, in the form of polystyrene and knitted panels, displacement, at all levels, is never easy. Kruger-Paget told Cherwell that the piece was created after receiving news that their family had to move out of their childhood home, which “sparked some incredibly intense emotions.” 

Our memories can then be begged by Kian Swingler’s Witnesses: He organizes photographs of memories – loving and painful, unforgettable and forgotten – on white fabric, hung in the air with red string. These memories make us who we are. In the same vein, Oliwia Kamieniecka preserves their memories as visual poems—this is uniquely shown through Sand Alphabet, a 16-second stop motion animation completed on a printer scanner and displayed on a television. Paper bag poems are just as enthralling: Julia Strawinska suspends memory in time, the clock hands pointing to the liminal space between love and pain. Julia, too, speaks of dreams, but in all capitals this time: “…I’VE BEEN DREAMING OF YOU ALL SUMMER.”

The exhibition makes space for the anatomical, the scientific, and the mathematical. Untitled by Alice Byfield is a gory self-portrait that pulls skin back to reveal the sfx beneath, autopsying the sensation of losing oneself to plastic surgery. Se Lyn Lim’s Anastasis draws from the titular Greek word, meaning ‘resurrection’, by showing a bizarre hybrid organism emerging from a shell in a fashion reminiscent of Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus. Cici Zhang’s Notes from a Nervous Hand pleasantly surprised me with its use of recycled handwritten notes and mathematical scribblings, a novelty I would love to see more of in art. The viewer can also find a number of ornate pottery pieces from the Oxford University Pottery Society throughout the exhibition.

Finally, I end this exhibition with a journey around Luke Hewson’s series of photographs entitled Winter at Worcester. The artist captures Worcester in the snow at the tail end of his first ever Michaelmas. The photographs create an immersive experience; they drew me in, making me feel as though I was there when they were taken. This piece quietly reminds us what a privilege it is to be at Oxford, surrounded by all its beauty and creativity. 

To me, Exhibition 004 is a love letter to the raw artistry that comes out of this city, from both students and other artists, and it bleeds through every canvas, stitch, and shutter-click.

Review: And Then There Were None – ‘Entertaining, suspenseful and very much worth your attention’

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Hafeja Khanam’s take on Agatha Christie’s classic murder mystery And Then There Were None for this year’s OUDS BAME showcase was entertaining, suspenseful and very much worth your attention. 

This was the first time I’ve walked into the Pilch to a silent audience. Although the house lights were on, Vivi Li’s and Emma Parker’s Mr. and Mrs. Rogers – the house staff – walked about the living room cleaning and rearranging everything. As they did so they held what seemed to be an improvised dialogue. Their squibbling and complaining – successful largely due to the chemistry between the two actors – was a small but effective touch that seemed to immediately demand that the audience pay careful attention to what was about to unfold. 

Set entirely in one location, the show felt progressively claustrophobic, particularly through Khanam’s effective directing. There was a lot of movement at the beginning of the show, with characters constantly exiting and entering – the stage felt almost like a train station. The dialogue was quick-fire, with little time to breathe. However, by the end of the performance the emptiness of the space and physical distance between the actors made us feel the absence of the dead more strongly and the tension more vividly. Although there were less bodies in the room, the feeling of being trapped was no less powerful. After the interval, multiple audience members were quite literally on the edge of their seats. This was intensified by Cayden Ong and Michelle Tse’s simple but effective lighting design; by the show’s second half the survivors sit – all suspicious of each other – with their faces lit only by lantern and candle light. Their fear was palpable. 

The cast were all convincing in their roles. Chelsea Iwunze was particularly memorable as Emily Brent, giving the character such distinct mannerisms that she was always a delight to watch. Ali Khan also gave a standout performance as Sir Lawrence Wargrave, commanding the stage whenever he was on it. Grace Yu as Philip Lombard was charismatic and clearly an audience favourite, while Kapil Narain’s Henry Bore stole many a laugh. Eunbi Han who had the challenge of playing Dr. Armstrong – a very conflicted character – did so with grace, rendering her sympathetic. Finally, Lara Ibrahim gave a subtle and contained performance as Vera Claythorn, which prevented certain scenes from veering into melodrama. 

Aesthetically, the play was very well put together. Vanessa Chan’s careful costume design not only immersed us in the 1930s, but established a gloomy colour palette which enhanced the eeriness of the situation. The set was also cleverly arranged. The Pilch chairs’ inclusion in the living room setting, in pushing the proximity between performer and audience even further, made us feel somewhat implicated in the stage’s events – especially when Claythorn asked Lombard if he did not feel like someone was watching them. The famous little toy soldiers that are surreptitiously removed as characters die kept the audience constantly looking back towards the cabinet and counting in an attempt to anticipate the next death. Mark Tan’s fantastic poster design also deserved a special mention. 

Tone is perhaps And Then There Were None’s main issue. While the humour worked very well at the beginning of the show – Lombard and Bore in particular were good comic relief – the darkness of the ending was marred by genuine laughter from the audience. This was largely a consequence of the humour being played too comfortably into the second half of the show, which features much more graphically disturbing content and dampens the impact of certain scenes. 

Overall, And Then There Were None is a highly entertaining piece of drama, which did justice to the queen of the murder mystery. A second watch is definitely merited for those wanting to put together the clues themselves. 

Construction set to commence for new £190m science park

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Construction firm Bowmer + Kirkland secured the contract last week to build Fabrica, Oxford’s largest commercial science park to date, with construction beginning at the end of May. The project is situated on Botley Road and is due to be completed in early 2027.

Valued at £190m, Fabrica is one of the largest science projects to undergo development in the UK this year. The 180,000sq ft. site includes a five-storey building which will house a flexible combination of laboratories and office space. The project will also include 7,000 sq ft. of public facing amenities, including a cafe.

The project originally received planning permission in December 2023 and is set to be Oxford’s first Living Wage Building with the ambition to pay all workers a living wage or higher, as set by Oxford City Council.

Fabrica forms the second phase of a broader project by developers Mission Street and investment manager BGO to create a portfolio of life sciences developments across the UK. This includes developments in Oxford’s West End, along Botley Road, which has been earmarked as the city’s new central science district.

In the first phase of their life sciences portfolio, partners Mission Street and BGO delivered a similar project to Fabrica in a disused retail unit at Botley Road Retail Park. The project, Inventa, opened in 2024 and accommodates 65,000 sq ft. of offices and laboratories.

Mission Street told Cherwell that: “Fabrica will provide five storeys of fully flexible laboratory, office, and collaboration space for commercial occupiers in the science and technology sectors with customisable floorplates designed for university spinouts, as well as established R&D companies.

“Local residents, the local authority and wider stakeholders were consulted extensively during the planning process over a period of more than two years, which included open public consultations.”

Founded in 2017, developers Mission Street have built a property portfolio incorporating 1.5 million sq ft. of science projects across the UK and recently secured a £180m loan to fund its future projects.

Mission Street’s partnership with BGO focuses on life sciences projects in the ‘golden triangle’ of Oxford, Cambridge and London. This focus aligns with the UK government’s plans for the Oxford-Cambridge growth corridor, where the government hopes to create Europe’s Silicon Valley, and their broader goal to kickstart economic growth across the country.

Oxford’s influencers: Student life, filtered through the screen

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There’s something about Oxford that makes people want to document it. The terms are fleeting, and begging to be captured. While Oxford students have a long tradition of photos, journals, and diary entries, a new way of capturing it all has emerged among Gen Z. You’ve probably seen them around, and you’ve probably watched their TikToks and Instagram reels. You may have even met a few of these quasi-famous figures. Student online personalities are no novelty, but a sign of the times, and Oxford’s storytelling legacy has evolved to make room for a new offshoot in the digital age: Oxford student influencers.

The student influencer online

Of course, the University presents its own perspective online. The University’s official Instagram boasts 1.8 million followers, and college social media profiles routinely attract hundreds of thousands of views. But this sanitised, institutional perspective isn’t what people are looking for. Something else has grown independent of the University’s online personality, something far more intimate: the perspective of the students behind the caps and the gowns.

Many of us searched Oxford online before we arrived. We subscribed to YouTube channels, followed Instagram accounts, and watched TikTok creators who documented their lives as students. Some of us even followed creators from their sixth form days, through the fervour of their results day, and into their fresh first weeks at Oxford. These influencers can almost feel like mythical creatures. We know they’re here, but in a strange way, their specially documented lives seem isolated from our own, mundane student experiences. That is, until we stumble on their posts, and suddenly there is this instant connection: sometimes it’s just a laugh, sometimes it feels more personal, like being seen by a stranger online who may only be 5 minutes from you at any given time, like having something that felt like your own unique experience watched by millions of people online.

The people behind the screens

To understand what it actually means to be a student content creator at Oxford, I spoke to several current and graduated Oxford students whose accounts have documented their lives and times at the University.

Oliver, @oliversoxford across Instagram and TikTok, is famous for his interviews with other students, most notably known for his satirical interviews with ‘Bartholomew Hamish Montgomery’ (‘Barty’), a fictional aristocrat who regales viewers with tales of private jets and endless trust funds. Beyond that, Oliver also puts out some “more down-to-earth content, like interviews with regular students”. Oliver’s interviews with characters like Barty help poke fun at the ancient traditions and privileges at Oxford, while his conversations with real students work to gently peel back the stereotype, revealing a more diverse and grounded reality behind the University’s image.

Next is Meagan (@meaganloyst on TikTok and Instagram), who spoke to me from New Zealand, where she’s currently staying. She shares content that blends the aesthetic Oxford life with behind-the-scenes moments, everything from study sessions to scenic shots of Oxford’s iconic architecture: “My Instagram is basically a living video diary of all my Oxford experiences and beyond”. Meagan’s content walks the line between aspiration and authenticity, trying to show a realistic display of life as a student.

Lastly, rooted in the ‘study-tube’ tradition, Chloe, @chloepomfret on Instagram and @chloerevises on TikTok, is focused on putting out content that highlights the realities of what life is like as a student, especially from a working-class perspective. Chloe’s social media presence seems to challenge the traditional view of life at Oxford, and as her footprint follows her from her years in secondary school and sixth form, it presents a rarer perspective of a journey into Oxford. 

The conversation began with a question about how each first got into content creation. Oliver said he began “during the pandemic, as most people did.” Initially, he wanted to promote his eco-friendly queer fashion brand: “you know how people joke that it took them 25 years to realise they were gay and it took the algorithm 10 minutes?” But it soon fell into Oxford-focused videos, his street interviews were popular, and their conversational style “suited him well”.

For Meagan, it was much more deliberate: “When I got to Oxford, one of my goals was to get good at video editing and hit 10K on TikTok by the end of Michaelmas, so I started posting a video a day!” She also traced her start to the pandemic. “I initially started writing in a diary to document my experiences, but it was way faster to do daily videos instead.”

Chloe, on the other hand, started her social media career before the lockdowns. She told a story from her childhood, explaining the striking visual of being sat in the hospital when her grandfather was admitted, posting her notes online just for something to do, and watching it become the most unexpected escape outlet. She was quick to emphasise how much she values the community she built around her and how it became such an integral part of her life that it just had to continue into university. 

The throughline of the COVID-19 pandemic is obvious. With the lockdown having been the first growth spurt for a lot of online circles, this isn’t a huge surprise. The pandemic was a pivotal moment for Gen-Z around the world. A generation that was already becoming defined by social isolation and a closer connection to screens was suddenly shoved entirely into the digital sphere. TikTok use exploded in 2020. Chloe, whose channel predates the pandemic, explained how she suspects that many people found community in those online groups to fill the absence of lecture halls and communal spaces. Now, even in the ‘after’ times and the real world, in-person Oxford, so much of our lives are still filtered through screens and algorithms.

Oxford: Romantic, elitist, both?

When it comes to the image of one of the world’s most famous universities, there’s an inherent tension between the romantic cobbled streets and the realities of student life: three essay weeks, high expectations, and, of course, the exclusivity at the heart of it all. I asked the content creators how they navigated the paradox that is the many sides of Oxford University when presenting such a complicated place in short videos to millions of people. 

Oliver said: “I think most people realise that the videos are satire. If someone watches one of my posh sketches and decides not to apply without doing any further research, maybe Oxford wasn’t the right fit for them in the first place.” He was undoubtedly referring here to the frequent appearances of ‘Barty’ and his merry men in the oliversoxford sketches. In one video, Barty humorously tries to navigate modern dating, poking fun at the outdated ideas of the Oxford elite. “I try to balance them with more down-to-earth content, like interviews with regular students,” Oliver explained. He went on to stress his view that most students are down to-earth people from all kinds of backgrounds who are just passionate about their subject, not “the insane brainiacs that people often imagine”.

Meagan flattered our entire country when she told me: “As an American living in Oxford, it felt like living in a movie.” She explained that for her, posting about Oxford was a way to highlight the parts of it not everyone gets to see, showing a more realistic view into a student’s day-to-day. 

Chloe explained that since day one, it was her goal to show Oxford for all its beauty while never shying away from the financial realities of studying here. We talked about the ‘work ban’ at Oxford, a rule that stops students from taking on paid work during term time. It’s something a lot of students don’t realise exists until they actually get here. She feels it is an unfair exclusion, barring certain students who may need the money during term time to afford their college rent. On the topic of college rent, she told me about a time when she approached St. Catherine’s College when she couldn’t afford her battels, and was “offered a job working in the college kitchen” to help pay them. She tells me that it’s things like this that can make Oxford feel out of reach for students who don’t have the same financial security as others, leaving them to figure things out on their own. To Chloe, bringing attention to barriers like this for prospective applicants is just as important as her other content.

Juggling TikTok and a degree

Now for the question that was really on my mind: how did they manage to juggle their degree with what was essentially a full-time job?

“I don’t do the degree”, Chloe deadpanned. 

While I must preface, for the sake of her tutors and the Catz academic office, that she is joking, Meagan seconds her point: “You have to make it a priority to give content creation a real shot. Consistency is everything when you’re starting.”

Chloe did go on to explain that for her, content was closely tied in with her daily life and, as a result, flows fairly naturally from it.

Oliver told me that he did struggle at one point. While lawyers are already professional whiners about our workload, Oliver might have more of a right to complain: he’s balancing content creation, his Master’s in Law, and work for a marketing agency. And I thought I had it bad bouncing between Law and Cherwell articles! He stressed that he found discipline was key, and his schedule was not too different from everyone else’s: “Everyone at Oxford does societies and other stuff outside of your work – it just so happened that I could monetise mine.”

Why keep the posts coming?

So, what motivates these stars of the rectangular screen? Chloe told me that she does it for the reactions to her content, both positive and negative. If you look up student life at Oxford online, you are often inundated with a flood of “posh accents” and trips to Bicester Village. She wants to be a part of challenging this, helping people find it easier to imagine themselves walking the many halls and corridors of the University. Oliver, similarly, wants to reflect that Oxford is a “much more diverse place than people think”. Meagan also explained how she knows her videos, originally just a visual diary, have been helpful to incoming freshers looking to learn more about the University: “I’ve had a bunch of students tell me they saw my videos before arriving and it helped them choose their college, get excited about their degree, and beyond.”

I asked all three to tell me about how being content creators at Oxford has affected their lives:

Oliver told me: “It’s rewarding to see how people react to the content. As for the online persona, I try to stay authentic. I’m not trying to be someone I’m not, and I think that helps me balance the two worlds.”  

Meagan really emphasised the connections she’s formed, the friends, the experiences, and the doors it opened up. She is a “huge advocate for the pros of social media, especially from a career perspective, and how you can leverage it to create and even manifest the life you want.”

Speaking about the pros and cons, Chloe mentioned the negative or disparaging comments she sometimes receives, both online and in-person. While those are par for the course, it’s the community she has built and the goals she’s working toward that make her feel incredibly lucky to have a voice and to use it to effect change, both in Oxford and outside of it. She especially highlighted her pride in being able to make Oxford a more welcoming place for student care leavers and being able to talk with them about a future at the University.

Fame, online and on the street

All three creators told me how their online fame often spills over into their everyday offline lives. Chloe has lost count of how many times she’s overheard someone say, “Oh, it’s that girl from TikTok.” Oliver and Chloe were, respectively, #2 and #6 on last year’s BNOC list. Even though it’s easy to think of them as existing solely on the screen, their fame can translate into real life far more than anyone would expect.

Lastly, I asked what’s next for these creators? Chloe discussed her work as co-chair of the Oxford Class Act Campaign, particularly a current project where she’s interviewing students who have been in local authority care or are estranged from their families. The goal is to compile a report for the University, which will use the findings to improve its support for these students. Oliver delved into his research on vaccine misinformation and the legal and ethical implications of censoring health-related misinformation. Meagan has already built up a reputation for Gen Z VCs, a global collective she founded. It’s basically a community for young people interested in investing, starting businesses, or working in startups. Her online fame has helped her get a monthly column in The Times

So, that’s it from our cast of Oxford student influencers. Writing this piece made me reflect on just how differently we all move through and document our brief time here. But it also reminded me that even when we feel completely wrapped up in our own lives, we’re often walking different versions of the same story. Our experiences might feel deeply personal, but they’re rarely solitary and can be shared with the people around us. In talking with these people, I was reminded of the long history of Oxford students narrating their time here, the art of storytelling, it may seem, never really dies; it just evolves and evolves.

Pagans and Presbyterians: Experiencing a sort of secular age

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Outside a teepee in rural Kent, a woman waved a smoking bundle of herbs around me, as if I was getting extra attention while going through airport security. I dipped my hand in a bowl of water and dabbed some on my forehead. As instructed, I stepped into the tent, sprinkled tobacco in the fire, and said a prayer.

I was surely the only Presbyterian at this neo-pagan ceremony, a four-day event of fire tending and singing and storytelling to commemorate friends and relatives who had recently died. This made me stand out not just in the teepee, but also in my own country. In 2018, Pew Research Center found that there were more Americans who identified as pagan witches than there were members of the Presbyterian Church (USA). In the seven years since, the liberal-leaning denomination has only continued its long decline, alongside so many other churches across the Western world.

The statistics hardly need repeating at this point. Across the West, people’s participation in religion, its importance to them, and their belief in it have all declined. Oxford’s college choirs keep singing and chapel bells keep ringing, but only a third of English people in their 20s identified as Christian in the last census. But even as the West becomes less devout, many still experience the world as a deeply spiritual and enchanted place.

Image credit: Oscar Reynolds for Cherwell christian presbyerian

Image credit: Oscar Reynolds for Cherwell

The days of miracle and wonder

For many intellectuals, religion has been falling out of fashion for centuries. The great German philosopher Friedrich Schleiermacher ran in a circle of friends in the 1790s so secular that he prefaced his book by acknowledging that it would shock them that he defended religion, something they “so completely neglected”. Thomas Jefferson happily predicted that by the middle of the 19th century, every American would renounce the superstitious elements of Christianity and become a more rational Unitarian. The future Christian apologist C.S. Lewis wrote that during his first years at University College, he was “busily engaged (apart from ‘doing Mods.’ and ‘beginning Greats’) in assuming what we may call an intellectual ‘New Look’. There was to be no more … flirtations with any idea of the supernatural, no romantic delusion.”

Despite religion’s continual death in the academy, Christianity and Islam have hardly ever been so alive as they are now in much of the Global South. Devotion is strong in Africa and Asia, continents with the large majority of the global population. But even in the supposedly secularised West, spirituality has signs of life, even if it’s not what it looked like in centuries past.

Yes, an all-time high of 30% of Americans are ‘nones’ – that is, they claim no religious affiliation. But when you probe them, many are deeply spiritual. In a recent survey, less than a third deny the existence of spirits, most believe in God, and most are open to the ideas of heaven and hell.

There is more reason for Enlightenment rationalists like Jefferson to despair. Half of Americans say they definitely believe in religious miracles, and another quarter say they probably believe. And substantial majorities now say they definitely or maybe believe in a whole range of supernatural phenomena you wouldn’t hear about at Sunday school, like Karma, psychic abilities, and (non-Holy) ghosts.

Edward A. David is an associate member of Oxford’s Faculty of Theology and Religion and a lecturer at King’s College London. In a recent pilot study, he analysed how young people from countries across the world understand religion and who they see as spiritual role models.

David told Cherwell: “I’m coming to view religion – at least perceived by Gen Zers – as being a deeply emotive, affect-based phenomenon, not so much doctrine-based or rationally-based, but very much  ‘How does this make me feel?’ and going from there.”

Dr. David’s participants from the Global South – both Christian and Muslim – tended to have relatively conservative and traditional religious views. But even in England, traditional religious practices show some signs of revival among Gen Z since the pandemic.

Recent data find a large uptick in churchgoing among young people in England over the last six years, especially among young men. As in the U.S., young men now outnumber young women in churches – an unusual pattern, as women in Christian societies have historically tended to be more devout than men. In the same report, commissioned by the Bible Society and conducted by YouGov, the 18 to 24 cohort was the most likely to definitely believe in God, the most likely to pray regularly, and the most likely to participate in other spiritual practices like meditation.

Many among Gen Z see religion as something of a set of self-help practices. Even those who claim a religious affiliation often draw from a variety of spiritual traditions.

“Gen Z is a generation of authenticity and personalisation, which informs their identities, so their notion of categorisation is much more fluid,” David told Cherwell. “They might land on a certain religious affiliation, but I think if you were to actually ask them, there’d be a much wider spread in terms of religion or spirituality from different traditions informing how they view the world.”

Life and death and life

There were only about a dozen people at that pagan ceremony in Kent – but that was nearly as large as the weekly attendance at the 13th century Anglican parish in the nearest village.

Five weeks later, I was in a much more vigorous ceremony on the other side of the continent. Greeks were flocking to central Athens for Holy Week, kissing icons and crosses, lighting candles, and crowding the streets for a midnight procession singing “Christos Anesti” (Christ is risen).

Did the people squeezed into churches for the Easter vigil skew old, or is it just that Greek people are on average more elderly? Was this an impressive display of the faith of Europe’s most religious country, or a pittance compared to the devotion of previous decades and centuries? I couldn’t tell. The most important bits were all there – the emotion on the faces of old women as the incense came by, the spirit with which the priests read the Byzantine-era liturgy, and my own persistent doubts about whether a word of it could be true – but they couldn’t be readily quantified.

While in Greece, I met a nice young Anglican who is set to be ordained this summer. He told me that he is one of 19 seminarians in his program at Cambridge, where there used to be over triple that number. We talked about the state of our college chapels, and the political weaponisation of Christianity in America, and the Church of England’s declining number of clergy. More importantly, along with thousands of people, we sang Christos Anesti.

Review: 113 – ‘An elusive, intangible, and shifting reality’

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When I entered the Burton Taylor Studio to the sound of a mildly haunting cover of Tracy Chapman’s ‘Fast Car’, the whispered-yet-screechy vocals verging on the absurdly comic, I knew Ethan McLucas’ 113 was going to be an interesting watch. Indeed, I realised early into the show that I was making more use of my notebook as a detective gathering clues than as a critic, playing along with the play’s emphasis on its set and props as clues to help inmates 49 and 64 remember what they had forgotten. Did my clue hunting help me reach any conclusions? In terms of the repeated question ‘why are they there?’, I soon realised that this was not a mystery that was going to be solved by the inmates, let alone by me. Other mysteries did, however, reveal themselves to me over the course of the next 70 minutes.

The play questions how identity can be constructed in the absence of memories, with the two inmates initially not being able to remember anything about themselves. Their task is to remember, but what if remembering is more unpleasant than amnesia? The play therefore suggests that memories are not the determining factor in identity, but the illusion of themselves that they have “dreamed up”. There are some remaining questions that I absolutely cannot let go of – most frustratingly of all, why did the character 49 have 47 written on her shirt? Secondly, I am still in total darkness as to the purpose of the bedsheet wrapped around a small section of a railing above the stage. I am tempted to believe that my spiralling is an intentional aim of the creative team to make audience members feel a similar sense of confusion to the panicked and questioning inmates themselves. If it was all part of the directorial aim of keeping the audience on their toes – job well done on that count.

Lingyi Wang’s sound design greatly contributed to building a sense of an elusive reality. At some moments, the sound functioned diegetically in a scene (as when 64 grew increasingly frustrated at the choral music played and, in a moment of comedy, requested David Bowie) but it would then swiftly shift to being distinctly non-diegetic (with fast-paced thuds cinematically accompanying moments of rising tension). Characters’ voices seemed to move in and out of earshot of the other characters, despite their locations not changing, with crucial information not being overheard by the other and speech turning into brief monologues. The characters’ lack of autonomy over both their physical and mental capabilities may reveal logical fallacies in the script, brought about by the need to keep 64 & 49 onstage at all times (except on one occasion), but even if this is the case, it speaks to the play’s emphasis on an intangible and shifting reality. For each, there is something explicitly unknowable about the other, but also about themselves.

When I decided to sit down on the left side of the audience, I did not realise the significance this decision would have. With the stage being divided in two to create the two cells, the side you sit on privileges the corresponding character’s story. This sense of separation is achieved despite the ‘wall’ merely being made of stretchy fabric (which spent a large portion of the play dangerously tilting to one side) and 64 (George Loynes) basically being tall enough to peek over it. However, my emotional investment in 64 was not only because I was sitting on his side of the stage. His performance was dynamic, shifting between a vast range of emotions to craft a real sense of evolution across the play.

49 (Isobel Glover), too, brilliantly conveyed a sense of ennui, with her emotional restraint a tonic to the panic of the newly-arrived Loynes at the top of the play. However, as the roles began to shift over the course of the play, Glover’s emotions sometimes became restricted to facial expressions, rather than being fully embodied. This did not work as effectively for her character as the glazed-over, disembodied moments did for Sali Adams in her performance as J Doe. These little moments brilliantly added to showcase Adams’ ability to deftly switch in and out of roles, sometimes before the audience’s eyes – skills which her time as an Oxford Imp will undoubtedly have nurtured. Overall, the acting onstage was excellent but on occasion required a bit more punch.

Similarly, the reveal that the play’s title – 113 – originated from their skeletal ‘prison break’ plan felt underwhelming. Where the show had up to that point evaded my detective attempts, the introduction of the attraction between the two inmates and their escape plan steered the play into the territory of predictability. For a show that seemed to prize itself on its weirdness and ability to disorient, the closing of the play simply did not land. It was an enjoyable watch, and did leave me wanting to watch it again from the other ‘side’. However, if you are looking for a show that consistently leaves you not knowing which way is up, this one does not quite hit the target.

Mini-crossword: TT25 Week 2

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India Society cancels cricket match with Pakistan Society

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Oxford India Society have cancelled a scheduled cricket match with Oxford Pakistan Society, citing the “ongoing hostilities” between the two countries.

In a statement posted to India Soc’s Instagram page, they stated their belief in “sportsmanship and unity”. They maintained that their opposition to the “Pakistani military’s continued support for terrorism as state-policy” meant they were unable to “engage in a ‘friendly’ match”. The statement ended with “Jai Hind”, a slogan meaning ‘Hail India’ which dates back to the country’s independence movement from Britain. 

Tensions between India and Pakistan have risen significantly over the past month, following a terrorist attack in Indian-administered Kashmir that left 26 dead. On 7th May, Indian missile attacks killed 31 people in Pakistan, and the countries have both accused each other of firing missiles onto military bases. 

India Soc posted a statement yesterday (9th May), condemning the attacks in Kashmir. They stated their support for “decisive action against terror” while lamenting “the cycles of violence” continuing in the region. Pakistan Society also posted a statement, urging unity, and hoping for “peace, justice, and liberation” against “senseless state violence”. 

India Soc and Pakistan Soc have run events together in the past, including screenings of India-Pakistan cricket matches, and their own annual match against each other. Pakistan Soc’s Trinity term card includes ice hockey with India Soc in Week 4. Whether this will go ahead is currently unconfirmed, but India Soc told Cherwell they “value the principle of mutual respect” and “look forward to collaborating [with Pakistan Soc] in the future”. 

Pakistan’s deputy prime minister announced an “immediate ceasefire” on Saturday, which may further impact the societies’ decisions. 

India Soc told Cherwell: “We have taken the decision to call off the match as we believed it unseemly to flaunt our privilege of enjoying a ‘friendly’ match whilst being sheltered in Oxford. We are sure that members of the Oxford Pakistan Society share our concerns about the safety of family members back home and like us would be unable to enjoy the Dev-Khan match in this climate.

“The Oxford India Society is the largest cultural student society in Oxford; we remain incredibly proud of the diverse range of experiences, beliefs and opinions held amongst the membership. The decision was taken following conversations with the committee and was informed by sentiments from the membership.”


Cherwell has approached Pakistan Soc for comment.