Saturday 19th July 2025
Blog Page 2247

Leading donor ‘snubbed’ by Uni

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One of Oxford’s top donors is threatening to withdraw his support for the University after they did not accept his offer of a statue.

Zvi Meitar has branded the University’s actions “ridiculous” and “foolish” in an interview with The Times newspaper. He also suggested that he would be reconsidering further donations to the institution.

Meitar is an Israeli multi-millionaire who, along with his younger brother, is believed by Forbes to be worth around £250 million.

In the interview the 74-year-old lawyer commented, “There was a big future…Now the whole thing is in question.” He added, “I don’t think anybody [at Oxford] really cares about this. It’s sad.”

The statue he offered to the University was a four ton, 10ft monument of Tory MP Sir George Cooke and was carved in the eighteenth century by Sir Henry Cheere. It once belonged to Elton John, from whom Meitar is believed to have acquired it.

The University has claimed that the statue was rejected not as a personal slight to Mr Meitar but simply because there was no space for it. They have said that several potential locations were examined in order to determine their suitability as a home for the statue.

A spokesperson for Oxford University criticised The Times for misrepresenting the facts regarding Mr Meitar’s offer. They insisted that he is “a fast friend and supporter of Oxford” and will continue to work closely with University officials on matters of fundraising.

The spokesperson also suggested that Meitar enjoys cordial relations with the Vice Chancellor John Hood.

According to the University Press Office there were two barriers to accepting the statue.

Given the piece’s high value, adequate security provisions had to be provided, while its heavy weight meant that structural assessments were necessary to ensure it did not damage University property. None of the proposed sites were deemed suitable on these grounds.

This incident has thrown fresh light on the importance of Oxford University’s links with wealthy patrons who are willing to contribute massive sums towards the university’s upkeep and development.

To meet rising costs and steep competition from American universities, a new fund-raising campaign ‘Oxford Thinking: The Campaign for the University of Oxford’ will be launched later this month. Oxford currently lags behind equivalent institutions in America such as Harvard, whose endowment is in excess of £65 billion.

By contrast, Oxford’s endowment is valued at £3.6 billion.

‘Oxford Thinking’ will be launched next Wednesday by Chancellor Lord Patten and Vice-Chancellor John Hood with a star-studded event at the British Academy.

The University will seek to raise over £1 billion which will be used to refurbish a number of University sites, including the Radcliffe Infirmary site. The money will also be used to fund a new £29 million book depository, support an overhaul of the University Science area and allow remodeling of the New Bodleian Library.

In a continuing effort to attract students from poorer backgrounds, funds raised will also be used to support scholarships and grants. In addition to this there will be increased investment in teaching posts in an attempt to attract the best and brightest academics to Oxford.

The campaign hopes to appeal to successful alumni, businesses and philanthropists in an attempt to raise the funds. It is expected that it will take many years to reach the £1 billion target.

Brasenose drug clampdown warning

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All Brasenose students have been sent a letter by the Dean warning them about bad behaviour and drug misuse in college.

In the letter, sent last Wednesday, Dr Giles Wiggs wrote, “It appears that the behaviour of some students in college is falling well short of what is expected and required.”

He added that he has advised the Junior Dean and the Porters to “take a strict zero-tolerance approach to any behaviour that is likely to cause disruption to those taking exams.”

In a move which has worried many students, Dr Wiggs also reminded students of the college drugs policy, referring them to “section G.7 of the Blue Book.”

These regulations set out the disciplinary procedure for dealing with students found to be involved in drugs.

He continued, “any student who misuses classified drugs risks being sent down permanently. Given evidence that has recently been reported to me some students can expect to be called to my office within the next few days to discuss the matter.”

Toby Shergold, a spokesperson for Thames Valley Police said, “Our University liaison officer is speaking to the college authorities about the issues raised. The letter was drawn to our attention and our officers will be getting in touch.”

However, students have expressed concern over the college clamp-down on drugs.

One second year student who wished to remain anonymous said, “Some people are a bit concerned that college will begin looking around rooms as we have heard that that has happened elsewhere.

“It feels as if everyone in Brasenose had become a suspect.”

Another second year student said, “This is an issue for the whole college. I don’t know anyone who’s been called to see the Dean, but I know some people who are worried about this.

“I wouldn’t say that drugs are a big problem in Brasenose, but I’m sure that there are a handful of people involved, but then that’s the same in every college.”

JCR President George Lambert refused to comment on the issue.

Dr Wiggs was unavailable for comment.

Police ‘unlawfully’ raid house party

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Police officers who entered a student house during a party last Saturday have been accused of acting unlawfully by a leading expert on drugs law.

A team of eight officers was patrolling in Cowley at around midnight when their drugs sniffer dog indicated that it could smell a substance in the house.

The officers then entered the house searching for drugs and formally searched one student. No drugs were found on guests or in any of the rooms.

The sergeant in charge of the team said on Tuesday that “the team were given permission to enter the house along with the drugs dog.”

However, the host of the party, a second-year student at St Hilda’s, said that she told the officers that they were not welcome to come in. She also said that she felt “victimized.”

“He asked if he had permission to enter the house and I said no,” she said, “that’s pretty clear.”

She says that police entered despite being asked not to.

“I said no, but they came forward anyway,” she added.

By law, police officers can only enter a home without a search warrant in very specific cases, such as if the property is controlled by an arrested person, or if somebody they wish to arrest is inside.

In all other cases, the police are bound by Code B of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act (PACE) 1984, which requires consent to be gained in writing from the occupier of a residence “if practicable.”

The student who held the party claims that she was not asked to provide any kind of written consent.

She also says that she was not informed of the proposed extent of the search or warned that anything seized may be produced in evidence. These are both requirements under PACE Code B.

The sergeant leading the search said that the dog indicated one of the party guests “was either carrying or had recently been carrying drugs”. However, when he was searched, nothing was found.

The guest, an English student, denied that he had been near any substances.

“I wasn’t carrying any drugs and I hadn’t been in contact with any that night or for a long time. I’m not quite sure why the dog made that suggestion,” he said.

An expert on drug detection with dogs said that the search “appears to have been unlawful.”

Amber Marks, a lecturer in law at King’s College London and expert in olfactory surveillance, said, “The fact that no cannabis was found shows how unreasonable it is for the police to rely on canine intelligence.”

She continued, “The matter should be investigated and it sounds as if the occupier of the premises should make a formal complaint against the police. It is important to ensure that the police keep within the limits imposed upon them by the law.

“This is one of the worst cases I’ve heard of.”

The party’s host also questioned the efficacy of the drugs dog.

“The dog jumped on [the guest who was searched] and he doesn’t even smoke at all. The dog clearly doesn’t have a clue,” she said.

She also accused the police of heavy-handedness.

“There were four to six of them. The ones at the back were trooping in but didn’t seem to know what they were doing.

“It was ridiculous. One of the female officers said that they had so many people because they had to protect themselves. Do we look like junkies? They didn’t apologise for coming in.”

The sergeant who led the search said he was satisfied that the premises were entered “lawfully and with consent.”

A spokesman for Thames Valley Police said that “Police officers do have powers to further search and detain once in a property if they have reason to believe drugs are on the premises. In this case they did as the drugs dog made an indication that a person was, or had recently, been in possession of drugs.

“We do take complaints about our service seriously and do have a proper process for dealing with them. If anyone was not satisfied with the police action on this evening they should contact Thames Valley Police Quality of Service Unit.”

House searches: Your rights

The rights of police to enter a private residence are governed by Code B of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984.

Police can enter your house:
– If they have a search warrant
– If they wish to make an arrest
– If you or another occupier has been arrested

Otherwise, police may only enter with your consent. In this case, officers should, if practicable:

– Inform you that you are not obliged to consent
– Specify the proposed purpose and extent of the search, such as which parts of your house they intend to enter
– Warn you that anything seized may be produced in evidence
– Obtain your consent in writing

Police are excepted from these rules in certain circumstances. If in doubt, you should comply with police and register a complaint at a later stage.

Blues rowing stars in assault tape shame

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Boat Club President Nick Brodie has been strongly criticised after he filmed a video of Lightweight Cox Colin Groshong punching an Imperial rower to the ground.

Brodie subsequently posted the video on Facebook and acknowledged that “loads of people have seen it.”

Friends of Blues rowers who were shown the video have branded it “disgusting” and “disgraceful.”

The incident took place during a rowing regatta in Wroclaw, Poland two weeks ago. 8 teams, including one from Imperial College, competed against a Blues boat in the event, which was fully paid for by the Polish organisers.

On the evening of May 11 all of the rowers went on a boat trip with a barbeque and bar. Following this, many of the rowers went on to a club.

The incident occurred in the gentleman’s toilet of the club. In the build-up to the punch, Groshong was exchanging comments with a rower from Imperial College about St Catz and summer eights.

One witness said it was a “jovial conversation which got heated.” There were “insults from both [and then] it got a bit more personal,” he added.

Nick Brodie, who coxed the winning boat in this year’s Boat Race, said “it was provoked. It was a bit of banter, they were play fighting; they were both winding each other up.”

Cherwell has seen a copy of the video recorded by Brodie on his mobile phone. The first person appears to say “walk away, walk away, walk away motherfucker” before punching the second person.

The victim is knocked to the floor by the punch. He then gets up and asks, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The first person continues, “You fucking smacked shit out of [insulted] me.” After around thirty seconds of shouting, in which the victim stands facing the camera, the video ends with an unidentified voice saying “Right, Colin, Colin, enough, enough.”

In a statement, Groshong maintained that the attack was not unprovoked. He said, “However it may seem on video , the incident was provoked.”

He did however express regret for his actions. “Although provoked, I should not have reacted in the way that I did and I am very sorry for my actions.

I have never acted so appallingly in my life and I regret that this incident ever occurred. Furthermore, I had no knowledge that this disgusting behaviour of mine was being filmed.”

Following the trip, Nick Brodie put the video online on his Facebook page and tagged a large number of Blues rowers in the video.

The Boat Club President said he wasn’t able to explain his actions. He said, “I don’t really know why I filmed it or why I put it up on Facebook.” The video has subsequently been taken down.

Brodie claims that he thought he’d limited the number of people who could see the video, but admitted that he was aware a lot of people had seen the footage.

He said, “When I put it up I thought I’d restricted it to a certain number of people and it turns out everyone could see it. “

However, he confirmed that he was aware that people at other universities had seen the video and added, “I know loads of people have seen it.” Friends of some of the Blues rowers alleged that the rowers found the video hilarious.

One said, “I think it’s disgusting that they filmed it and that they see it as some kind of amusement. I can accept the fact that this kind of thing happens, it’s just the fact that they put this on the internet.”

Another added, “when I got shown the video the guy who showed me responded with laughter so I walked out of the room feeling pretty disgusted and sickened.”

A large number of comments were posted under the video on Facebook, many from Blues rowers.

In addition, Henry Sheldon, President of the Oxford University Lightweight Rowing Club, wrote on Brodie’s wall, “Thank you for posting that video of Colin, its [sic] considerably brightened up my day in the library. I literally laughed till I cried.”

Brodie replied on Sheldon’s wall, “Its [sic] up there with the funniest things I have ever seen.”

As a result of the incident the Imperial rower received a black eye along with a cut on his cheek.

Friends of Mr Groshong suggested that the incident was out of character.

One Blues rower who wished to remain anonymous said, “He’s not the kind of guy who’d go and get aggressive at all.”

Nick Brodie added that Colin had “never punched anyone ever before.”

Heads must roll

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Once, twice, three times a fuck up.

 

Aldate extends his sincere thanks to HK. Michelmas’ listings brought back happy memories of when OxStu could observe the basic rule of printing the right things on the right pages..

 

Still, at least you’re not Oxide.

Neighbourhood Watch: OU Orchestra

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Friday night’s concert from the Oxford University Orchestra, under the baton of the energetic young conductor Toby Purser, began with a confident swagger, showing the kind of precisely controlled playing for which both have become renowned.

With star turns from flautist Tom Hancox and Tom Brady’s trombone section, Hindemith’s little-known Symphonic Metamorphosis was played with panache and technical assurance.

The second movement, based on a melody from Weber’s music for the play Turandot, was particularly memorable, with all sections of the orchestra clearly relishing Hindemith’s exotic musical colouring.

The players seemed more at home in Elgar’s spectacular Symphony No. 1, which soon found its feet as the hushed introduction gave way to a warm full orchestral tone.

Purser seemed reluctant to let his brass players off the leash in the sinister and martial scherzo, but when he did, the results were impressive.

Despite some passages which felt a little rushed, Purser held musicians and audience alike in rapt attention at the conclusion of the beautifully played slow movement, where solos from leader Gabi Maas and recent BBC Young Musician woodwind finalist Anke Batty (clarinet) were deftly integrated into first-rate string playing.

Elgar said of this Symphony only that ‘there is no programme beyond a wide experience of human life with a great charity (love) and a massive hope in the future.’

Toby Purser and OUO took an enthusiastic audience through the composer’s complex musical world.

In less than an hour, we were led from introspection to melancholy and grandeur in music-making which few will forget in a hurry.

Andy Burrows – The colour of my dreams

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So, a solo album from a member of Razorlight… oh great, what on earth could that entail: a ridiculous overblown pile of trouserwank; some pretentious, overproduced, sell out excuse for another large pay-cheque?  Or has he made a thirteen minute acoustic record raising money and awareness for Naomi House Children’s Hospice?

I say, that paragraph jumped a little. But seriously, a short charity record is exactly what Andy Burrows has released. Indeed, a charity record with the lyrics taken directly from the children’s poetry of Peter Dixon, with the longest track clocking it at just under two minutes. No shit.

Admirable, innovative and hardly what this reviewer expected, but is it any good? Well, it’s simplistic and occasionally repetitive, but actually, it is.  Good, I mean. Burrows showcases a rather beautiful melodious voice and an ability to turn someone else’s words into some delightful and memorable tunes.

 

The album is chock full of joyful, bouncy, melodic ditties; indeed title track, ‘The Colour of my Dreams’ is a fabulously cute child’s eye view of what happiness means in the face of being labelled as a dyslexic. This comes recommended for anyone who needs something quiet, unassuming and distinctly undepressing in the background while working for those big scary exams.

 

Okay, the lyrics can sometimes be a little much and there isn’t much variety, but in a thirteen minute charity record that’s hardly the point is it? If nothing else it’s a lesson in honest, simple, beautiful music that Johnny Borrell could do with taking a slice of notice of.

 

In fact he could probably do with noting the vocal quality, imagination and lack of irritating bullshit in general. And let’s face it: if you don’t like this record, you obviously hate children.

The Ting Tings – We started nothing

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Tiresome. Uninspiring. Unoriginal. Just some of the words that have been used to describe me over the years, but ones that could equally well be applied to this collection of MOR indie from awfully monikered, in-at-the-moment-but-won’t-be-come-the-next-issue-of-NME, Salford two-piece, The Ting Tings.

Now I’m willing to confess that prior to even listening to the album I’d already formulated that pithy opening in my head. However, after thirty-seven uneventful minutes in the company of these ten songs I felt little compulsion to reconsider.

 

Their sound inspires unfavourable comparisons to the bland, risk-free sound of bands like The Gossip, replete as they are with the same lacklustre attempts at choppy beats, catchy melodies and girl-punk candour.

 

Even when they try for something a little sweeter the best they can muster is the nauseating sub-Lily Allen ‘Traffic Light’ which is close to unbearable. Katie White’s vocals are pretty unassuming and often unassumingly pretty, which makes for particularly unconvincing effect when she tries to channel her inner rock-bitch during the functionless funk of ‘Shut Up and Let Me Go’.

 

Admittedly latest single ‘That’s Not My Name’ has been rattling round my cranium for the past couple of days, but honestly that’s not much to go by – I’ve also had the jingle from the ‘I Love Horses Magazine’ advert stuck in my head lately.

 

Ultimately this is just another offering from the endless cavalcade of identikit indie-poppers that are shoved down the ever grateful gullets of the credibility-seeking scene flitterers that devour this kind of stuff with relish, only to shortly thereafter excrete it into the void without a second thought, greedily awaiting the next musical morsel.

 

And for that reason I pity them but not quite as much as I would do, had they not produced an album quite so depressingly forgettable. Harumph.

 

One star. 

Interview: Johnny Flynn

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Let’s get the adulation out of the way first. Johnny Flynn – blue-eyed boy of twee folk pop – is very, very, very good-looking. Fortunately, ours is a telephone interview, so I am confident of my ability to sport a coldly professional air.

More fortunately still, this proves to be unnecessary. He turns out to also be very, very, very nice. I thaw, and we chat.

The singer, who will continue to tour the UK throughout May with his band The Sussex Wit, says that music has become a pretty much full-time occupation since he finished his last run with the RSC last July, though confesses that there hasn’t been much time for indulging in rock & roll trappings.

The band have been kept busy with shows and with the recording of their first album, out later this month. On top of this, they are good friends with most of the other key players in that lovely London scene of almost-folk – Noah and the Whale, Slow Club, Jeremy Warmsley, ETC. He used to live with Jeremy Warmsley, actually.

These friendships do not, apparently, herald the appearance of a new, violin-toting ‘Bloomsbury Group’ equivalent – imposed identities, he says crossly, are not helpful – but they do mean that everyone plays on everyone else’s records. Which leaves even less time for smashing up hotel rooms.

I ask Johnny whether any particular ‘creative routine’ lies behind his music. He says it’s more of an organic process – he’ll come to the band with a song and a melody, and they’ll work out each separate part at the same time as they record.

It means that when each song is complete, it has a distinct set of associated feelings and emotions, arising from the day and place and mood of its creation. A lot of these feelings are centred around his kitchen table, he says.

I tell him that I like listening to his music while I hang up the washing, and he laughs, and replies that what he likes about taking his songs on tour is the opportunity to colour those associated sensations in each song by removing it from that particular place of creation and airing it elsewhere. I laugh too, because that’s almost a laundry pun.

When I ask him to explain how he thinks this music that evokes such particular memories for him translates into similar feelings in his listeners, he ums. Then he says that it’s like ‘some common consciousness’.

He makes the songs to please himself, but it stands to reason that some of the things he like will also please other people. I assure him that this is the case, indulging in a little more adulation before we say goodbye.

1968 did not take place

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                                                                                                                           Picture: Claire Little

 

I can’t help but think that this whole 1968 exhibition is nothing but a huge, marketed, branded, pre-packaged cliché.  It is so very Southbank, so very Verso, so very liberal left.  If the Guardian has reviewed it, they probably love it.

 

Why? Because anything exhibited at the Hayward brings with it a kind of love-hate guilt-trip, a ‘what will happen if someone finds out?’ appeal about it. It’s like the Starbucks Latte.  It’s creamy, it’s frothy, it’s warm and it soothes. Even better, it’s Fairtrade.

 

Yet at the same time, it’s a white coffee (so imperialist and non-Left Bank) and is made by a multinational corporation who, despite their greatest efforts to convince us otherwise, have destroyed all hopes of local business flourishing. How to reconcile the ‘Free Palestine’ regalia and the green-tailed siren? Just don’t buy a Frappucino.  You’re saving the ice caps, right?

The environment aside, the Hayward is cool. And that’s why it’s fitting that a new exhibition of posters from the 1968 revolts in Paris should be put on there. I couldn’t think of anywhere better. In many ways the Hayward epitomises ‘New London’ – of which the Southbank is the epicentre.  Here is a clash of the urban and the conceptual; the ‘60s meets the 21st century.

 

I am talking about the difference between sixties war-crimes which supposedly count as architecture (the BFI, the Royal Festival Hall, etc), and the new Southbank Centre and accompanying Hayward Gallery. The clash is strangely epitomised by that random skatepark which sits next to Centre, just underneath the walkway.

 

I’ve always wondered how that popped up, and why there always people there. I remember asking my dad as a child: ‘Why aren’t those men at work?’ I was a naïve soul.

So, why would the Hayward make a fuss about some ’68 posters? Well, it’s forty years on, as if I needed to remind you after the million and one supplements, special editions and culture spreads about ‘1968 and all that.’

 

How many old-time reactionary socialists have been dragged away from the non-existent picket line, from the long-abandoned factories, to comment on ’68? They’ve been waiting for this for forty years. No doubt Chomsky, Zizek, Eagleton et al. wrote their ‘reactions’ about ten years ago, when postmodernism got a bit boring and there was nothing conceptual left to critique.

 

But now that 2008 has come along, they can lift the lid of the dustbin of history, accustom their eyes to the harsh light of the twenty-first century and furtively make a list of all the contradictions they can feast their eyes on in their Moleskine notebooks.

 

So the Hayward has got together a pretty wide collection of these posters. And they are impressive. They are striking. In fact, I got a real sense of being there. It must have been the Hendrix and Dylan playing. It must have been those grainy photos – instilling within me a feeling of fraternity with my fellow étudiants. A single sentiment grew within me: a feeling of contrariety, of rebellion.

 

The slogans enveloped me: ‘La Lutte Continue’ (the struggle continues) with a pumping wall of a fist resounds throughout the exhibition; symbols representing the police state with ‘Pour la violence, la haine et la repression’ (For violence, hate and repression) scrawled in black and white lettering.

 

For it was this lutte contre le cancer gaulliste which drove thousands against the police in the streets of Paris. The photos prove it. It must have happened.

Immediately striking is the sense of immediacy which characterises all the art on display, even forty years on. An impression of urgency thumps out of the canvas, as if one of the huge fists had burst forth from it aand given me a good shake, before proceeding to stick its middle finger up at me. 

 

And this in many ways reflects the apparent spirit of the movement – the urgency was real as the posters were rushed off presses in the ateliers populaires and onto the walls of the Sorbonne.

 

The artist, in this sense, becomes a kind of guerrilla operative; the art of flyposting no longer means putting up posters for ‘Sex on the Beat’ next to cashpoints, or advertising the Trinity garden play in the KA. Instead, it becomes a cloak and dagger movement – the steadfast of the bicycle riding, baguette wielding anti-fascist brigade.

 

Nonetheless, it’s important that I felt a ‘real sense of being there’. Because I don’t have a clue what it was like to be there. All I have to go on are the numerous accounts, poster exhibitions, The Beatles’ ‘Revolution’ and Dylan’s shameless publication of his song lyrics.

 

And yet I was convinced, on walking out of the Hayward, that I had ‘been there’. I could relate. I had felt the urgency of the cause, and soaked up the atmosphere of ’68. I was a Child of the Revolution, in the purely T-Rexian sense.

 

Yet I am a member of an entirely different generation. I am by no means a soixante-huiter. Even my parents were only 7 at the time.  So what was it that made me feel so alive?

It appears to me that the exhibition, for all its glory, for all its good faith, is a clear example of the relationship and fine line between revolutionary art and propaganda. The posters, with their bold, iconic images and unequivocal messages, are hard hitting. They are direct, like the action they propose.

 

And while they may have been convincing when they were stuck up on the walls of the Sorbonne forty years ago, today they have but one function: the perpetuation of a myth of ’68, and all its associated peripheries.

 

There are several reasons for this – and, at the centre, is the very basis of the poster itself: the image, the nature of which has changed dramatically over the last forty years. Today is the day of the electronic image – there is no way getting around this.  Online advertising, forums, downloadable media, podcasts, RSS feeds, YouTube politics: all are the lynchpins of the technological revolution, and all influence and feed the 21st century opinion.

 

So for these posters to have any real effect, they’ll have to go online, or at least be marketed on electronic billboards. The exhibition will have to be made into a YouTube music-video montage (‘La Lutte Continue’ with a mish-mash of Dylan and Hendrix). And then, for full effect, Justice will have to do an electro remix. The day it is played in Eclectric will be the first day of the revolution.

 

And why is this? Because the image has become a commodity. I can’t walk to the Taylorian without being bombarded by a thousand images: advertising and marketing has appropriated all ‘space’. Forty years ago, in a massive reversal, this ‘space’ was the commodity, to be used as a means to a revolutionary end by students and workers alike.

 

This is why the posters worked, this is why they stirred, this is why they moved people to action. Not so today.  With posters and images all over town, the popular protest has changed direction: the revolution has sold up, packed up and moved from the Faculty wall to the Facebook wall.

 

So, the Hayward’s collection doesn’t really do a great deal, apart from give a false picture of popular protest. It makes a myth of ’68 and turns it into the herald of a golden age. Now detached from any real significance, the image of ’68 is the spectre no longer haunting Europe. It is pure surface – just giving a quick-fix sensual effect, before being shooed away.

I’ve always held that the single thing which makes or breaks an art gallery is its gift shop. So, before consigning ’68 to the dustbin of history, let’s see what’s on offer. We have the usual: the memento rubber, pencil and sharpener set – this time complete with pumping fist; this is the stationary which will topple the order, or at least rub it out, and rewrite its literature. We also have ‘copies’ of the posters, at £50 a pop. Baudrillard, anyone?

But most entertaining are two gifts in particular. The first, a Converse sneaker, complete with the ‘La Lutte Continue’ image on the reverse side to the Converse emblem. Never before have I seen such an incredible representation of this appropriation of space.

 

In a single revolutionary sweep, the left has appropriated the means of production and redistributed its literature upon the stamping ground of the capitalist regime! Or they’ve just sold out.

The second are the Peace Dolls, made from 100 per cent biodegradable material, and a snatch at £9.99. These ‘Peace Dolls’ probably come complete with a ‘peace scarf’, organic snacks and a free one year trial membership to Hezbollah – get yours while stock piled nuclear arms last.

 

You can imagine my disappointment when I couldn’t find the ’68 Action Man – complete with stones, placard, a copy of Sartre: A Guide for the Perplexed and a jump suit, ready for quick escape when the fascist pig policeman comes to drag him to servitude (all made from organic produce by collectivist workers in South America, or back issues of ‘New Internationalist’ and ‘Red Pepper’, and carbon neutral, of course).

But enough railing for now. I suppose what really emerges from the Hayward Exhibition is this: that ’68 has become nothing more than a myth. It has been used by the intellectual liberal left, forty years on, for a specific end: the proliferation of discussion about the counter culture, about the nature of revolt.

 

For old time trade unionists, ’68 has become revolution – the real McCoy. Any deviation from this is reactionary, in their eyes. In actual fact, the myth they have created will haze the direction of any real action.

 

So is the exhibition worth the time of day, and, if so, what’s the point?  Firstly, yes, it is worth a look. For all its inauthenticity, for all its harking to a golden age, the posters do serve an important point: they show the importance of resistance, and the power of the popular voice. So long as ’68 is appreciated as a historical phenomenon, and not drawn upon for future action, all will be well.

For all his irrelevance, Dylan was right in one case: the times they are a changing. If we’re going to play his records over images of ’68, we should really take heed of his message. By all means, go along to the numerous ’68 conferences. Read the special issues of New Statesman, Prospect, and so on.

 

Just don’t reminisce.  If you do, imagine the fist popping out of the canvas and giving you a shake. And then, before it has the chance, stick your middle finger up at it. It’s probably for the best.