Sunday, May 18, 2025
Blog Page 23

Student Spotlight: swap shops, self-defence classes and mutual aid with Cowley Community Closet

0

Cowley Community Closet is a self-described, “sustainable, anti-capitalist, queer-run collective”, founded by students Delphi, Abby and Connie in the spirit of creating a diverse and inclusive community within Oxford. They began with swap shops, creating a space for people to come together and exchange clothing and have since incorporated sewing workshops and free self-defence classes. Cherwell spoke with Delphi about the project co-directed by the three. 

Talking about the inspiration behind Cowley Community Closet, Delphi tells me “it was just kind of serendipitous. Abby and I went to secondary school together, so we’ve known each other since we were eleven, and we both went on to do our postgraduate degrees at Oxford and met Connie there at a party. We just got along really well. We were all rocking the dyed hair and a kind of sparkly situation. We spent ages hanging out with each other, having hair dying parties, and swapping a lot of our clothes. And then we thought it would be really fun to invite other people into it and we had no idea it would get this big.”

The most important thing to the group is creating something that aligns with their values: a clothing swap naturally fit into their anti-capitalist ethos. Delphi told Cherwell about the thinking behind this: “Particularly within the fashion industry, there’s so much waste and there’s so much abuse of human rights that it was a no-brainer. We don’t orient ourselves around financial value at all. For any item that you bring into the swap you get one token, and for anything that you want to take you give one token back. That means people don’t have to be worrying about cash value if they need a warm coat, they can get a warm coat without having to bring us loads in the first place. It focuses more on the items finding the right home, where they’ll be well loved, rather than on the potential cash value of something.”

Cowley Community Closet found its first home in a pub called The Star in Cowley, enabling them to move the clothing swaps out of their bedrooms and open them up to the public. As the number of people attending the swaps quickly grew, they relocated to Common Ground in Jericho for more space. With Common Grounds’ future rendered uncertain by the University’s proposed redevelopment plans for Wellington Square, and Cowley Community Closet’s sister community closet in Cardiff being recently evicted from their venue, we talk about the necessity of protecting third spaces.  

“Creating community was very much what we wanted out of the swap. Yes, the clothing is great but it’s so much more than that. For me personally, I was looking for sober accessible spaces, because I’m a wheelchair user. A lot of young people don’t have these spaces. And you never know how connecting to another person may help you in the future. We can all help each other, even just spending more time socialising and meeting your neighbours, it’s all so beneficial to literally everything that happens in your life. We were keen to not have it situated in the university either. We love it when students are there, but we also want it to be somewhere that feels open and accommodating to people who are residents. I love seeing what people pick out and the shared experience of doing the same activity, occupying space.”

Delphi tells me about how Cowley Community Closet’s self-defence classes, which are free and open to anyone who feels vulnerable, was a community suggestion. “We met Emily, who is a jiu-jitsu master [who came to] one of our swaps. She said she was interested in doing a free self-defence class and we said, ‘we would love to help facilitate that!’ The classes are very fun and popular and a very organic growth for us.”

Having now organised hundreds of swap shops, I asked Delphi what her favourite find has been so far: “Ooh, I think I probably know that for everyone. Mine has to be this beautiful pink tulle skirt. It’s hot pink, it matches my hat, it’s fluffy. I love it. I would put money on Connie’s favourite being the cream leather cowboy boots she found; they belonged to a burlesque dancer who brought us this huge crate of shoes. It was amazing, we love her. And then Abby has got an excellent collection of botanical shirts. I think we are always blown away by the beautiful things that people bring in, and that was what started it all: with beautiful items that just weren’t being treasured the way that they could have been.”

Reflections on my hometown

0

Something I miss about home is the sea. There’s a comfort in the fact it’s always there and never seems to change. When you walk through my hometown, even if you can’t see it, you can smell it. Here I feel claustrophobic; I like Oxford, but it’s weird to live in a place that seems so permanent and solid, constrained on all sides by land. The beach is integral to my town’s identity. The boundaries of the shoreline shift and change. As the tide meets the earth, new environments are born and thrive. Mud and sea come together in the salt marshes to form something that is neither one nor the other.  If it weren’t for the groynes, the stones would migrate and shift to somewhere else and the whole landscape would look different. The council tries to stop it, but nature will take its course eventually.

There’s this odd sense of liminality about this town, which is always changing in little ways, but simultaneously a constant. My memories of the town from childhood colour these changes and lend a kind of discordance to the buildings and the trees. An uncanny feeling pervades the place as somewhere in flux. I love to walk around my hometown; I’ve become so familiar with its small number of streets that I even dream about walking them sometimes. There’s something terrifying about coming back and seeing that things have changed.

On paper, it’s not a big deal, and it’s not something that can be compared to the difficulty that so many other communities in the UK face. My concern is one that comes from a place of privilege. However, it feels like the place is in a bubble, though; even something like the local chip shop, owned by one family for decades, closing and being replaced by a Starbucks introduces a sense of decline. Whitstable has been, unlike many other Kentish seaside towns, gentrified to such an extent that it’s almost unrecognisable from 20 years ago (or so my parents say). I’ve worried before that when people stop coming from London, find somewhere new and ‘cool’ to visit, and investment dries up, the town will basically die. Its reliance on tourism means it must be beautiful and picturesque, but that is a curse rather than a blessing; I have friends whose families have lived there for generations but can’t afford to buy their own house, rents driven up by people owning holiday homes they never visit. Oxford seems a world away; going back home to visit feels more like a vacation. 

The people are what make the town. You can walk down the High Street and see at least five people you know; in the pub, there are always familiar faces. Yet, it seems that the people are in flux just as much as the town – I notice how my mates have met new friends, and it’s not something I begrudge them. In many ways, I love meeting these new people, but there is a voice  in the back of your head that asks, “is this the beginning of the end for us?” There’s a strange awareness that, as the terms pass, the distance is only going to grow. There are jokes I’m not in on, new habits unfamiliar to me, and events that I’m not privy to. The tide is going to march on, and the stones are going to shift, and this is something I won’t always be a part of. 

In defence of Oxford’s ugliest architecture

0

“The city’s dreaming spires are being crowded out by architectural eyesores.” This was the central claim of an article I read in The Spectator last May prefaced ‘The Sad Decline of Oxford’. In it, the author quotes Bill Bryson who argues that: “[Oxford] is a beautiful city that has been treated with gross indifference and lamentable incompetence”.

As a student at St John’s, it is hard not to appreciate Bryson’s point. Indeed, I am reminded of it every day on my walk to the library as I am forced to confront the horrors of the Sir Thomas White Quad, which was affectionately described to me as looking like the “remnants of Chernobyl” in my freshers week (I’m pleased to report a distinct lack of nuclear waste, only the occasional spot of black mould).  I sympathise greatly with the poor students forced to live opposite the “Beehive”, a post-war eyesore that clashes greatly with the rest of the 19th century Quad it was lumped into the corner of. The style of these modernist monstrosities is described by the College as “confidently looking forward”. Many, like Bryson, bemoan this attitude, seeing all the charm of the “city of dreaming spires” being stifled by soulless, functionalist architecture. 

Perhaps there is some truth to this. I am not writing here to argue that Oxford is not littered with “ugly” buildings. I have little interest in defending the Glink or the Social Science Library, for example (I am sure there are too many other examples to attempt to list many more here). Nor do I think that we should “learn to love” Oxford’s ugly buildings (what an uninteresting cliché of an article that would make!). What I do want to suggest, however, is that there is another, perhaps more fruitful, way of understanding these buildings that puts a special significance on what they represent, particularly for those students who might not have been able to attend this University for much of its history. 

Brutalism is often one of those funny things best encapsulated by the phrase “I don’t know what it is, but I know it when I see it”.  We all pass by buildings that we wished didn’t blot our peaceful morning walks (or in the case of those students who do real degrees) our hurried rush to labs. The ideology of brutalism, however, is harder to define. Roughly, it seems to be the belief in making buildings more open and accommodating for those who will live in or use them, and in the placing of functionality over traditional grandiosity. In effect, it is a democratic style of architecture that seeks not to be grand or beautiful in any traditional sense, but to be tolerant. And indeed, in seeking to do so, it makes no apologies. Perhaps we think it should. Nevertheless, the significance of what these buildings and their inclusive ideology represent to the University’s history should not be snubbed. 

In the latter half of the 20th century, attitudes towards university education changed. At the same time as architects were seeking to make buildings more inclusive and open, there were many in university administrations that sought to do the same. The result of these two philosophies combining is what we see today.

Much of the abhorrent architecture we all have to put up with walking by or – God forbid – living in is, whether we like it or not, the product of the University accommodating an increasingly large, diverse, and comprehensive pool of students. As colleges expand, they can afford to take on more students, and thus increase their accessibility. Accessibility and openness might as well be the mortar holding together these brutalist structures they are so deeply ingrained in the architecture’s philosophy. 

Of course, there is nothing anyone can do to stop me from continuing to despise any unfortunate encounter I may have with brutalism during my degree. And I will continue to revel in any trips I take to staircases in older parts of my college. However, to hate Oxford’s ‘ugly’ buildings is to hate the natural consequences of the pursuit of the lofty and worthy goals of increased accessibility and openness. So, next time you pass by that one part of your college you really rather wish did not exist or try to hide some particular building while touring a friend around, maybe it is worth pausing and considering what it all really represents. 

You wouldn’t steal a Cherwell article: AI and copyright infringement

0

Hello, Cherwell reader! Think this is a good article? A TikToker probably thinks so too. ‘Korean Consultant’ posted a TikTok on 5th January 2025 titled “What your university says about you – Russell Group Part 3”. It featured nine universities – each briefly described on a slide – and it stereotyped both the universities and their students. Have a look:

Image taken 26th January 2025.

I received this TikTok on the 6th January from a friend. She was amused, for she had read some of the descriptions before. The ‘Oxford’ slide included quips like, “Either a Moocher that cares more about having first class friends than first class thoughts, or a Pampered Swot wearing a scholar’s gown every night dreaming to be a spy.”

This was suspicious. I had written just a few months earlier about a moocher who cares “more about having first-class friends than first-class thoughts” and a “pampered swot” who wears a scholar’s gown and “probably will become a spy.” 

Maybe great minds think alike. But the next point was about someone who claimed to be state-educated, “ignoring their private sixth form and secondary schooling at the best grammar school in the country.” What a coincidence that I had written those exact words too!

My friend immediately recognised that, “whoever made it read your Cherwell article.” Curiously, ‘Korean Consultant’ only cited ‘GPT and online’, not my absolute banger of an article, ‘A comprehensive guide to Oxford student stereotypes’. Yes, I’m bitter. 

Why I’m bitter 

Firstly, someone had used my writing to potentially make money. Meanwhile, I’m not making any money from my own work. 

Secondly, I’m bitter because I didn’t receive credit for my own work. If people are going to enjoy my writing, I’d like them to know its stupendous mastermind. This TikToker clearly knows that creating something is difficult and time-consuming, seeing as they stole my work instead of making their own. Stealing my work brings me neither fame, nor success, nor notoriety – and I didn’t exactly write satires of my friends as Oxford stereotypes because I wanted to fly under the radar. I did it because I am pretentious and somewhat irritating in my desire to be the Next Big Thing (i.e. Giles Coren/Caitlin Moran/Evelyn Waugh/similar). It is unlikely. But it is made even more unlikely when ‘Korean Consultant’ copies my writing, bringing me nothing but anonymity and unpaid work. No thanks. 

And I’m not alone in this. Millions of writers are not receiving credit for their works. ‘Korean Consultant’ lists “GPT & online” as its sources, when its real sources are more likely writers just like me. 

Using my work without crediting me is a violation of copyright. (OSPL’s (Cherwell’s parent company) legal counsel have issued a takedown request for the video, to which we have received no response.) Violating copyright is a violation of the owner’s rights. In this case the owner is OSPL. OSPL owns the particular sequence the words are in, not the idea. 

For example, it is not a violation of copyright to write about poncy students interrogating their peers in Hall, but it is to write “If you want to hide silently in Hall, think again – Mr. Art Historian will slide up next to you and ask how you really feel about the representations of Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald”. In this particular example, although the TikToker had altered the order of the words taken from my piece, the content remains recognisable as my original work and some phrases are intact, making it a violation of copyright. 

Copyright law

Copyright is an unusual law – and there are caveats, known as ‘fair dealing’ exceptions. Use of protected materials in newspaper reporting, criticism, and education is permitted within reason if the original creator is credited and the material is not used extensively or for profit. But the TikTok can generate profit, violating OSPL’s copyright. 

However, AI models also use creators’ works without giving them credit in less obvious ways. 

When you prompt an AI model, it generates results by scanning the internet. This might save the time when the alternative is doing a manual search for ‘Oxford student stereotypes’. But AI does not produce its sources or credit individual authors without being prompted to do so, and seems to respond irregularly. For example, when my editor asked ChatGPT, “What are some Oxford student stereotypes? Please cite your sources,” it directly cites my Cherwell article. However, for me, it includes no content from my article and suggests “a 2017 article in The Guardian” “The Oxford Student (2018)”, “The Oxford Mail (2019)” and “The Independent (2019)”. 

Unlike the video, ChatGPT can cite specific sources, but only when asked – again leaving the onus on the individual creator to find and cite their sources. It is a search engine that cuts out the middleman: it works by scraping material publicly available and using it to generate synthesised results.

Large language models’ data

But AI models must be trained on something. Large Language Models (LLMs) use creators’ materials in their training process, improving the quality and specificity of results. “GPT” could be responsible for the post not only as a search engine, but as a writer – almost a ghost writer. A good writer must be a good reader.

Baroness Stowell of Beeston, chairwoman of the House of Lords’ Communications and Digital Committee, argued in The Times that tech companies are evading responsibility by training their models, which need “huge amounts of data to work properly”, on copyrighted materials. Tech companies can afford to pay for licences but are instead “simply exploiting rights holders” – such as The New York Times, who are currently suing OpenAI for infringing its copyright by using its material to train their AI model. They contend that OpenAI (the owner of ChatGPT) not only breaches their copyright, but that the use of verbatim NYT content in ChatGPT allows users to access NYT content without a subscription. The lawsuit claims that “the tool is now competing with the newspaper as a trustworthy information source” and will damage subscription revenue. 

Some companies are now selling material to AI crawlers for training through licensing, giving them short-term profit on material which might otherwise earn them nothing. AI crawlers explore the internet through a variety of sources, for example websites and databases, both to generate better results for users and to train the model itself. 

For example, Lionsgate has sold its whole catalogue of film and TV material to an AI company Runway to be used in training its new AI model. In turn, Lionsgate can use the resulting AI technology in their upcoming projects. Similarly, HarperCollins have made a deal with Microsoft, allowing Microsoft to train its AI models on their non-fiction books. Yet authors do have the opportunity to decline, meaning that authors can retain control over their material. While this may indicate that traditional publishers are selling out to AI, these licenses are an official agreement, showing that it is possible to train AI models without breaching copyright. 

Once material has been crawled on and used, there is no going back. HarperCollins’ crawled material will go, claims Richard Osman, into the “large language pool” of “high quality prose” used to train AI models. But what is being done to protect creators?

Fighting back?

Although AI crawlers can be disabled, some are hesitant over fears it could reduce traffic for businesses. Google’s web crawler – which informs its ‘Bard’ chatbot – puts publishers in a difficult position. Businesses may have barred other crawlers from accessing material, but they fear, writes Katie Prescott, that “barring Google’s equivalent […] would disadvantage them in the long term when it comes to making their information findable and accessible on traditional Google.” This pressures businesses to accept AI crawling to retain traffic. 

In December 2024, the government opened a consultation on copyright and AI. The consultation intends to establish “how the government can ensure the UK’s legal framework for AI and copyright supports the UK creative industries and AI sector together.” Both industries are vital to the UK economy and the statement makes clear that there must be a balance between protecting creators and supporting AI development. 

To address the current uncertainties, the consultation proposes, in short, that AI models can be trained on any material unless the copyright owner reserves their rights. Lisa Nandy, Secretary of State for Culture, Media, and Sport, said that further licensing will in turn allow creators to “secure appropriate payment for their work”. Ultimately, this will give creators more control over their material’s use, allowing them to be paid for their work’s use in training. 

Where the burden lies 

This puts the responsibility on the copyright holder to declare that they do not want their work used. Yet a government spokesperson from the Intellectual Property Office stated that the consultation “does not propose exempting AI training from copyright law”. They said: 

“No move will be made until we have a practical plan that delivers each of our objectives: increased control for right holders to help them license their content, access to high-quality material to train leading AI models in the UK, and more transparency for right holders from AI developers.”

An “exception” allowing AI training on copyrighted content “unless the rights holder has expressly reserved their rights” is “deeply unfair”, writes Owen Meredith, chief executive of the News Media Association. An opt-in system would surely be fairer. Peter Chen, legal counsel to OSPL, suggested instead that “the government should work with industry groups like Creative Commons to establish a new licensing format where artists can decide when and how AI companies can use their work for profit”.

It is already extremely hard for people to protect their copyright against generative AI. Judge McMahon ruled against Raw Story Media, Inc. and AlterNet Media, Inc.’s case against OpenAI for violating copyright due to “lack of standing”. Because AI models synthesise information, rather than copying verbatim, there’s less likely to be evidence of direct plagiarism. The government consultation must address the use of copyrighted work in generative AI and its training, and prioritise individual creators whose work needs to be protected.

I don’t want a random TikToker to be able to steal my writing and get away with it. I want them to take it down – or at least pay me for it. At the outrageously bare minimum, I want to know for certain that the TikToker knows they have stolen it, rather than taken it from an AI generator which will only reveal its deviously acquired sources if begged. I considered asking ChatGPT (or maybe it should be DeepSeek now?) to write this article, but if I had, I know for a fact that it would completely undermine my strongest feeling: that I want everyone to know that my writing was written by me.

5 top tips to stay toasty and trendy this winter

0

As frosty winter winds swept through Oxford at the start of term, you would imagine that we’d spot more students nestling their necks into fluffy scarves and fending off the cold with the armour of a College Puffer. Although far from a rare sight, it is not the most stylish. I’ve encountered enough people who consider the puffer a last and only resort when the temperature drops below zero. In honour of their struggles, here is a guide to creating outfits that will save you from frost and fashion police.

1. Layer under, then over

Investing in a set of thermals is probably the easiest way to combat the cold.The Uniqlo Heattech range or the Intimissimi Ultralight Cashmere tops keep you warm without you breaking a sweat or looking too bulky. They can also be used as a visible layering piece, especially if you own thermals in cool colourways or with patterns and wear them under a short-sleeved top. For those on a budget, H&M and M&S have reasonably priced long-sleeve cotton tops that cost under £15, but it’s easy to find even cheaper alternatives without supporting fast-fashion on sites like Vinted or Depop.

2. Funky Tights and More

Not everyone enjoys wearing tights. The thickest ‘nude’ tights options can fail to match most skin tones and black high-denier ones bring back scratchy sub-fusc and school uniform. M&S can equip you with comfortable staples. However, if you like to dress more maximalist, experiment with colourful hosiery. Try Calzedonia, which offers great stylish tights options! A simple all-black outfit can become more vibrant by wearing coloured or even patterned tights. Woollen tights also come in a range of colours with patterns, and are more durable than ordinary ones, so might be ideal for those who are more sensitive to the cold yet refuse to give in and just throw on a pair of jeans.

3. Boots Galore

Usually made from leather or a vegan-friendly alternative, knee-length boots can help to keep your legs warm too, especially if they’ve got thick lining on the inside. If toddling over Radcliffe Square doesn’t tickle your fancy, go for lower heel options like a western or biker boot to add a bit of flair to your outfits without risking your balance. Faux leather is a cheaper alternative that is just as water resistant as leather, but perhaps not as warm. If the ethics behind the first-hand leather vs. faux leather debate worry you, have a look at second-hand options online or in charity shops, and you might find higher quality boots at a lower price.

UGGs and other suede shoes are great at insulating your feet and might be a comfier alternative to real leather boots. Be warned, these are not waterproof, so it’s best to avoid sporting them if clouds are looming.

4. Coats 

Pea coats have appeared in this season’s trend cycle and offer a slimmer silhouette than larger options like a puffer or wool trench. Similarly, blazers which are more form fitting and made of wool or tweed can be fun to layer over thinner tops and skirts. If it happens to be freezing outside, you could always throw on another jacket over the smaller one or add a scarf to protect your neck.

Whether you’ve succumbed to the dark academia accusations or wish to upgrade your College Puffer without compromising on warmth, then a dark wool coat might be a shout. For those who prefer a more glamorous stride to the pub, then a long fur coat might be a lavish alternative. I would recommend that you purchase faux fur unless it is a second-hand piece, in which case real fur can be acceptable because of how well it insulates. The versatility of fur coats in particular makes them a great asset to one’s wardrobe, as they can be dressed up for formals and styled down for everyday wear.

5. Accessories

A scarf is an essential accessory to the Oxford wardrobe and is the perfect layer for adding a personal touch to any outfit. Dupes of the Acne Studios oversized mohair scarf have been popular for years, and can emulate the feeling of being wrapped up in a soft blanket. However, most affordable versions of this style are 100% polyester. Although this synthetic fibre might be excellent thermal insulation and dries faster than wool, it is less breathable, which might cause you to overheat. Natural alternatives, like wool, cashmere, or even mohair, are just as good at keeping you warm, are biodegradable thus better for the environment, and more resistant to wear or tear. To save a bit of money, hunt for scarves on Vinted or eBay. If you prefer to shop first-hand, have a look at UNIQLO, Eldon Cashmere, or Scottish brands that specialise in lambswool. So, say goodbye to your college puffer and choose style!

Abolishing tuition fees would be a middle class cash grab

0

After the announcement of a modest increase in tuition fees last November, calls for their abolition were once again heard. But scrapping tuition fees would imperil the quality of British universities, do little to make university more affordable, and be socially unjust.

Economically, the British (excluding Scotland, given its different approach to tuition fees) student loan system is the best of both worlds. As the Financial Times journalist Martin Wolf has pointed out, European countries that primarily fund universities via taxation (such as France or Germany) tend to spend a smaller share of GDP on higher education than countries that rely on tuition fees (such as Canada, the US, or the UK). Given how British public services are faring (even as tax take is at a 70+ year high), a switch to state funded higher-education may result in universities receiving inadequate funding.

On the other hand, a system in which individuals borrow from the market saddles those who financially gain the least from university with the highest debt, as they cannot pay it off. Without collateral, banks demand stringent conditions, for instance American restrictions on discharging student loans in bankruptcy. The Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) estimates that (under the current, post 2023, system) students will repay on average 1.85% of their lifetime earnings, not an unreasonable amount. Only those who earn enough to pay do so. The recent increase in fees would only affect the estimated 65% of students who will earn enough to not have their debt written off. The British loan system is therefore a good compromise, avoiding the pitfalls of public funding but protecting students from the vicissitudes of market lending.

But more importantly, moving away from tuition fees would not be socially just either. Graduates earn more than non-graduates, so abolishing tuition fees would benefit a better-off group at the expense of everyone else. The IFS estimates that, at age 25, one in seven people do not have good GCSEs (grade C (or equivalent) or above). This group would receive virtually nothing from reducing tuition fees but would face the additional taxes and/or cuts to public services that would fund them.

This points to a limitation in using university for social mobility: much is set by age 16, before higher education can make any difference. The IFS notes that “only 8% of young people who were not meeting expectations in reading, writing and maths at the end of primary school went on to achieve pass grades in GCSE English and maths”. We would better tackle inequality by increasing funding to primary and secondary education, before irreversible disadvantages set in. Using tax revenue to reduce tuition fees instead of this would be a middle class cash grab.

The options for raising revenue to pay for state-subsidised higher education look poor. Alongside raising a larger amount of tax than for decades, the British tax system is notoriously complex compared to peers. Some have hoped that a wealth tax might solve the problem, but studies and commentary on a British annual wealth tax have been less than lukewarm and wealth taxes elsewhere have had a poor run.

Britain was one of the hardest-hit countries in bond market convulsions at the start of this year, with the 10-year bond yield reaching its highest since 2008; the 2024 Autumn Budget forecast a debt servicing bill of £126 billion in 2025-26, more than the defence budget. Increasing public borrowing to fund tuition is not a realistic option (and borrowing to fund day-to-day spending is anyway unsustainable). Regardless of whether we believe the UK can realistically raise the funds, are there better ways to spend the additional budget than on abolishing a just and effective system? The rise in British child poverty, among other problems, might suggest so.

Critics of the current system are right to highlight the problem of insufficient maintenance loans. Indeed, the Department for Education’s “Student Income and Expenditure Survey 2021 to 2022” reported that mean full-time student expenditure is more than the maximum (outside of London) maintenance loan, plainly putting poorer students at a disadvantage. However, while maintenance loan amounts do present a very real challenge to poorer students, tuition fees do not: British students do not have to pay them before studying and might never pay them back in full. While the idea of a “student loan” and headline fees would understandably worry an 18 year old unfamiliar with the system, better information about the costs and repayment process would be a vastly more efficient manner with which to tackle this concern compared to scrapping fees.

None of this implies that we should endorse an anti-intellectual populism which sees university education as profligate and unnecessary. We all benefit when everyone, no matter their background, has access to education and is able to put their talent to the best use possible. The modern world would not function if it was full of either graduates or non-graduates. More importantly, education and the pursuit of knowledge are things which we ought to promote and treasure: they make us human. But we must also be clear-eyed about who benefits financially from university education. Abolishing fees would bring little of the beauty of knowledge to those without good GCSEs. It would harm students, the taxpayer, and the goal of equality.

Have an opinion on the points raised in this article? Send us a 150-word letter at [email protected] and see your response in our next print or online.

Oxford Union would ‘cancel cancel culture’

0

In Thursday night’s debate, the Oxford Union voted in favour of the motion “This House Would Cancel Cancel Culture”, with 144 members voting for the motion, 144 members voting against, and the tie-breaking vote cast by Union President Israr Khan. 

The debate kicked off with Chief of Staff Siddhant Nagrath – in favour of the proposition – mockingly noting that his opposition, Rosalie Chapman, has “an extra knack for cancelling the Union”. Nagrath made a case for “debate, dialogue, discussion”. He argued that cancel culture is “mob mentality” rather than accountability, which blocks beneficial ideas.

He was followed by Chair of Consultative Committee Daniyal Vemuri who started by ‘roasting’ Nagrath for taking his “hack-ginity” as part of his pursuit of presidency in Michaelmas. Vemuri claimed that cancel culture is “in principle with free speech” and necessary for holding each other accountable. He referred to John Stuart Mill’s Harm Principle, arguing that speech can have harmful effects. He concluded with the statement, “free speech maniacs, please go ahead and cancel me”.

Dr Naomi Wolf, an American writer, self-proclaimed “feminist icon”, journalist, and vaccine-denier (this latter past-time wasn’t advertised in the term card) then argued in favour of the statement by listing statistics that supposedly demonstrated a link between the COVID-19 vaccines and infertility. She declared that her “cancellation” was an attempt to “silence” her. Looking up at the balcony, she continued to argue that many thinkers (Socrates, John Milton, Thomas Paine – the list went on) were themselves cancelled for their beliefs at the time. 

The debate continued with the opposition speaker and Treasurer-elect Rosalie Chapman. She spoke in support of the victims and marginalised communities that themselves were “cancelled” by dominant powers. Chapman endorsed cancel culture as a sign of social progress, arguing that the racial slurs that “terrorised communities” still have inflammatory and harmful connotations. She later mentioned two Andrews, Prince and Tate, that haven’t been held accountable for their harassment of women and “cancelled”. Chapman finished by saying that “speech is only truly free for those in positions of power.”

Political commentator Dave Ruben spoke next for the proposition, stating that “free speech is literally his favourite thing to do”. He argued that people should be able to say things to each other’s face and agree to disagree without the fear of being silenced by a “weaponised mob”– Wolf nodded sadly the whole time. “Words are words, and you should have learned it in fourth grade.” 

Ernest Owens, an award-winning journalist speaking against the statement, opened his speech by saying “if words do not matter, why are we here?”. He argued that speech used by criminals can have detrimental effects and those who claim otherwise are “intellectually dishonest”. Owens used Mein Kampf as an example of when something should be cancelled; an audience member asked for a point of information on this, and Owens responded “we are not going to deny holocaust in my time here” and that “there was a time when people that look like you would ‘cancel’ me”. Owens noted that cancel culture is only disliked by people like Trump because “it’s used to push back for rights”.

The final speaker for the proposition was Union Director of Strategy Eeshani Bendale, who spoke against cancel culture as a  “pervasive social phenomenon”, which stops people from learning from their mistakes. Bendale pointed out that the consequences of cancel culture are harmful, regrettable and often irreversible, and that it is not the way to achieve accountability.

The closing speaker of the evening was human rights activist Peter Tatchell. He defined cancel culture as an “an act of withdrawing support from an individual, organisation, or regime” for their actions. Tatchell conceded that sometimes cancel culture has gone too far, but the motion would reject all forms of cancel culture, which is wrong. Cancelling oil companies, dictators, war criminals has a “moral and ethical purpose”, and cancelling cancel culture would result in “betrayal of human rights”.

Before the main debate began, the chamber voted against the motion “This house supports the break up between Europe and the US”. The discussion circled around the Western world, human rights, Russia, Ukraine and Trump. An elected committee member, accompanied by eager claps, argued against the motion and suggested returning the original US colonies to “Britannia”, arguing that the current US government lacks “King Charles’ strong hand”. 

The emergency debate was followed by the signing ceremony of six scholarships for students from underprivileged backgrounds from Pakistan in memory of former Prime Minister of Pakistan Benazir Bhutto, who was also the first woman elected to the head of a democratic government in a Muslim-majority country. 

This was followed by Rosalie Chapman’s proposition to establish the role of sexual violence officer. The motion passed unanimously except for one loud ‘nay’ from a member.

Much ado about funding: Financing Oxford student theatre

0

Last term, I performed in my first show at Oxford University, and I couldn’t stop talking about it. Everyone I knew was subjected to my monologues about rehearsals and costumes and casting, and most of my friends met this with remarkable patience. One friend of mine was also in a play, and we ended up trading notes on our experiences. 

Both shows were Oxford student theatre, but mine was Shakespeare and hers was contemporary. The differences didn’t end there. I had no idea of the budget for mine – all I knew was we had enough for frequent snack runs during rehearsals, and for very nice drinks at the cast party. My friend knew all too well the state of her show’s finances. Instead of discussing our acting choices, I heard about the fundraising, production, and marketing woes befalling her show. And I wondered which one of our experiences was more common.

At first glance, it seemed like hers. Over half of respondents to a survey on Oxford student theatre funding stated that the budgets of the shows in which they had participated were moderately low (Figure 1). They cited a “long confusing process” to secure funding, loans that were “daylight robbery”, and “fighting over limited funding”. 

There are several archetypical budgets. The Oxford University Drama Officer, Noah Wild, encourages producers not to exceed a breakeven percentage of 60% in their budgets, meaning that total expenditure, generally, should not exceed 60% of their ticket sales. As a result, there are differing budgets for different venues. Shows at the Burton Taylor Studio (“the BT”) are unlikely to exceed £720. Shows at the Michael Pilch Studio have a ceiling of around £1,500. At the Keble O’Reilly, it’s around £3,500. And at the Oxford Playhouse, where the most “professional” productions are performed, the budgets will stretch to £24,000. 

The ways that budget impacted the production itself were myriad. Most reported technical limitations: one show had to choose between the entire cast having mics, or none of them, and could not afford the former. Practical effects would be limited to Playhouse shows, notorious for their expense, and the trade-off for elaborate costumes would often be a threadbare set and lighting.

Even before design was considered, a production’s budget impacted far more fundamental aspects, like which show would be put on at all. Shakespeare can seem endemic in student theatre (this term alone has King Lear, Richard II, Romeo & Juliet, and The Merchant of Venice being performed in various venues), but there is a strong financial incentive. Since they are all in the public domain, there is no estate to contact, no stipulations to abide by, and no rights to purchase.

For contemporary theatre, particularly for small-scale productions, rights can take up almost half of the budget, in some cases costing more than venue hire. Translated scripts prove even more difficult, since the copyright attaches to the translation, as well as the original. Even plays written centuries ago may require budget allocations for rights, because the translation is not in the public domain. For one respondent, the cost of licensing pre-existing licenses was so much that they were translating the play from Italian themselves.

Funding Oxford drama

There are two primary forms of funding for Oxford student theatre: grants and loans. Grants can come from JCRs, college societies, and the Cameron Mackintosh Drama Fund (CMDF), while the Oxford University Dramatic Society (OUDS) offers pro-rata loans. Productions that receive these loans must pay back the amount they borrowed plus a share of the profits; a loan worth 25% of the budget would be repaid with the amount itself and 25% of the profits. One hundred per cent of the respondents stated that they had used JCR or MCR funding in their productions, and just under three-quarters used OUDS loans or CMDF grants (Figure 2).

Grants and loans are not the only dividing lines for funding sources. OUDS and the CMDF are drama-specific entities. As an entity created to fund student drama, the CMDF takes an interest in ascertaining how best they can help  beyond the bare provision of grants. The University Drama Officer exists to facilitate and support student theatre, and to liaise between production companies and the CMDF. In service of this, he has introduced numerous changes in order to make funding more accessible. This term, he is running production workshops to help first-time producers make funding bids. Additionally, he advises bidders on the best way to structure their budget. The next innovation will be a requirement for all shows receiving CMDF funding to submit a financial report at the end of their production, so that the Fund can better see which areas to aid.

Similarly, the Treasurer of OUDS, Chess Nightingale, has been closely involved in ensuring as many production companies as possible secure funding. Nightingale circulates a funding provocation form each term, when bids for theatres open, advising how best to structure the form to ensure acceptance. Reels on the OUDS Instagram are aimed at debunking common myths, and a new website is currently in development to better convey key information like deadlines and expected awards. She stated that OUDS “rarely reject applications” and never “purely on technicalities”. 

In contrast, JCRs and MCRs are not designed with the purpose of funding student drama, which can lead to some issues. They have other priorities, and therefore may be more likely to refuse or to limit the amount allocated. On average, they contribute between £50 and £200, depending on the number of students from that college involved in the production.The utility of JCR funding will also depend on the colleges making up the production team and the actors, since wildly different levels of funds exist between each. 

Some colleges have their own arts societies, but they may also have a more convoluted method of securing funding. For example, the Brazen Arts Fund (Brasenose) is unaffiliated with the JCR, and will only reimburse receipts, limiting the extent to which they can be used in the development of a show. College drama societies may also introduce stipulations, such as the proportion of students from that college who must be in the performance, or for a committee member to be in the production team.

Still, it is relatively simple, administratively, to request funding from JCRs, and such funding is a well-known source. The nature of their grants means that all of the profit from a show can be retained, and potentially reinvested into the next. This is unlikely to cover a full production, being more effective as an ad-hoc supplement.

The less centralised structure of Oxford student theatre is partly a result of abundant sources of funding. At other universities, like Newcastle, LSE, and York, there is a central dramatic society, funded by ticket sales, membership fees, and the Student Union. The numerous external sources of funding for Oxford drama limit the need for centralisation.

While the production companies in Oxford are affiliated with OUDS, they are autonomous entities, which allows them the freedom to put on whatever show they wish. But this autonomy goes both ways. If a company doesn’t have a knowledgeable producer or an experienced stage manager, there are no guardrails. As a result, significant polarisation is possible between the resources and expertise of prominent companies with a strong track record, compared to smaller, first-time companies. The availability of central funding limits the disparity here somewhat – the alternative of JCR funding is once again dependent on the composition of the production company. One respondent identified tension from different companies “fighting over limited funding”, but without OUDS and the CMDF, such fighting would only intensify. 

Audience experience 

The budget of a play didn’t make a considerable difference to the audience members’ enjoyment. When asked whether they enjoyed watching larger scale or smaller scale performances, the vast majority stated that “it depends” on a far wider variety of factors. Only one person had a preference at all, and that was for smaller shows, because “they often have more time and love put into them”. For them, Playhouse shows, with budgets of over £20,000, had never been “anything better than just fine.”

Among the rest of the respondents, one criterion stood out: how well a show knew what it wanted to be. The only relevance of the budget was whether it was “in line with ambitions”. As a result, there was something of an expectation gap between different venues. Those at the Playhouse, which signified a higher budget, brought higher expectations. Respondents admired the “spectacles” that could be created, and their potential to be “impressive, exciting, and immersive”. The flipside of this was a lack of risk in terms of content. The need to break even, when that number is in the tens of thousands, meant that high budget shows tended to stick to established work that would bring in an audience. No-one disputed the technical marvel that could be produced with a larger budget. But several remarked that, with higher expectations set, there was a greater risk of falling short. 

 With a lower amount needed to break even, smaller shows could take more risks, and the more basic set design meant an unflinching focus on the performers themselves. Respondents enjoyed smaller venue shows for “intense moments”, “subtle emotions”, and “real gems of new writing”. In both cases, the quality of the show to the audience was not tied to the budget, because they knew to expect different things from different productions. “Quality drama” above all, was the most important consideration. That isn’t necessarily guaranteed by money. 

Funding from an actor’s perspective

In terms of ideal productions in which to participate, opinion was more divided. Over a quarter preferred larger-budget productions, although it still depended on other factors for half. The throughline for those preferring larger productions was a sense of security. The necessary resources were already in place, so the actors could focus on what they were doing in the play, rather than worrying about what was going on backstage.

In particular, the presence of “extra” features made a difference, like intimacy direction and choreography. Intimacy direction is a recent, fought-for inclusion to OUDS, and still remains difficult budgetarily. Wild estimated that a significantly discounted professional intimacy director was around £450 a day; more than it costs to hire the BT. One interviewee spoke of having a student intimacy director, who was not involved in rehearsals, and only came on the day of the show to check the entire production. The lack of thoroughness and organisation contributed to a feeling of discomfort, impacting the actors’ enjoyment of the play. 

“Professional” was often used to describe better-funded plays. Whether this is guaranteed depends on how you view professionalism. Onstage, a larger budget goes a long way to make a show appear professional, with a cohesive set design, fantastic practical effects, and the lack of obviously borrowed props or costumes. One respondent talked of the “OUTTS chair” – a style of prop that you’d instantly recognise if you’d ever been involved in a play. The immersion for the audience, and the actors, is more likely to be secured with these design considerations, meaning that funding may be important for a more professional production.

But there is another sense of professionalism that cannot so easily be seen from the stalls. Conduct and organisation backstage impacts the experience of everyone involved in the production, and this depends on the cohesion of the cast and crew, not the set, which is far more difficult to secure with money alone. Tensions may be lessened when there is a sufficient budget, but a dedicated production crew, a well-equipped producer, and a welfare officer who knows that their role goes beyond providing snacks are no less necessary. Improving comfort backstage is not necessarily a question of more money, but of a more purposeful approach to putting on a show. That’s something that can only really be built from experience.

The opportunities to build this experience in student theatre are nearly unparalleled in Oxford. Only Cambridge was brought up as a potential competitor. One respondent, who graduated in 2023, explained the sharp contrasts of her experiences with student theatre at Oxford and at her subsequent university. There was “almost no funding”, leaving them reliant on ticket sales and often suffering losses, making musicals increasingly unsustainable. The variety was limited, having to “carefully… pick shows that will bring in a big audience in order to make our money back”. There were less direct comparisons too – the tech resources available from the Oxford University Technical Theatre Society (OUTTS) are discounted compared to commercial rates, and the CMDF pays for the electricity in the BT.

Oxford student theatre’s variety is its strength. It allows for shows that are new, experimental, and genuinely exciting, while also creating masterpieces of technical skill that allow actors and crew alike to develop their abilities. The money available ensures such an assortment can be performed, but equally important is how well the cast and crew work together. If funding remains accessible to all, as OUDS and the CMDF are working to ensure, then the show will always go on.

Oxford City Council rejects publication of air quality data

0

A motion for the publication of data about air quality in the proposed areas for the expansion of Zero Emission Zone (ZEZ) was rejected by the Oxford City Council on Monday 27th January. 

David Henwood, a councillor from the Oxford Independent Alliance, motioned for the City Council to publish a supplement to the 2023 Air Quality Annual Status report to decide whether the planned £5.2 million expansion of the ZEZ remains “objectively justified”. He argued that the report would provide greater public knowledge of nitrogen dioxide levels. The Council’s climate policy previously faced scrutiny after it suspended a traffic filter trial, blaming the Botley Road closure

Oxford has been a designated Air Quality Management Area (AQMA) for nitrogen dioxide since 2010. It is the responsibility of local authorities to declare themselves an AQMA if they believe air quality standards will not be met by relevant deadlines.

Oxford’s Zero Emission Zone was introduced in February 2022 by the County Council, covering central roads such as Cornmarket Street and Ship Street. Motorists driving petrol and diesel vehicles can incur charges varying from £2 to £10 if they enter the zone between 7am and 7pm. Its planned 2026 expansion would cover a much larger area including parts of Jericho and streets near Worcester, Magdalen, and Merton colleges. 

Members of the Independent Oxford Alliance, Oxford Independence Group and Real Independents voted to support the motion. During the last local election, members of these independent groups campaigned to remove the ZEZ. 

The motion was voted against by every Labour, Liberal Democrat and Green councillor. Chris Smowdon, Leader of the Liberal Democrat group on Oxford City Council expressed concern at the motion’s attempt to question the ZEZ’s expansion, describing it as an “attempted gotcha” which failed to acknowledge that cars emit harmful chemicals other than nitrogen dioxide, and that even if only a small level of nitrogen dioxide was found in the extended area, it would still be hazardous. 

Protestors holding banners that read “Climate Policy Starts at Home”, “Think Global Act Local” and “There Is No Planet B” entered the public gallery as Henwood’s motion was introduced. Josie Procter, who organised the protest, expressed concern with Henwood’s motion saying: “a recent uptick in commentary from elected councillors…seems to ignore the very real current climate emergency, despite both city and county councils making climate emergency declarations as long ago as 2019.” 

Since the full council meeting on 27th January, Oxford City Council have made public a Source Apportionment Study demonstrating which pollution sources in Oxford contribute most to air pollution levels. It aims to use data on both nitrogen dioxide and particulate matter levels – emitted by petrol and diesel cars – to identify the necessary reduction in pollutant emissions to achieve the Council’s target. 

The data from across Oxford shows that road transport remains the largest contributor to air pollution, accounting for 32% of total NOx – a combination of nitric oxide and nitrogen dioxide – emissions. The percentage of road transport emissions contributed by buses has decreased by 28% since the last Source Apportionment Report, due to the introduction of 159 electric buses in January 2025 under the ZEBRA scheme.

Annual mean nitrogen dioxide levels across Oxford decreased by 18% between 2021 and 2023, meaning they have stayed within the legal limit.  According to a City Council press release, Oxford is currently in compliance with the UK’s legal limit for nitrogen dioxide. 
Cherwell have contacted Councillor David Henwood and Councillor Chris Jarvis for comment.

The Goat Review: ‘raw, absurdist, and honest’

0

Clarendon Productions brings The Goat, or Who is Sylvia? (Edward Albee) to the Michael Pilch studio, painfully, humorously, and soulfully. Seated in the round, the audience is gifted a fly-on-the-wall experience in the exclusivity of a family dining room. It feels intrusive to be here, pressed up against bedsheets hung up around the studio, cloaking both actor and audience in the private affair. 

The set (Lucas Angeli, Vita Hamilton, Fraser Gilliat, George Vyvyan) feels distantly familiar. Upon the wooden dining table at the centre, newspapers and books are strewn carelessly, and a vase of seasonal flowers is displayed proudly alongside half-enjoyed cups of tea, glasses of water, and a small dish of peanuts. Warm lampshades on side-tables punctuate the rows of audience, and a couple of bookshelves neighbour the doors.

Honor Thompson plays Stevie, an affluent suburban wife. Sitting amidst the audience in the comfort of her tastefully curated home, she lights up upon the entrance of her husband, Martin (Rob Wolfreys). They joke and they touch, effortless and unsparing in their affections. Wolfreys portrays Martin, a 50 year-old architect at the summit of his career, concealing a hauntingly transgressive secret. He has fallen in love with a goat, Sylvia, the partner of his emotional and sexual affair. 

The play begins with Martin struggling with his memory in conversation with his wife. Shortly after, the scene introduces the family’s oldest friend, Ross (Luke Bannister), who arrives to interview Martin on his latest success. Here, Martin wrestles with distractedness and verbal incoherence, much to the frustration of his friend, and is soon pressured to reveal the source of his anxiety: he is sleeping with a goat. Bannister consistently and impressively harmonises stunned disgust with fierce loyalty in his performance of Ross; what begins with an apparent sentiment of pride in being the one in whom Martin confides, quickly transforms into stark repulsion and despair, his ‘head-in-hands’ disposition enmeshed skilfully with ‘tongue-in-cheek’ farce.

While Martin’s memory and emotional wellbeing seem spotted, his demeanour remains largely unfazed. There’s some sort of honest assurance coursing through his despondency, which Wolfreys conveys impeccably. His speech is erratic and disjointed; it’s annoying and worrying, simultaneously igniting and disrupting the fast pace of the performance. He shares confessionally with a kind of earnest retrieval that is truly rare to see on stage: you’re moved to sympathy, however disturbing the substance of his story.

Thompson’s commitment to Albee’s dry, absurdist humour, while equally breaking our hearts with candid vulnerability, is sincerely remarkable. Highly intelligent and admirably composed, Stevie is beautifully embodied by Thompson’s subtle physicality and tentativeness. Her flair for storytelling, beyond the story at hand, through something even as delicate as the way that she looks at her husband, enriches the performance entirely. Unthinkable shame meets once-pride; in one breath, “you goat-fucker, you love of my life” is delivered as an outcry and felt like a knife. Thompson’s portrayal of Stevie is arresting and unforgettable.

Euan Elliott offers an exceptional performance of Billy, their 17 year-old son. Wide-eyed, wounded, bewildered, and thoroughly unsettled, Elliott perfectly captures the nature of this mournful and confused teenager, whose world is destroyed at the cusp of his making sense of it. He deftly balances instances of appalled outburst with quiet resignation: the indignant, forceful voice of an almost-man contrasted shatteringly with the scared confessions of a little kid. There is an endearing clumsiness to his activity, from his startled posture, to his feigned bravery in confrontation, to the way he lingers awkwardly by the door.

For me, underpinning the play were the occurrences which happened only a couple of times, easily missable given the pace of the performance, yet strikingly essential. In the middle of, for example, a shouting match between husband and wife, of tumultuous discovery or crippling revelation, there would be on occasion a moment that feels like both characters step outside of staring at the devastation to ‘see’ one another. “Very good, by the way”, says Martin as his wife cleverly finishes a singular sentence that shreds him to pieces. Neither pausing to register his comment, nor exploding in enraged response, Stevie replies simply: “Thanks”. Pedantic language games and snide grammar corrections litter the play’s dialogue. We see that their marriage has worked seamlessly for 22 years because what goes beyond love is reciprocal knowledge and timeless playfulness. For Wolfreys and Thompson to convey a kind of intimate mutuality that is so instinctive and unaffected, and, as an audience member, to watch two people on stage genuinely know one another in the purest and most transparent form, even despite the majority of the play navigating the ruin of this knowledge, is extraordinary. It feels reductive to call it ‘chemistry’.

Vita Hamilton’s debut directorial project has blown us all away, with her careful balance of raw, absurdist humour and salient honesty. Hamilton’s crafting of the play is masterful: skin-to-skin and suffocating, yet eliciting quiet relief.

The show feels like a drawn-out heartbreak, intermittently broken by eruptions of incredulous laughter. You burst out laughing while the tears are still streaming down your face. Quick, astute dialogue and fluid, familial movement traverses erotic struggle, personal dysfunction, and relational carnage. The Goat leaves a lasting impression. A catastrophe of the home and the heart.