Thursday 17th July 2025
Blog Page 262

Father John Misty’s “new world of old characters”

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CW: death, suicide

For the last two years, Josh Tillman has been on a well-deserved break. He had released a concept album about his own love life (2015’s I Love You Honeybear), tackled the grandiose issues of mankind’s flaws and the breakdown of his own marriage (2017’s Pure Comedy and 2018’s God’s Favourite Customer respectively), written for both Beyoncé and Lady Gaga, and parodically covered Ryan Adams covering Taylor Swift in the style of the Velvet Underground. In 2020 he released a live album for Covid relief, an EP of covers, and a pair of singles. Then he disappeared.

Having deleted Instagram and Twitter during the God’s Favourite Customer release cycle, the artist better known by his pseudonym Father John Misty only re-emerged in 2022 with the announcement of Chloë and the Next 20th Century and its lead single, Funny Girl. Its lush strings and titular reference to the Streisand film evoke an Old Hollywood feel that is mirrored throughout the album, while its lyrics introduce the listener to a celebrity stalker and Tillman’s trademark lyrical style. 

The opening track introduces the eponymous shoplifting socialist Chloë with 1920’s orchestral flourishes and and subsequently has her kill herself as the music fades out; “summer ended on the balcony / she put on Flight of the Valkyries / at her 31st birthday party / took a leap into the autumn leaves.” It sets the tone for an eclectic mix of tragic storytelling and showcases the wide array of instrumentation provided by an 11-piece orchestra and a string quartet. Production duties are immaculately handled by long-time collaborator Jonathan Wilson; the band sound polished as ever and the orchestral touches only add to the sense of grandeur created by the imaginative and evocative lyrics.

Goodbye Mr. Blue deals with a failed relationship briefly brought back together through the death of their shared cat (“that Turkish Angora’s ’bout the only thing left of me and you”), retaining the tragedy of 2018’s piano ballad Just Dumb Enough to Try over an instrumental homage to Harry Nillson’s Everybody’s Talkin’. The narrator’s sadness at his own misfortune is exacerbated by his wish for the rekindling of their love through the cat dying earlier; “maybe if he’d gone sooner / could’ve brought us back together last June.” 

Another track concerning this recurring juxtaposition of love and death is We Could Be Strangers, in which Tillman opines “you’ll lose the one sooner or later / just being who you are.” The ‘love’ between the couple in the song is shown as futile, the pair are shown to be car crash victims “bleeding on the freeway” and in yet another darkly comedic lyric the narrator takes relief in the fact that “I never wanted to disappoint you / at least I’ll never even get the chance to.” 

In Kiss Me (I Loved You), the piano opening mirrors that of 2015’s I Love You Honeybear, but contrasts that song’s dreamy proclamations of love with a desperate hope to restart yet another doomed relationship. “Our dream / endеd like dreams do” and “love is much less a mystery / than who you give it to” show his ever-increasing cynicism, but complement 2015’s mariachi-infused Holy Shit and its own declaration that “love is just an economy based on resource scarcity.” In this way, the song brings Honeybear full circle, all the way to the end of the relationship. The tremolo on the vocal enhances the dream-like qualities of the song, while David Lynch’s accompanying cover is sung in character as a capuchin monkey named Jack Cruz. 

Buddy’s Rendezvous asks “whatever happened to the girl I knew?” over the by-now familiar mix of piano, strings and light brushes of drums that fit perfectly on Lana Del Rey’s cover; her version of the song would not be out of place on Blue Banisters or Norman Fucking Rockwell. Olvidado (Otro Momento), is bossa nova sung in Spanish, inspired by a trip to Brazil and a conversation in the wrong language. The album concludes with The Next 20th Century, a 6 minute long Leonard Cohen-esque return to form and finishes with the thought that “I’ll take the love songs / if this century’s here to stay.” After 51 minutes of a beautiful ode to doomed love, we can only feel the same.

The album is a sprawling delight, full of morbid ends to inconclusive love stories. Entertainment Weekly’s Leah Greenblack argues that “they feel less like songs than Paul Thomas Anderson movies compressed to six minutes or less,” and it is clear that Tillman has achieved the Hollywood ambitions hinted at in his debut album. Contrasted with Pure Comedy, it is less modern, less timely and much, much less political, but it introduces sparkling new stories and songs to fill the void left by the lack of social commentary. In Chloë and the Next 20th Century, Tillman succeeds spectacularly at creating a new world out of old characters.

Image Credit: Paul Hudson/CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

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Upcoming cultural events in Oxford

Croquet Cuppers

Season Two of Bridgerton has given me a newfound desire to grab life by the mallet, so this term I have decided to sign up for Croquet Cuppers. Is this because I believe that I could be a valuable addition to the team and lead my college to victory? No, of course not. My only experience playing croquet included getting so drunk on Pimms that I vomited on the side of the perfectly manicured lawn – any sport which includes a tacky chun is a winner in my book.

I have decided to sign up to Croquet Cuppers as I feel it could really benefit me personally. Not only is it one of the few sports in existence which I may have the athletic ability for – next to perhaps, chess or twister – but Bridgerton has also taught me that it is a great game to find a handsome man in a billowy shirt. As I approach the end of my second year, the three main Oxford goals – gaining a first, a spouse, and a Blue – are slipping further out of my grasp. Seeing as the first is pretty much a write-off I think croquet is quite possibly my only chance of ticking off the other two. So, I suppose I’d better give it my best shot.

By Lily Jones

May Day

Coming up in a few weeks is May Day, a unique Oxford event for which celebrations have occurred for over 1000 years (Slagel, 2020). The festivities mark the start of spring, and the coming of summer with a general atmosphere of festivity permeating the city. Events on May Day itself start at 6am with the choir singing from Magdalen tower, but celebrations continue through the morning with traditional Morris dancers in Radcliffe Square and the procession of a garlanded ox, to jazz band and sol samba performances (Healey, 2022).

Though the day occurs on May 1st, it is common for students to stay up through the evening, acting as an unusual end to a night of clubbing at Atik or O2, or following on from the Somerville-Jesus and LMH balls. This May Day also falls on a Sunday, allowing both students and Oxford residents to take part in the revelries. May Day is in fact particularly special in this regard, as an event in which both town and gown are united in celebrating, and in which traditions unique to the city of Oxford are venerated by all.

The physical May Day events have been cancelled for two consecutive years as a result of Covid-19, meaning it is a celebration the majority of Oxford’s undergraduates have never experienced before. Consequently, excitement is higher than ever this year, with the 2017 record of 27,000 spectators expected to be eclipsed (Slagel, 2020), so it is certainly not something that should be (or can be!) missed, and I urge all readers to join in the celebrations. Up the may!

By Isabella Elliott

The Oxford Medieval Mystery Cycle

Saturday 23rd April 2022, St Edmund Hall, 12:00pm – 17:00pm

Admission: Free

I stumbled across this intriguing albeit slightly strange event in a random Modern Languages faculty email, and the phrase ‘Medieval Mystery’ caught my attention. The premise of the event is a sort of theatrical retelling of the story of mankind with a series of plays performed by groups of Spanish, French, Italian, and German students and a number of MML lecturers around St Edmund Hall. As the faculty website states, “at noon the chapel bell will ring for Creation to commence in the Old Dining Hall. From there the story will unfold, with the Old Testament being acted out in the Front Quad and the New Testament in the churchyard around St Peter-in-the-East.” 

Although a slightly bizarre concept, these plays were a very popular form of drama in the Middle Ages– and what is more Oxford than desperately trying to hold onto tradition. If you enjoy theatre or story-telling and wish to fill a Saturday afternoon, this could be an ideal way to experience something a bit different as the audience will be asked to move around the college to see the various groups perform. Combining multilingualism and the medieval experience, this event could be the ideal way to start off a fun-filled Trinity. If your aim this term is to adopt a ‘say yes to everything’ mentality then look no further. Everyone is welcome and the event is free of charge.

By Elena Buccisano

Artwork by Wang Sum Luk

Whistler at the Musée d’Orsay: An American in Paris

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Roiling waters. Liberated waistlines. Crumbling palazzos. From his landscapes to portraits, James McNeil Whistler brings to the fore the equally haunting and mesmerizing beauty of natural movement. As the historic Frick Collection undergoes renovation, a collection of the artist’s masterworks takes residence at Musée d’Orsay in Paris from February 8 to May 8. For the first time ever, a varied selection of Whistler’s paintings, etchings, and watercolors are paired with Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1: Portrait of the Painter’s Mother (from Orsay’s main collection): the picture of American style with French sensibility.    

Length, Width, and Everything in Between

“I can’t tell you if genius is hereditary, because heaven has granted me no offspring.” While Whistler’s portrait subjects appear dated by hair styles and dress, it is perhaps the artist’s self-assured brushstrokes and attention to detail that allows for the subjects of his portraits to have a presence outside of time. 

Mrs. Frances Leyland in Symphony in Flesh Color and Pink rejects the corseted silhouette of the Victorian style and appears as natural as the blossoms of the almond tree that grows beside her. Whistler had a hand in every component of this work, from Mrs. Leyland’s tea gown to the frame that encases her. The monochromatic minimalism enables the viewer to enjoy the harmony of colors and shapes. It frees the eye from solely focusing on the image depicted on the canvas and gives way to the general aura exuded by Mrs. Leyland. Her elegance lives in the present; she is timeless. 

Composed Color

A melody with a tempo that escapes Victorian English and bourgeois French conventions: the correspondence between tones of color and textures of sound evidently guides Whistler’s brush. The studies for Nocturne in Blue and Silver: The Lagoon, Venice on display at Orsay indicate how the artist’s pursuit of formal harmonies prompted him to view people and settings as fluid as a song. In this sense, choice of color and tone reflects a worldview. 

Whistler’s body of work develops a harmony between the Aestheticism of the American Golden Age and the Realism of French artists such as Courbet and Manet. The exhibition hall in Orsay comes alive with the remarkably vital portraits of nineteenth century nobility, one of whom is Count Montesquiou, the inspiration for Baron de Charlus in Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. Whistler orchestrates a symphony of colors, symbols, and gestures that takes art beyond the canvas.

Image credits: James McNeill Whistler/Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

In Conversation with Cameron Saul

In our golden age of greenwashing, few fashion brands can claim to be both disruptive and genuinely ethical. Speaking to Cameron Saul, however, I am convinced that BOTTLETOP is one such brand.

Cameron is the co-founder of British luxury sustainable fashion brand BOTTLETOP, which originated through a design collaboration with the Mulberry fashion label in 2002. BOTTLETOP operates an atelier in Brazil, where they empower local artisans to sustainable livelihoods, and make accessories from waste and sustainably sourced materials – from upcycled ring pulls used to make the brand’s iconic chainmail design, to zero deforestation leather. The BOTTLETOP brand funds the BOTTLETOP Foundation, which empowers disadvantaged youth and their communities through vocational training and creative education projects that tackle issues such as HIV/AIDS, teenage pregnancy, and substance abuse. 

Cameron joins me via Zoom. As we begin talking, I am struck by how open, engaged and personable he is. Cameron’s passion for creativity, sustainability, and the brand that he has built is refreshing and contagious; he is a man on a mission.

Cameron’s father, Roger Saul, is the man behind Mulberry. He confesses that this is where the interest in fashion began. “It was inescapable in my family. Dad’s passion for creating beautiful, special things that would carry meaning for people was always something that was infectious…Nothing was not discussed over the kitchen table. [Mulberry] was a proper family business from that perspective.”

Through the original BOTTLETOP bags that Cameron and his father launched together in 2002, Cameron became convinced of the efficacy of business as a tool for impact. “Even at that super early time and even before people were having conversations about sustainable design or using business as a tool for impact, it was already immediately clear to me and my Dad that fashion could play a really powerful role in both empowering people economically through the creation of those bags…but also in cleaning the environment through the waste materials we were using, raising money to support creative education projects, and acting as a tool for advocacy.” 

Cameron maintains that prior to this collaboration, fashion social enterprises were exceedingly rare; there was a gap between poorly designed products released by the charity sector and big fashion brands that occasionally raised and donated money. “What we did with BOTTLETOP was effectively bridge all of that through a concept that was about truly beautiful design made by vulnerable people in challenging circumstances…Everything we’ve done since has built on that blueprint of using design to drive impact.”

“Because we were back in 2002 and no one was really thinking of using business in that way, my father and I decided to register BOTTLETOP as a UK charity, rather than set it up as a company. For the next 10 years we spent our time working to fundraise through the sale of the artisanal products that we developed, but also by putting together high-level contemporary art exhibitions, auctions, and music.” As part of this fundraising, they produced an album series that led them to Brazil. There, they happened across the technique of recycled ring pulls crocheted together – which would become BOTTLETOP’s signature design – and began working with local artisans in Salvador to create the initial designs. 

As time went on, the evolution of both consumer consciousness and technology gave new impetus to “different production techniques” and “wanting to play with different recyclable materials.” This, Cameron said, ultimately formed the basis of the #TOGETHERBAND campaign, which was launched in partnership with the United Nations Foundation in 2019. 

Each #TOGETHERBAND bracelet represents one of the UN’s 17 Global Goals and are handmade in Nepal by a collective of women who have been rescued from human trafficking. The bracelets are made from upcycled marine plastic waste and decommissioned illegal firearms. Designing this campaign to feature “more accessible products like friendship bands” which could “act as a tool for advocacy,” particularly as consumer consciousness continues to evolve, was important to Cameron. 

Yet despite a huge shift in environmental awareness and consumer consciousness in recent years, fast fashion brands continue to grow. We venture into a discussion about the tension between growing social consciousness and capitalist profit-seeking, overproduction, and overconsumption. What is Cameron’s hope for the future of fashion in an era of microtrends and fast fashion? “For me, the hope is that there will continue to be more and more awesome new brands that are delivering real solutions, that there will be more and more investment going into the development of leading-edge sustainable materials, and that the pressure on high street brands to incorporate those materials into their collections is somehow manifested. 

“Fast fashion is ultimately flawed. We just know it shouldn’t be possible for things to cost that little. It’s people in the supply chain and the planet that are ultimately paying the price. So, I would love to think that [fast fashion brands] are just going to go out of business because people continue to awaken, but I don’t think that’s really the case. I think the best we can do is hope to find ways to coexist with them, where there’s such a level of awareness that people aren’t choosing them as much as possible, but also that those brands are forced to have a product offering that resonates with an increasingly aware consumer base.”

As we move towards a sustainable future, Cameron hopes that young people will continue to be vocal, ask questions, and demand change. “I think the reason we’ve seen such powerful shifts in the climate space is because particularly young people have started to unashamedly voice their opinions and demand accountability. 

“I would always encourage people to ask the tough questions of brands that they love and would want to see improving, and for everyone to use their actual voice and their digital voice to make noise.”

“We need to continue to build community,” Cameron says as we part, “both in the real world and the digital universe that we all now inhabit, to really drive things collectively.” 

Image Credit: BOTTLETOP/Facebook

Raging against the dying of the light: what the DUP’s predicament tells us about the state of unionism in Northern Ireland

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All is not well for the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), the current overall largest political party in Northern Ireland’s legislative assembly, both in terms of vote share and seats. Since 2004, the DUP – which regards itself as Northern Ireland’s and Unionism’s leading political protector against internal and external challengers has occupied a pre-eminent position electorally within the Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist (PUL) community. Despite its opposition to the 1998 Good Friday Agreement (GFA), which its PUL rival the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) helped pass, the DUP has benefited strongly from the electoral provisions that the GFA accorded. It has been a party of government in Northern Ireland’s consociational administration, Stormont, since 2007, where the electoral system can reward in-group appeals and hard-line positions. By capitalising on these embedded rewards, the DUP has thus far successfully squeezed out the UUP and the smaller Unionist and Loyalist political parties with no clear challenger to its intra-Unionist dominance.

But on 5th May 2022, when Northern Ireland goes to the polls to elect representatives to its legislature, the DUP is expected to have its long shadow over Northern Irish politics substantially shortened. Polls have consistently shown the party’s leader – Sir Jeffery Donaldson – as the most unpopular of the Northern Irish political leaders, and the party has been embattled by resurgent intra-community political rivals. The more existential worry for the party, and for elements of PUL community more broadly, is the distinct possibility that Sinn Fein, the largest political party within Catholic/Nationalist/Republican (CNR) communities, will become Northern Ireland’s largest overall political party. This would mark the first time that a CNR political party, and a party whose expressed goal is Irish Unification and the removal of Northern Ireland as a political entity, would be in the electoral driving seat. Not only is the future of the DUP’s predominance at stake, but so is, in the eyes of the party and for sections of Unionism, the future of Northern Ireland’s six counties of Antrim, Armagh, Down, Fermanagh, (London)Derry, and Tyrone.

Squeezed Out: How the DUP Ended up Here

The DUP’s recent predicament, one largely of its own making, has not emerged overnight. Rather, it appears to be the culmination of perceived failures at the community level to improve the mainly working-class areas that it represents, despite its longevity in government. These feelings of being left behind have erupted sporadically, notably during the ‘flag protests’ of 2012 in response to a perceived negation of PUL identity through the removal of the Union Flag above Belfast Hall. Though instances like these are often characterised as knee-jerk reactions to greater inclusion of the historically marginalised  CNR community, they also belie real feelings within many working-class communities that they have been abandoned by both their political leadership and the Peace Process more generally. Indeed, the DUP’s tenure in government has seen continued socioeconomic deprivation and stagnation within working-class PUL communities. Protestant boys have the lowest education achievement rates in Northern Ireland, and working-class PUL communities have significantly fewer community and youth centres available than their CNR counterparts. Furthermore, whilst certainly not exclusive to PUL communities, prevailing issues around generational unemployment, low-wage work, narcotics abuse, and rising suicide rates raise questions around existing political leadership.

Yet these trends have been present for decades. What then explains the DUP’s sudden embattlement now? The answer can be found in the Northern Irish Protocol, or more accurately, what the Northern Irish Protocol represents for the future of Northern Ireland. The DUP gambled by whole-heartedly supporting Brexit, but the outcomes have backfired somewhat spectacularly. Hypothetically, Brexit not only complemented the party’s wider worldview of British nationalism and Euroscepticism, but also appeared to be an opportunity to safeguard the Union with Britain by entrenching the existing Irish border. Britain has left the European Union (EU), but by attempting to protect trade and free movement across the United Kingdom’s only land-border with the EU, the customs border has been in effect moved from within Ireland to the Irish Sea. For many Unionists, and particularly Northern Irish Loyalists, composed of primarily Protestant working-class communities, this marks the beginning of the slipperiest of slopes: the firing of a starting pistol to a United Ireland.

This is by no means a distant threat. If  demographers are correct in their expectations, the 2021 Census results will reveal Catholics have overtaken Protestants as the largest group in Northern Ireland for the first time. Increased population size for the Catholic community is not to say that Nationalist and Republican parties will dominate, or that Catholicism in Northern Ireland maps uniformly to political parties and constitutional views, or that Northern Ireland will disappear overnight (or even at all), but it does represent a seismic shift for a region founded as “a Protestant government for a Protestant people”. What is more, Sinn Fein continues to succeed electorally in both the Republic of Ireland, where it is currently the second largest party, and Northern Ireland, where it is predicted to become the largest party. Conversations around a united Ireland are being held with renewed vigour including in Irish political circles beyond the political mainstream, increasing feelings of tension and apprehension amongst some within the PUL community about where Northern Ireland’s political future lies.

The intersection of these two dynamics has resulted in increased pressure on the DUP by other forces within the PUL community, with the potential to significantly disrupt Northern Irish politics. At one end of the spectrum, the DUP faces a political challenge from the resurgent Ulster Unionist Party (UUP), which risks outflanking it as a credible alternative leader for the PUL community. For the UUP, the sole party of government from the country’s inception in 1921 until the suspension of Stormont and the establishment of direct rule from Westminster in 1998, this election offers the promise of recapturing lost ground. In recent years, the party – under the leadership of Doug Beatie – has attempted to reverse its decline in Westminster and Stormont by positioning itself as a softer, more liberal alternative within the PUL community. A party, in its own view, committed to pragmatic governance, not divisive cultural ‘orange and green’ wars (increased appeals to the ethno-nationalist blocs at the expense of other policies and issues). It remains to be seen if the UUP can dent the DUP substantially. At time of writing (17/04/22) the DUP remains the expected largest PUL party overall. A slew of misogynistic and racist historical tweets have damaged Beatie’s liberal image, and as the election looms closer, the ‘orange card’ which the DUP has historically benefited from has been increasingly played by a DUP with its back against the ropes.

Meanwhile, the DUP has also been drawn into a hard-fought battle with the smaller Loyalist parties, vying to be the voice of loyalism and the dominant PUL party in working-class areas. This challenge has most noticeably come from the Traditional Unionist Voice (TUV) party. The TUV, a splinter from the DUP, broke from the party in 2007 following the DUP’s power-sharing agreement with Sinn Fein (historically the political wing of the Provisional IRA), something the TUV regards as a red line. The TUV is to the DUP what the latter once was to the UUP: an intra-unionist rival able to outbid the party on its right. The TUV has campaigned hard on the intertwined issues of the Irish Sea Border and the Northern Irish Protocol, forcing the DUP into the challenging situation of both positioning itself as an opposition party and simultaneously being a party of government. The TUV, which currently only has one assembly member – its leader Jim Allister – is certainly feeling confident. It has experienced comparatively high polling figures and is for the first time standing candidates in all 18 electoral districts. The TUV may not take any seats in May, but its presence as a party pushes  the DUP further to the political extremes. This may drive more moderate voters away or into the arms of other parties, while forcing the DUP to fight rear-guard actions in its working-class heartlands, characterised by growing intransigence to cross-community politics and hard-line, immovable positions on Loyalist issues.  

More concerning has been the DUP’s vulnerability to a progressively assertive and political Loyalist paramilitarism. Despite officially being on ceasefire, Loyalist paramilitary groups have retained a significant presence in sections of working-class PUL communities, particularly those with elevated levels of socioeconomic deprivation and a paramilitary legacy dating from the 1969-1998 conflict (known to many as ‘The Troubles’). While these groups post-ceasefire have often been regarded more as criminal enterprises than paramilitaries in the conventional Northern Irish sense, they have been increasingly politically vocal following the establishment of the Loyalist Communities Council (LCC) in 2015. This represents the three main Loyalist paramilitary organisations: the Ulster Defence Association (UDA), the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF), and Red Hand Commando (RHC). In March 2021, the LCC announced its members were withdrawing their support for the Good Friday Agreement. The same month marked the beginning of Northern Ireland’s worst rioting within PUL areas in several years, with one reason for the youth mobilisation (among others, such as socioeconomic and cultural difficulties sparked by the closure of schools and youth services during COVID lockdowns) being the Northern Irish Protocol. Calls by DUP representatives to stop the violence went ignored, raising questions about the ability of the party to diffuse tensions within communities. 

Shortly before their withdrawal from the GFA, LCC representatives met members of the DUP in a closed meeting, a growing indication of paramilitary pressure on the party. As the demands of the LCC and its members for a political removal of the Northern Irish Protocol look increasingly less likely, Loyalist paramilitaries have significantly increased acts of violence. In 2021 there was a spate of bus hijackings and burnings by the so-called Protestant Action Force, thought to be a cover-name by at least some elements of the UVF. This violence  escalated in late March, with the Irish Foreign Minister  Simon Coveney being targeted at an event in North Belfast. A van hijacked off the PUL enclave of the Shankhill Road was driven to an event at which Coveney was speaking, with hoax claims of a bomb being on board. The PSNI are investigating UVF links to the incident, and there are concerns that further Irish politicians could be targeted or that attacks could be escalated . It seems unlikely, given the DUP’s current weak position and limited options for removing the Protocol and fomenting a practical alternative, that politically violent Loyalist paramilitary activity will be curtailed. The DUP is hemmed in on both sides by forces which appear to be chipping away at the grip the party has over its base.

The Future of Political Unionism and Northern Irish Politics

May’s election will likely result in a wounded, but not dead, DUP – one that is still the largest PUL political party, but which has lost overall to Sinn Fein. At a Loyalist anti-Protocol rally in Markethill, Belfast in February, DUP MP Sammy Wilson was booed and heckled by the assembled audience over the party’s failure to rescind the Protocol. Faced with this backlash the DUP looks set to continue doing what has resulted in previous electoral dividends: increasing its attractiveness to a subset of the PUL community through increased tribune appeals. This will likely manifest itself in an ever more siloed Northern Irish political system, with cross-community politics suffering as a response. Indeed, this looks to have already begun. In February, the DUP’s Paul Givan, Northern Ireland’s First Minister, announced his resignation from his position. In doing so, he effectively collapsed Stormont, which requires both communities – nationalist and unionist – to share power at the executive level. Ostensibly, the DUP’s stated reason for Givan’s resignation was the failure to revoke the Northern Irish Protocol. More likely was the backwards slide of the DUP within intra-PUL polling and perceived vulnerability to other Loyalist groupings within working-class communities, particularly the TUV.

Sinn Fein are the bookies’ favourite to be the largest party in the assembly after the dust of 5th May has settled. The question, therefore, is what the DUP will do after it has lost its coveted First Minister position, and how (if at all) it will govern in symbolic subordination to Sinn Fein. There are strong pressures on the DUP’s leadership, from both inside and outside the party, to boycott Stormont in such a situation. This will not only anger a nationalist community which feels that it has played by the political system’s rules, but will also significantly hamper the day-to-day running of Northern Ireland.

Northern Ireland faces plenty of problems that go beyond one community or another and effective cross-community leadership is desperately needed. But times are changing in Northern Ireland. Regardless of what happens with Sinn Fein, ambitions for a United Ireland will likely increase over the coming years if current trends hold. There will be plenty more challenges for PUL politics in the near future, both at the community level and beyond. If PUL representatives fail to find a way of living with this new reality, they risk destruction.

Artwork by Ben Beechener

Battle of the vintage fashion eras

Anna: Y2K

Love it or hate it, you have to admit that Y2K fashion is absolutely iconic. From chic slip dresses to not-at-all-chic but absolutely stylish cargo pants, this era has got it all. Beyond the personal significance of this era to our age group, who grew up with diamanté tees and Ugg boots, Y2K fashion feels incredibly vital and endlessly creative. What other era could pair the absolute weirdness of a nonsensical slogan tee with the ageless glamour of an elegant kitten heel in one outfit?

But the feature of the Y2K era which tops it all off, even if it seems a bit like cheating, is its recourse to vintage style inspiration itself. If you are a fan of flares, you don’t need to go back to the 70s for them – you can find flares from the noughties. If you want an eighties workwear-chic look without the disturbing shoulder-pad silhouette, you only have to reach for a Y2K tailored waistcoat. And if you have just finished your Bridgerton binge, look no further back than the noughties to find a beautiful cropped corset top. Y2K fashion may be in right now, but it is infinitely timeless. 

Yuri: 2010s 

Maybe it’s too soon to call the 2010s a ‘vintage fashion era’, but our hyper-exposed generation has hurried fashion’s 20-year-rule to deem Bella Swan and Elena Gilbert-core stylish once more. As someone who was a teenager in the 2010s, I look at that decade of fashion as loud and confusing – how on Earth did grunge and athleisure co-exist on the runway? My own styling choices of pairing Abercrombie zip-ups with red jeans and combat boots were questionable (horrific) and I still refuse to look back at pictures from my early teenage years to this day. 

But wedge sneakers and drop-crotch harem pants aside, the 2010s was still a revolutionary decade for fashion in that it changed the culture of the industry forever. Thanks to Instagram, the world was now your runway: streetwear dominated fashion week and music festivals (Coachella!!) became a boho paradise. Internet subcultures proliferated, and your personal style became a reflection of who or what you followed online. All in all, it was the chaos of the 2010s that made it such a messy but vibrant and memorable decade for fashion, and I am very curious to see which trends become timeless or remain discarded. 

Madi: 1970s

Despite being the recent victim of a rather lukewarm revival (anyone remember the micro-season of afghan coats, patterned flares, and crochet?), the 1970s is – let’s be real – criminally underrated, sandwiched as it was between the 60s counterculture revolution involving the revelation of the knees and the bright, bouffant exuberance of the 80s, and far too often reduced to disco and drip-dry. Now, I myself am partial to non-iron fabrics, glitter, and flares; my very favourite piece of clothing is a pair of orange ‘Sta-Prest’ Levis – about as typical of the decade as you can get.

But as a decade, the 70s was an utterly unique melting pot of influences, if you only stray a little from the beaten track. The same ten years which witnessed the birth of British punk also saw in (and out) the debutante-chic Sloane Ranger, in her pearls and piecrust collars (think pre-princess Di), as well as the gender-bending innovations of glam and glitter rock – and that’s only scratching the subculture surface. The past, too, echoed loudly throughout the decade, from the Edwardian revival, spearheaded by Laura Ashley’s delicate floral-print prairie dresses (similar to what we might now call cottagecore) to Barbara Hulanecki’s Biba brand, the entire aesthetic of which was heavily influenced by the crisp elegance of the starlets of 1930s Hollywood. It was an era which encompassed an incredibly wide and divergent variety of trends and anti-trends – and which deserves love for so much more than flares and flowers! 

Image Credit: PINKE / CC BY-NC 2.0 via flickr

“My wardrobe is not the most cohesive”: Exploring non-binary fashion

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With the ever-increasing accessibility of new trends and decreasing pressure to adhere to conventions, fashion is becoming less gendered. Even runway shows such as Gucci and Thom Browne are no longer divided by gender, demonstrating how the growing understanding of gender as a construct is changing the industry. Although the lines between masculine and feminine clothing are slowly but surely blurring, the idea of non-binary or androgynous fashion feels more confusing. Although the two are actually quite different concepts, non-binary fashion and the idea of masculinity and femininity cannot be disconnected, even though the term non-binary seems relatively self-explanatory.

Personally, I find that combining feminine and masculine fashion is different from non-binary fashion and it is important to make that distinction. There is a disconnect between the two binaries and what lies outside them. Simply looking at red carpets (the epitome of couture, of course) would imply there is not a broad spectrum of the expression of masculinity: suit, after suit, after suit. Creative expression of femininity appears easier with a wider range of pieces, but is this primarily because of the rigidity of the idea of masculinity and the relative variety of feminine concepts. For me, I feel androgyny is an existence without the performance of masculinity or femininity rather than a combination of both.

As someone whose gender feels more like a question mark, my wardrobe is not the most cohesive. Sometimes I enjoy the concept of hyper-femininity, but my attempts feel uncomfortable and stilted. Expressing an existence through a combination of masculine and feminine ideas runs parallel to my experience with non-gendered fashion; I can use big silhouettes, interesting patterns, prints, and colour combinations to draw perception away from who I am and instead to what I’m wearing. It’s more comfortable but it’s not about me. If gender is a performance and I don’t perform, then surely the binary doesn’t apply? At this current point in time, I feel it is near impossible to separate gender from fashion – I don’t think society or the audience could allow it, even if fashion is influenced by changing contemporary ideas of gender. But designers such as Juun J and Thom Browne are making progress in pushing this field within the industry, consistently creating collections that look and feel genderless.

Juun J’s Fall 2016 collection was shown at the Pitti Uomo, during the highlight of menswear fashion week. Nevertheless, he stated in an interview that the intention behind the collection was to be unrestricted by “regular notions such as gender, boundary, era”. He considered both men and women whilst designing, but somehow created clothing that wasn’t representative of one gender or another: the turtlenecks emblazoned with “GENDERLESS” are a not-so-subtle example. Unfortunately, the entire collection was worn by male models, which I suppose is unsurprising, and the location, too, was disappointing: maybe the collection could have been more easily perceived as genderless had it not been shown at Pitti Uomo, with images of the clothes on invisible models instead. The clothes themselves were stunning, with the concepts and styles repeated enough that the forty looks were cohesive but still distinct and varied. The leather jacket of the tenth look was cut above the chest, creating an ultra-cropped silhouette, which was beautiful and felt like an incredible example of what could be considered genderless or non-binary fashion. 

Thom Browne is another interesting designer for exploring non-binary fashion, especially considering his brand’s focus on tailoring. His garments, although corporate, feel distant from strict gender conformity; his suiting feels divorced from the masculine-presenting suits of aspirational, alpha-male finance workers, DJs, and red carpets, and the pleated skirts are a far cry from the MiuMiu micro-mini. The collection feels slightly surreal, as he manages to separate extremely feminine pieces such as a pannier (sidehoops worn by women in the 17thand 18th centuries that created a wider silhouette for the hips) from the intended gender of the wearer. Returning to the changes in gendered fashion, it makes sense: the period of the pannier also saw men wearing heels, something now seen as feminine. His skirts do not feel feminine as skirts so often do, but seem like a powerful option for anyone to wear to the office. And yet despite the apparent absence of gender in his clothing, he produces gendered performances in his shows. Robin Givhan wrote about Browne’s Spring 2020 collection that it was “profoundly sad to see his models made powerless” through his unfortunate “habit of feeding that whimsy by transforming women into props”. It is interesting to consider that despite the absence of gender  in his garments, the presentation was still gender-performative. Comparing the Spring 2020 collection with the same year’s Fall/Winter one seems to demonstrate a rapid development, however, as this was the first co-ed show the house put on: the models walked down the runway in twos, side by side in identical looks, with no visual differences between the menswear and womenswear.

If only I could afford these clothes. I find it so difficult to do formal wear, making Oxford – with its absurd amount of traditions and fancy, formal events – a difficult place to be sometimes. I attended my first ball this year and was unsurprisingly underprepared for it. Saved only by my friend’s black velvet dress and one-day delivery, I still had to scramble for shoes. I own two pairs of heels: a pair of Mary Janes and a pair of low slingbacks. The combination of the dress and shoes was not something I had considered; I settled on the slingback heels but there was still something unsettling about it. The instability was expected, with all my weight balanced on two tiny points, but what I didn’t expect was to feel like I was acting, performing the role of a pretty lady without having  read the script. That’s not to say I don’t like wearing feminine outfits: one of my favourite pieces is a red mesh dress with a  frilly collar and puffy sleeves – not exactly void of gender. But I’ve never worn anything but dresses to formals, as though I have a subconscious belief that androgyny and formality don’t align. I’m not really sure of my other options. I don’t like wearing suits: school blazers, skirts, and trousers made sure of that. But formality and evening wear seem to end there,  and maybe that’s the reason why I still don’t own any proper evening dresses. I don’t know what I want or what I feel comfortable in. Though I still own and enjoy skirts, the days on which I look at myself and feel comfortable in them are dwindling. My own discomfort  probably stems from the idea of performing, but I want to believe that clothes don’t have a gender. Feminine and masculine qualities, yes, but can we dress outside of these ideas?

It’s a near-universal experience of having those off-days where nothing I put on feels right, and it’s so frustrating, given that I use clothing as a form of expression, of control over my identity, to feel as though the slipper doesn’t fit. It is an  abstract concept whose self-imposed rubric I still don’t understand, and yet I write about it, I make it a hobby, and I hope that it shapes people’s perception of me as I intended. People’s stereotypes and associations with certain items of clothing are prone to be personal, moulded from their own ideas of gender and fashion. Clothing is one of the most intimate yet visual aspects of ourselves, and I can only selfishly hope that gender in fashion becomes less polarised until my wardrobe can exist within a grey area where I finally feel comfortable.

Image Credit: John Gurinsky / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 via flickr

Calorie labelling is not a miracle cure for obesity, it’s proof that the government has failed those with eating disorders

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CW: Eating disorders 

Every time I eat in a restaurant I am reminded of the stress of eating out when my sister had anorexia. There’s only so many times you can ask a waiter ‘to come back later’, to sit for thirty minutes whilst she stares at a menu, obsessively reading the ingredients list as my parents near a rage. You’ve probably not witnessed a teenage girl sample almost all the ice creams available – a staggering range in this particular shop – before deciding on which scoop to place on her waffle cone (though skipping the bubble-gum, or the ones evidently heavy in sugar). For her, it was also important that if she was going to eat she needed to enjoy it; try all the ice-creams to ensure that you knew with absolute certainty that you were eating the best one. For me – twelve, at the turn of puberty – seeing the smile of the assistant turn to strained frustration as she struggled to hurry my sister along, the queue rapidly increasing, was painful and embarrassing. Then the situation turned to trauma when my parents’ attempts to negotiate with my sister became restrained anger. Any trip to a restaurant, any snack, would only be possible if planned in advance so that my sister could herself mentally prepare. You announce a spontaneous waffle to someone with anorexia and you’ve got a fight on your hands. Though for me these memories may be traumatic – it’s never reassuring to see your family argue, or your sister be taken over by a parasite that you don’t recognise as her – I cannot imagine how difficult these moments must have been for her to live them, to fight against the all-consuming voice in her head.

The government, in their wisdom, has recently made it mandatory for businesses of over 250 employees to display the calorie content of the food and drinks they serve. Whilst this has been widely accepted by the hospitality industry as a policy aimed at reducing obesity, an issue we can all agree does need to be addressed, this is not the way to do it. That is not a statement of opinion, but a statement of fact. Calories have been mandated on menus in US restaurants  since 2018 and have since done nothing to reduce the amount of calories in food, or to counter obesity. A report from 2012 even suggests that calorie labelling encourages consumers to buy products with more calories, not fewer. Increased calorie labelling has been discussed for a long time, alongside its clear ineffectiveness.

For those without an eating disorder, the calorie statistic is quickly forgotten when browsing a menu. Yet the leading eating disorder charity Beat has stressed that ‘calorie labelling exacerbates eating disorders of all kinds’. Personally, I think it is best to describe the anorexic mind as Edi. When I was first introduced to the term, sitting on my Mum’s bed whilst she forced us to listen to an extract from an eating disorder support guide, he was merely an ‘Eating Disorder Individual’. But naming the ‘voice in the head’, giving it an identity separate to the individual’s own (to me he’s most assuredly male), has since made anorexia much more understandable to me. You see, Edi thrives off calorie information. My Mum’s fury as she ripped the traffic light sticker off a packet of doughnuts, so my sister wouldn’t be obsessed by the trio of red blotches, has never left my mind. Calorie labels have been widely attacked on all fronts by those with any sort of experience with eating disorders. Whilst the government highlights that the pandemic has revealed the ‘impact that obesity can have on people’s health and health outcomes’, it has also led to a stark and worrying increase in those suffering from eating disorders. The number of young people accessing treatment for eating disorders has risen by two-thirds since before the pandemic. It seems ironic given the government’s actions that in reporting this statistic the NHS listed ‘a preoccupation with checking calorie or other ingredient content in food’ as a top indicator of an eating disorder.

So where does this leave those who struggle against Edi, around 2% of the population? Take Claire Finney, reflecting on her own struggle with anorexia, writing in The Guardian: ‘When I was unwell, restaurants were a rare and special refuge; a place where, because I couldn’t easily count them, calories were off the table.’ Research has suggested that calorie labelling decreases the number of calories chosen in those with anorexia and bulimia, and increases the number of calories in meals chosen by those with binge eating disorder. Why should a policy that provides no proven benefit to the majority be passed with great harm to the minority?

You may, like me, have noticed the plethora of posts shared on Instagram in recent weeks offering advice for that 2%. However, the focus should not just be the struggle this policy forces on those diagnosed with an eating disorder. Edi lives inside us all, a parasite perhaps buried, or kept at bay, or able to consume an entire mindset. Edi is ever present within myself, when I – depressed, tired, maybe lonely – consume enough chocolate to make me feel sick and criticise my actions. Edi was the reason I stupidly used an exercise bike whilst isolating with Covid because I hadn’t exercised for a while and worried about my weight, a decision my body didn’t need as it made me throw up almost immediately afterwards. He is with me when I look at my body and feel like I have got fatter, my belly bulgier. I have always said that I never fully understood anorexia until I started to go through puberty and was faced with that ever-present feeling of self-doubt, of worthlessness; that you are not good enough, your body not good enough, ugly even. This is Edi and all he lives off.

 Displaying calorie information on menus is a step towards furthering a culture that believes food is the enemy and a poison that only leads to obesity and ill-health, rather than a vital element of human life. Seeing calories as the be all and end all of food and health ignores the complex web of wonderful benefits food has, whether in its nutrients, or in the social ability it grants people to connect to others, to share a moment together. Calorie information does not just harm the 2% diagnosed with an eating disorder, it harms us all. The many articles published recently with the headline ‘Which high street meals are the most and least fattening?’ (take The Guardian for an example) reflects a highly damaging fetishization of calorie content. How many calories a person eats in a restaurant, and its effect on their health, means nothing if not compared to the food they eat outside of that meal, the amount of exercise they do, or the needs they have as an individual in response to their own health. Nor is calorie counting itself in any way a healthy process. 

We can all agree that obesity is an issue, but the action of this government has done nothing to counter the complex web of reasons that has led to its rise. As Stuart Flint, the director of Obesity UK, has recently said: ‘Obesity is very complex. If it was as simple as eating less or more, people wouldn’t gain weight to the extent we have at the moment, and people would be able to lose weight more easily.’ Obesity, as well as eating disorders, is ingrained in a relationship with our own mental health and the position of food within this. For instance, research has shown that up to 30% of people seeking support to lose weight could be diagnosed with binge eating disorder. The relationship between obesity and eating disorders must be acknowledged. The government has categorically done nothing to respond to this complexity. Their actions may be an easy measure to grant the illusion they are taking action against obesity, but the policy is only targeted to a specific setting where the majority of the general public do not even consider the calories they are eating, that is except for those with Edi shouting in their head. You cannot solve obesity without changing the way that we engage with food. You cannot solve obesity without considering that other side of the coin, without considering those with eating disorders, without considering the Edi parasite.

Beat provides information and support for anyone affected by an eating disorder. You can call their student helpline at 0808 801 0811, or visit them at beateatingdisorders.org.uk.

In Oxfordshire, professional help can be accessed through CAMHS Eating Disorder Service (https://www.oxfordhealth.nhs.uk/camhs/ed/) or Cotswold House (https://www.oxfordhealth.nhs.uk/cotswoldhouse/). 

Artwork by Ben Beechener.

Leader: Oxford SU must not fail to stand against NUS antisemitism

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When Shaima Dallali tweeted ‘Khaybar Khaybar O Jews … Muhammad’s army will return’, the president-elect of the National Union of Students was being explicit in her views. Khaybar, a seventh-century massacre and expulsion of Jews by Muhammed’s armies, is used as a rallying cry for the extinction of Israel. A watchdog recently warned the NUS was failing to protect Jewish students. Instead of equivocating, Oxford’s Student Union should be explicit in rejecting its parent organisation.

Only a few years ago, the NUS had promised extensive reform after a previous President, Malia Bouattia, made repeated antisemitic statements, including when she called Birmingham University “a Zionist outpost in British Higher Education”. Instead of reforming, the NUS seems to have drifted even closer to extremism.

In 2018, Shaima Dallali called Yusuf al-Qaradawi the “moral compass for the Muslim community at large”. Al-Qaradawi has said that he would “shoot Allah’s enemies, the Jews”, and called upon God to “count their numbers, and kill them, down to the very last one.”

When confronted with a rise in violence against Jewish students throughout last year, the NUS released a statement announcing that they were “deeply concerned to hear of a spike in antisemitism on campuses as a result of Israeli forces’ violent attacks on Palestinians” — a statement so wrong that one wonders why they bothered writing one at all. Conflating Israeli policy with Jewish Britons, it strongly implies they are responsible for their persecution. 

In the past few months, the NUS invited (and then disinvited) Lowkey, a rapper with a history of support for antisemitism, to its conference.

With a recent history like this, one imagines that the SU would be unequivocal in its condemnation of the organisation. Instead, yesterday’s SU statement to Cherwell ended with “Despite all this, we’d also like to draw attention to the fact that we are disappointed in the way genuine student concerns about antisemitism have been co-opted by the Government and media to further the culture war and silence those who are advocating for Palestinian rights.”

Any sentence in a supposed anti-racist statement that begins ‘Despite all this…’ is questionable. It seems hard to believe that racist beliefs held towards any other ethnicity would receive this ‘both sides’ treatment.

Or to paraphrase Oxford’s Jsoc; similar remarks directed towards those of other races or faiths would likely be met with resignation, rather than an investigation.

Now, the crisis seems to be coming to a head. Last week, the Commons Education Select Committee, referred the NUS to the Charities Watchdog  “in regards to their treatment of Jewish students and the Jewish community’s concerns regarding antisemitism.” An emergency letter to the NUS board was undersigned by twenty former NUS presidents, including three former cabinet ministers and Wes Streeting, the Shadow Health Secretary. 

This should be a clear moment for the Oxford SU to reconsider its relationship with the organisation. The previous antisemitism crisis led to a sustained campaign amongst many universities to disaffiliate themselves. After campaigning by NUS, Oxford ended up staying. Recent events have shown that the attempts at reform have been futile. The Oxford SU should make clear it wants nothing to do with the NUS — or risk enabling the worst kinds of hate. 

The Oxford SU’s full statement reads:

“Antisemitism has no place on any university campus or in the wider student movement. Oxford SU does not tolerate antisemitism in any form and we are supportive of calls to listen to Jewish students and groups. We very much welcome reports that the National Union of Students will be investigated in an attempt to root this out.  

“Locally in Oxford, students are able to pass Student Council motions informing the way our NUS delegates and Sabbatical Officers interact with NUS or referendum to disaffiliate from NUS should they wish to do so.  

“Despite all this, we’d also like to draw attention to the fact that we are disappointed in the way genuine student concerns about antisemitism have been co-opted by the Government and media to further the culture war and silence those who are advocating for Palestinian rights.”

Oxford SU criticises Uni plans for trashing fines

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In a press release to Cherwell, the Oxford SU condemned plans by the University to fine students for ‘trashing’.

A tradition dating back to the 1980s, trashing is a celebratory event. Finalists, having finished their exams and wearing subfusc, are doused in whipped cream, confetti and other substances, before jumping into one of Oxford’s rivers to wash it all off.

Nonetheless, trashing has faced sustained opposition from the council and University administrators, with the high cost of clean-up, environmental hazards and elitist nature of the tradition all coming under fire.

After moving to ban the practice a few years ago, the University is now planning to fine those participating. The full SU statement reads:

“Oxford SU are disappointed that the University is going ahead with its decision to fine students for post-exam celebration.  

“We want to reiterate Oxford SU’s opposition to the University’s Sustainable Post Exam Celebration campaign. The SU has been in multiple meetings and part of a formal consultation where we expressed our opposition to a punitive approach, and especially one which fined students.

“While we, like many students, believe that environmental sustainability and being mindful of the wider Oxford community are essential, we do not believe that this campaign is a suitable solution to the issues associated with post exam celebration.

“This campaign will not be effective in tackling the issues the University claims it will. The use of fines creates a disproportionate punishment as it will have a great impact on some students, depending on their financial situation. It means that students who can afford the fine will continue to trash, while only the students who can’t afford the fine will be prevented from participating. A punitive approach will never resolve the problems associated with post-exam celebration.

“We also object to the top-down and paternalistic approach the University has taken which vilifies, patronises and scapegoats students. This campaign pins negative stereotypes about Oxford University and its poor relationship with local residents on students and post exam celebrations. This is unfair and untrue. The University as an institution is responsible for its reputation of elitism and its impact on the rest of the city. Furthermore, it is not students’ responsibility to save the University money in order to run essential student services and facilities, as the campaign states. The University should be funding and making this a priority regardless.

“Finally, we recognise the importance of post exam celebration for students and the role it plays in getting students through a stressful exam period, especially in light of the pandemic and its impact on student experience. There has been little to no attempt from the University to consult students and to understand the importance and the reality of post exam celebration for students and the steps students have already been taking to be more conscious members of the Oxford community.

“Oxford SU believes in promoting ‘Green Trashing’ with sustainable materials that are easy to clean up and encouraging students to clear up after themselves. This should be paired with collaboration from colleges to provide students with spaces which are out of the way of the public, as well as providing students the necessary clean-up equipment.

“We have written to the University reiterating our stance and expressing our disappointment and we are awaiting their response.”

A University spokesperson contacted Cherwell to request that the university’s position on trashing is included. Senior Proctor Professor Jane Mellor said: “Throwing food and other materials in exam celebrations is wasteful and disrespectful. We know that our students are committed to sustainability and urge them to extend this to their exam celebrations this year.”  


Junior Proctor Professor Linda Flores commented: “We recognise that this has been a difficult time for us all, and students will be keen to celebrate their achievements. However, we also recognise that we are part of a community and that means exercising consideration and respect for everyone and for our environment.” 

Image credit: Phillip Halling/CC-SA-BY: 2.0

The article was editied at 15:09 Saturday 23 April to include the University’s response.