Friday 18th July 2025
Blog Page 269

Oriental Studies faculty to propose changing name to “Faculty of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies”

Humza Jilani
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Oriental Studies faculty to propose changing name to “Faculty of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies”

The name “Faculty of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies” will replace “Faculty of Oriental Studies”, Prof David Rechter, the Faculty’s chair, announced on Thursday morning. The proposed name change will now be recommended to the Humanities Division and the University’s Council.

The decision comes after eighteen months of discussion and debate among students and faculty, according to Professor Rechter’s statement. The process will now occur at the university’s administrative level, which may take months before a finalised decision is made.

Opened in 1960, the Oriental Institute building has long housed the Oriental Studies faculty at Oxford, which includes the bachelors-level Oriental Studies degree and a range of masters and doctoral programs focusing on the cultures, histories, religions, and languages of Asia. 

Today, the Faculty is housed across multiple sites, including the Griffith Institute, the Middle East Centre, the Nissan Institute, the Khalili Research Centre, the China Centre, the Hebrew and Jewish Studies Centre, and the Nizami Ganjavi Centre. It offers instruction in twenty-five languages.

The term “Oriental” to describe the “Eastern” world has been the subject of controversy in academia and beyond. Drawing on Edward Said’s seminal 1978 text Orientalism, critics allege that the word evokes stereotypes and caricatures of Asian people, and has a legacy rooted in colonialism. The first permanent post in Sanskrit studies at Oxford was established in the 19th century by Colonel Joseph Boden of the East India Company, as Britain embarked on a colonial campaign in the Indian subcontinent.

The Oriental Studies Faculty acknowledges its origins, and strives toward a “rejection of colonial and Euro-centric ideologies”.

The University of Cambridge changed the name of its Faculty of Oriental Studies to the Faculty of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies in 2007. The University of Chicago, the Pontifical Oriental Institute in Rome, the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, and some others maintain the controversial “Oriental” name.  

The Oriental Studies Faculty and the Humanities Division have been approached for comment. 

Image: Kyle Bushnell

Putin’s ‘hockey buddy’ funded Teddy Hall and Saïd Business School

Charlie Hancock and Maurício Alencar
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Putin’s ‘hockey buddy’ funded Teddy Hall and Saïd Business School

UPDATE: On the 29th June, The UK Government announced a new round of sanctions on several high profile Russian figures including Potanin, with the aim of “hitting Putin’s inner circle”. A government statement read: “Potanin continues to amass wealth as he supports Putin’s regime, acquiring Rosbank, and shares in Tinkoff Bank in the period since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.”

As the Western world moves to sanction overseas Russian money, Cherwell has found that St Edmund Hall and the Saïd Business School accepted donations from Vladimir Potanin, the oligarch and metals tycoon who is the second richest man in Russia.

Potanin, 61, has a net worth of $27 billion, as estimated by Forbes. In 2020, he was included on the US Treasury’s list of 210 Russian oligarchs, businessmen and politicians under considerations for sanctions, dubbed ‘Putin’s List’. He is widely known for regularly playing ice hockey with Putin. Potanin’s fortune fell by $3 billion on the day that Russia invaded Ukraine. Potanin also served as the Deputy Prime Minister for 7 months between 1996 and 1997. 

In 1999, Potanin founded the Vladimir Potanin Foundation to “implement large-scale humanitarian programs” in the fields of “culture, higher education, social sport and philanthropy development”. The foundation donated £3 million to St Edmund Hall in 2018 to endow a research fund for Earth Sciences, and to jointly establish the Vladimir Potanin Associate Professor and Tutorial Fellow in Earth Sciences with the University of Oxford. The endowment also funded the three-year Vladimir Potanin Tutorial Fellow of Russian Literature and Modern Languages.

The foundation also granted $150,000 to the Saïd Business School in 2017 for a fellowship scheme for the Oxford Social Finance Programme. The school selected 15 Russian charity workers to attend this programme between 2017 and 2019. 

The collapse of the Soviet Union in the 1990s allowed well-connected individuals to profit from the bloc’s transition to a market economy by gaining control over newly privatized state assets. Many of these deals were done privately, without competition. While in office, Potanin proposed the controversial ‘loans for shares’ scheme, which is seen as having furthered the rise of the oligarch class. This scheme effectively caused the consolidation of oligarchs’ control over the Russian economy. ‘Loans for shares’ encouraged wealthy businessmen to loan money to the Yeltsin government in exchange for state-owned shares in companies, many of which extracted and processed Russia’s abundant natural resources. 

Of the programme, he told The Financial Times: “It is the biggest PR tragedy of my career. Of course, the privatisation process has to be transparent. And in our case it was not. My plan was different. I wanted to privatise the companies with banks and qualified people, raise their value, and then sell them.”

Through this scheme, Potanin and his long-term business partner Mikhail Prokhorov acquired a 54% share in Norilsk Nickel (Nornickel). The two businessmen separated their assets in 2007, leaving Potanin with 34.6% of the shares in Norilsk Nickel. The company’s total assets amounted to $20.7 billion in 2020.

On top of being the world’s largest producer of nickel, Norilsk Nickel is one of the world’s largest industrial polluters. In 2020, the company produced 1.9% of total global sulphur dioxide emissions. The company has announced that it intends to reduce suphur dioxides from its plants in the heavily polluted Norilsk region by 90% by 2025 from a 2015 baseline.

Potanin is the only Russian to have signed The Giving Pledge, in which the super-rich pledge to give a majority of their wealth to philanthropic causes. Other signatories include Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerber, and George Lucas. He said his decision was motivated by a belief that “wealth should work for public good”, and as a way to “protect [his] children from the burden of extreme wealth”.

A spokesperson for St Edmund Hall told Cherwell that the gift was accepted “in good faith and at a time when relations with Russia were in a substantially better place. This was a one-off donation and the College does not anticipate any further funding from The Potanin Foundation.

“The College is deeply concerned at the events happening in Ukraine and sincerely hopes that a peaceful outcome will soon be reached,” they added.

The Saïd Business School told Cherwell: “The grant went through the University’s robust approval process and the partnership ended in 2019. The focus of the programme is to improve the social impact and philanthropic work of charities and non-government organisations (NGOs) across the world. As a global business school with students and alumni from across the world, we have been deeply saddened at events happening in the Ukraine and hope a peaceful outcome is soon reached.”

The University of Oxford, Interros, and The Vladimir Potanin Foundation were approached for comment.

Image credit: Kremlin.ru/CC BY 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Exclusive: Politics Faculty refuse to record ‘Politically Sensitive’ China lectures

Daniel Moloney
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Exclusive: Politics Faculty refuse to record ‘Politically Sensitive’ China lectures

For the last two years the Faculty of Politics and International Relations has not recorded lectures titled “Is China a Democracy?” and “On China”. All other faculty lectures are recorded, so these lectures would be exceptional to normal practice.

Emails obtained by Cherwell show that lectures, delivered by Professor Thornton of Merton College in week four of Michaelmas 2020 and week three of Michaelmas 2021 included warnings that the content was “politically sensitive” and not recorded. They further reveal that Professor Todd Hall’s lecture “on China” was only delivered live.

The emails, sent by Ms Durga Sapre, Politics Undergraduate Studies Coordinator, also reveal first year students were required to sign a legal undertaking in order to attend the live online lecture given by Professor Thornton. Freshers, who wished to remain anonymous, told Cherwell the undertaking represented an agreement not to disclose the contents or participants of the lecture. The University has stated that this is incorrect and that they were never prevented from discussing the lecture.

Any students who refused would not have been allowed to attend, despite the lecture forming an integral part of their Practice of Politics module. Those who watched the lecture in 2020, and those attending Professor Hall’s lecture were not required to sign an undertaking.

Several first years declined to discuss the lecture at all, citing fears over the consequences of breaking the undertaking. However, Tallulah Brady, a first year PPEist, told Cherwell that she was “not at all bothered” by the fact the lecture was not recorded, stating it was boring and she had no incentive to watch it again. While also refusing to discuss the contents of the lecture in detail, Tallulah stated that she did “not remember there being anything particularly controversial” about the material. On the subject of the undertaking and the lecture’s politically sensitive label she commented “I was/am under the impression it was given this level of caution to protect the contributors and participants from potential consequences. Exactly what those consequences are or could be I do not know. “

This confusion about what in the lecture constituted politically sensitive content is echoed by Struan Hancock, a second year PPEist who attended the lecture last year: “I believe Oxford is a centre of learning where it is possible to have frank and free discussions about difficult issues. I’m confused why the department felt the need to remove the possibility of students re-watching the content. Students only had one chance to watch the lectures.

“The lecture was a nuanced analysis with opinions from multiple viewpoints on the state of democracy in China. Who do they believe will be offended by an academic conversation?”

The Department of Politics and International Relations told Cherwell: “It is not departmental practice to label courses or lectures ‘politically sensitive’ and restrict access to them on those grounds. In  exceptional circumstances, to advise and protect students, we will alert them that material is considered sensitive by external bodies and that they may need to seek further guidance. Oxford freshers have never been prevented or discouraged from discussing any of their prelims lectures, nor would they ever be; and course instructors have accommodated every student who has reported a documented learning needs assessment, and will continue to do so.”

Image credit: Edward He

Oxford’s twin city in Russia has spoken out in support of Ukraine

Cecilia Catmur
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Oxford’s twin city in Russia has spoken out in support of Ukraine

This weekend Oxford experienced numerous protests in solidarity with Ukraine against the Russian invasion. Over 4000 km away in Perm, Oxford’s twin city in Russia, protests have also broken out. People there have also spoken in support of Ukraine. 

Karen Hewitt is the chairman of the Oxford Perm Association. She is also a professor at Oxford University and an honorary Professor at Perm State University. She has revealed the Association’s stand against the invasion: “Appalled at Putin’s decision to invade Ukraine.” 

In Perm, members of the Oxford Perm Association have also been in protest, “Supporting [the Ukrainians] in their outrage and grief.” These protests have joined the call, “Not in My Name” (taken from Boris Johnson’s statement “I do not believe this war is in your name.”) Similar protests have been taking place across Russia. 

Oxford made its first contact with Perm in 1989, founding voluntary links in 1991. The two cities have been officially twinned since 1995. 

Links between the two cities are not restricted to the university. Participants involved in this connection span to Oxford City, Oxfordshire County, Sobell House Hospice as well as to Perm City administration, Perm Hospice and Perm-Oxford Organization. 

Perm is Europe’s most easterly city. It is located 900 miles east of Moscow. On the outskirts of the Ural Mountains, it is surrounded by forests and the Kama River runs through it. With 1.2 million inhabitants, it is Russia’s sixth largest city. In addition, it is a key Russian centre of art and culture. Of particular, note it has three universities, the famous Tchaikovsky Opera and Ballet Theatre and the renowned Perm Museum of Contemporary Art.  

The Oxford-Perm connection has usually been limited to social and cultural exchange. The Oxford Perm Association organizes events between Russia and England. For example the association has hosted group exchanges between Oxford University and Perm State University. In addition, volunteers have run events such as dancing, sports tournaments, art displays and journalism conferences across all ages. 

This encouragement of cross-cultural exchange and interest is key in raising awareness and support. The society was quick to comment and express their stance on the current war in Ukraine. Standing in solidarity with those in Perm is critical to the association strengthening and maintaining their strong ties to this city and its inhabitants.

Image: A. Savin via Wikimedia Commons

Overthinking dating: Am I more in my head than he’s into me?

Daisy Clague
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Overthinking dating: Am I more in my head than he’s into me?

It went well with Isaac. It went well when he asked if I’d had a tour of the house; when we stood alone in the upstairs bedroom and he leant across to kiss me; when I pulled my cardigan tight around me in the alley beside his house and he mumbled “are you ok? Are you cold?”, as the rectangle of sky above us hardened into an abrupt and chilly grey dawn.

Isaac is creative, clever, and he wrote his dissertation on feminist philosophy. After so many drinks I stop trying not to get excited about us; I am exuberant, attentive, bubbling. Leaving the party in an Uber, I am confident – “let’s go for drinks soon?” – he nods, smiles, we kiss again. The next afternoon, I sing in the shower, hangover miraculously mild – what a difference a day makes.

A week later, my Guardian-reading, music–sharing, dry humour coupledom fantasies are increasingly interspersed by spikes of bad stomach butterflies. Why hasn’t he messaged? Was it a bad sign that he asked me to stay over that night? Was it bad that I said no? Had it been just a bit mechanical, like he maybe only kissed me because my eyes were visibly swimming with desperation? Had he rushed downstairs a bit too quickly when his flatmate called up about a spillage in the kitchen? The spark of connection from our evening together begins to dull and a familiar shame spiral takes its place. I recall sidling up to him earlier in the night while he was mid-conversation with a smooth-haired brunette; lingering far too long at the party; literally screaming into his face: “I’m an introvert too!” I remind myself of the needy protagonist in He’s Just Not That Into You; I resent myself for taking such a toxic movie to heart.

My attitude to Isaac’s radio silence oscillates with my self-esteem. I remember that he’s notoriously shy and renownedly passive. It doesn’t mean he didn’t like you! I seethe silently at our mutual friend for failing to get intel, presumably because she knows that he found me repulsive and can’t bring herself to relay it. You were definitely too much.

As the condemnation of my bickering thoughts gradually encroaches on every facet of my personality, I note that I haven’t felt like this for a long time – I haven’t cared. It makes me sad because it is so rare to meet somebody with whom I feel the click, so rare to feel anything other than temporarily entertained or dismissively contemptuous towards prospective romantic suitors. It makes me sad in case I never see Isaac again. I remind myself to be grateful – that there are still people out there who I might like; people who might like me back; that I’m free to go out and meet those people; that my stomach still has the latent capacity to make the good butterflies as well as the bad.

Another week passes. I continue to bore my friends, my mum, and my brother with the what-ifs and the what-should-I-dos of my non-relationship with Isaac. I’m scared to reach out into the ether with a casual WhatsApp because I’m simply not casual: I am fragile, afraid of being batted off because it always feels more personal than I know it’s supposed to. I’m scared because I like Isaac, and if Isaac doesn’t like me back my mind joins up the dots that no amount of candle-lit self-care baths can rub out: you will never be enough.

The fool-me-once trauma of heartbreak keeps me from stepping into the ring for another round. I milk memories instead, replaying the patchy, alcohol-stained reel of a six-hour evening, stitching moments this way and that, turning words and glances and smiles over and over in my head until their edges begin to blur. If I keep on ruminating, maybe I can clarify exactly what happened, who felt what, whether he’ll want to go out with me if I ask. Maybe the polluted building site of my mind will manifest the potential that was sparked between acquaintances in a student-y house party on a muggy Saturday night and in the sudden predawn temperature dip of an adjacent alleyway.

Amongst my stubborn self-doubt and hamster-wheel thoughts, the only thing I can be certain of is that my romance with Isaac will remain forever nascent. Better kept safely, eternally unfulfilled than invited out for drinks; welcomed into the lab for trial, testing, and probable error.

Never mind. I’d rather imagine what might have happened than know that nothing could.

‘Stirred to breathless heights’:  Wolf Alice Concert Review 

Anya Biletsky
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‘Stirred to breathless heights’:  Wolf Alice Concert Review 

Wolf Alice have had a whopper of a year. The London-based alternative rock band released their third studio album, Blue Weekend, in June 2021, to rave critical reviews, and in January they won the Brit Award for Best Group. They are now touring with Blue Weekend, glittering on stages across the UK.

The disruption Covid created for live entertainment has been gutting for music lovers, many of whom have not been able to experience a live concert since 2019. Storm Eunice’s disturbance in Fifth week also led to the added stress of transport cancellations and delays. As I tried to prepare alternative travel arrangements for the journey from Oxford to London, a feeling of uncertainty, so painfully familiar to us by now,  began to cloud over the experience. Although forced to get a train several hours earlier than initially intended – which led to an extremely chaotic morning – Wolf Alice delivered a night that was completely worth the extra faff.

This was the second of three successive sold-out nights for the four-piece at the London venue, and it proved one for us and the remaining five thousand people in attendance to remember. Wolf Alice performed a number of songs from Blue Weekend, as well as a handful of staples from their older records. The show began with the explosive ‘Smile’, kicking off with an exhilarating number that appropriately roused the crowd in anticipation for a night where the band’s – and the fans’ – energy levels would not waver. Following ‘Smile’ came ‘You’re A Germ’ from their 2016 album My Love is Cool, matching the opener’s dynamic chord progressions and thumping beat.

As  a lead singer, Ellie Rowsell’s comfort onstage was unquestionable, her presence fierce. Clad in an oversized blazer and elegant bootcut trousers, she delivered consistently powerful vocals and guitar solos aplenty. Her impressive vocal range was showcased as she transitioned effortlessly from the thunderous pace and half-screams of the hard rock song ‘Play the Greatest Hits’ to the softer tones of ‘Feeling Myself’. The stage lighting mirrored the cooldown between the numbers by turning a deep violet from a flashing neon green.

Indeed, Wolf Alice are a band who serve up phenomenal artistic variety. The mélange of genres to be found in their music is evidence enough of this: indie, rock, grunge, shoegaze… Witnessing them in concert only confirms their chameleon knack for transformation. We were stirred up to breathless heights in one song, the bassline pounding through our bones, and lulled back down to soothing, melancholy introspection in the next.

And the fans responded accordingly. They became an undulating, frenzied mass during the roaring ‘Visions Of A Life’ – mosh pits and all – and in the same song they stood gently swaying as Rowsell held them enchanted on a stage lit up with red and blue. The nostalgia-inducing song ‘Silk’ moved some fans to tears.

To perform an intimate, mellow rendition of folk song ‘No Hard Feelings’, Rowsell came down to sit on the edge of the stage, where she was given a bouquet of tulips by a fan in the front row. She accepted the bouquet with delighted surprise – and later flung it back into the crowd, returning the fans the love they show the band in a gesture of her personal appreciation. That, or maybe she just doesn’t like tulips.

Bassist Theo Ellis kept firing up the crowd with his volcanic energy, leaning at the edge of the stage into the audience to ecstatic shrieks. ‘This song’s for you, London!’ he yelled before the band played ‘Bros’, another classic from My Love is Cool.

A mention must be given to the band who opened for Wolf Alice on their first and second London dates, Lucia and the Best Boys. An electrifying four-piece from Glasgow, they established the mood of the night with a selection of characterful indie-pop songs from their 2020 EP The State of Things. Vocalist Lucia Fairfull stomped vigorously on the stage in a black leather jacket, making the auditorium quake with fervour.

At the end of the night, Wolf Alice returned to the stage for an encore, playing fan-favourites ‘The Last Man on Earth’ from Blue Weekend, and, of course, ‘Don’t Delete the Kisses’ from their 2017 album Visions of a Life. The euphoria in the room was palpable. ‘Me and you were meant to be in love!’ the fans screamed, almost drowning out Rowsell herself. It’s unsurprising that Wolf Alice have long been hailed the best band in Britain.

Not a bad way to celebrate the return of live music.

Image Credit: Paul Hudson/CC BY 2.0 via Flickr

The revival of the print book

Ella Myers
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The revival of the print book

This summer my friend and I went on holiday together. Her bag was lightweight, full of clothes and swimsuits, whilst mine was half-packed with books. At the beach, she would whip out her Kindle, whilst I was balancing a weighty tome in my hand, trying not to drop it on my face and probably injure myself in the process (I was reading American Wife by Curtis Sittenfield, which at over 500 pages, could have done some damage). Smugly, my friend pointed out that she could read basically any book in the world on her tiny Kindle whilst I lugged about a miniature library in order to entertain myself during the many days we spent sunbathing. She had a point, of course, and for the last decade or so many people have made the swap from physical books to their electronic cousins. 

Last year, however, saw 212 million print books sold in the UK, the highest number of sales in over a decade. But why are people returning to print books despite the fact that they are more expensive, more inconvenient and less portable than e-books? I’m sure the lockdowns and people’s whole-hearted attempts to get back into reading played a large part, but why did the general public decide to buy print books specifically? I think there’s just something special about holding a book in your hands, something unique and timeless that isn’t replicated in a e-book. 

There is, of course, the opportunity reading provides to escape the glare of a screen for a while. Getting lost in the turning of pages is also a nostalgic act for many whose reading habits have probably petered out since childhood. But there’s also something to be said about the book as an actual, physical object. The rise of the internet has meant saying goodbye to a lot of the physical paraphernalia of our hobbies. Our music, our books, our films, our TV shows are all now online. I think people want to have actual things that represent the art and culture they love. They want to be able to browse through their own library of books, reminded of the time they read that book and the person who gave them that novel for Christmas. Just like with vinyl, people want to be able to see and touch the art that inspires and moves them rather than just be able to access it invisibly through the Cloud. 

There is also the showy element of owning print books. A book in your hand as you wait at the bus stop and a bookshelf crammed to the brim with classics are both signs of curiosity and intelligence. If you walk around with a copy of A Little Life under your arm, you’re declaring that you’re emotional, complex and clever enough to read super long books. A copy of Pride and Prejudice and you’re a sentimentalist, an old soul, and a romantic at heart. The shiny, grey rectangle of a Kindle is anonymous – you could be reading anything from Eat, Pray, Love to Crime and Punishment. Print books make it so much easier to announce your bookish snobbery loud and clear. 

The print book also allows you to have a different sort of reading experience to one you would get with an e-book. The physical book has a certain smell, margins to scribble in, pages to dog-ear and sentences to underline. The books become yours, an extension of yourself. That isn’t to say that there isn’t something magical about other forms of reading too. The audiobook, for instance, can envelop you in a fictional world in a totally different way. I can still remember listening to David Tennant’s fantastic reading of the How to Train Your Dragon books as a child. He would roar to mimic the dragons’ cries, bellow for the Viking chief and whimper in fear when the protagonist was afraid. Audiobooks can be magical too.

But in a world full of podcasts and background TV, it’s quite nice to have an entirely non-electronic hobby. Just you and the book. Try and think of your favourite book right now. Chances are, it’s not one tucked away in the corners of your electronic library but rather one you can picture in your mind’s eye.

Loving reading is, of course, loving the words on a page. Loving the print book is something a little more complex; it’s loving the turning of the page, the lending of your battered copy to a friend, the placing of the book on a bookshelf which encapsulates your interests. Even if, on that beach with my friend, her Kindle was more practical, it was also less joyful. After she swiped the last page, she was finished with her book. When I opened American Wife again a few months later, at a café table, a tiny little stream of sand trickled out from between the pages, immediately taking me back to where I first read it and the memory of being on holiday with my friend. Print books become artefacts of our lives, tied to specific places and people and forming a physical representation of who we are and who we want to be.

Image Credit: David Orban // CC BY 2.0

Cherwell Town Hall: Meet the Oxford Union Presidential Candidates

Pieter Garicano and Estelle Atkinson
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Cherwell Town Hall: Meet the Oxford Union Presidential Candidates

Facebook feeds and Instagram stories are filling up; this term’s Oxford Union elections are fast approaching. Cherwell sat down with the three candidates for the presidency, to discuss everything from their favourite musical artist to their worst experiences at the institution they aim to lead. 

Rachel Ojo

Second-year, Philosophy Politics and Economics, University College

Current Union Librarian

Image Credit: Meghana Geetha

Rachel Ojo wants to make the Union less toxic: less drama, fewer burned bridges, and more inclusivity. Citing tense relationships  between the Union and societies such as the Afro-Caribbean Society and the LGBTQ+ Society, Ojo wants to see to it that no one ever feels that they are intruding on someone else’s space when engaging with the Union. She seeks diversification of both speakers and Union members, and, if elected, would be the first black female President of the Union. 

This is not the first occasion where Ojo has sought out a platform for change; after a stabbing near her school, Ojo became chair of the UK EU Select Committee on knife crime. Ojo has also served as an advisor to a House of Commons senior group. When talking about her pledges for her presidential candidacy, Ojo told Cherwell: “one thing I see as really important when making these pledges is, at the end of the day, even though it’s a pledge, there’s nothing stopping me from taking action right now.” 

In terms of her general feelings about the election, Ojo told Cherwell, “I’m feeling really positive about this.” She expressed gratitude at having a supportive team around her, saying her officers are people she really believes in. While two of her officers previously held positions in OUCA, including her candidate for Treasurer, Kamran Ali, who experienced an attempted impeachment for financial misconduct as President, though the verdict was overturned as invalid. Ojo says her slate has a lot of political diversity, something she believes is reflective of the Union as a society: “people who support Labour, Conservatives, Lib Dems, can all run together, and all essentially unite on points that they think are important.”

Ojo’s message to voters is this: “If you’re thinking the Union isn’t a place for you, I’ve been there. I’ve had that feeling. But I just want to assure you that the Union is improving. We are trying our best, and we will make it a place that you can be proud of.”

If you could invite any three speakers, who would they be?

1. Michelle Obama – Former First Lady

2. Viola Davis – Actor

3. Jacinda Ardern – Prime Minister of New Zealand

What kind of music can’t you get enough of?

Basically, I’m obsessed with Beyonce.

Favourite non-Union Oxford thing?

PPE Society Events

Anjali Ramanathan

Second-year, Law, Christ Church

Current Union Secretary 

Image Credit: Meghana Geetha

When asked about what drives her to run in the Union, Ramanathan, like many, references the infamous Malcolm X speech at a 1964 Debate, saying “that’s what the Union is capable of.” She tells Cherwell, however, that she’s not sure the Union is currently meeting that level of potential: “I think the answer is no.” Ramanathan ventures that if the Union was considering inviting a modern Malcolm X to speak, there would be a conversation about controversiality. She doesn’t know what the outcome of that conversation might be.

While the Union may not be sure exactly what speakers it wants to invite, Ramanathan fears speakers are equally uncertain about whether the Union is their desired platform: “we now live in a world where there are far more opportunities to speak than there were in the 60s.” Ramanathan wants to look back to memorable moments in Union history and figure out how to do the same in this century. She believes Spark’s pledge for a speaker hardship fund would help the Union find its next Malcolm X by removing financial barriers for speakers who may not be in a financial position to travel to the Union. There is also talk of more collaborations with every other society, and allowing for council members to speak there.

Through-out the interview, there is a strong emphasis on policies. When asked about her worst experience at the Union, she changes tone. Even as an officer, she says, she experienced deep institutional hostility from the ‘proceduralists’, and the ‘gatekeepers’ of the institution. It happens even with the small things.

“When I ask a question or when I want to clarify something in the rules that I interpret as possibly having two meanings. And the response that I get is “it’s so obvious”.  And it’s weird to me. Because it is not obvious to me and it’s certainly not obvious to most members who have not read our 300 page rules.”

What then, is her message for voters? “The people I want to see in the Union, whether that’s committee or speakers, are people who don’t feel like they belong there.”

If you could invite any three speakers, who would they be?

1. Kamala Harris – Senator from her home state and first female Vice President of the United States

2. Hartwig Fisher – Director of the British Museum and prominent player in debates on repatriations of colonial artefacts

3. Ashraf Ghani – Last president of Afghanistan

What kind of music can’t you get enough of?

Chance the Rapper

Favourite non-Union Oxford thing?

Sandy’s Piano Bar

Ahmad Nawaz

Second-year, Philosophy and Theology, Lady Margaret Hall

Current Union Treasurer

Image Credit: Meghana Geetha

Nawaz is the last candidate we meet. Survivor of a terrorist attack and an activist for education, he has seen much press. The same press was what led him to know the Oxford Union; in his experience the power of the Union is shaped by the media attention it receives. In the UK, and abroad. A hypothetical Nawaz presidency, he tells us, would operate with that thought in mind.

“I don’t know how much people in the UK look at these things. But in Pakistan, it’s a huge thing, the Oxford Union. Because if one famous speaker comes, Imran Khan for instance, everyone’s like, Oh, Imran Khan is speaking, and everyone’s watching YouTube.”

However, with the power of that platform comes a cost. Nawaz believes that the Union has been too quick to give its powerful stage to controversial speakers who want to make “narrative based speeches”. A speaker like Jordan Peterson, he says, would probably not make it under his presidency. Why?  ‘Activists’, he says, need more ‘academic backing’. Our follow-up question as to whether this principle would be equally applied to activists on the left is brushed off.

The desire to do things differently has been a theme throughout much of his Union career. A non-drinker who ran independent in his first two elections, he doesn’t think he fit in much at the start. The definite low-point for him was inviting Malala Yousafzai and Greta Thunberg, and having the invitations  fall through due to failures higher up in the institution. He hopes that his presidency will give him another shot. 

And Nawaz’s message to voters? “One thing I want to say about our team, is that they care about people, not just at the Union but elsewhere … and putting that sort of energy into the Union, making sure that everyone feels comfortable, and that every member enjoys their time, would be the primary aim. Generally, just making sure that every member feels empowered [the name of the slate is empower].” 

If you could invite any three speakers, who would they be?

1. Malala Yousafzai – Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, Activist and Personal Hero

2. Shah Rukh Khan – Bollywood Superstar

3. Oprah Winfrey – Talk show host and television producer

What kind of music can’t you get enough of?

On a night out, Deep House and Techno. But when studying, something chill like Lo-Fi or Classical

Favourite non-Union Oxford thing?

Going out with my friends from LMH

Polls are open from 9.30 AM until 8.30 PM on Friday the 4th of March. Voting will happen in-person at the Union building.

Featured Image Credit: Meghana Geetha

Remembering SOPHIE

Jimmy Brewer
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Remembering SOPHIE

CW: Transphobia, Death

On the 30th January 2021, at around 4:00 in the morning, the world suffered an unjust tragedy. The artist SOPHIE fell accidentally from a balcony, and died. Like many musicians taken too soon – Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse, Tupac Shakur – SOPHIE’s career was at a stage rich with promise. Having released in 2018 the most daring and powerful album yet, Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides, SOPHIE could only have gone on to bigger and better heights. SOPHIE’s legacy, though maculated by tragedy, is an inspiring one nonetheless.

Sophie Xeon, stage name SOPHIE, grew up in Glasgow. When asked in an interview what sort of images SOPHIE gravitated towards growing up, the innovative artist displayed typically avant-garde sensibilities: ‘I got really into Matthew Barney and Cremaster Cycle and the distortions of form and gender and material and shape’ SOPHIE says. Named in honour of the muscle that raises and lowers the testes in response to changes in temperature, the Cremaster Cycle is a challenging and highly-praised collection of five avant-garde films exploring, among other things, aspects of human reproduction. SOPHIE also recalls a childhood featuring a father taking Sophie to raves from a very young age: ‘He bought me the rave cassette tapes before I went to the events and would play them in the car and be like, “This is going to be important for you.”’ This striking parental technique is remembered fondly by SOPHIE, and the artist remarks on the creativity of SOPHIE’s father’s musical tastes: ‘Not someone that’s like, “Sixties, ’70s, this is the real rock and roll.” He was always like, “That was rubbish. Electronic music’s the future.”’

After an adolescence spent locked away in a bedroom producing music, and jobs as a wedding DJ, the first significant critical attention SOPHIE received came in 2013. SOPHIE’s single ‘Bipp’/’Elle’ topped music magazine XLR8R’s year-end list and placed 17th on Pitchfork’s. Following this, SOPHIE’s debut full-length album Product came out in 2015. Among a release that included the production of accompanying silicon sex toys, Product was received with mixed feeling; some critics praised its eccentricity while others dismissed it as shallow. SOPHIE was working hard during this period – in 2015 SOPHIE co-produced the Madonna track ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’. SOPHIE also had a heavy hand in the production of Charli XCX’s Vroom Vroom EP. The EP helped to shape the sound of Hyperpop, a genre characterised by busy, abrasive electronic production and bold, catchy choruses.

With 2018 came the most defined piece of work SOPHIE would make, Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides. This is my favourite SOPHIE album, by some margin – it is sublime. Gone are sounds of acoustic instruments, and with them any tether to the physical world. The album is a river and you are swept along with it: alternately buffeted amongst its rapids, then soothed by delicious sections of calm – made all the more poignant by the contrast. Individual tracks also stand out: ‘It’s Okay to Cry’, for its empathy and luxuriance; ‘Immaterial’, for its uninhibited danceability. The closing ‘Whole New World/Pretend World’ begins with synth stabs so intense that they deserve a place amongst the clanging hammers and buzzing saws of a steel foundry. The album is breathlessly forward-thinking. Both listenable and challenging, it teases the listener of their prudishness (‘Spit on my face/Put the pony in his place/I am your toy/Just a little ponyboy’) then consoles them that ‘It’s Okay to Cry’. To accommodate these lyrical contrasts, the music is effortlessly malleable: it melts into lush soundscapes, then tightens into rigid synth hits in seconds.

The music video for the album’s first single, ‘It’s Okay To Cry’ featured SOPHIE, semi-naked in front of a backdrop of clouds. This was a clear, powerful gesture of self-acceptance – and for many prompted the realisation that SOPHIE was transgender. When asked about choosing the moment to ‘reveal herself, both literally and metaphorically’, SOHPIE replied that ‘I don’t really agree with the term ‘coming out’.… I’m just going with what feels honest.’ SOHPIE had previously battled critics’ accusations of ‘gender appropriation’. They falsely assumed SOHPIE’s gender identity, and proceeded to attack the artist for using a typically ‘female’ stage-name and projecting a stereotypically ‘girlish’ image. In the face of these hurtful, ignorant and transphobic vilifications, it is truly admirable that in the music video SOPHIE made so bold and public a statement of self.

SOHPIE’s tragically early passing froze music in time. What stands, crowned by Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides, is an impressive but truncated body of work. While we lament SOPHIE’s untimely death, we can also enjoy the music and celebrate the legacy left behind. SOPHIE continues to inspire – both as a person and as a musician – and stands as someone we all can look up to.

Image Credit: KateVEVO/CC BY 3.0

Flinching before a dead god

Sophie Barshall
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Flinching before a dead god

God is Dead, but lots of us miss him.

We look for his shadow in astrological charts, turn that shadow into beams of light that reactivate purple crystals, and then bend quantum physics into crystalline shapes.

I garner spiritual fulfilment through the practice of yoga and have felt smug at my rejection of too much of the attendant ‘woo-woo’. If I hadn’t, you see, I would have had to break up with my boyfriend, whose stars are totally incompatible with my own; and that was definitely not the right thing to do. Spirituality without religion, Sam Harris promised me (see Waking Up, 2014), is something I could find without depositing faith from one dubious source to another.

Atheism has been an intellectual possibility in Western thought since the 19th century. ‘God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him’, declared Friedrich Nietzsche in his work of philosophical fiction, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (1883-5). The Enlightenment welcomed in new ideas of a universe governed by scientific laws where there had once been Christian divine providence; Darwin’s theory of Evolution, the development of Higher Criticism in Germany which proved Biblical scripture to be a historical document, and the discoveries of geology all ripped a Christian God away from the fabric of European society. Accordingly, the question of His existence does not come up in conversation with my friends. A few are religious; most are not.

So, when I arrive at C. S. Lewis Society, I do not know that it is a Christian society. I do not attend in some kind of challenge to myself; I think that, as a Harry Potter fan who has been deprived of magic in adulthood, the mysteries of Narnia will nourish my inner child. I am surprised, then, when a girl with dark curls stands up and starts reading aloud from Lewis’s The Four Loves:

‘‘God is love’ says St John’; this is how the book begins. Oh no. I quickly realise my mistake – of course, C. S. Lewis was a devoted Christian. It would have been absurd to have a society devoted solely to him that wasn’t religious.

The Four Loves distinguishes Eros from Friendship, Affection and Charity. I like the sound of it and will order it on eBay that evening when I get home. What makes it such a delightful book is that it addresses questions of love with total sincerity, and consequently, I find myself open to receiving them in earnest. It’s not that a secular book – maybe self-help style – couldn’t do the same; it’s just that I imagine finding it repulsively cringey. Perhaps this is my own problem – that I must receive ‘big’ ideas padded with irony or veiled beneath a layer of fiction. Only, belief in a deity does allow you to approach these questions – questions that we have been and will always be concerned with – with such clarity and unflinching candour.

But I am a flincher. Do I believe in God? I blush even asking myself. I feel intellectually inadequate, late to the party, and wholly bamboozled.

It’s not that I have an aversion to talking about Him – I grew up going to church fairly regularly, and since my teenage years we’ve done the ‘right’ thing of attending at Christmas and Easter and I have always enjoyed it. But I’m not sure if church is really about God for me. It is about family, ceremony and smells; it is space to think, time outside of normal life marked by wine and white robes and wood under-body.

This church-as-contemplative-space thing I’ve got going is one way of trying to reconcile rationalism with religion, and I feel comfortable with it. But C. S. Lewis Society –  a Christian society – this is the real deal, a level up, a stretch. I feel nervous that I might leave the room Reborn and not even know how it happened. Staying silent, clandestine, I listen as members take turns to read passages aloud; and once the shock subsides, begin to enjoy the intimacy of sharing in this small group.

People have been trying to prise worship apart from God for a long time: in 1799, Reformed theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher gave an address in which he declared ‘God’ no more than an allegorical tool for reflection, and worship ‘pure contemplation of the Universe’, so that ‘belief in God, and in personal immortality, are not necessarily a part of religion’. Almost 170 years later, John T Elson wrote in Time magazine that, ‘even within Christianity . . . a small band of radical theologians has seriously argued that the churches must accept the fact of God’s death, and get along without him’. Should we embrace a cultural life of faith absent of any supernatural claims, and pray to a dead God? I suppose that, inadvertently, this is what I have been trying to do. But as the meeting continues, my way of inhabiting religious space starts to feel like a compromise and not an answer; and I realise that I experience some indifference when it comes to worship because this middle ground demands very little by way of conviction.

But this is about life! And death! I must commit, I realise at C. S. Lewis Society. Or, at least, I must try and have a good old think about this transcendental stuff.

When the meeting ends, I follow some members into the chapel of Pusey House for the Compline service and contemplate the Universe, Schleiermacher-style, by candlelight and song. It is undeniably beautiful.

And then the next week, I return to C. S. Lewis Society. And the next. And then the next.

At the end of the fourth session, it is announced that Stewart Lee will be coming to speak next week. Stewart Lee! The stand-up comedian Stewart Lee? No – it isn’t, I’m afraid. Dr Stuart Lee is a Professor in the English department. Oh.

Dr Stuart Lee, Professor in the English department, leads us through an excellent close text analysis of a passage from the Lord of the Rings, referencing J. R. R. Tolkien’s On Fairy-Stories (1939) which has been mentioned several times already at C. S. Lewis Society (where I still haven’t spoken a word): a long essay which discusses the fairy-story as a literary form. This sounds very inner-child-friendly and God-free, and so I read it in the quest for new directions. If we are to live without God, we are to be responsible for enchanting our own lives; and what better way to do this than through fantasy, I suppose.

Tolkien quickly mentions our cultural affliction: “rationalization’ transformed the glamour of Elfland into mere finesse’ he writes, which ‘seems to become fashionable soon after the great voyages have begun to make the world seem too narrow to hold both men and elves’. The problem is not that we do not have fairy stories anymore, then, but that we do not allow them the space to charm our lives. Perhaps all we must do is widen our world again with the mysteries of magic! Tolkien argues that the use of imagination to create a world that is rational and consistent and yet different from our own can lend us fresh insight into life; ‘it was in fairy-stories that I first divined the potency of the words, and the wonder of things, such as stone, and wood, and iron; tree and grass; house and fire; bread and wine’, he writes. Unchallenged preconceptions will be challenged in these new worlds, he believes; their wonders will bring us joy, and they will help us to be more moral.

On Fairy-Stories is not as God-free as I had hoped, but it offers me a new way of living with religion. The essay ends with Tolkien asking us to consider Christianity: ‘The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories . . . and among its marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history’. I recall the magic of living through a novel, a film or a good television show; the way it colours interactions with friends, walks through the park and the way that I see myself in the mirror for those few days in which my consciousness is bound up with a seductive storyline. I am excited, thanks to Tolkien, by the idea of bewitching my life with the ancient stories of Gods in a similar way; so that I can live through them and believe in them and at the same time never believe in any of it at all.

In 1946, faced with the meaninglessness of human life in a world without God in the wake of the horrors of the second world war, Jean-Paul Sartre declared that ‘existence precedes essence’: that our life is only as meaningful as we choose to make it. This might sound like if-you-work-hard-you-will-succeed messaging, which we all know isn’t true in a society rife with inequalities, but Sartre distinguishes Facticity – the facts about ourselves and the circumstances that constrain us – from Transcendence – our freedom to act. Actualising our potential by doing (within the constraints of our Facticity) is the path to existential freedom – and denying this freedom, Sartre says, plunges us into anxiety. Nevertheless, existential theory has been an uplifting driving force in my life; it shows us how to derive significance from coincidence, absurdity and meaninglessness, and reminds me that ‘I could have been good at the piano’ isn’t the same as being good at the piano. The problem is, existentialism doesn’t leave much room for worship: its entire premise is meaning-making sans God.

Maybe the Psychedelic Society can help me. I attend a talk – the Art of Self-Inquiry – that they host with artist Rupert Spira, who whispers us through a guided meditation. Ignoring standard practice of upright-sitting, I lie on the floor: my neck and back are sore, which I deserve because I have totally abused the rules of anatomical wellness this week. Spira introduces us to the principles of a non-dual understanding that is the essence, he says, of all the great religious, philosophical, and spiritual traditions. This is the recognition that underlying the diversity of experience there is a single, indivisible and infinite reality that is, as far as I understand, a universal consciousness. Our individual consciousness – which is the only thing that we know to be true, and which feels like an independent existence – is actually part of a unified whole; and the nature of this unified whole, says Spria, is happiness.

Taking some initiative, I have cultivated a ball of light around myself, representing – quite suitably, although perhaps unoriginally – my independent consciousness. Behind fuzzy eyelids, I push the ball into a big pool of everyone else’s. According to Spira, recognition of this reality is foundational for any sustainable relationship with the environment, and the basis for peace between individuals, communities and nations. This experience of consciousness resonates more as ‘peace’ to me than ‘happiness’; but nevertheless – I like it. If the need for religion is a result of our insecurities in the face of nature and an unintelligible universe, Spira’s theory integrates me into the cosmos, and it is comforting.

At the end of a long stint of societies, essays and talks, yoga poses and conversations, I still have some questions; but I know for sure that the act of inquiry has been an enriching and fruitful one. For now, it is time to pause and see how this hodgepodge of ideas holds up in the big bad Real World.

And Stewart Lee did come to Oxford; I saw his stand-up show, Snowflake/Tornado at the Playhouse in January. It did not disappoint. Maybe he’s even worthy of worship…

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