Thursday 3rd July 2025
Blog Page 27

Brasenose College partially evacuated after chlorine gas leak

Cherwell News
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Brasenose College partially evacuated after chlorine gas leak

Brasenose College was partially evacuated following a chlorine gas leak, with the fire brigade called to the scene to deal with the incident.

According to students at the college, the alarm began at approximately 1.10pm, with one telling Cherwell that they had been instructed by two workers to “get out of the building immediately”.

Two of the college’s three quads were evacuated, with the domestic bursar telling students in an email that the fire service were “working with our teams to resolve as quickly as possible”.

Later, the College’s Bursar told Cherwell: “There was not a fire, but the sensors had detected chemicals of concern in the air. The fire service attended and dealt with the incident.”

Purav Menon, a 3rd year PPE student at Brasenose, told Cherwell that there had been “a fire alarm going off for the past five to ten minutes across most of the college buildings. Everyone’s standing outside and it’s not the usual drill.”

Additionally, Lawrence Thorn, a 1st year Experimental Psychology student at Brasenose, explained to Cherwell that he was walking up to his staircase when he heard two workers saying: “Quick, pull the fire alarm.” He was subsequently told to “get out of the building immediately”.

Despite the incident, one student at the college told Cherwell that “it seems like people aren’t really fazed.” Before being evacuated, they added: “It seems like life is going on as normal – people are playing croquet, sitting around eating lunch.”

Philip Parker, the College’s Bursar, told Cherwell: “I [can] confirm that the emergency services attended College on Thursday 1st May in response to the triggering of a fire alarm.

“We cannot yet confirm more details about the cause and await the report of the emergency services and our internal investigations.

“The College is very grateful to the emergency services and our in-house team for attending quickly and ensuring the safety of all our College members. We are also grateful for the support and understanding of our students, staff and academics during an afternoon of disruption and inconvenience.”

Table for one: the quiet joy of solo travelling

Beatrix Arnold
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Table for one: the quiet joy of solo travelling

In the summer before starting university, with my place at Oxford secured, and the reality of the impending plunge into the unknown beginning to dawn on me, I embarked on a three-week long solo trip around Italy. Equipped with only a small carry-on, I hopped from one hostel to another, staying in eight different cities. My extremely tight budget did not hold me back; I kept myself busy with museums, art galleries, trips to ruins, and ate some of the best food of my life. I did, unfortunately, turn into somewhat of a pizza snob. Alternately unnerving and exhilarating (Naples is not the safest destination for a solo female traveller), the trip was the best preparation for starting university that I could have asked for, much more so than all that pre-reading that I was never asked about. 

I am well aware that the opportunity to travel smacks of privilege. But this is not an exculpation of the gap yah; I’m not advocating a trip to a resort in Bali to find yourself, safely cushioned by daddy’s bank account and padded out with a dabble in voluntourism. This is a defence of the low-budget, high-reward solo trip abroad. It is now easier than ever to find affordable options for travel, accommodation, and food. By saving up from summer work, and developing indispensable budgeting skills, I was able to sustain myself abroad for a far cheaper rate than it costs to live day to day in Oxford, for example. 

As travel abroad becomes easier to organise, solo trips are on the rise, particularly among women. Despite the daunting prospect, and the evident risks (strong enough to dissuade many), when done right it can be a vital act of self-assertion, and a prioritisation of autonomous pleasure in a culture which inculcates self-subordination. Chosen solitude shouldn’t be seen as a sign of loneliness, or as an inherent deficiency, but as an active cultivation of the self. The constructive and restorative power of solitude, particularly in the context of what can cheesily be termed an ‘adventure’, cannot be understated.

For me, after my relatively sheltered countryside upbringing, solo travel was a chance to construct a sense of true independence, so that the abrupt isolation of university life did not come as quite the jolting shock it would have otherwise.

A year and a half later, still reeling from my just-completed exams, I took myself off on a three-day solo trip to Athens, and was reminded afresh of the joys of independent travel. As much as I relish travelling with friends, going solo facilitates new realms of possibilities. With none of the compromise, none of the scheduling, none of the inevitable anxiety of making arrangements on someone else’s behalf, there is much greater scope for real relaxation. Besides – somewhat paradoxically, choosing to go alone makes it easier to form connections with others. I became much more confident in social – and even romantic – interactions with people I met along the way in the absence of the ever-debilitating risk that you might run into them on Broad Street.  

Of course, the first time I walked into a restaurant by myself and requested a table for one, it was a game of endurance, persevering through the oppressive sense of strangers’ judgement. But comfort is cultivated; whether by talking to waiters or neighbouring diners, choosing more low-key venues or bringing a book, I adapted to deal with situations that previously seemed too intimidating. With confidence progressively earned, my security in my own independence grew, so that now, a solo tute doesn’t seem so scary after all.  

Winners of Oriel art exhibition to ‘contextualise’ Rhodes announced

Joshua McGillivray
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Winners of Oriel art exhibition to ‘contextualise’ Rhodes announced

An exhibition displaying four sculptures by Zimbabwean artists which aims to “contextualise” the legacy of Cecil Rhodes will open at Oriel College later this year. 

The sculptures were chosen from over 100 pieces of art submitted for a competition organised by the Oxford Zimbabwe Arts Partnership (OZAP), a group established in 2020 in response to the Rhodes Must Fall protest movement.

The competition’s judges included Lord Mendoza, the Provost of Oriel College; Elleke Boehmer, a Trustee of the Rhodes Trust; and Norbert Shamuyarira, a Zimbabwean sculptor and one of the co-founders of OZAP.

The panel met on the 7th March and chose the sculpture “Blindfold Justice” as the centrepiece for the exhibition. It was created by Wallace Mkankha, 34, an artist based at the Chitungwiza Arts Centre near Harare. 

Mkankha said about his piece: “The face, shrouded in anguish, symbolises the suffering of the Zimbabwean people. The two hands covering the eyes signify the forced blindness to the truth as Rhodes’ regime imposed its oppressive rule.

“The two hands struggling to remove the blindfold represent the resilience and determination of Zimbabwean people to break free from oppression.”

Lord Mendoza said: “I look forward to viewing Wallace’s sculpture at Oriel College. We had a challenging but engaging judging session. I’m grateful to all the expert judges for their insight to help reach a decision.

“Each sculpture represents a creative form of engagement with the complicated legacy of Cecil Rhodes in Zimbabwe.”

Rhodes migrated to southern Africa at the age of 17. In 1871, he moved to Kimberley and over the next twenty years became one of the wealthiest diamond producers in the world, founding the De Beers company in 1888.

In 1890, he became Prime Minister of the Cape Colony, a territory spanning part of contemporary South Africa. During his premiership, the government passed the 1892 Franchise and Ballot Act, which raised the property qualifications for voting and thus excluded most non-white voters. He also supported increased racial segregation in areas like Cape Town.

He led the British South Africa Company (BSAC) in 1889. The BSAC colonised contemporary Zimbabwe, seizing the Mashonaland in 1890 and the Matabeleland from 1893 to 1894. From 1896 to 1897, it brutally suppressed a revolt in these territories, with estimates for overall mortality from killings and famine ranging up to 20,000.

From 1873 to 1881, Rhodes intermittently completed a degree at Oriel College. On his death in 1902, he left it money, which allowed for the establishment of the international Rhodes Scholarship, which grants 102 postgraduate scholarships annually. Beneficiaries include former US president Bill Clinton, the Booker Prize-winning novelist Richard Flanagan, and three prime ministers of Australia.

Richard Pantlin, founder of OZAP, said: “We have many visitors to Oxford from around the world to educate them about some of that colonial history and to get them to reflect on the impact of the British Empire, particularly Cecil Rhodes’ impact in Zimbabwe.”

Protests in 2020 called for the removal of the statue of Rhodes above the main entrance of Oriel College. As a consequence, in June 2020, the Oriel College Governing Body voted to remove the Rhodes Statue. 

However, in April 2021, Oriel College announced that the statue would not be withdrawn, citing the “regulatory and financial challenges” of taking down a Grade II* listed monument.

The exhibition will open at Oriel in September, before moving to the University Church of St Mary the Virgin in Oxford until December.

Merton announce plans to refurbish student accommodation

Arina Makarina
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Merton announce plans to refurbish student accommodation

Merton College has submitted an application to conduct the refurbishment of Grade I and Grade II listed buildings. The application includes the renovation of student accommodation, as well as the Middle Common Room (MCR) and facades of the buildings facing Merton Street.

According to the application, both buildings currently have a poor heating system “due to the thermal inefficiency of the historic fabric”. The existing end-of-life electrical installation is “not suitable for the current building use” so the buildings would have to be completely rewired as well.

The project proposal includes a “full strip of all existing furniture” in accommodation, replacement of fire alarms, hot water and floor finishes, and refurbishment of washrooms. In addition, the college is planning to redecorate the MCR by improving access with a platform lift and installing new secondary glazing.

Ridge, the company conducting the works, submitted a request to Oxfordshire City Council and Historic England to review the project. The proposal claims that “[T]he ‘special interest’ and ‘heritage significance’ of the parts of the College affected by the proposals have been respected.” The Heritage Impact Assessment concluded that the proposed works “can be achieved without impact on historic fabric, character or significance and ‘special interest’”.

Front Range No.4, originally the 13th Century Warden’s Lodgings, contains the MCR, the Games Room and College Store. Front Range No.5 was rebuilt in 1904, when St Alban’s Quad was reordered. The building currently contains ten ensuite study bedrooms and a bridge link to the MCR.

Cliques, columns and committees: How insecurity fuels Oxford’s societies

Oscar Whittle
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Cliques, columns and committees: How insecurity fuels Oxford’s societies

For many freshers arriving at this University, the biggest question playing on their mind is not ‘what is a collection?’ or ‘how do I pay my battels?’ but rather ‘where am I going to fit in?’. It is a natural fear. It is not new, however, to note that the fact this University is steeped in centuries of eccentric archaicism results in many students feeling switched-off, alienated and so I will spare you, dear reader, the uninspiring challenge of reading an article that you have read a thousand times before.

Instead, I am interested here in the opposite reaction to this feeling of insecurity. Having spent the best part of two years getting to grips with the various opportunities this University offers, I suggest that the bizarre insularity and cliqueness of the world of the Union, the student papers, and JCRs is the result of students desperately searching for their place here. And that, often, this insularity results not from students naturally fitting in, but rather falling victim to the same feelings of being out of place that so many of us feel. 

I remember how I felt before I came up in Michaelmas of last year. I will not pretend that my feelings were especially remarkable nor especially unique – a mix of trepidation, excitement (I am sure you get the idea). I was the first in my family to attend Oxbridge (apart from a somewhat estranged uncle who read for a DPhil here) and I knew that the three years were going to fly by. 

I also knew that there was going to be an immense number of opportunities confronting me. Given the most interesting thing that ever happens in the particularly sleepy corner of rural England I live in is someone’s cat going missing, I also began to feel this creeping sense of urgency, perhaps even a pressure, not to perform academically, but to (for want of a more interesting phrase) ‘get involved’. In retrospect, it seems ever clearer to me that this impulse was probably rather unhealthy, but it has taken me the best part of two years of ‘getting involved’ to see that, and this is what I am interested in exploring here. Why did I and (not to be too presumptuous) so many of my peers, feel this pressure?

Of course, I am no psychologist, and I will avoid undertaking the petrifying task of attempting to psychoanalyse the mind of the average Union hack or Cherwell geek (nor would I, for my own sanity, especially want to). However, looking at the ‘big three’ University societies (the triumvirate of the student press, the Union, and JCRs) it does not take a genius to see a remarkable overlap between those who get involved with the largest (and frequently the most toxic and cliquey) societies on offer at Oxford. You can bet that the average Union hack has tried at least once to get onto their JCR or that a solid number of student journalists take up positions after having (dis)gracefully retired from a Union career.

The overlap is clear and suggests that regardless of whether it is the Union, one of the papers, or a JCR, there is an underlying reason as to why certain people get involved.

My contention is that the overlap in those who get involved is the result of, if not an insecurity, then a somewhat unnatural desire to ‘know stuff’ in order to compensate for a general feeling of being uncertain of one’s place.  And furthermore, that this desire to ‘know stuff’ stems from the same anxieties that cause other people to decide that University societies and culture is not for them. While for some the feeling of being out of place results in either isolationism or antagonism towards the largest University societies, for others it elicits some strange urge to greedily gobble up every rumour, take up every position on every committee, or dress up in black tie and swan about the halls of the Union – or better still, all three. 

There are many students who will have never felt this impulse, and quite frankly, credit to them. The gossip and pressure that comes with the unhealthy overlap between the student papers and the Union is not one of Oxford’s most healthy or productive elements. And yet, in spite of so many of us who are involved in these societies knowing that we are indirectly or directly contributing to this atmosphere of pressure and rumour, we find ourselves hooked to getting involved, and crucially, staying involved (perhaps past what is good for us). We get our fixes in different ways, of course. Whether it’s hearing tid-bits of gossip about other students or (better yet) some scandalous comment made by a tutor, seeing our names in the papers or the YouTube recommended section after delivering a speech at the Union. We are addicts for involvement.

Of course, this is a generalisation, and to argue that anyone who is not involved in these societies is simply insecure (or indeed, that anyone who is involved is equally insecure) is plain wrong. However, in the opinion of this ex-Union Cherwell writer who is his college’s JCR secretary, the overlap between the student press, the Union, and JCRs, and the culture of gossip and rumour are the consequences of an insatiable desire that exists within many of us to be in the know, and to feel like we have managed to find our place at this University.


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

Oxford HMV on Cornmarket Street closes

Hassan Akram
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Oxford HMV on Cornmarket Street closes

HMV on Oxford’s Cornmarket Street permanently closed on 22nd April following a decision by the landlord not to renew the shop’s lease.

Established in 1921 as a record shop, HMV has since expanded into a chain selling films, music, books, pop culture merchandise, and rare imported snacks. The company told Cherwell in a statement: “It is with regret that … we are unfortunately having to close the HMV Shop at 52 Cornmarket St, Oxford.”

The Cornmarket store has not been without its tribulations. The firm started trading in Oxford more than 30 years ago, but closed down its store in the Clarendon Centre in 2014. It returned in 2021, after a vinyl boom during the pandemic. 

On the impact the closure would have on those working at the store, the statement continued: “Regrettably store colleagues are now considered at risk of redundancy and options are being discussed with everyone individually as part of the consultation process. HMV will do all it can to find roles for these colleagues in the existing store portfolio.”

The news comes only a month after Oxford’s Waterstones similarly announced its closure and relocation. It is part of a broader trend as outlets selling both print media and physical digital media come under pressure from online competition.

HMV further told Cherwell: “As we have no intention to stop serving our loyal customers in Oxford, we are actively looking for a new unit to restart trading as soon as possible and would encourage landlords and agents in Oxford to get in touch with new potential sites.”

Among the student body, reaction to the news of HMV’s closure has been mixed. One undergraduate told Cherwell: “Often after finishing my work at the library I’d go to HMV to buy a film which I’d relax and watch in the evening. I appreciate that fewer and fewer people are buying physical copies of films but I think it’s still an institution worth preserving and I think that Cornmarket will look much emptier now that HMV has left it.”
Also reacting to the news, and expressing less sentimentality at the news, another student told Cherwell: “There’s still a CeX in Cowley so it’s not that deep.”

Zero social anxiety?

Ben O'Brien
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Zero social anxiety?

If you’re anything like me, you will have often wondered what the world would be like if there was no social anxiety in it. As far as my own life is concerned, I like to imagine things would have turned out very differently. With a bit of luck, I would have been a Marvin Gaye-style R&B singer, with a string of number one hits and an enormous bank balance to show for it. I would have had a worldwide fan base, and it would have been difficult to walk down Holywell Street without my security guards, due to the crowds. The fact that none of these things happened is only due to the fact that I have a horrible fear of singing and dancing in front of other people. In a social anxiety-free world, none of that would have been a problem. There would have been nothing to hold me back.

With all this in mind, it was with great interest that I recently stumbled upon a new TikTok trend which promised to reveal to me exactly what the anxiety-free world would look like beyond my own narrow Marvin Gaye-centred perspective. The premise of “POV: zero social anxiety” is a simple one. A man (and for some reason it is always a man) films his day POV-style as he walks about a random town or city making himself known to the people he comes across. He fist-bumps and high-fives everyone he passes in the street. He goes into shops and tells elderly ladies that he likes their flowery jackets. He walks into pubs and asks a man watching the football alone what the score is. Once told, he does a loud friendly laugh, shakes the man’s hand, and leaves.

The trend’s message is clear: if only we’d all act as the real us wants to, we’d see that other people are less scary than we think – and, in actual fact, everybody would like us. The only problem with the message is that it’s undermined by reality. As the videos show, yes, some people are glad to be high-fived in the street by strangers, and some are happy to be stopped for a chat, even when they are in the middle of filling up their car. But what the videos also show is that just as many people don’t want to be bothered while they’re going about their daily lives. Sometimes the man watching football alone in the pub really does just want to watch football alone in the pub. Sometimes the man staring confusedly at his shopping list really doesn’t want a fist-bump. There’s no two ways about it.

What the trend unwittingly shows, of course, is that there are good reasons why we don’t all act like zero-social-anxiety-man, at least not all the time. The reasons have less to do with social anxiety than with simply being able to read another person’s body language. When we don’t talk to other people, sometimes that’s just because we know they don’t want to be talked to, not because we’re scared about what will happen if we do try and strike up a conversation. Sure, we might get it wrong some of the time, usually by erring too much on the side of caution. But most of us are better judges of social situations than the zero-social-anxiety trend would have us think.

Although perhaps the bigger problem with the trend is the idea that getting rid of social anxiety once and for all is an achievable aspiration in the first place. As psychologist Tracy Denning-Tiwary points out, though being overly anxious is of course a real problem for many, it is also a normal part of life to have some degree of social anxiety. It is our brain’s response to uncertainty about the future. We get climate anxiety because we aren’t sure if the planet’s future is good or bad. We get career anxiety because we aren’t sure the Oxford degree, which was supposed to get us a job when we leave here, will actually do so. Social anxiety is just another example of this: we can never be completely sure how people are going to respond to us, and the idea that we can be is plainly false.

None of this is to say that the zero-social-anxiety trend does not have some good to it, or that the creators themselves don’t have good intentions. If trends like this help people see that others don’t always react badly to a friendly hello from a stranger, for instance, then surely that’s a good thing. Nevertheless, that shouldn’t take away from the fact that the premise of “zero social anxiety” is a problematic one. Even if he is well-meaning, what zero-social-anxiety-man seems to be implying is that if we don’t all behave like him, there must be something wrong with us. In doing so, he turns what’s in actual fact normal human behaviour – not fist-bumping every single person we come across – into something ‘abnormal’. In other words, we are the ones that have the problem, not him.

Ex-Student Spotlight: Catherine Hoskyns, author, academic, and feminist

Billy Jeffs
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Ex-Student Spotlight: Catherine Hoskyns, author, academic, and feminist

Cherwell: What was your experience like as a woman at Oxford in the 1950s? 

Hoskyns: Well, I was there from 1953-56 and they did have women students, so we were quite privileged. I was at St. Hilda’s, and there were I think four women’s colleges, but it was a kind of carved-out space for women in a male dominated world. We went to lectures with male students and I had some tutorial sessions with C.S. Lewis. He was a very strange person. He was very monosyllabic. He wasn’t at all chatty. The women’s colleges were separate and we were locked in about 10 o’clock, but there was a lot of climbing over the walls, in both directions. And a friend of mine actually got a key cut to the side door. That was useful. There was a bit of intermingling, as you might expect. 

Cherwell: You worked at Cherwell at university – what was your experience like with that? 

Hoskyns: I was the film and theatre critic and reviews editor. There was a really funny occasion where I got what I thought was a very good review of a book and I wanted to put it in full, but there wasn’t enough space. So I left out the cinema times – we had what the different cinemas were showing, and I left that out in order to include this review in full. And the editor sent for me and he said, never do that again. He said, don’t you realise people only read the paper to see what’s on at the cinema? They don’t really read it for these intellectual reviews and so on. 

Cherwell: Moving beyond your time at university, you worked for a long time as a journalist. Could you tell us about that? 

Hoskyns: Well, I went to Africa because I got interested in Kenya (a British colony) while I was at Oxford and soon after. Kenya was in a real crisis then because of the Mau Mau rebellion – there was a revolt among the Kikuyu tribe, which was very violent and was repressed with extreme violence by the British. 

The British army was out there, but there was a lot of sympathy for the Kikuyu in other areas because they’d been so severely repressed. They couldn’t grow cash crops. They were very poorly paid. They’d been excluded from their land, so they were often working as labour on territory that they thought was theirs. And they were given no representation, and nobody would listen to them. So they took to violence in order to make a point. And a number of white settlers were killed, farms were destroyed. And then it was repressed by the British.  

So when I came out, that was more or less finished, but the question was what to do. And it was clear that the British had to give some representation to Africans. They couldn’t just go on treating them as slaves and giving them no possibility of political or legal action. And so I came in just that stage when other African politicians were beginning to emerge and when it was agreed that there would be some African representation in the legislative assembly, and there would be elections.  

So it was quite an exciting time to come. I got a job on a paper called The Colonial Times, which sounded very right wing, but it was actually an Asian paper, which was quite radical. It was run by a Gujarati family, and had had a tradition of siding with the Africans against the British. 

Cherwell: You have also worked as an academic on the evaluation of women’s unpaid work. 

Hoskyns: Yes, that’s right. My nephew Nicky was working in the cooperatives in Nicaragua and when I visited, I think in 2010, we got The Body Shop to actually include a component for the women’s unpaid work in the cooperative as one of the costs of producing sesame. I think this issue is a good one to take up as a feminist, the unpaid work that women do, which is not counted or valued. It’s actually a subsidy to capitalism.  

But that was a bit later. I became a feminist because of having a baby and being cut out and being treated as a non-person. My daughter was born in 1968, and the early seventies were a time when feminism was really taking off and a lot of small groups were formed. And I was at a very famous conference in Oxford held first in Ruskin College and then in the Oxford Union – it was the first National Women’s Liberation conference. That was very energizing. When I was at Oxford as a student, women weren’t allowed to be members of the Union. 

Worcester academics drank from a human skull in formals until 2015

Callum Stove
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Worcester academics drank from a human skull in formals until 2015

A drinking vessel made from a human skull was used by academics at Worcester College during formal meals until 2015, a new book by an Oxford professor has shown. The vessel is now stored in the college’s archives, where access to it is denied.

The book, Every Monument Will Fall, by archaeology fellow Professor Dan Hicks, suggests that the skull was used to hold wine and later chocolates when it began to leak. Hicks, also Curator of World Archaeology at the Pitt Rivers Museum, traced the history of the skull – donated to the college in 1947 – as part of his aim to reveal “legacies of militarism, slavery, racism and white supremacy” present in cultural institutions”.

Although there is no record of the individual to whom skull belongs, its size, age, and circumstantial evidence indicate that it may have come from the Caribbean. The professor further suggests that it may have belonged to an enslaved woman living around 225 years ago.

The scientific basis of this point, however, has been contested. Worcester told Cherwell: “DNA testing was unable to identify the geographic or ethnic origin of the skull and, as such, the speculation that the skull is that of an enslaved woman from the Caribbean cannot be substantiated.” The college told Cherwell that whilst such a drinking vessel did exist in the Senior Common Room and was “occasionally used as tableware”, there is “no evidence to confirm whether or not it was used for serving wine.” 

However, the British chain of ownership is undisputed: the cup was  donated to the college in 1946 by the eugenicist George Pitt Rivers. The donation followed his release from internment during the Second World War for his support of the British Union of Fascists leader Sir Oswald Mosely.

The skull cup was a part of the family’s collection after his grandfather, the archaeologist Augustus Pitt Rivers, purchased it the same year he founded the Pitt Rivers Museum in 1884.

It was acquired at a Sotheby’s auction from Bernhard Smith – himself an Oriel College graduate – who Hicks believes received it from his father, a naval officer who served in the Caribbean, according to The Guardian.

In 2019, the Governing Body of the College engaged Professor Dan Hicks and commissioned scientific testing “to investigate the vessel’s history and to determine the most appropriate method of dealing with the item and according it dignity”. It remains in the college’s archives, where it has been stored “respectfully and securely…in accordance with appropriate legal advice”.

In its response, the college stated: “Worcester reiterates its commitment to equality, diversity and inclusion, as well as its financial support of the University’s Black Academic Futures scheme. Racism and other forms of prejudice have no place at Worcester”.

Orange paint, green promises, and Oxford’s climate conundrum

Victoria McKinley-Smith
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Orange paint, green promises, and Oxford’s climate conundrum

When Oxford University made its grand declaration that it would divest from fossil fuels in 2020, it seemed like the academic world had just notched a major win in the fight against climate change. A world-renowned institution, famed for producing groundbreaking research and celebrated as a global intellectual beacon, was taking a bold stand – announcing that it would withdraw investments from the industries largely responsible for the climate crisis. Its massive endowment fund, managed by Oxford University Endowment Management (OUem), would, it seemed, put into practice the University’s high-minded goals of sustainability and environmental stewardship, with claims of ‘robust mechanisms’ in place to ensure responsible investment. Environmental groups praised it as a step toward setting a new precedent for universities, businesses, and institutions worldwide, urging the rest of the academic world to follow suit. 

But as 2022 drew to a close, a startling revelation emerged: despite those lofty promises, Oxford’s fossil fuel investments had actually surged. The 2022 OUem report showed that between 2021 and 2022, the University’s indirect investments in oil and gas companies increased from 0.32% to 0.52%. 

These figures may appear relatively modest, but less so when placed within the context of the University’s endowment, which totalled £5.7 billion in 2022. For some students and climate advocates, there is an apparent contradiction between the University’s vocal commitment to sustainability and its millions of pounds of indirectly invested in fossil fuels. For an institution that prides itself on its intellectual leadership, what explains this apparent gap between moral rhetoric and financial reality?

Progress or greenwashing?

Oxford’s Environmental Sustainability Strategy, targeting net-zero carbon emissions and a biodiversity net gain by 2035, sounds ambitious on paper. The University’s roadmap involves reducing carbon emissions in its academic buildings, investing in sustainable food sources for its vast college kitchens, and enhancing biodiversity across its grounds. But members of Oxford Climate Justice Campaign (OCJC) have claimed that these good intentions seem hollow when weighed against the backdrop of Oxford’s continuing investments in fossil fuels.

The head of sustainability for OUem told Cherwell: “The University has no direct holdings in fossil fuels ie it owns no fossil fuel companies; and indirect exposure (ie through funds) to fossil fuels is about 0.5% (when last reported).” This might seem like a minor concern on the surface, but still leads to ongoing scrutiny as institutions try to align their financial practices with evolving environmental commitments.

OUem also told Cherwell: “OUem has fully implemented the University’s 2020 divestment commitments. The Oxford Endowment Fund has no direct exposure to fossil fuels and indirect exposure is a fraction of a percentage. This will fluctuate for a variety of reasons on a year-by-year basis.” Indeed, from 2021 to 2022, investments in tobacco companies declined more than investments in fossil fuels increased.

Still, the financial decisions of Oxford’s endowment fund often seem out of step with its public climate commitments. This is precisely where the accusations of greenwashing stem from. 

Environment and Ethics rep and climate activist Oliver Ray told Cherwell: “The University’s actions clearly show a blatant disrespect for its own researchers and students as well as contempt for global ecosystems.”

There’s also the fact that when institutions like Oxford make public promises to divest, they send a signal that reverberates beyond their own financial portfolios. Divestment campaigns have long been one of the most effective ways of pressuring institutions to act more responsibly. When Oxford promised to divest, it not only committed to curbing its own impact but also positioned itself as a model of responsible investment for other major educational and financial institutions. Now, its reluctance to fully divest undermines the very cause it once championed.

This leaves Oxford in a precarious position. It is caught between competing pressures: on the one hand, it wants to maintain its reputation, on the other, it is bound to the financial realities of managing an enormous endowment. These realities include the need to generate stable, long-term returns to fund scholarships, research, staff salaries, and infrastructure. It would present genuine difficulties to divest from all of the University’s shares in every fund that has any exposure to fossil fuels. It’s a tightrope walk that many universities and other financial entities face. How much sacrifice is too much when it comes to realigning investment strategies with the pressing need for climate action?

Now with around £6 billion in assets, Oxford’s wealth is staggering – and so is its responsibility. While divesting from fossil fuels is undoubtedly a noble goal, it becomes far more complex when that money is tied up in industries that generate vast sums of revenue. The question is not just one of principle; it’s also one of practicality. Can an institution like Oxford divest fully without risking the financial stability it has built over centuries? 

The end of Just Stop Oil

Meanwhile, a significant moment in the climate justice movement has come and gone: the announcement that Just Stop Oil (JSO), the UK-based climate protest group known for its disruptive direct-action tactics, will disband at the end of April. Founded in 2022, the group became synonymous with high-profile stunts – from throwing soup on Van Gogh’s Sunflowers at the National Gallery to gluing themselves to roads and disrupting major sporting events. While many criticised their methods as overly aggressive and damaging, but JSO’s goal was clear: stop fossil fuel extraction and halt new oil and gas licenses.

Indeed, Oxford felt the full force of this activism on a very public stage when, in the autumn of 2023, Just Stop Oil activists made headlines for spraying the Rad Cam with orange paint. The move was blatantly disruptive and impossible to ignore. Two men have been charged and are due to stand trial in August.

After a little over two years of often controversial actions, Just Stop Oil has declared a victory of sorts. The UK government’s recent pledge to cease issuing new oil and gas licenses – a demand that the organisation had vocally championed – has been hailed by the group as a hard-won success.

So, has JSO’s campaign ended in triumph? Well, sort of. While the group can certainly claim a victory in forcing the UK government’s hand on oil and gas licenses, much of the climate movement has been left pondering the next steps. And as JSO disbands, one (non-fossil fuel) burning question emerges: what’s next for activism? What happens when the loudest voices in climate protest go quiet? And perhaps more importantly, will institutions like Oxford, which have felt the heat of such movements, finally feel compelled to act with urgency?

A growing call for change

Though it may be the end of Just Stop Oil, other student climate protests will surely go on. In February 2023, members of the Oxford Climate Justice Campaign organised a rally outside the Rad Cam demanding that the University follow through on its 2020 divestment promise. 

The University’s failure to fully divest from indirect fossil fuel investments has become a rallying cry for students, with many now seeing their activism as a necessary counterpoint to institutional inertia. By holding protests, writing letters, and joining environmental campaigns, students are showing that they will not accept the hypocrisy of having a university invest in fossil fuels while promoting sustainability.

The internal conflict is becoming more pronounced as the student body grows increasingly aware of the power it has to pressure the administration. The Oxford Climate Justice Campaign is not alone in pushing for stronger action. The very prominence of the movement for fossil fuel divestment, and tactics such as divisive actions at the Rad Cam, likely contributed to similar demands and tactics since the outbreak of the war in Gaza.

A chance to lead?

The pressure on Oxford’s endowment managers could increase further. In June, the University is partnering with UN Human Rights to host the Right Here, Right Now summit on climate change. The summit, organised by the International Universities Climate Alliance and spearheaded by Vice Chancellor Irene Tracey, will convene global leaders, activists, and academics to collaborate on real solutions to the climate crisis. For Oxford, this will be a defining moment.

Timed to coincide with UN World Environment Day, the summit will serve as the perfect stage for Oxford to announce the kind of forward-thinking policies that match its public environmental commitments. However, if the University doesn’t act now – if it continues to drag its feet its credibility as a climate leader could be irreparably damaged. The University has the power to push the needle in the right direction. But it’s up to the institution to decide: exactly what example will its leadership set?

But how do we ensure with the current political climate and volatile global conditions that climate action remains a priority, not a casualty of distraction? In times of crisis, it’s all too easy for environmental concerns to slip down the agenda – but the climate emergency isn’t on hold.  If Oxford wants to retain its position as a global intellectual leader – and not just another relic of ivory tower idealism – it’s time to stop talking about change and start making it. Only then can it prove that, as one of the world’s most esteemed universities, it still has the vision and willpower to shape a sustainable future, not just teach about it. The world is watching, and Oxford’s next move will define its legacy.

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