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Blog Page 27

Why you should be political

By
Roy Shinar Cohen
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Manfred Werner (Tsui) / CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Many of us have been told that the only political thing we must always do, and the most important thing we can do, is to vote. Whenever we are called to duty by the ballot box, we must read about the candidates, decide, and mark a little piece of paper. I won’t claim you should not vote. However, I believe just voting is far from fulfilling one’s political duty. While change sometimes comes from the ballot box, more often it comes from direct action. If you want to cause change, you must do more than vote – you must act.

Whether you care about healthcare, climate change, ongoing wars, or an annoying traffic light, political questions are all around you. Theoretically, or rather, hopefully, there is a politician or bureaucrat tasked with fixing the specific problem you care about. But that is far from certain. In many cases, when it comes to changing the status quo, these officials need to be constantly (and loudly) reminded that you need their help. In fact, they often need to be reminded that, essentially, they work for us. The way to do that is with civic engagement.

Civic engagement includes many things, anything between community group chats and protests outside politicians’ homes. People across society are likely to find different issues they care about and diverse avenues to express their opinions – and that is the point! If every single person who cared about a problem actively sought a solution, our streets would be cleaner, our schools better, and our water fresher. To twist Kennedy’s famous words, if we stopped asking what society could do for us, and started asking what we could do for society, I think we would all be happier.

This issue has been around for a long time, at least since the early nineteenth century, but I think it is uniquely important today. Although 2024 is the biggest election year in history, with billions of people around the world set to cast votes for all levels of government, democracies around the world are backsliding into crisis. Multiple regions are utterly devastated by wars, famine threatens the lives of millions, and unforeseeable extreme weather events are ever stronger. So many things seem to go wrong, and change seems almost impossible. But it is.

Changes, for better or worse, are brought about by people. Some people start atrocious wars, others secure long-awaited peace. It is usually individuals who fight against all odds that create change, and it is often only in retrospect that we hail these changes as great progress. As Martin Luther King said: “The arc of history bends towards justice”. Activists help ensure the arc of history bends in the right direction and reaches its destination as soon as possible. There are few individuals like King who led fights for liberation and independence, and we rightfully commemorate them. But, without many ‘regular’ people who followed them, they would not have made a difference. Only with the help of people who joined their struggle did the leaders and causes gradually become stronger.

As Oxford students, we have endless opportunities to join groups in their ongoing struggles during our daily lives. Whether you are interested in national politics, human rights, climate change, or helping refugees, there are students already hard at work. A simple search on the Internet or social media can introduce you to the relevant society. These societies often organise discussions, lectures, protests, and campaigns. The beauty of it is that they always need more people, and new students are very welcome.

I suspect readers will already be busy enough, and that you won’t entertain my argument much longer. So I will be very clear about what you will gain by joining such groups. By finding people who share a similar passion, you will find a community. By working on solving a problem you are passionate about, you will gain a sense of fulfilment. And, with a good community and that sense of fulfilment, you will have the courage to keep fighting for the things you love even when times are hard. At that point, you will also be reminded where your priorities lie, which will help you get a better work-life balance.

Anyone who wants to see change in the world should want to support such groups, organisations, and societies. There is no single cause or way to act that is right. You could join a reading group, attend demonstrations, sing in a choir – even share your unsolicited views, like I’m doing right now. What is important is that you try to make a difference based on what you think is right, and look for people who want to do it with you.

Far-right populism spreads to Portugal

By
Morien Robertson
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André Ventura, leader of the Chega Party. Image credit: Agência Lusa / CC BY 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The Portuguese elections in March delivered not only a resounding rejection of the corruption-riddled centre-left government, which a few years ago was viewed as an inspiration for progressive parties everywhere, but it also saw a huge surge for the populist far-right. This result means Portugal follows the trend of the rest of Europe, which it had previously bucked, with stark implications for both the future of the left and the liberal system of rights.

The centre-right Democratic Alliance (AD), a coalition of parties led by Luís Montenegro, leader of the Social Democratic Party (PSD), received 29.5% of the vote, whilst the incumbent centre-left Socialist party (PS) was close behind with 28.6%. The major shock, however, was that of Chega, the far-right populist party which got 18%, more than doubling its 7% showing in 2022: an unprecedented result for a party which was only founded in 2019 and operates in a country long regarded as the exception in Europe due the lack of any far-right parties in Parliament.

For most of this century, Portugal has suffered from economic crises, governmental mismanagement, and related austerity measures intended to ensure fiscal credibility. The problems became especially severe after the 2008 financial crisis and the Eurozone debt crisis which started in 2009. Along with Spain, Italy, Greece, and Ireland, Portugal faced problems with repaying its public sector debts and in 2011 agreed a €78 billion bail-out package with the EU, ECB, and IMF. The money came attached with ‘fiscal consolidation policies’ – strict austerity measures aimed at reducing governmental deficits which led to soaring unemployment, reduced public services, and public discontent with democracy.

Unlike in much of Europe, however, these socio-economic conditions didn’t precipitate a rise in support for the far-right: the most prominent far-right party at the time, Partido Nacional Renovador (PNR), got only 0.5% in the 2015 elections. This is possibly due in part to their association in the minds of many older voters with the dictatorial Salazar regime, which only fell in the 70s and has left many Portuguese with a deep fear of a return to authoritarianism. Instead, the results were quite evenly split between left and right, and PS formed a minority government, supported by two far-left parties. Despite worries that this government would collapse instantly, it was very successful, profiting from favourable economic conditions which saw the reversal of many austerity-era policies, whilst sticking to the EU’s tight budgetary constraints.PS and its then leader António Costa were seen as a model for left-wing governments – the New Statesman 2018 described Costa as: “popular, in power and pursuing a successful alternative to austerity.”

However, in November last year a slate of corruption scandals forced Costa to resign and brought about early elections. The victory of AD reflects widespread discontent with the corruption of PS, which follows a long line of kleptocratic incidents from both left and right. Yet reasons for the breakthrough of Chega now rather than in the previous decade, as with the rest of Europe, are less obvious. One explanation is the convergence of the mainstream parties, something best encapsulated by the former PSD leader Rui Rio saying in 2019 that his party was “not a genuine right-wing party.” Whilst Montenegro has since distanced PSD from PS, there is still a broad economic consensus between the two major parties, with PSD considered much more moderate than other centre-right parties in Europe. Other reasons include the leadership of Chega’s telegenic leader, André Ventura, who has had extensive media coverage, as well as the opposition directed against Portugal’s liberal social policies, such as on LGBTQ+ rights, euthanasia, and drugs. 

More broadly, there is a growing sense that the country is at breaking point, and positive recent economic data has done little to attenuate widespread anger with current economic conditions. Most of Chega’s support is concentrated in rural regions and smaller cities, and areas such as the Algarve which feel left behind and neglected, emblematic of the long-term effects of deindustrialisation. 

Yet the party is still politically isolated: Montenegro seems to have stuck to his pre-election promise of not going into coalition with them, and instead AD will form a minority government, with Chega and PS choosing not to oppose Montenegro taking power. However, difficulties are already arising, with a dispute over the election of a parliamentary speaker, which saw AD fail to get their chosen candidate elected for the full term, illustrating the fragility of Montenegro’s position. The passing of the 2025 budget also looms as a major challenge which will force compromise and negotiation on all sides. If PS and AD are unwilling to reach an agreement, Chega may become decisive in passing legislation, a monumental change for a country once considered free from far-right politics. Even if Chega remain excluded for now, the fall of PS is a sad tale of corruption and profiteering, something which only adds ammunition to anti-establishment populist rhetoric. 

Frank Auerbach’s Charcoal Portraits review: Self-Portrait of a Stranger

By
Taya Neilson
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Image Credit: Taya Neilson

The Griffin Catalyst Exhibition, The Charcoal Heads, shows the early career of Frank Auerbach and the creation of his portraits in the 1950s and 1960s. As a young Jewish artist alone in post-war London, the charcoal portraits reveal a lot about the artist’s own personal experiences and the valuable relationships he established with the sitters of his portraits. As such, when observing the visitors of the exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery, it became clear that they, too, were attempting to uncover the metaphorical layers of discovery and experience present in his portraits.  

It was almost as if a conveyor belt had been installed within the gallery as each drawing was observed by a different visitor one after the other. The visitors matched the pace of their neighbours, taking their time to examine the charcoal heads on display. Whether meeting the sitter of the drawing at eye level or bending forward to see the portraits in more detail, visitors were face to face with the solemn individuals drawn by Auerbach. As such, whilst the sitters of the portraits appeared close to death in their sunken cheeks and solemn eyes, they remained omnipresent within the art gallery, holding their presence as visitors circled the room.

Image Credit: Taya Neilson

However, one drawing, in particular, broke this cycle as a crowd of visitors surrounded Auerbach’s 1958 self-portrait at the age of 27. It was common for Auerbach to rework his drawings, yet the self-portrait on display appeared to have undergone excessive alterations. Its textured and layered appearance resulted from it being patched up three times, which led to the image of the young man becoming warped and disfigured. The scars created from his own human experiences were translated through the white folds which radiated in contrast with the dark charcoal shadows of the piece. It was in this moment that I understood Robert Hughes’ statement in the 1990s that “an overriding sense of being alone in the world” was at the centre of Auerbach’s work.[1] The artist was just as much a stranger to himself than his sitters and it was only through numerous sessions and changes that he could come to terms with his own experiences through the artwork he created.

Auerbach’s self-portrait of a stranger reveals that, rather than Auerbach imposing order through his artistic processes, the creation of his portraits was an attempt to make sense of his own position during a period of chaos and displacement. Auerbach continually revisited his artwork, where his finished portraits are highly textured and reflect on the deepest experiences he faced. Therefore, whilst his work was highly considered, Auerbach continually reviewed his work as part of a process of self-discovery. This is illustrated by the unexpected strikes of pink and blue that appear throughout his portraits, suggesting a sense of emotional and artistic spontaneity.

The power of Auerbach’s artistic process is further evident in three drawings of Gerda Boehm. Gerda and her husband had fled Nazi Germany in 1939 and settled in London. Earlier that year, Auerbach was also sent to England under the Kindertransport scheme whilst his parents died in the Auschwitz concentration camp in 1942. Hence, initially, the Boehm family were the only relatives that Auerbach had in England. Gerda, now a widow, first sat for Auerbach in 1961 and would attend sessions weekly until the 1980s.[2] Auerbach’s initial drawing of Gerda is displayed at the Courtauld. Despite the numerous sessions Gerda had with Auerbach, there are no signs of rips or tears as seen in his self-portrait. The portrait embodies a sense of familiarity and maternity that the artist likely felt towards his sitter. The drawing, therefore, reveals a sense of harmony between them, which was a consequence of their shared experiences of hardship.

Image Credit: Taya Neilson

Whilst there is an overwhelming sense of darkness to Auerbach’s portraits, the artistic and real-life challenges faced by the artist are symbolically overcome by the final creation of his drawings. At a time of post-war reconstruction and reflection, Auerbach appears to reimagine the identity of his sitters, providing them, and himself, with a new and vital presence. Just like the streaks of blue and pink that remain vivid against the dark smudges of charcoal in his drawings, the individual figures emerge as alive, despite the struggles they faced.

[1] Dale Berning Sawa, “’I’m doing what may be my last paintings’: Frank Auerbach on his new self-portraits and turning 92″, The Guardian. April 2023. https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2023/apr/25/frank-auerbach-artist-self-portraits-last-paintings.

[2] Tessa Lord, “Reclining Head of Gerda Boehm”, Christie’s. 2021. https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-6309474.

Oxford University releases new mental health toolkit for students

By
Éilis Mathur
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Image Credit: James Morrel/

During Hilary vacation on University Mental Health Day, the University of Oxford released a new mental health toolkit for students as part of a research trial led by the Department of Psychiatry. 

The digital toolkit, named Nurture-U, is a national project that has already been made available to students at several universities across the UK, including Exeter University and King’s College London. Around 200 students have already taken part in the project, which aims to “find better ways to support university students’ mental health and wellbeing.” 

Nurture-U creates “customisable plans and assessments” based on student feedback. It also directs students to university-specific and community resources. As a result, according to the Project Manager for Oxford, Dr Kevin Matlock, the toolkit can function “as a stand-alone, self-directed mental health aid or a supplement to ongoing counselling or pastoral care.” 

The toolkit is a collaborative project from six universities across the country, including Oxford. It is also funded by several Oxford University Research Councils, including the Medical Research Council and the Arts and Humanities Research Council. 

Dr Matlock noted that in spite of a growing need for mental health support among university students, “many apps only provide general information.” Nurture-U fills that gap by providing personalised wellbeing advice on areas related to sleep, stress levels and exercise. It also tracks progress over time. 

The toolkit’s release to Oxford students comes as mental health issues rise among the student population. A survey conducted by Nurture-U found that 34% of Oxford students experience “high levels of anxiety and depression.” Additionally, the 2022-2023 report from the Student Welfare and Support Service showed that it took up to 15 days for eight out of ten students to meet with a professional through the Service. Accordingly, part of Nurture-U’s mission is to “identify barriers students encounter when accessing mental health and welfare services at Oxford.” 

Oxford University Press’ American workers prepare to strike

By
Selina Chen
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M stone/CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The US National Labor Relations Board, an American government agency, has filed a complaint against Oxford University Press (OUP) on charges that OUP has refused to bargain and moved work overseas. News Media Guild, the union that represents the OUP USA, said that workers may organise a strike. 

OUP, the largest university press in the world, employs over 6,000 people with offices in multiple countries. OUP USA, based in New York City, employs around 150 of them.

An OUP USA Guild spokesperson told Cherwell that the last starting salary counter-offer from OUP was $46,826 in November of last year, an amount “far below” the New York City living wage estimated at roughly $70,000. The current starting salary is $40,000. Since OUP’s proposed salary was “overwhelmingly rejected,” the Guild has responded with three counter-offers, the latest of which was $50,000.

The spokesperson told Cherwell: “We are willing to work with the Employer to attain a contract that is fair for both sides, but the Employer has been unwilling to be reasonable in the last several months by refusing to budge.”

OUP USA workers belong to a bargaining unit which is acting to bar OUP USA from relocating these workers’ roles to outside of the United States without first negotiating with the union. Despite this, in 2023 the Guild learnt that OUP was hiring roles in the UK and India to perform OUP USA’s work. OUP stated that “they were a ‘global company’ that would move work around in whatever manner they deemed necessary.” 

The Guild then filed an Unfair Labor Practice Charge with the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB), which investigated and found merit in six of the seven charges.

The spokesperson said: “The case will now move forward as the NLRB will now charge OUP with violating the law. The OUP USA Guild remains resolute in maintaining the sovereignty of our unit: Bargaining unit work must stay within the bargaining unit, lest our unit get slowly eroded until we have few members and little power.”

Cherwell has contacted the OUP for a reply.

“Everywhere we go, we ask: ‘What are the dominant narratives about the city? And what are they hiding?”

By
Amelia Dovell
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Founders Olivia Durand and Paula Larsson. Image credit: Uncomfortable Oxford

I’ve walked past the Clarendon Building on Broad Street many times – but I’d never thought to ask what it had been used for in the past. While today it innocuously houses the Bodleian Library admissions department, in the 19th century, its basement was used as holding cells for the university’s ‘Nightwatch’ police unit.

“It was separate from the city police, operating from sundown to sunrise. Its specific role was to apprehend suspect women who were walking on the streets of the city… This marked women, meaning it was hard for them to go into other types of employment.” Olivia Durand, one of the founders of Uncomfortable Oxford, explains to me. 

“Even for several decades after female students were admitted –  they couldn’t go out without a chaperone. They always needed to walk in pairs, otherwise they risked being apprehended by the ‘Nightwatch’.”

Untangling Oxford from its complicated, imperial past is a process which is certainly still in progress. One voice in the conversation is Uncomfortable Oxford: a social enterprise which seeks to uncover and tell forgotten stories of inequality within Oxford – as a city, and University. Founded in 2018 by two doctoral students, Olivia Durand and Paula Larsson, the walking tours cover a broad range of ‘uncomfortable’ topics and power dynamics: the legacy of the British Empire, the ethics of donation, the exclusion of women in academic spaces. I spoke to Olivia and Paula to hear how their doctoral research led them across academic thresholds, to public outreach.

The pair’s research seems strikingly relevant to contemporary politics. Olivia studies settler colonialism, comparing the USA and Russian Empires in the 19th century. “I started in 2014, looking at narratives of colonising coming to the fore in public discourse. Since 2022, this has emerged more prominently as the invasion of Ukraine has received more attention than the 2014 annexation of Crimea at the time.”

Paula studies the history of medicine, specifically the history of vaccination and medical power. “In earlier research I looked at how [vaccination] was forced upon indigenous communities within the colonial Canadian past”, a history which she herself was personally connected to. “When I learned about that, in my undergrad years, that raised a lot of questions about policy, of how it’s applied to communities as a whole… who gets to say yes or no to a vaccine, and why?”

“For me, history was really about justice in lots of ways, and understanding better approaches to modern approaches to policy.”

Both were drawn to Oxford for its specialised research centres – but also the name and the prestige which comes with it. “It’s a big name – it’s where people tell you that you have to go if you’re gonna study history successfully. It has an allure, largely because of its history in association with British colonisation, that has perpetuated the glory of ‘Oxford’ as a title.” Paula says. 

“Oxford serves as this competitive branding in some way for you as a historian, to get a position or even to succeed in academia. That’s what we both wanted to do originally, as every youngster is told to do: go and do a PhD, become a postdoc, and then go into an academic setting. And our views have changed since then.”

She sounded rueful. I asked her to elaborate on her view of academic careers. 

“I think our view on it has changed largely from just the possibility of having one, which in the past I think would have been a lot easier to do. In the modern sense, especially humanities and social science programmes are being underfunded, undervalued, and are incredibly, incredibly insecure. Once you’ve finished your postdoc, you’re in an endless cycle… chasing a long term full time contract. All of this, and also trying to have fulfillment and meaning in the work that you’re doing. I want my research to have an immediate real world impact in some way.”

Both of them were doctoral students at Oxford at the same time. “A lot of the conversations we were having in the seminar rooms remained theoretical, abstract. Everything took so long to happen. There was a bit of frustration with what we were interested in, and how applicable it was.” Olivia says. “We knew there was a lot of interest in trying to reassess history to engage critically with the past and the way that they shaped inequalities and injustices in the present” – and so, Uncomfortable Oxford began. 

“I was already a tour guide in the city I did as a part time job just to support myself as an international student.” Paula says. “My gosh, was I tired of talking about David Cameron! This image that people hear when they visit Oxford is one of the old white boys clubs… it’s the draw of a lot of tourism, which is really uncomfortable to think about.”

“I think there’s still a lot of idolisation of that lifestyle, that historic view of what an ‘Oxford University student’ used to be… maybe ‘Saltburn’ hasn’t really helped that image. But that is still the image people get.”

“It’s just so divorced from actual reality – the University is incredibly diverse. It definitely still has problems. But I don’t want every single one of those 9 million visitors to come into the city and get told it’s Boris Johnson’s university. That doesn’t need to be the narrative.”

Public outreach and sparking conversations across different communities is at the heart of the Uncomfortable Oxford ethos. “In my mind it’s like, what’s the point of doing history if no one knows what you’re doing?” Paula says. “This is, in lots of ways, the answer to that – Uncomfortable tours. You can have a researcher who is doing really important work and research, and is able to communicate that everyday to new people constantly. It’s allowed for a lot more moments of cross pollination between academics who are doing a lot of really interesting research, and people who are living those legacies in the present.”

Following the surge of public attention of imperial pasts in 2020 – the toppling of statues and renaming of buildings which followed – in Oxford, it reignited the ‘Rhodes Must Fall Movement’. Over a thousand people gathered, demanding the removal of Cecil Rhodes’ statue. Though the attention it drew to the cause did not bring about its removal, work has been done on contextualisation and matching the Rhodes fund on BME initiatives.

“With activist movements, burnout is a huge problem. Growth, enthusiasm, comes in waves – it’s usually volunteer-led, based on the passion and drive and capacity of individuals.” Paula says.

“Funding is a huge part of that. This is free work, demanding work, and emotionally tolling work for a lot of people. And so what we kind of tried to be is a sustainable intervention. We really believe that the only way to defy systems at all is to value labour, to pay for it and to avoid exploitation of people’s energy, time and research and work that they do. 

Uncomfortable Oxford has gone from a one-off summer project to a model which runs in Oxford, Cambridge and York. Each city is different, and holds a complicated legacy to uncover. “Everywhere we go, we ask: ‘What are the dominant narratives about the city? And what are they hiding?’” says Olivia.

The pair look forward to expanding their model of discussion based talks across the UK and even internationally, as well as developing more educational resources on histories of colonialism and power. “We’re really interested in access to education, access to narratives, and collaborating as much as we can with other organisations doing similar work. So that’s where we’re going.”
At Oxford, sometimes learning can feel confined to a book, a library, or a tutorial. Uncomfortable Oxford’s mission served as a reminder that there is much to be learned everywhere – you just have to look around.

Post Diagnosis

By
Sacha Fairweather
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Image Credit: U.S. Department of Agriculture/CC0 1.0 DEED via rawpixel.com

You could tell no one,

And it would come anyway.

You could run from here,

And it would still live,

Like a river below a house.

You could sleep all night,

Inhaling starlight,

And yet it would still be too late.

So I lay in your bed,

Staring at your bones,

Dark now, and burning.

Waiting for wings,

to burst through your shoulders.

But I am mistaken,

You take your poison

As your leaves fall off your trees,

And the winds rip at our house.

You grow thin and clear

Like the river.

We carve at your body and call it luck,

But a day’s changes mean all to you.

You see all the trees,

this unyielding one,

And you hear the blast of wind

That would have

killed it,

If something at the heart of things

had willed it.

Not all made equal: Why your college really matters

By
Laurence Cooke
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John Speed / Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Oxford and Cambridge are the two diamonds in the crown of British university education, held up by academics, journalists, or whoever makes all those league tables, as the best universities in the world. However, atomised into 39 and 31 colleges respectively, they are at heart federations of much smaller educational institutions and economic units. To the endless confusion of my friends from home, it is in these dinky, quasi-monastic micro-unis that we not only live and socialise but (in contrast to Durham or York) are also taught our degrees. The fundamental Oxbridge unit is the college. 

So far, so good, right? It’s a charming quirk of our university that allows us to develop close relationships with our tutors and fellow students. It’s what makes an Oxbridge education so coveted. I, for one, am certainly a beneficiary of this system, given that I go to St John’s, the richest college at Oxford, deemed the best Oxbridge college by The Telegraph in 2021 (shameless boasting, I know). 

It’s a different story for my girlfriend at Lucy Cavendish College, Cambridge: one of the poorest colleges at the university which first opened its doors to undergraduates to 2021. Next year, she will pay £6,000 more rent than I do to live away from the college site and the city centre. Some students are even at risk of homelessness due to a shortage of accommodation. Hall is only open for dinner a few days each week and prices are not subsidised as they are at John’s. When visiting, I feel that her experience of Oxbridge is radically different from mine. These differences aren’t all negative: Lucy Cavendish’s heritage as a force for women’s education is something to be proud of (by contrast I don’t particularly associate with the fusty early modern men venerated by portraiture in the hall at St John’s). But this isn’t much comfort when you see the rent charges. 

Within Oxford, there are such a range of factors that lead to the stratification of colleges. Age, wealth, and prestige all have a bearing on a student’s university experience, as does location within the city. Rent at St John’s may be as much as 71% less than at Pembroke, but it’s also the book and travel grants, free language lessons, and accommodation on the main college site for every single year of your degree that entrenches the difference between colleges. 

To someone with no Oxbridge alumni in the family (like me or my girlfriend), college choice is something of a Russian roulette. Sure, you can read every college’s near-identical platitudes about their welcoming and diverse community on the university website, and you can even check rent prices (my sole motivation to apply to St John’s). But if nobody tells you of the significance of the choice, or you are pooled and offered a place at a different college, then you have little control of what kind of Oxbridge experience you will get: it’s out of your hands. 

What makes matters worse is that several of the colleges that take the most state comp students and Oxford Bursary recipients are at the wrong end of the college inequality spectrum. This compounds the socio-economic inequalities that exist among students and with university-wide student initiatives seemingly in a vacuum, there is nothing to level the playing field. 

I’m not saying that it’s time to revisit the collegiate system altogether. However, it’s time that the central university – at both Oxford and Cambridge – step in to ensure a minimum standard of financial support, accommodation provision, and welfare help that the Oxbridge name leads us to expect. Addressing the wider inequalities that are borne from college disparities means raising state comp representation and then equalising it across colleges: no more state school ‘stat-padding’ from one or two colleges. The efforts of these colleges, like Mansfield and Lucy Cavendish, are laudable, but due to their small endowments, they often serve to underline the socio-economic dimension of the college ‘hierarchy’. After all, it’s not Christ Church or Magdalen that struggle to house their students or shelter them from the ludicrously high cost of living. 

Both universities need to ensure that all students have the same chance of receiving an offer from the most ‘attractive’ colleges, and that if pooled, this will not jeopardise students’ economic security and stop them from prospering while at Oxbridge. 

For one, this means bringing the SU and its campaigns back from the brink to offer support for students that rises above the unequal college framework. But we must go much further. Students need a more ambitious package of measures that would lead the central university to force colleges to help each other out where necessary. Until then, as the gap between endowments grows, the ‘Oxbridge experience’ will mean increasingly different things for different students. The college system should be a strength of Oxbridge, not its weakness.

‘The Godfather: Part II’ at fifty

By
Hassan Akram
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CC BY-SA 4.0 DEED Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International

The Godfather: Part II is a film about gangsters. It is also a film about corruption, power, betrayal, succession, revenge, religion, marriage, generational change, filial duty, sibling rivalry, the immigrant experience and laissez-faire capitalism. Only the works of Shakespeare combine such a variety of interpretations with unanimous critical acclaim, and the first two Godfathers are to cinema what Shakespeare is to literature. 

Like Shakespeare, both films are endlessly quotable. “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse” – “It’s not personal… It’s strictly business” – “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer” – these lines and others are all regularly cited even by those who have never heard of the Corleone family. At times, the Shakespearean influence is almost self-conscious. Compare the “It wasn’t a miscarriage” scene here to Act 4, Scene 1 of Othello, and one can see how exactly the same incident (domestic abuse) is used as a focal point for the hero’s moral, domestic and professional decline. 

In a rare case of the film being better than the book, Mario Puzo’s original novel The Godfather (1969) is very poor stuff. The best that can be said of it is that the pages keep turning. A close novelistic parallel to the protagonist Michael Corleone comes from an unlikely place: the hero in George Gissing’s Demos (1886). Richard Mutimer, like Michael, is an idealistic young man corrupted by his inheritance; he grows cold and abusive towards his family; he becomes obsessed with power; and he ends up as the very thing which he used to despise – in Michael’s case a gangster, in Mutimer’s a capitalist. Even as a great a novelist as Gissing, however, could not touch Francis Ford Coppola’s skill for storytelling. It was above all Coppola’s genius which took a pulp novel and elevated it to the level of high art.  

Contemporary critics were slow to appreciate Godfather II’s weight. “The plot defies any rational synopsis,” was a common criticism, and the point is a fair one. There is no real plot. Broadly it is a dual story of the rise of the Corleone mafia family in the 1920s, interspersed with its decline in the 1950s. Initially this dual structure was scolded for making each half of Part II merely a bookend to Part I, which had been set in the 1940s. Moreover, the entire sequel seemed confusing and unnecessary. Yet within a year of its release, all criticism was forgotten; it was hailed as better than its predecessor and became the first sequel ever to win Best Picture at the Oscars.

Godfather II cannot be appreciated in one sitting; it needs to be rewatched. The truest test of a work of art is endurance, and on every rewatch both Godfathers reveal themselves in fresh colours and nuances; the depth of the tragedy and the mechanisms of the plot become more and more impressive; and to each of us at every stage of our lives they speak something equally valid but always different.  

Al Pacino is in the role of his career as Michael Corleone, and the genius of his performance is written into every frame. In the final flashback scene, when suddenly the cold, power-obsessed gangster is shown as the grinning young man of decades earlier, Pacino communicates the change silently in a single shot. His body language and facial expressions instantly say everything. Robert De Niro is restrained yet imposing as the young Vito Corleone; Robert Duval somehow ever likeable as the family’s consiglieri; Diane Keaton a forlorn and trapped voice of reason; John Cazale hapless but increasingly tragic as he is driven by desperation to the betrayal of his brother. 

Throughout, the atmosphere is held up by glowing, painting-like cinematography and period detail which, whether set around turn-of-the-century Sicily or revolutionary Cuba, never overbears; it is utterly engrossing for its near three-and-a-half hours. The film’s final third – in which heavier music and gloomy lighting mirror the moral corruption of Michael’s soul – is by far its greatest. A lesser storyteller would have killed Michael off (which is what happened in the abomination that is The Godfather: Part III), but here Coppola is wise enough to end with him alive, sitting alone brooding over his sins. That, surely, is more subtly tragic than the assassination which is the usual stock of the gangster genre.  

As a whole The Godfather: Part II is so absorbing that – when it ends, and Nino Rota’s wailing, haunting score signals the credits – one is left with the grief, thrill, and astonishment that can only be stirred by an artwork of rare and great power. The vivid images and the gloomy dilemmas of every character play on the mind for weeks afterwards. It remains the absolute high point of all cinema. In fifty years since 1974 no other film has matched its universality or power. It is doubtful whether, even by 2074, anyone will have produced anything of the same calibre. 

Why the SU failed (and how we’ll fix it)

By
Danial Hussain
-
Image Credit: James Morrell

“People may say the SU is unsalvageable. In the current system, they may be right. But… through fundamental reforms, it can change.” – Danial Hussain, Presidential Campaign Manifesto. 

When I wrote those lines, I was in the same boat as many students are now, feeling both disillusioned and disappointed with the Student Union (SU). 

Disillusioned because the SU’s engagement with the average student seemingly amounted to little more than a free pizza voucher at the Freshers’ Fair – a symbol of its distant and seemingly unimportant role in the broader university experience. 

Disappointed because I firmly believed the SU was meant to be much more than this. It seemed natural that in a university of 39 distinct colleges, a collective student voice through the SU could wield more significant influence than the isolated efforts of any individual common room. Yet, this vast potential was going unrecognised, which was a disservice to the students. 

So, to help bring about the change I believed was necessary, I decided to run for President. 

Once elected, it quickly became clear that I had underestimated the magnitude of the task at hand. Systemic factors, which I thought could be an asset in improving the SU, were actually holding back much of the necessary change. 

Yet, at the same time, it was clear that there was a route to overcoming them. Working with Campaigns, Sabbatical Officers, JCRs, and MCRs demonstrated how Oxford has so many talented, ambitious people working individually to make things better for all of us. The SU just needed a better structure to channel this commitment and enthusiasm together, so I got to work.

Now, just over a year after my election, the SU has announced its Transformation Plan, which has two simple aims: to resolve the systemic issues and unleash the SU’s potential. 

What’s holding the SU back?

Election after election, the pattern seems to repeat: candidates pledge to reform and increase engagement in the SU, only to leave students disappointed by the absence of real change and cementing a sense of scepticism about whether the SU can genuinely reform. 

I felt it too, and that’s precisely why the SU has introduced the Transformation Plan. It isn’t a quick fix for recent problems or a response the university has insisted on. The plan reflects months of dedicated work, initiated by my push for an independent review of the SU, and now acted upon by the Trustee Board and staff. 

We aim to tackle the the core issues at the heart of the SU – which are the cause of this recurring cycle of promises and unfulfilled expectations – head on, with a concrete pathway to change. The issues which perpetuate these systemic challenges are twofold: a lack of a clear identity as well as an inadequate institutional structure.

1. Lack of Identity 

The SU has an identity problem: students, Sabbatical Officers, the SU, and the University all have different ideas of what it should be. 

This ambiguity harms everyone involved. For example, while students elect Sabbatical Officers based on manifesto pledges, the University primarily sees their job as representing students on various committees. This discrepancy results in officers having limited time beyond their committee responsibilities to deliver the campaign promises that students rightfully have voted on – fuelling student resentment and eroding their trust in the SU’s effectiveness.

Similar confusion characterises the relationship between the SU and Common Rooms. Given the SU’s unclear identity, students often struggle to understand its role alongside already supportive JCRs and MCRs. This ambiguity can lead to missed opportunities where the SU could provide valuable assistance in ways the common rooms cannot- such as our independent advice service. 

Ultimately, these overlaps and lack of clarity make it challenging to recognise the contributions of the SU, and lead some students to question whether it is necessary at all. They also results in JCRs and MCRs being left without the support they may need. [AS1] 

2. Inadequate Institutional Structure 

Issues of identity are exacerbated by the current structure of the SU. The fundamental problem is that the structure of the SU mirrors the structure of other students’ unions across the country, which doesn’t fit well with Oxford’s unique needs. Our decentralised collegiate system clashes with the SU’s centralised approach, making it ill-suited to address the specific demands of Oxford students effectively. 

While Student Unions are the primary student body in most universities, Oxford, through its collegiate system, also provides student engagement through its common rooms. JCRs and MCRs serve as students’ main points of contact, possessing insights into student life that the SU, as a centralised body, often lacks. However, despite these advantages, the JCRs and MCRs are not directly involved in the SU’s operations or decision-making processes. 

Consequently, the SU’s ability to effectively represent students is ultimately constrained, as it does not fully leverage the unique strengths of our collegiate system. 

Is the SU necessary? 

If you’ve agreed with my points so far you might wonder why I’m still in favour of keeping the SU. I’ve argued that the SU is structurally inadequate to address the needs of Oxford students and that some of these are met by the common rooms anyway. So, surely, we should just get rid of it, right? 

Well, no. 

There’s a difference between labelling the SU unnecessary and labelling it ineffective. Just because the SU hasn’t fulfilled its potential in a collegiate system, doesn’t mean it never can. On the contrary, I believe Oxford needs an SU specifically because of its collegiate system. 

Oxford has 26,000 students dispersed among 39 colleges which are organisationally isolated from one another. If the SU could adequately integrate the common rooms into its governing structure, we could capitalise on the benefits of decentralisation, becoming a far more effective and efficient system than non-collegiate structured Students’ Unions. 

The SU could utilise common rooms to pinpoint student priorities and focus on projects that reflect those needs. This strategy would also give students and common rooms a strong incentive to engage, as the SU would address issues they care about. It would also mean the SU can collect data from all the colleges and lobby students at the most grassroots level, building support first on a college level – empowering students to advocate for change very effectively. 

This grassroots approach is far harder to achieve at non-collegiate universities and impossible when no central Students’ Union exists. However, before these benefits are realised, addressing the pressing structural concerns by rethinking how such an SU could look is imperative. 

What should the identity of the SU be? 

Oxford SU is different from most Students’ Unions. Operating within a collegiate system, there is already student representation in the form of common rooms in every college. Our SU must supplement their strengths and recognise their limitations. [AS2] [AS3] 

1. Making Common Rooms as effective as possible 

At Oxford, common rooms manage responsibilities that a traditional Student Union would. Students run for these positions because they care about their colleges, but might not have the right experience or training. There is an opportunity here for the SU to leverage its collective strength in helping common rooms fulfil their roles. 

This means offering training for all officers, ensuring they have the right skills to excel in their positions, compiling data between all the colleges so each common room has all the information it might need, and, when necessary, supporting common rooms when they are in conflict with their college and need independent advice. 

2. Supporting students beyond the colleges 

As integral as colleges are to Oxford life, students’ experiences extend beyond them. Issues can extend between colleges (such as college disparities), courses, and departments. There are also communities other than colleges, such as the socio-economically disadvantaged and those from specific ethnic backgrounds. Representation is needed in all these aspects of Oxford, and the SU should be there to provide it. 

Similarly, it’s important to remember that the colleges, as a collective, also constitute a broader community – the University. This broader entity needs student representatives to lobby for our interests, influencing critical university-wide issues such as access policies and environmental goals. The SU can serve as a central link between colleges, unifying and advocating for student interests in a way that ensures long-term, sustained influence over the University. 

What structure should the SU have? 

A new structure is needed to reflect this SU’s identity. This approach would integrate Common Rooms directly into the SU’s decision-making framework and enable all students to advocate and lobby the University and Colleges on issues important to them. This would ensure that the SU remains responsive to student concerns and actively involves them in shaping policies. Such a setup would also allow for policy development over a number of years, making lobbying far more effective. 

Moreover, this revised structure will enhance the SU’s transparency and accountability, keeping it open to constructive scrutiny from students. It will also preserve the SU’s independence from the University while fostering a stable, constructive relationship. 

Only by adapting the institutional structure, incentives, and culture of the SU can we ensure that it works for students and is attentive to our real day-to-day concerns. In the process of designing the new structure, you will have a say – we will be holding open consultations during Trinity Term in which you can offer feedback and help us make the SU work for you. The SU is at a crossroads, and you have the power to determine where it goes. 

Where we are now 

I hope I have shown that the SU can reform and that students will be represented far more effectively when it does. To get there, the SU has already made difficult yet necessary decisions. 

First, we have significantly reduced and repurposed the staff team. Given the ambitious scale of the ‘Transformation Plan,’ we are concentrating our efforts solely on this major reform and our essential activities. This reallocation of resources is crucial as it lays the groundwork for a long-term solution for the SU, ensuring that the transformation reforms are both effective and enduring. 

The second is reducing the number of sabbatical officers by half for the 2024/25 academic year. Let me be absolutely clear; this measure does not reflect the capabilities or performance of any individual officers. The reality is that the SU has spread itself too thin over recent years, leaving it unable to offer the right professional and personal support to Sabbatical Officers, and by association, to students. Our commitment is clear: such failures must never happen again and the only way to ensure that, at least initially, is to reduce the sabbatical officer team. 

Conclusion 

To all those who were like me – disillusioned and disappointed by the SU – now is the time to get involved. 

I have always believed that the SU could be so much more, and we now have a unique opportunity to realise its full potential. Only then can we build an SU that represents the very best of our university and its students. 

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