Thursday 3rd July 2025
Blog Page 28

The infantilisation of young people in politics must end

Anish Kumar
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The infantilisation of young people in politics must end

Westminster, ever-consumed in the buzz of its own bubble, has settled on a new topic to centre its weekly debate on: the new Netflix show Adolescence. On both left and right, politicians and journalists have sought to find the answer to the questions the show poses, and while, unsurprisingly, the answer is often a mere repackaging of party dogma, the most worrying trend is the nature of the discussion itself. British political coverage now functions as a dialogue between TV dramas and the faux-concern of the tabloid press, with very little input from the young people they make the subject of their coverage. No one seems to have thought to ask the group that has grown up using social media and can now reflect on the consequences – those in their twenties and thirties.

The Prime Minister has coupled his support for playing Adolescence in schools with a pledge to reform planning laws and reform the university funding model – evidence that British politics might escape the vice grip of gerontocracy. This is, unfortunately, yet another example in a long line of patronising experiments on an age cohort which once contained statesmen. This decline in political significance for those in their twenties from leadership to a pitiful election-day turnout statistic will only be resolved by a rethinking of how we view age and experience in politics.

A lesson must first be drawn from the United States, where the disconnect between government and young people has reached a particularly alarming extent, and the consequences have manifested themselves in the rollback of the liberties that most Americans of working age have no memory of fighting for. By the end of his term, Donald Trump will be the oldest president in the country’s history, beating his predecessor, and has, in his short time in office, enacted the biggest rollback in economic and social progress for decades. He has introduced the highest tariff level on goods since the 19th century, causing a stock market crash which will disproportionately affect lower-income workers, who are more likely to be under the age of 30.

The Republican-appointed majority on the Supreme Court reversed Roe v. Wade, and according to the George H.W. Bush-appointed judge Clarence Thomas, “should reconsider” the rulings that protect the rights to contraception and same-sex marriage. All of these were monumental victories of civil rights advocacy groups that have been reversed at the whims of an entrenched conservative majority, and this is a clear warning to us in the UK. Turnout among 18-29 year olds dropped from over 50% in 2020 to just 42% in 2024, and this has contributed to a politics dominated by the elderly and their interests. This is not only an issue at a national level – issues like redistricting, local funding allocation, and now abortion, are matters for the states, where under-30 turnout is even lower, and it is therefore no surprise that policies continue to benefit wealthier, older voters.

The political climate in the UK has not reached the same level of polarisation and disillusionment, but with both major parties polling in the mid-20s and the populist Reform party up double-digits on their 2024 performance, it may not be far off. While Westminster politics continues to fracture, matters that affect people trying to start their careers and get on the housing ladder remain sidelined in favour of discussions affecting pensioners, who are the wealthiest age cohort in Britain.

This is the result of a potent combination of infantilising attitudes towards those under 30 held by the media, and a lack of agency from young people who refuse to participate. The former can be seen clearly in how forward-thinking economic policies are presented in comparison to wealth transfers to pensioners: the WASPI campaign, which is centred on the claim that its members remained unaware of widely publicised changes to the state pension age for women to bring it in line with that for men for 16 years, and therefore compensation of £36 billion is owed. This naked entitlement is accompanied by the furore which accompanied the means-testing of the Winter Fuel Payment (WFP), despite the state pension increasing by a greater figure than the WFP.

These two policies attracted a far greater share of media outrage than the cancellation of HS2 beyond phase 1, for which costs have spiralled as a result of endless regulatory barriers and legal challenges. It is these planning and building regulations that most impact people in their twenties and thirties today: house prices have soared when compared to real wages, and the wealth of the country is now increasingly concentrated in the hands of the elderly. Refusal to build houses and infrastructure, and to tackle energy costs on which the former is dependent, will mean that achieving home ownership and career advancement will become more dependent on inheritance, or “the bank of Mum and Dad” – a sad reflection on a society now trending towards gerontocracy.

A further warning is the attitudes that young people in the UK now hold towards democracy. According to a poll carried out by the University of Glasgow, only 57% of people 16-29 said they preferred democracy to a dictatorship – this is the worrying outcome of disengagement and a lack of political education.

This requires change: the first is a re-evaluation of how issues facing young people are discussed. One of the country’s great Prime Ministers, Pitt the Younger, was just 24 years old upon taking office; the recently elected Baby of the House, Sam Carling – 22 when elected – was described in a Telegraph article as “displaying nerves”, described as having a “lack of life experience”, and exuding a “particular kind of frenetic energy that is most commonly found in A-Level exam halls”. This is infantilising rhetoric for a major broadsheet publication, and reflects a sad imbalance in the priorities that exist in Westminster.

However, if participation does not improve, then there is no reason that outcomes will either. It must be remembered that the right to vote is one that was hard-fought for over more than a hundred years, and should not be seen as an optional activity with little impact over one’s own life. The current rollback of rights in the United States, and the ongoing conflict between the Trump administration and universities, may be replicated in the UK if current political trends continue – an end to patronisation from the media and the agency of young people is the only way in which this might be averted.

Mind the attainment gap: Finals disparities based on ethnicity, gender, and school background have increased since 2017

Euan Elliott
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Mind the attainment gap: Finals disparities based on ethnicity, gender, and school background have increased since 2017

Cherwell has broken down the number of firsts (and distinctions, where appropriate) awarded by the University of Oxford in Preliminary Exams (prelims) and Final Honour School Exams (finals) over the past eight years  into subject-division, ethnicity, gender, and school background. The first-class attainment gap refers to the percentage point difference between the proportion of students from different groups who are awarded a first-class degree. The attainment gap between men and women and between private school and state school students at finals has gradually opened over the past eight years, with the latter increasing by almost ten percentage points. Additionally, looking at the average across the last eight years, BME students marginally outperform white students in prelims. However, in finals, a considerable attainment gap opens between the number of firsts awarded to white and BME students. 

Between the 2016/17 and 2023/24 exam cycles, the proportion of firsts awarded has inflated by 18.8% in prelims and 14.5% in finals. Notably, the COVID-19 pandemic had polarising effects on the 2019/20 exam cycle results, with the first rate crashing to 22.5% for prelims and climbing up to 47% for finals. Averaging across all eight years, the proportion of candidates awarded firsts at finals (38.0%) increases from prelims (27.5%). This regular increase is visible when comparing the first rate at prelims and finals for nearly all demographics, but it affects certain groups disproportionately.

Ethnicity

Contrasting students identifying as white with students grouped by the University as ‘BME’ (encompassing students identifying as Black, Chinese, Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi, ‘Other Asian’, and Mixed Heritage), at prelims, a higher proportion of BME students (29.0%) are awarded firsts than white students (26.8%), on average – a  2.2 percentage point attainment gap. This was the case for all exam cycles except 2020/21. The trend flips, however, in finals where a higher proportion of white students receive firsts (40.0%) than their BME peers (33.1%), with a much wider attainment gap of 6.9 percentage points. This was the case for all eight exam cycles, with the most recent 2023/24 cycle seeing the largest attainment gap (8.1 percentage points). In fact, whilst the attainment gap was steadily closing until the 2020/21 cycle, it has been gradually opening again since, as both the proportion of BME students receiving firsts has decreased and the proportion of white students receiving firsts has increased over the past two years. On average, white students experienced a much higher rate of growth in the distribution of firsts between prelims and finals (48.6%) than BME students (12.3%).

An article published by the Higher Education Policy Institute (HEPI) suggests a relation between the widening attainment gap to the success of access and participation schemes at the admissions level. “When a much larger proportion of any group enters university, that group may naturally include a broader range of academic ability,” the article notes. “If mainly the top third of White students attend university, but nearly half of ethnic minority students do, we would expect to see differences in degree outcomes – even with completely fair teaching and assessment.” In Oxford’s case, we would expect to see these effects manifest as an attainment gap in prelims results. On the contrary, since the attainment gap only opens in finals, the issue seems to lie beyond the admissions cycle, and in Oxford’s teaching and environment itself. Last December, Oxford Student Union’s (SU) Welfare Survey found that 20% of respondents identifying as BAME had faced discrimination in the last academic year, compared to 12% of white students. 

Breaking ‘BME’ up into its constituent groups, Black students experienced the highest increase in firsts between prelims and finals (87.4%), yet still proportionally were awarded the fewest firsts in both prelims (8.9%) and finals (16.6%). Inversely, Chinese students were awarded the greatest number of firsts in prelims proportionally (42.7%), but were the only group to experience deflation in finals, experiencing a 7.2% decrease in the proportion of students awarded a first (39.6%).

Gender

A higher proportion of students identifying as male are awarded firsts in prelims (33.0%) than female students (22.2%). The same is true in finals, with 42% of male students receiving firsts compared to 34.4% of female students. Averaging over all eight years, this means female students have experienced a higher increase in firsts between prelims and finals (55.4%) than male students (24.3%) and the attainment gap has closed by 3.2 percentage points during the course of study.

More troublingly, whilst the attainment gap has fluctuated for both prelims and finals, it has increased between 2016/17 and 2023/24 for both prelims (by 3.1 percentage points) and finals (3.2 percentage points), reaching a total gap of 12.6 and 10.1 percentage points respectively. Further, over the past three years both sets of exams have seen a steady increase in the attainment gap year-to-year. As a result, Oxford is not on track to meet the goal set out in their 2022/23 Equality, Diversity, and Inclusivity Report to reduce the first class degree gender attainment to 4.4 percentage points by 2025.

The disparity is visible across subject divisions, and a 2024 report by HEPI found that nearly all Oxford courses have a first awarding gap favouring male students (bar geography and medical sciences), including courses where women represent the majority of the student body, such as English,  as well as those where they are underrepresented. By contrast, the report noted that female students generally outperform their male peers across the rest of the UK education system.

The SU’s welfare report found female students were significantly more likely to have experienced unwanted sexual behaviour, worsening mental health, low self-esteem, anxiety, and loneliness than male students. Additionally, the HEPI report points to several Oxbridge-specific factors which may impact female students’ assessment results. The tutorial system is brought into question for potentially “favouring ‘combative, rather than co-operative [behaviours]’” as female students at the University of Cambridge reported that “discussions were ‘frequently thwarted by the domineering practices of male students’”. Further, Oxford’s examination methods themselves could be further opening the gap. It is suggested that short exam periods with high grade-weighting disadvantage female students who are less predisposed to take the risks needed for a first-class grade, instead working consistently over three years. The report continued that female students may be additionally impacted by Premenstrual Syndrome (PMS) during the highly concentrated course of their exams.

Data points for individuals identifying under the University’s classification of ‘other’ did not exceed five individuals, and hence were redacted to avoid these individuals being identified.

School background

Privately educated students are more likely to receive firsts in prelims (29.9%) compared to 21.7% of their state school peers. This disparity continues in finals, where 39.9% of independent school students are awarded firsts, while the figure for state school students stands at 35.7%. Generally, the attainment gap almost halves between prelims and finals, reducing to 4.2 percentage points as state school students experience a prelims-to-finals increase rate (64.7%) nearly double that of private school students (33.5%).

The attainment gap for finals has steadily increased by nearly ten percentage points between 2016/17 (1.7%) and 2023/24 (11.5%) to an overall disparity of 9.8 percentage points. This was the widest attainment gap of the three analysed for the last exam cycle. Crucially, until 2019/20, the attainment gap remained below 2 percentage points, with a higher proportion of state school students receiving firsts in 2017/18, with a marginal gap of 0.4 percentage points. Over the past four years, however, the gap has been steadily opening as the proportion of state school students receiving firsts consistently decreases. Though less uniform, a similar trend occurs in prelims, with the attainment gap increasing by 3.8 percentage points since 2016/17. During this period, Oxford has also been admitting a decreasing number of state school students. 

Looking forward 

A University spokesperson told Cherwell: “The University is committed to addressing gaps in exam and degree outcomes where they exist. Progress has been made in some subject areas, but the reasons for these gaps are varied and highly complex. We are working hard to understand this issue through extensive engagement with students as well as data provision to enable us to better target support, and we are introducing a programme of measures including flexible teaching, mixed assessment methods, and study skills support, to deliver a more inclusive learning environment in which all students can perform to their full potential.”

The University recently announced a new Access and Participation Plan for 2025-29 in order to combat attainment gaps. The plan aims to “expand the range of summative assessment available to departments” beyond traditional exam formats. The HEPI report urged Oxford and Cambridge to ensure that while such reforms should seek to eliminate “systematic disadvantages”, they should “refrain from scaling back the ‘academic rigour’” of employed assessment methods. The report further insisted that the “awarding gap is symptomatic of a broader institutional problem” which requires “bold reforms” catered to the specific needs of each disadvantaged group,  in place of “catch-all solutions”. The University has additionally allocated £12.9m to funding transitional programmes for undergraduate students, in addition to £3.3m specifically for BME students

With Oxford graduates going on to fill many top roles in government and industry, attainment gaps do not only suggest that certain demographics are being snubbed in their education and assessments, but will also have rippling social effects. The coveted Oxford first class degree offers a seal of approval, which the data suggests more often than not finds its way to those who fit the historic Oxford image. Most startlingly, it seems that these trends are not merely the result of the University failing to keep up with changing times or undo wider societal inequalities; rather, they are unique to Oxbridge, and currently getting worse by the year.

Stuck in a loop: Are you balancing your studies with your cycle? 

Maddie Gillett
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Stuck in a loop: Are you balancing your studies with your cycle? 

As Oxford University students, we often feel a pressure to “lock in” and constantly achieve – it is our reputation, after all. Off days are only human, but we cannot have many of them, or afford to notably stray from schedule. However, what if for one week at a time, you do not feel your most productive? While seemingly minor, many students might not have considered the effects that their menstrual cycle has on productivity. “Study guilt’ is something that most Oxford students will relate to, but this is only exacerbated by the working day being tailored to the male biological clock, where hormones fluctuate on a day-to-day basis. This is not necessarily a disadvantage, though. This article will provide a number of tips for recognising each stage of the cycle and navigating its impacts. 

The typical menstrual cycle lasts 28 days, but can normally range from 21 to 35. It comprises four stages: the follicular, ovulation, luteal, and menstrual. 

The follicular stage occurs just after a period. This is generally thought to be a time of increased energy, confidence, and motivation, since levels of estrogen and luteinizing hormone (LH) rise. This leads to ovulation, lasting roughly a day. After this, LH levels decline, and progesterone increases, leading to the luteal phase. This is often described as premenstrual syndrome – PMS – and it can be associated with changes in mood and energy. Finally, the menstrual phase occurs, where estrogen and progesterone are at their lowest. 

Generally, women tend to feel their most energetic, social, and productive in the follicular and ovulation phases. During this time, the brain might respond better to sociable study activities, such as group discussions. While the Oxford workload is not really something that can be negotiated, it might prove beneficial to schedule more intense tasks and distribute higher workloads around these stages, leaving more time to relax (if only slightly) later in the cycle. This might also be the time to consolidate bigger, more challenging ideas. If exams are on the horizon, it might be tactical to build a good study routine at this stage, when motivation and confidence are generally higher. 

By contrast, the luteal and menstrual stages can often be associated with lethargy and mood swings. If possible, this would be the time to lighten the workload. Of course, this is difficult at Oxford. However tasks with lengthier deadlines, such as extended essays, could be distributed to make certain weeks slightly less intense than others. Turning inward and prioritising your needs can be a helpful way to support yourself during this period; individual study time, using methods such as flashcards and self-tests, can be a much more effective use of your time, while helping to preserve waning energy. Comforts such as study snacks, or a more comfortable study setup, at first seem unproductive and distracting, however for those who experience discomfort when menstruating, allowing yourself small pleasures might be just what you need in more sluggish moments – within moderation, of course. 

Of course, menstruation is highly individual – some might find that their cycle is incredibly disruptive, while others might struggle significantly less. This makes self-knowledge all the more vital. It is important for any Oxford student to give themselves grace for varying levels of attainment  – especially those who experience monthly fluctuations. Understanding this is vital in overcoming those especially tiring weeks, and maximising the more productive ones. The menstrual cycle is not a disadvantage – understanding and accommodating it can bring huge advantages. 

Review: Allegro Pastel by Leif Randt

Hassan Akram
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Review: Allegro Pastel by Leif Randt

Tanja Arnheim and Jerome Aimler are Millennials in a long-distance relationship. Tanja is a Berlin-based novelist and Jerome a Frankfurt-based web designer. They text regularly and occasionally visit one another. There are lots of drugs, lots of parties, and lots of sex. One day Tanja, for no particular reason, breaks up with Jerome. They revert to other, short-term relationships: Tanja with the tattooed Janis and Jerome with his schoolfriend Marlene. At a friend’s wedding they decide to get back together, but it is not, alas, “official”, and despite a series of emails (faithfully reproduced here) the relationship once again peters out. Tanja’s eventual decision to rekindle the flame comes too late, because Jerome, having impregnated Marlene, is no longer available. That is the end of the affair. 

Leif Randt’s Allegro Pastel (2020), newly translated from the German, is intended as a “serious” novel – it was longlisted for the German Book Prize and shortlisted for the EU Prize for Literature – but it amounts to very little. For one thing we never really care about the relationship between Tanja and Jerome. They split up for no definable reason, and there are so many alternatives on whom each of them can fall back that there is never any sense of crisis. Nothing is at stake. Nothing will change whether they are together or apart. Everything is dependent on their whims. Chunks of the book consist of their texts and emails – very difficult to read – but even the moments of physical intimacy are unmoving and repetitious. If there were an index of terms at the end of this book, it would consist largely of instances of the phrase “good sex”, which crops up again and again in endless scenarios. Here is a typical passage: “The sex they had in the incredibly humid room was not particularly good, but there was a sense that it might become good. It was promising, Jerome felt, so maybe it was good sex after all.”  

Characters’ obsessions with scribing the experience of each moment onto social media, and catalogic details of Samsung Galaxy S7s, iPhone 8s, N64s, PlayStations, are probably intended by Randt to show the encroachment of technology into every facet of modern life – but it is overdone, and serves only to emphasise the shallowness of the rest of the book. Sex parties, night-clubs, and drugs in toilets account for the bulk of the characters’ enthusiasms; otherwise, their thoughts centre on Airbnbs in the Cayman Islands or burger places in Los Angeles. They are shallow, capricious, and self-obsessed. Occasionally their micro-analysing, hyper-selfconscious thought processes give insight: the mention of “pre-emptive wistfulness” as “a general sadness regarding the passage of time, mixed with a warm euphoria, spread[ing] from his stomach to his chest” expresses a familiar sensation in pithy terms. But nothing can change the fact that these characters are empty. They are not human beings. They are like the screen-driven ghosts in D.H. Lawrence’s poem “When I went to the film”, inhabiting 

a white atmosphere 
Upon which shadows of people, pure personalities 
Are cast in black and white, and move 
In flat ecstasy, supremely unfelt…  

The overall feeling is of pastel-coloured shallowness. Small, ubiquitous scenes stick in the mind like photographs – a U-Bahn ride followed by Szechuan chicken, a Christmas party in a Frankfurt apartment, a friend’s wedding in the German countryside, a flight to a literary festival in Vienna – but there is no emotion behind them. Politics or religion occasionally intrude, but only for cameos. Randt’s narration is too detached and unfeeling; it is never clear what he wants to say, whether he is criticising the lifestyle he depicts or commenting on it at all. His terse style might be called Hemingwayan; only, it is too awkward and lacks Hemingway’s bursts of life or his power of visual description. At its best it is crisp and evocative but never outstanding: 

They held hands on their way to the U4. It was a rare thing for Jerome to navigate a crowd of people while holding a girlfriend’s hand. But with Tanja he didn’t even think about what they looked like. There was a line in front of a stand selling freshly pressed fruit juice, and a few people were still buying glossy magazines from the giant newsagent’s next to the Burger King. 

As a record of nightlife and cosmopolitanism in contemporary Germany, Allegro Pastel is entertaining. As a record of blandness it also succeeds – whether consciously or not.  

Allegro Pastel by Leif Randt, translated by Peter Kuras, is published on 8 May. Granta Magazine Editions ISBN: 9781738536221 

Why the rise of digital cameras?

Lara Machado
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Why the rise of digital cameras?

I doubt I’m the only person who has recently found their Instagram feed flooded by pictures taken on digital cameras. Low resolution, blurry shots of red-eyed smiling faces, more often than not at night time. 

It seems, at first glance, a strange phenomenon. Nowadays, even the most basic of mobile phones has pretty good camera quality. In fact, technology has improved to the extent that award-winning filmmakers, from Sean Baker to Steven Soderbergh, have shot feature films on phones. When looking through old photo albums, parents and grandparents often lament that the quality of pictures was not what it is now. Why, then, has the digital camera market been steadily increasing, particularly among younger generations? It would seem that high photographic resolution has lost some of its charm.

Some readers will already be rolling their eyes. Many would argue that, the same way retro has become more appealing in sectors such as fashion, filmmaking and gaming, the return of the digital camera reflects nothing more than a romantic attraction to things past – which is not even unique to our own era. In part I agree with this assessment, but I also think it’s more complex and interesting than that. 

Upon first encountering this phenomenon, I was immediately reminded of Susan Sontag’s brilliant essay ‘Regarding the Pain of Others’. The text focuses on war photography as an art form – an entirely different topic to the one at hand – and yet one point that Sontag makes struck me as particularly relevant. She argues that we have come to associate war photography with a certain candidness: uncontrived, spontaneous shots that do not look like they have been pre-arranged or posed for (unlike what we expect from, say, a portrait). If a spontaneous shot looks too clean, we are quick to reject it as posed and dismiss it having been taken ‘in the moment’. Obviously, in the case of war photography, and as Sontag argues, this is related to the ethics of photographing and viewing the pain of others. However, I still think it’s a useful idea to consider alongside the phenomenon of digital cameras. 

We have increasingly become disillusioned with social media and with the overly curated aspect of the images we find on it. We are now suspicious of images that look too good, and moments that seem too perfect. Perhaps it is then, that in its low resolution, we associate digital camera pictures with something more authentic. They give an air of cool unstudiedness, of pictures in which the lack of detail makes it hard for anyone to seem like they are trying to look good. There is an effortless quality to the pictures that seems to send out the message: I am not here to impress. That makes it seem like the goal is to capture a sense of an existing moment of carefree fun rather than to stage it.

Perhaps there is also something to be said about the spontaneity of it all. With film cameras we are overly conscious of the cost of repeating shots to capture the same image multiple times, but with our phones we can confidently do hundreds of takes of any object without looking back – maybe it is that the digital camera lies somewhere in between. Equipped with quite limited storage space, we are unlikely to take too many shots on it in one go. 

I am not trying to say that camera quality has lost all its appeal or that digital camera photos are less staged than any other picture, simply that whatever the reason behind this trend is, it is interesting that there is a tendency towards the unstudied – or at least the appearance of it. 

Split the G: the performative cult of Guinness drinking 

Beatrix Arnold
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Split the G: the performative cult of Guinness drinking 

The golden harp. The ritualistic three-part pour. The bravado of splitting the G. It always baffled me how a drink that is essentially liquid brown bread accumulated such lasting popularity. But in the modern world, branding is everything. 

Guinness manufacturers have ingeniously built up what is almost a cult following around the stout. Not only a staple of pub culture, it has also long occupied an unquestioned position in popular consciousness. My grandmother was advised to drink Guinness while breastfeeding, and even nowadays I’ve heard gym bros extolling it as a source of iron (it’s not really).  

Guinness has enjoyed acclaim as a cultural symbol of Ireland since the 18th century, but has only recently made it big in Britain. Formerly typecast as an old man’s drink, Guinness used to be a left-field choice. Now, swept up in the aesthetic renaissance of the classic British pub, it offers a chance for posh boys to cosplay at being salt of the earth (despite often being the most expensive drink on draught). The drink creates the illusion of an ‘in-club’, cultivating an ‘if-you-know-you-know’ mentality, especially concerning the sacrosanctity of the three-stage pour. It is this very performative aspect of Guinness that leads drinkers to consider themselves qualified to loudly pronounce judgement on a particular pint to an unlucky onlooker. The new cult of Guinness drinking, founded in the name of individuality, has completely obscured the traditional cultural significance of the pint for Irish people, and has subsumed it into an index of ‘laddishness’ for young English men.  

The drink is undeniably gendered. With the online culture around Guinness being inescapably masculine, exemplified in content like the Schooner Scorer, drinking it becomes almost a performance of virility, such that I’ve been told that I “wouldn’t get it”, that I should “stick to my vodka coke”. Obviously, I could never reach the level of masculine vigour required to drink a 4.2% beer.  

If there’s any vitriol in my perspective, it’s probably because of the hours of my life spent nodding noncommittally while men explain the correct ratio of head in their pint, or demonstrate their ability (or failure) to split the G. It’s safe to say that I haven’t had the best experience with Guinness drinkers.  

For the cult followers of the stout, the iconography of the pint becomes almost a status symbol. Their vaunted ability to discriminate between different draughts of the exact same drink is worn like a badge of honour. What strikes me most about the Guinness drinker is their utter loyalty. No matter the range of options on offer, no matter how inappropriate the setting, the Guinness drinker will remain unswervingly devoted, the drink occupying a space somewhere in between their routine and their personality. Some refuse to go to pubs, or force their friends to leave, if the bar is out of their favoured pint. They revel in the theatre of splitting the G, so that the drinking experience becomes almost entirely gamified (you can even get an app that lets you practise the technique in the comfort of your own home). Such people seem to actively cultivate the label ‘Guinness drinker’ as part of their personal brand, a deliberately manufactured personality trait that makes one wonder what exactly they’re compensating for.  

Following a national shortage earlier this year, numerous pubs across the UK began to replace Guinness with Murphy’s, an objectively better tasting stout, but with little success. If it’s not Guinness, Guinness drinkers won’t have it. It seems that the drink itself is of little importance: it’s an aesthetic more than anything else. How can they possibly display their masculinity, their individuality, if not by this competitive beer-chugging ritual? (And no, your date is not impressed.) 

But if the appeal of Guinness for this demographic rests entirely upon external perception, will it maintain its popularity among them once it dominates the market in the US, for example? Now that even Kim Kardashian is posing with the pint, I wonder how long it will take the English lads to find a new, ‘edgy’ drink to rally around. 

But for now, bottom’s up, Guinness drinkers. Maybe you’ll find those missing dregs of personality at the end of the next pint. 

Digital Immunity

Juliette Mcgrath
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Digital Immunity

It is by now firmly established that this digital era has embarked upon an assault on our ability to concentrate. It only takes turning your phone on after a three-hour exam to realise that we receive staggering volumes of content in the span of mere hours. Hit by an open floodgate of missed content notifications, you are met primarily by a diverse flurry of TikToks, Instagram reels, and YouTube shorts, interspersed with commercial news announcing new drops, discounts and deals, and bulked out with an ungodly volume of emails and messages – which vary in relevance from painfully extraneous to critically important. The diversity present in the average punter’s notification centre puts most institutions to shame.

It’s no wonder that attention spans are flagging. Numerous studies link short-form content to declining cognitive function. But the problem extends far beyond entertainment. It’s not as if we can simply delete social media and our brains are healed: we are obliged to remain on standby to receive texts from friends and family. We must also stay abreast of all university email correspondences. At the same time, we’re keeping track of recent orders, which were made bleary-eyed after scrolling through endless pages of the same product on Amazon. Just to find clothes you like, you must bravely trawl through blurs of garments you’d never look twice at in shops. Perhaps you find one you like; congratulations! Your success is followed by a lifetime of promotional deluge begging you to avail of a sale. Then you open TikTok to relax a little, and you disappear into your mind for two hours – only becoming physically present again because you’ve moved to prevent a pressure sore.

Evidently, I’m disillusioned with the constant attention my devices demand from me. However, it’s not only that; to my dismay, it coincided with an aversion to the once-enjoyable, meditative, and mind-numbing activity of scrolling (or perusing) on my phone. Regardless of the platform, before long, scrolling renders me unsettled, disinterested, and somewhat overwhelmed by all that I see. It’s most noticeable with TikTok, which surprised me, as I was a regular indulger. Despite sounding like a ‘pick me’, I can promise that – from the sidelines – I appreciate the appeal of an app that can engulf you in its digital sphere, instantly connect you with a cultural touchstone, all while severing you from every trace of real-life concern. It’s absolutely not that I have steely self-control, or that I’ve deleted the app; rather, it’s as though my brain has developed some kind of immunity to it. If I’m on the app, I’ll be scrolling at a sloth’s pace, watching each clip around five to eight times, searching the visual or audio for something new every time. It’s not enough to just watch it once – it feels too brief, and I can only describe it as a sense that I’m simply not ready to move on.

Conducting my own research on this odd phenomenon, I’ve described this experience to others, who often reply that they’ve experienced a similar disillusionment. While most relate to the shopping-induced mental fatigue of online browsing, there are some who identify with the tangible intensity of opening the ‘For You’ page on TikTok. I came to wonder if my slower approach to this unlimited ether of stimuli is potentially my mind belligerently slowing the pace at which I can enjoy short-form content, in an effort to protect my attention span. After all, I exercise concentration too regularly for it to be broken down by the newest dance trend – and when paired with the prospect that I might be sabotaging my chance of surviving a three-hour collection, it means that eroding my attention span is simply not an option. Perhaps, then, what is evolving is merely a compromise between a large workload and remaining culturally in touch.

Are University redevelopments endangering our Common Ground?

Sara Rourke
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Are University redevelopments endangering our Common Ground?

Common Ground, a café and community hub at the heart of Little Clarendon Street, is – as its name suggests – one of the few remaining places in Oxford that brings together both town and gown. Yet its future remains uncertain as Oxford University’s plans to redevelop its administration offices on 25 Wellington Square would mean Common Ground losing the building that it currently calls home. Located behind the offices, in one of the shop units leased by the University, Common Ground moved into a space, formerly a Barclays bank, that had been unoccupied for several years.

Common Ground was founded in 2018 by Jake Bacchus, a visiting senior member of Linacre College and Piotr Drabik, a barista and coffee machine mechanic. Bacchus and Drabik had a vision of creating something Oxford notably lacks – third spaces, away from home and work where people can spend time and socialise for free. 

Primarily a café and co-working space, Common Ground is often bustling with students and locals working on their laptops, surrounded by an eclectic mix of furniture and art. It also houses second-hand clothing, book, and record shops, and plays host to live music, comedy nights, life-drawing, running clubs, student magazine launches, and a range of other events that would take the length of a second article to cover.

The new plan for Wellington Square

The proposed plans for the redevelopment of Wellington Square were first made public by Oxford University Development (OUD) in October 2024, citing the need “to replace a life-expired and poor performing building”. 

Divided into two phases, the first phase would involve the demolition of 25 Wellington Square, a concrete brutalist building that stretches the length of Little Clarendon Street and is home to Common Ground. 25 Wellington Square will then be replaced by “a brand-new state of the art academic facility” which will accommodate “existing university departments that need to be relocated from elsewhere in Oxford”.

Plans for a “publicly accessible café” are included in the design. However, it is not clear if Common Ground will be permitted to occupy this space in the future, or indeed if it will be able to, after having to relocate for three years during the building’s construction, which would begin in 2026. 

The second phase of the redevelopment would consist of the refurbishment of the western terraced houses bordering the square, which would create 100 new rooms of graduate accommodation. 

In December, OUD held its first public consultation on the plans, which gathered responses from the public, showing that nearly two-thirds of respondents felt negatively towards some aspects of the redevelopment. The most popular aspect of the redevelopment was the energy and sustainability of the new building. Over 64% of respondents raised concern about “the risk to Common Ground, viewed as a vital community hub and cultural venue, one of few remaining in the city.”

Images Credit: Oscar Reynolds for Cherwell

(This is a limited sample, likely unrepresentative of the Oxford community).

Common Ground responds

Cherwell spoke with Common Ground’s Managing Director Eddie Whittingham and Operations Manager Alex Chesters about Common Ground’s role in Oxford.

Chesters told Cherwell: “It’s huge that this is a place right now where anyone from any walk of life – students or professionals or even homeless people – can come in and just chat to someone who works here and everyone is treated the same and everyone gets the same coffee and the same level of care. And in a place like Oxford where so much of it is closed off and only students can go in those parts.”

Whittingham agreed, adding: “I think hosting a whole range of different things means that the town and gown can mesh a lot more easily. If a student comes to see their mate play in a band, they might think, ‘well what other gigs have they got on? Oh, there’s this other gig that has been organized by Divine Schism, a local promoter.’ And they come back into the space.”

Chesters told Cherwell: “During the first [OUD] consultation, we were packed for the whole day. And since then, we pretty much at least once a day have someone come up and ask when they get a coffee, what’s going on? Have we heard anything else? It’s very few spaces that people feel so passionately about and are so invested in.”

When focusing on their interactions with the University, Whittingham stressed that University leadership had been receptive to some of their ideas and was hopeful that an agreement between the sides could be reached. They hope to be able to move into a University or college-owned space, and perhaps act as a channel for the University’s community engagement in the long-term.

What began as responses to the OUD’s consultation questionnaire quickly became personal testimonials on the importance of Common Ground to both students and locals alike.

To Daria Tkachenko, who came to Oxford as a refugee from Ukraine three years ago, Common Ground is “a community that accepted me with open arms. It’s a reminder of what home can feel like, even in the most uncertain of times.”

One student told Cherwell: “As someone who grew up in Oxford, I have been going to Common Ground long before I was accepted into the University. It would be a terrible loss; it’s somewhere I go all the time in the vac to study with friends who come back home from other unis and can’t access the libraries here.”

Developments in town vs gown

The divisions between town and gown are a well-documented part of the city’s history, with disputes between townspeople and members of the university leading several scholars to flee Oxford and found that other university in 1209.

In more recent times there have been a series of disagreements between residents and the University over the approach to urban planning. 

In 2016 the University’s sale of its Wolvercote Paper Mill site caused criticism from residents when it rejected a bid by Homes for Oxford, an alliance of community-led housing groups, focused on affordable housing and instead sold it to the highest bidder, a private developer called CALA. 

Another such example was the former Volkswagen garage owned by Wadham College, which was occupied by squatters for two months in 2017, driven by their desperation for shelter and wanting to draw focus to the inequalities in the city. Despite protest action from locals and students, the college evicted the largely homeless group in the middle of winter and proceeded to begin development of student accommodation on the site.

Earlier this year plans for new Magdalene accommodation on its Waynflete site, situated beside the Cowley roundabout, has also garnered complaints from residents.


As by far the largest landlord in Oxford, the University has disproportionate influence over determining the building and future of the city. 

An investigation by the Guardian in 2018 revealed that Oxford and Cambridge colleges combined own more land than the Church of England, making them the largest private landowners in England.   

Developments are always needed, especially in a dynamic and changing city like Oxford – or as the OUD’s Wellington Square redevelopment poster put it: “Modern facilities are essential to attract and retain staff and students in a highly competitive academic world.” New housing developments are especially pressing, given that Oxfordshire is at the centre of Britain’s housing crisis and has fallen badly short of its government-mandated building targets.

The plans for the redevelopment emphasise the increased sustainability and energy efficiency of the new building. For phase two, the 100 new graduate rooms will be important “in helping to reduce pressure on private rentals” and aim to improve housing affordability in the city.

Such tensions show that there is no perfect answer in how to prioritise the needs of different parts of the Oxford community.

With the newly created role of Local and Global Engagement officer in 2023, perhaps the university is beginning to turn a corner in its relationship with Oxford residents. A report published in January, ‘Beyond Town and Gown’, outlines the University’s “plans to support positive social, economic and environmental change in the city”.

Both the city and the University are dependent on one another to function, and are most effective when they work cooperatively. As students we hold a privileged position, although most of us are only in Oxford for half the year, with our Bod cards we have access to much of the city that remains closed off to people who have spent their entire lives here. Unrestricted spaces like Common Ground, where town and gown can meet, are special. A more modern, efficient building with additional housing would be a good thing. But, with the University having outlined a mission to integrate more meaningfully with the local community, its ability to preserve spaces like Common Ground will be a litmus test for that commitment.

Council threatens legal action against ‘erratic’ paragliders after foal death

Archie Johnston
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Council threatens legal action against ‘erratic’ paragliders after foal death

A foal died of its injuries last month after being distressed by a powered paraglider flying low over Port Meadow. Oxford City Council has appealed to the public for information after this and another incident of powered paragliders flying around the meadow. The Council believes that there are three individuals involved in these incidents and is threatening legal action, pending investigation by the Thames Valley Police’s Rural Crime Team.

A powered paraglider was spotted above Port Meadow on 10th April, flying ‘low and erratically’, according to the Council. This caused distress to a group of horses, and a foal was injured. Though it received medical attention, the foal was put down due to its injuries.

On the evening of 20th April, three paragliders were seen ‘swooping low and noisily’ above the meadow, and witnesses reported that horses on Port Meadow were again visibly distressed.

Deputy Chief Executive of the Council Tom Hook said: “These reckless actions have not only caused significant distress to the animals and local residents but have also resulted in the tragic and avoidable loss of a foal.” 

Mr Hook stressed the danger posed to local wildlife and residents, saying: “The safety of the animals, residents, and visitors to Port Meadow is of utmost importance, and we will continue to work closely with the police and community to prevent further incidents.” Cherwell has approached Mr Hook for comment.

Along with the adjacent Wolvercote Common, Port Meadow is a registered Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), due to the many resident species of cattle, horses, and waterfowl. The Council refers to the site as “Oxford’s oldest monument”, as the meadow has remained largely unchanged since its use as a Bronze Age burial ground. The horses on the meadow are “semi-wild”, and the Council website forbids their being disturbed “by any circumstances”. 

Oxford Direct Services, a Council-owned company responsible for waste management, issued a statement after the paragliding incidents saying: “We’d like to remind all residents and visitors: Port Meadow is a vital natural habitat, home to wild ponies, birds, and other wildlife.

“It’s a shared space where animals roam freely – and where our presence must be careful, calm, and respectful.”

In recent years, animals on the site have suffered injuries and intestinal blockages due to an uptick in littering. Since 2022, Port Meadow has been a registered water bathing site, but its water quality has been assessed as ‘poor’ every year since, due to the significant levels of bacteria such as E coli and intestinal enterococci. If water quality at the site does not improve to a standard “fit to swim in” by 2027, the meadow’s status as a bathing site will be rescinded.

The Council has asked that anyone with information about the incidents, or with knowledge of the identity of the individuals involved, to report relevant details to the Police Rural Crime Team by contacting 101.

Please, no more biopics!

David Percival
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Please, no more biopics!

A few weeks ago, Sam Mendes announced his casting for the Beatles biopics he aims to release in 2028. As I recall from conversations among friends and a torrent of angry posts on social media, few were pleased with the announcement. 

With Paul Mescal as McCartney, Harris Dickinson as Lennon, Barry Keoghan as Starr, and Joseph Quinn as Harrison, many seemed to believe Mendes had got the casting wrong. However, should we be asking if Keoghan could be a convincing Ringo, or Mescal do McCartney justice? Perhaps the more important question is whether we need yet another music biopic. 

Biopics, especially those of music stars, are seemingly becoming the latest way the film industry seeks large profits and high turnouts. Much like the comic-book franchises and live-action remakes before it, the music biopic can provide box-office success, without the tiresome task of being all that creative. 

Likely spurred on by the mammoth financial success of Dexter Fletcher and Bryan Singer’s 2018 Freddie Mercury biopic, Bohemian Rhapsody, which grossed just short of a billion dollars, the years since have seen numerous music legends immortalised in biopic form. Fletcher had another crack in his 2019 Elton John biopic Rocketman (grossing 195 million USD), and 2022 saw Baz Luhrmann’s equally high grossing biopic Elvis.

If these set the wheels in motion, by last year, Hollywood had gone biopic-crazy. 2024 saw four big releases, following the lives of Amy Winehouse (Back to Black), Bob Marley (One Love), Bob Dylan (A Complete Unknown) and Robbie Williams (Better Man). And who can forget Robbie Williams taking ape form? 

These four releases collectively grossed around 390 million USD. Far from being niche releases, these biopics were a pillar of the film industry last year. With each Beatle set to get their own film’s attention, it seems unlikely that these films will not prove hugely profitable. And if Marley, Dylan or an evolutionarily regressing Robbie Williams can draw in millions, it is unlikely there will be an empty seat in the cinema when these films hit the big screen. 

However, one might question what this biopic-mania spells for the film industry as a whole, or for innovative, original filmmakers. As interesting as the lives of these musicians may have been, the biopic can be hugely restrictive creatively. 

To clarify,  I am not anti-biopic. Oppenheimer, Lawrence of Arabia and The Elephant Man all tell individuals’ stories in a captivating manner. The particular threat that these music biopics pose to creativity, I believe, stems from the fact their stories are already so well known. Audiences likely have a very good impression of these artists’ lives, and people are ‘fans’ of music stars far more so than they are of politicians or scientists. Fans want these stars to be portrayed in a way that aligns with their already formed notions. Such circumstances leave directors with little room for experimentation.

How many knew of Jordan Belfort before Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street was released? Did anyone speak of Władysław Szpilman before Polanksi immortalised his story of defying Nazi capture in The Pianist? These films managed to capture real stories creatively because they did not pick the obvious candidates for exploration. They have room for artistry because they are not bound by the audience’s preconceptions and prejudices, and they tell unknown and novel tales.

Returning to the Beatles, Mendes has the unenviable task of exploring four of the most well known musicians of all time. Their lives, in some cases deaths, and musical endeavours are thoroughly burned into the national conscience, and have already been captured by countless documentaries. Peter Jackson’s documentary series The Beatles: Get Back released in 2021 saw critical success, and with so much media already dedicated to the four-piece, one questions what if anything new Mendes will bring. 

The occasional music biopic would not pose a threat to originality in film. However, as with any trend in filmmaking, the more that are produced within a short space of time certainly risks miring these biopics in cliché and formulaic structure. One must also imagine that the eye-watering profits made from Bohemian Rhapsody will not exactly encourage filmmakers to deviate from a rather conventional structure. 

The biopic craze not only incentivises filmmakers to start sifting through their record collection in search of a story to tell, instead of working on more personal projects, but equally risks crowding out cinemas with masses of biopics, leaving little room for showcasing more exciting and unique works. That the film industry would sacrifice creativity and experimentation for something profitable is doubtless nothing new, but we must ask ourselves if we should be funding these works. 

I love the Beatles. But it is this very adoration I and so many already have that threatens Mendes’ ability to showcase much in the way of personality and innovation. In the midst of biopic-mania, when cinemas seem to be dominated by remakes, franchises, and now music biopics, I feel I must make my plea. No more biopics!

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