Sunday 8th June 2025
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The British higher education system: rigid or rigorous?

Viren Shetty
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The British higher education system: rigid or rigorous?

‘I first realised I wanted to study History and only History when I was 7 and visited the Tower of London on a school trip. From then on, History was the only lesson I looked forward to and became all I wanted to study all day every day.’

I’ve endured almost three years of study at Oxford and, more recently, spent hours trying to convince employers that the skills from my degree really are ‘transferable’. Reflecting now and comparing myself to others around the world in the same position, I’m forced to ask whether I really was speaking honestly at interview or if a couple of Maths or Economics courses in my third year would have served me better for the world of work ahead.

Choosing one or two subjects to study at university at 18 seems like a very normal, natural progression in the English system. Eleven subjects at GCSE, three or four at A-Level and then, finally, you pick your favourite one. Oxbridge interviews are set up not only to find the most gifted at particular subjects, but those most passionate. ‘Passion’, we’re told, is what will get us through twelve essays a term in the same subject, every term, for three years. The vast majority of university students, however, are not passionate enough to take their love of their subject further. Love for one’s subject mysteriously, and quite suddenly, peters out in the third term of one’s third year as most of us hit the job market and the idea of masters or PhD level studies terrifies us.

An education system which takes this into account, which isn’t gearing us up to fall in love or out of love with the academic profession is surely more desirable. Being forced to or even just having the option to take a wider array of courses ought to make us more attractive on the job market and prepare us for life. Taking this back further, a broader 16-18 curriculum, which doesn’t let us drop Maths, essay subjects or a language ought to leave more doors open when it comes to deciding what to pursue career-wise, giving employers tangible numerical, reasoning and language skills to refer to. However, this isn’t an argument for general studies courses or more practical education post-16. It’s a case against siloing young adults into specific departments and in favour of interdisciplinary studies.

The liberal arts program and high school curriculum in the United States speaks volumes for the advantages of an interdisciplinary education. Many universities lay out compulsory courses in essay-writing, modern foreign languages or science for freshmen and sophomores, while allowing students to pursue their interests by majoring and minoring in subjects in their final two years. It also gives university professors a lot more freedom to curate interesting, popular courses that don’t necessarily fit within a particular department’s framework. ‘Beyoncé Feminism, Rihanna Womanism: Popular Music and Black Feminist Theory’ at Harvard or ‘How to Stage a Revolution’ at MIT are two examples of ‘out-of-the-box’, interdisciplinary courses that we rarely see the likes of in the UK. In an academic climate gripped by movements to diversify the canon, encouraging universities to make their options ‘popular’, to fight it out on the ‘student market’, is surely a good thing.

The English academic’s rebuttal would be that three years of specialised learning in Biochemistry, Classics or Maths takes you to a far higher standard than one could get by taking a few ‘major’ modules a year. The liberal arts education leads to a surface-level understanding of a few subjects, without taking you to the depth of knowledge which you’d need for ‘proper research’, to really add something to the discipline with your final dissertation. There is a case for specialisation in certain subjects in which knowledge is cumulative. This is particularly evident in subjects like Law or Medicine, where the English system somewhat ‘fast-tracks’ 18-year olds and shaves a couple of years off their professional debut. However, the case for a multidisciplinary approach in the humanities and even some science subjects is strong. From personal experience, I would argue that being able to take papers in Philosophy, Economics and English would add significantly to my study of history and might mean I didn’t ignore the parts where politics becomes ‘mathsy.’ Equally, the benefits of interdisciplinary ‘modes of thinking’, applying a ‘scientific brain’ to ‘artsy questions’ have been well researched and argued.

Moreover, few would suggest that top institutions in the United States, Continental Europe, or Asia are hampered in the quality of their graduates, teaching staff or research capabilities by a secondary or tertiary education program which does not encourage specialisation. In fact, exposing students to new subjects, ones which they might not have considered at school level, can give birth to high-quality graduates and researchers whose passion for their subjects started late in their academic careers.  

Multi-disciplinary study at university could also help to address this country’s youth employment or higher education crisis. Ever since increasing numbers of young people started attending university at the start of the century, cries about ‘pointless degrees’ or ‘too many people going to university’, often from the right, have dominated debates about the place of universities in society. If we do want to maintain higher education as a valuable tool for social mobility, perhaps broadening curricula, even at top universities, is the answer. Perhaps it could encourage universities like Oxford to consider our education holistically: what skills do we really want to come away with, which untapped areas do we still want to explore? This would evidently be more beneficial than a drive for first-class degrees at any cost and, in the Oxbridge context, competition between colleges and within departments. While Liberal Arts courses have popped up at a number of institutions in the UK, the norm still remains the specialised degree and the underprepared graduate.

Even the process of choosing A-Levels is a restrictive process for young people. Students are often likely to pick their options based on particular departments’ track record or the ease with which they can achieve top grades. The decision to drop a particular subject simply because of a bad teacher, department or school type is evidently restrictive and problematic. Often the case for taking a particular subject is strengthened by a particular charismatic teacher or which subjects are deemed popular. Many schools, moreover, are pressured by the harsh quantitative scrutiny of league tables to push students into taking ‘easier’ subjects or those taught by the best department. The positive feedback cycle here is damaging: worse departments with fewer students at A-Level end up receiving less funding, and so on. For certain subjects, this can also feed into a worsened state-private school divide once at university, with subjects like Classics often seen as the domain of the economic elite. With the aim of equal opportunity, therefore, a less narrow school-level education may be a solution.

The most obvious argument for specialisation at A-Level arises from the fact that everyone has different strengths. We should allow teenagers to express their individuality, choose their subjects and excel in their strengths. This is rooted in a particular view of education which sees all children as different, with different processing abilities: people think in different ways and everyone has their own strengths. Not letting people drop subjects which they’re bad at could lead to disillusionment, poor mental health, and all-round negative associations with school. Letting every teenager choose their own subjects, it is argued, allows them to engage with their interests and fulfill their potential.

A-Levels, moreover, aren’t mandatory. The standardised English education system ends at 16, with a range of options, from BTECs to the increasingly popular apprenticeship scheme, available after. Those who argue in favour of a more ‘practical’ education often focus on the fact that A-Levels are not and have been increasingly less important for career aspirations. This isn’t unique to England: Germany has ΩBerufsschule (‘vocational schools’), which allow those over 16 to study alongside a three- or four-year apprenticeship, while France has a separate stream for those who want to take the ‘vocational baccalaureate’. Mandating a core curriculum until 18 is, therefore, potentially linked to the United States’ higher high school dropout rate than the UK and more general dissatisfaction with education.

This is compounded by the fact that the A-Level system is very popular. The English Education System is, undeniably, quite highly regarded around the world. Cambridge International A-Levels are taken by the economic elites all over the world, from Hong Kong, to India, to South America. They are seen as a gateway to academic success, to prestigious higher education institutions and a demonstration of true academic mastery.

It’s important, however, to deconstruct this reverence for English schooling. Education has been an area particularly defined by the colonial experience in many countries around the world. The idea of being part of an educated super-class still runs deep and possibly shapes existing feelings of respect towards the A-Level System.

Alternatives are on offer within the UK too. Scottish schoolchildren take more subjects to Highers Level and many private schools have opted to also offer the International Baccalaureate, which forces students to pick a true range of six subjects, taking three to ‘Higher’ Level. The impact of the IB on low-income US students was found to create ‘more rigorous classrooms, students who participate in more extra-curricular subjects and who had greater higher educational aspirations.’ However, the likelihood of us as a nation or schools more generally switching to such a system appears unlikely.

Gavin Williamson, former Secretary of State for Education, recently said that the purpose of education is to ‘give students the skills for a fulfilling working life’. While the answer to this could be vocational training from a young age, I’d argue that the key to a more ‘useful’ education is to treat young people as individuals and parts of the workforce, rather than as potential future academics. A more holistic education, one which accepts a need for depth while maintaining linguistic, literary and numeracy skills developed from a young age, could reinvigorate teachers and students and improve falling university satisfaction rates.

Artwork: Ben Beechener

Beer drills and beer fountains: the potential outcomes of Tracey Crouch’s alcohol plans

Maurício Alencar
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Beer drills and beer fountains: the potential outcomes of Tracey Crouch’s alcohol plans

My dad’s biggest pet peeve: half-time binge drinking. After getting up from his seat to let the dizzy drunken man shuffle past just as half time is approaching, he starts cursing loudly and violently, albeit in Portuguese. Missing precious seconds of a football match sends him the wrong way. The English fan’s matchday habits of leaving seats early, or arriving late from the concourse, so that they can grab a pint at half-time has its collateral damage. 

Tracey Crouch, who is leading the “fan-led review” of football governance, revealed that the government could lift the ban on drinking alcohol inside football grounds “in view” of the pitch. This ban has existed for 36 years due to the extent of hooliganism in the country. The new age of beer might be coming our way. 

The sit-down-stand-up choreography, which is English football’s reluctant alternative to the Mexican Wave, is a famous routine, well known and excellently rehearsed by all fans who regularly attend matches. This routine may be happening a whole lot more often if the drinking ban is lifted. Why wait till half time to grab a drink? Very soon, you might be able to get your pint in midway through the first half. Cue the friendly yet frustrated chants of “is this a fire drill?”.

Supporters are allowed to drink at the cricket or the rugby “in view” of the pitch. With all due respect to cricket and rugby, football’s instants of excitement are often rarer, shorter, more dramatic, manic, adrenaline-fuelled, action-packed, moment-of-truth-charged, g’wan-silence-yeaaaah-defined. Football’s crazy. There are no tea breaks. There is no courtesy, or least any sign of respect, shown to an opposition player lining up their penalty kick.

When your team scores, the full pint in your hand might be up in the air, soaking all those around in warm, stale beer. Can you imagine the scenes: a thousand men dancing and singing under golden showers? If they’re selling Darkfruit Strongbow in the concourses, it won’t just be splashes of gold flying about in the stands, but also pink and purple. Old Trafford, the Theatre of Dreams, will surely be known as the Theatre of Drinks. Getting drenched in beer may be enticing for the young football mavericks, but it’s certainly not for all match attendants. There’s Boxpark on an England matchday for that. 

Tracey Crouch makes the point that half-time drinking means “we kettle people into drinking quickly”. There are compromises to be dealt with though when it comes to football and drinking. It would perhaps be too harsh on English football fans to introduce Scottish football drinking rules, which would mean that all alcohol is forbidden in a football ground. On the other hand, it would most likely be far too permissive to let stands across the country once again turn into beery water parks, and let stadiums’ staircases turn into sticky slip n’ slides. 

There is also a strong sentiment among the British public that football fans simply can’t be trusted. As shown on the recent documentary series Fever Pitch: The Rise of the Premier League, The Times wrote that football in the 1980s was a “slum sport played in slum stadiums and increasingly watched by slum people”; many people believe that the culture of these darker times survives today; many perceived the scenes on Wembley Way in July to be the manifestation of this. 

At first, the ban would only be lifted at lower leagues, so that data could be collected. Tracey Crouch’s main reason for lifting current restrictions on drinking was to help the lower league clubs, whose beer sales account for much of their annual income. Though it may be hypothetical to say so, mix beer with a sore defeat, and the pint cup could become an effective weapon for the football fan. You could see pint cups flying like arrows onto the pitch when the opposition scores, much like what the abusive Hungarian fans did against England. Matchday incomes earned might quickly be offloaded on FA fines and other policing costs. Then again, with that in mind, we could see more Declan Rice-inspired celebrations, where opposition players pretend to chug beer from cups. Surely, those celebrations would be so iconic that EA Sports would have no way of not including them in PEGI 3-rated FIFA games by 2024. 

Booze seems set to return to football. The nature of this new age in drinking- a consolidated revival of hooliganism or the nativity for carnival atmospheres in football grounds?- will certainly be one to look out for. 

Image: Marco Velch/CC BY 2.0 via Flickr

The Ashes and the Place of Cricket in the 21st Century

Ed Grayson
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The Ashes and the Place of Cricket in the 21st Century

My whole life, I have been an avid cricket fan. I began playing the sport aged 9 in my back garden with my Dad, and I seemed to have a knack for it. I self-taught myself to bowl and was coming out with some relative quickies in no time, at least for my age. This was all not long after the passing of my grandfather who himself had been a top player, representing his school side in just his first year at school. It seemed to be a way for my father and me to connect with the memory of my late grandfather whilst doing something we both know he would have been very proud of. It is, of course, a great regret of mine that the man I called ‘Gangar’ never got to see me play.

Cricket is a dying art; a game that, many say, is moving behind the times. With dark, imperial undertones, the success of the sport proliferated at home and throughout the Empire in the 19th century, intended to ‘civilise’ the natives of the colonies. The success of those such as Sachin Tendulkar and Virat Kohli in India, for example, are triumphs over such ignorance. But through their nation’s participation in a sport played almost exclusively by ex-British colonies, it is also an awkward reminder of both cricket and Britain’s imperial past.

The Ashes, too, was born out of this imperial context. After the first Australian win on English soil at The Oval in 1882, the satirical sports newspaper The Sporting Times claimed that English cricket had “died”, the body of which would be “cremated and the ashes taken to Australia”. The English captain of the next 1882-3 tour to Australia, Ivo Bligh, vowed to “regain those ashes”, which, in fact, he did.

Nearly 150 years later, we find ourselves as English fans in the same predicament that Mr Bligh found himself in 1882. The first test ended in Australia this year with an Aussie win by 9 wickets; the second by 275 runs; the third by an innings and 14 runs. As I write, Jonny Bairstow is 103 not-out in the fourth test; but his persistence seems rather futile. Nevertheless, I imagine it can’t hurt to score runs on Aussie soil.

The defeat Down Under however, is particularly worrying this year in light of the developments taking place behind the scenes at the ECB in the past couple of years. Test cricket is no longer a priority. Short-form games are prioritised, and receives most of the funding. The Hundred, a success, I will admit, is indicative of this neglect; and even though last summer was as brilliant as it was, particularly for the women’s game, this Ashes proved to be a test at the side’s resolve and capabilities at the long form of the game. Australia does, of course, have the Big Bash, but evidently is better at balancing its short and long-form foci. Perhaps lessons could be learnt from our Aussie cousins; I would advise they should be, however hard it may be.

This leaves English cricket in a precarious predicament at the dawn of 2022. It is not a sport, perhaps, that is attractive to younger audiences; nor is the test team at a level where the country is as captivated by their talent as we were last summer with the football at the European Championships, though the one-day sides are quite impressive. It is, indeed, a dying art. Or is it evolving? As a purest, I see its supposed ‘evolution’ as dangerous, and lacking precedent. The Ashes, a source of national pride but also one of the most fantastic athletic spectacles on the planet, cannot continue to fade into the abyss as this series threatens for the English. But perhaps this is a case of “adapt or die”. I know the game I fell in love with as a child, that I remember my grandfather through, will not be the same again in the 21st century. But what I do know is that I wish it to survive. My mind is not made up yet as to how, but in light of the Ashes, it appears it might be made up for me sooner rather than later.

Image: Davidmollyphotography / CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Jair Bolsonaro’s Brazil shirt

Maurício Alencar
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Jair Bolsonaro’s Brazil shirt

On the 7th September 2021, Brazil celebrated its Independence Day. In São Paulo, to mark the day, thousands of marchers descended on Avenida Paulista. The atmosphere perhaps was not so jovial, however. Anxious and irate marchers had in truth showed themselves in São Paulo to back Bolsonaro’s vision for a supposedly orderly and progressive Brazil where God is above all, and to lambast the Supreme Court’s tyranny for investigating Bolsonaro, and to gather some Trumpian momentum in the fight against the unlikely and unconvincing possibility of electoral fraud one year before elections take place. The radiant yellow colour the flood of marchers had created was a familiar one, a shade of yellow that would normally be attributed to the Seleção’s iconic football kit. But as Bolsonaro spoke to the thousands, the yellow of the Seleção shirt had seemed to defamiliarise itself from football, and had now become the token symbol for Bolsonaro’s far right agenda. 

It’s nothing new, politicians using football for their own good. Some of Brazil’s 1970 World Cup triumph can be accredited to General Medici’s, Brazil’s dictator, interest in politically investing in the national team and using his military to improve the players’ fitness levels. The country’s leading football writer, Juca Kfouri, writes that “I never let the dictatorship steal even what was most intimate to me”. Football and politics could easily be separated. Brazil’s success on the pitch could never be a politician’s success. 

Pelé had potentially consummated the hazardous marriage between Brazil’s dictatorship and its football when he shook hands with Medici. In a review of Pelé’s documentary film on Netflix, Jonathan Liew of The Guardian writes: “Of course, he admits, he had an inkling of what was going on, even as he posed for photographs with General Médici at official functions, beaming and shaking hands in pictures he must have known would be distributed around the world as pro-regime propaganda. But even now there is no real contrition, no twinge of moral anguish, much less genuine remorse at a course of action he insists was the only realistic choice.”

But it indeed was his only realistic choice. Access to education, let alone high-quality education, is limited. The Brazil team’s visit to the presidential palace was less of a polite invitation than it was a stern-faced command. The denial of a handshake with a dictator perhaps would not be the most sensible choice for Pelé’s own career as a footballer in the years after. It’s easy in retrospect to assume Pelé should feel regretful for not forming his own defiant identity off the pitch. Carlos Alberto Torres, the captain of the 1970 team, put it in an interview in 1988 that the players were only interested in “our careers, the professional pride of winning a World Cup”. Then, the effervescent colours of Brazilian football in 1970 carried a natural purity and artistic uniqueness that could be protected against invasive socio-historical readings. The handshake was not a handing over of Brazilian football’s collective mould of individual romanticism to the state’s powers.

Dani Alves, the world’s most trophy-successful player living in a new age of player activism where footballers’ political voices have become ever more significant, finds himself in very different circumstances to the position Pelé and his teammates found themselves in the aftermath of their 1970 World Cup triumph. Dani Alves has publicly supported Bolsonaro in using his slogan “Brasil above everything, God above everyone” on Instagram- Pelé was never deliberate in showing his support. Neymar’s dad commented under Alves’s post with a fist-bump emoji. Lucas Moura is another prominent footballer to have declared his strong support for Bolsonaro. Polling suggests that Jair Bolsonaro in fact has a very high disapproval rating across the country, despite the mass demonstrations on the 7 September. It is very much in Dani Alves’s consciousness that his political voice carries a significant level of importance to politics in the country. And as Dani Alves’s apparent words of support for the former military captain are complemented by an image of him wearing the national football team’s shirt, the iconic Brazilian shirt seems to embody not the national pride shared by a whole country, but a nationalistic pride felt by a minority in a country. 

It should come as little surprise that the Brazilian shirt seems to have had its symbol stolen. In part due to a number of factors including the 7-1 defeat, performances at recent World Cups, a growing European-led distaste for the “joga bonito” style,  and the demise of the reputation of Brazilian leagues, Brazilian football’s pedigree now finds itself in a vulnerable state. An untidy culmination of Brazilian football’s recent failures came in Brazil’s World Cup qualifier against Argentina, where health officials rushed onto the pitch mid-play to tell some of Argentina’s Premier League players to quarantine – they had been in the country for three days prior and the whole world had been alerted to the fact that they were in the squad ready to start. In a country where over 600,000 people have died from COVID-19, this sudden dismissal had nothing to do with health safety. This was a moment in which the incompetence of the country’s various governing bodies and the general bagunça (utter shambles of a mess) of Brazilian politics had violated, trespassed, and over-spilled onto the country’s most valuable safe-space. The purity and innocence of the Seleção has finally been ruptured, eclipsed, and defaced by political calamity. The far-right capitalised. It’s Jair’s shirt… for now. 

Image: Palácio de Planalto / CC BY 2.0 via flickr.com

Back To School: Sex (Re)Education

Rebecca Walker
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Back To School: Sex (Re)Education

CW: sexual assault.

The long-awaited third season of the hit Netflix series Sex Education arrived on our screens in September. And, just like before, it opens with another sexual montage: something viewers of the show are well-versed in by now. It’s in the name. But the sex is not all ‘for show’, so to speak. It tells so much more about teenage worries, desire and relationships, both sexual and platonic. The well-established mix of humour and honesty that Sex Education brings to these themes is a refreshing approach, and enables an exploration of a huge variety of sensitive issues regarding sexuality, as well as more light-hearted everyday adolescent dramas.

As it says in the name, Sex Education provides an actual education. Or perhaps, more suitably, a re-education from the less than adequate sex ed classes we had in school and the societal expectations that haunt us. Indeed, so many issues that are pervasive and normalised in society are discussed and broken down. Basically, we just need a teacher like sex therapist Dr. Jean Milburn (Gillian Anderson).

The series is direct in its address of the problems with school provision of sex education, from Jean taking it upon herself to provide advice in season two, to the students fighting back against the seeming promotion of abstinence by the new headteacher, Hope (Jemima Kirke), in season three. The series manages to be educational on a whole number of matters, whilst avoiding forcing it down the audiences’ throats. It reveals just how much the school sex education system, and, more generally, societal expectations of and views on sex, need to change. In order to create an equitable space for everyone, all must feel comfortable and confident in themselves and their bodies.

Let’s just say it. Masturbation. Especially for women, this is a topic often avoided, viewed as something dirty. I remember being in school and girls saying, “urgh, no, I would never do that”. As Otis (Asa Butterfield) points out to Aimee (Aimee Lou Wood), “women do tend to feel more shame surrounding masturbation than men. Feeling that it’s sort of taboo…You should probably figure out what works for you, and your body.” The show accurately represents how many women feel about this subject, and yet it actively works to break down these preconceptions. As per usual, it combines a more serious message with a familiar sense of playfulness; Aimee replies “so you’re prescribing a wank?”. This point, figuring out “what works for you”, is carried throughout the show. Ironically, whilst Otis advises others, he also needs to hear this himself. After testing his “clock technique” on Ola (Patricia Allison), he realises he is doing something wrong. He asks for help from a classmate, Ruthie. She says “there’s no magic technique that works for all women…but you shouldn’t be asking me, you should be asking your girlfriend.” Here it is assumed that Ola herself will know what she enjoys, thus implying that she has discovered it. As with Aimee, the show points out the importance of self-discovery and that, yes, it is fine to wank. It’s crazy how innovative it feels for a show to be addressing female pleasure and how important it is to communicate personal preferences.

Societal expectations and pressures are part of the problem, and series like Sex Education is one example of fighting against these and encouraging a different outlook for current and future generations. It opens up conversations that perhaps we’ve been too embarrassed or afraid to discuss before, making us question what we’ve been told from a young age. I remember the first sex-ed class we had in school, in our last year of primary, preparing us for what happens during puberty. Looking back on what we were taught made me angry about the implicit sexism that is perpetuated. We were told that as girls we would have periods and be able to have babies, and told that the boys would wank and have wet dreams. This only continues inequalities in society, when, from a young age, pleasure is an expectation for men and a matter not discussed for women. As a society, we can change this narrative. I personally feel like these matters are becoming a much more open conversation. Just as Jean and Otis show the students at Moordale and then, by the third season, each other, talking about these things is essential.

And let’s not even start on the lack of representation of LGBTQ+ relationships in the school education system. In my school, anything other than heterosexuality was never mentioned in class. By refreshing contrast, Sex Education celebrates diversity in sexuality, gender and identity in ways that are often so neglected in school. Of course, Eric (Ncuti Gatwa) is an absolute fan-favourite of the series. He is unapologetically himself, and also one of the funniest characters. Yet he is not reduced only to this. He is another complex, multi-layered character, and the exploration of his church community, and, especially in season three, his Nigerian family heritage, creates much more nuance to his identity. Particularly when the representation of queerness on screen is mostly reserved for white characters, it’s so important to see sexuality not being stereotyped. 

The series also sees the journey of characters to self-discovery and acceptance of their sexuality. Ola and Adam (Connor Swindells) provide two distinct examples of ‘coming out’ stories; the audience is able to see the series’ different approaches to this. Ola embraces her pansexuality after breaking up with Otis and realising that she has developed feelings for her friend Lily (Tanya Reynolds). Her self-acceptance happens relatively quickly. In contrast, Adam is shown to struggle with coming to terms with an understanding of his sexuality. Sex Education, therefore, depicts a wide range of sexualities, and yet also delves into how people do not always feel entirely comfortable with their identity. Hopefully, more and more representation on screen will help us work towards a culture in which queerness, in all forms, will be celebrated by everyone.

Departing from previous seasons, season three sees societal gender constructions explored and also challenged. We are introduced to Cal (Dua Saleh), a non-binary student at Moordale. As a cis woman especially, I feel that this is a hugely important storyline for educating viewers about gender identity. The inclusion of a non-binary character enables the series to expose everyday issues faced by non-binary teenagers, including ignorance from others, especially teachers. Hope, the headteacher, is extremely intolerant to Cal for supposedly not wearing the ‘correct uniform’. Yet for Cal, refusing to wear the ‘correct’ uniform is not merely ignoring the rules (as Hope assumes and punishes Cal for): it is an essential expression of identity. Yet again, this is another aspect of sexuality that has failed to be discussed in school, and often in society more widely too. 

One of the series’ darker storylines is Aimee’s; she is one of the most lovable characters on the show, but one who has to deal with the impacts of sexual assault. Sex Education approaches the matter with care and empathy. The storyline also demonstrates the power of female friendship – a group of the leading female-identifying characters bond together to support Aimee. Importantly, the series pays attention to not only the event itself, but the aftermath and the effects on Aimee’s mental health, and season three only explores this further. It highlights that trauma is something that can be worked through, providing hope, without downplaying its difficulties. Part of Aimee’s journey to work through the effects of the assault involve talking to Jean, who gently reminds her that, “you may never be the old you, Aimee, but that’s okay…And by processing this trauma, you may gain clarity on the event itself and we can move you towards healing the relationship with your body again.”

Therefore, beyond being an entertaining, funny series, Sex Education addresses many important topics, including female pleasure, LGBTQ+ identities and sexual assault, amongst others. The different experiences of such a wide range of three-dimensional characters on the show mean that there’s always something relatable, while also teaching viewers about the experiences of others. Sex Education doesn’t create an ideal of what sex, or identity, or relationships should look like, as there is enough diversity to be able to recognise something in everyone. Instead, it proposes: be who you want to be. This is the message that teenagers, and indeed anyone of any age, should be hearing, not the narratives constraining their sexuality and pleasure.

Image Credit: Sex Education/ Netflix Facebook

Juggling a degree and career: In conversation with Manmzèl

Jimmy Brewer
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Juggling a degree and career: In conversation with Manmzèl

Maintaining a non-academic hobby alongside an Oxford degree is a challenge. Pressures from tutors, friends and oneself conspire to clog up time that could be used to this end. But at the end of Michaelmas, I had the opportunity to speak to a woman who manages it. Emily Meekel, aka Manmzèl, is a chemistry DPhil and musician, whose debut album is set to release spring 2022.

It was a bitterly cold day – the first of the year to have that discernable winter sting that forces your hands into pockets or gloves. I arrived at our arranged meeting place – Café Nero on the High Street – and ordered the ever-so-sensible mug of tea and granola flapjack combination. Over the café’s speakers was playing a twee, instrumental version of ‘Michelle’ by The Beatles – one can only guess at the atmosphere that musical choice aimed to evoke.

Emily came in wearing a Balliol College puffer – a coat that she usually avoided wearing, but that day was necessitated by the excessively low temperatures. She was amiable, clearly at ease in conversation with someone she had not met before. We sat down to chat, and I began by asking Emily about her musical upbringing. She started with classical piano when she was six – ‘my Mum put me on lessons’. (Throughout our conversation, whenever she mentioned her parents, I got the sense that her relationship with them was a happy one). She grew up in the Netherlands, and there was a good music school in her hometown. At first singing covers, she quickly graduated to writing her own material – and with encouragement from her teachers she began to perform them. ‘I used to be really nervous, but now I much more enjoy performing, interacting with the crowd.’

‘Then it came down to going to uni,’ said Emily, pausing. ‘My Mum’s from London, so at first I really wanted to go to uni in London.’ But, as Bob Dylan put it, money doesn’t talk, it swears, and the £9K per year UK tuition fee was prohibitive when considered as an alternative to the Netherlands’ far more reasonable €1000 per annum. ‘We love you but we don’t have that money,’ her parents conceded. However, the hope of attending a UK university was rekindled when Emily realised that in Scotland, tuition is free to European students. Emily went to the University of Glasgow to study chemistry.

In Glasgow, Emily performed with a band under the name EM|ME (pronounced ‘emmy’; a concatenation of the first two letters of her first name and surname). Speaking of Glasgow’s music scene, Emily recalls it being ‘very tight-knit,’ and despite the city’s size ‘you tend to run into the same people; there’s a really good support network.’ Looking back she describes her music as EM|ME as ‘a mixture of things… a bit chaotic, indie-pop, alternative.’

A few years on, after beginning her DPhil at Oxford, Emily felt the need for change. In her first year, she ‘didn’t make music that actively,’ being so busy with the demands of a new city and a scientifically rigorous research degree. ‘Then lockdown happened,’ she said. ‘I went home for a bit, but I had to come back for labs, and no one was here. Which was lonely in a sense, but I also had so much time to make music again, and it felt very fresh.’ She got to writing and reflecting. ‘It was nice to write my stories again and notice to myself how I’ve developed from what I was like from the last couple of years.’ Naturally, she felt that she had outgrown the EM|ME name. ‘It just didn’t sit right with me releasing [new songs] as EM|ME.’ She picked a new name, drawing on her Dominican heritage. In Dominica (not the Dominican Republic, Emily was quick to clarify), they speak Patois, a French dialect, which, when she was growing up, she had heard her grandad speak on the phone. ‘One particular night I couldn’t sleep, so I sat on my phone and saw whether I could find anything.’ Emily, with the aid of a Patois online dictionary, settled on Manmzèl as her new alias. It means ‘young woman’ in Patois, coming from the French mademoiselle.

I was keen to ask Emily about how she interweaves the academic and musical strands of her life. ‘It needs to stay fun,’ she stated. ‘My PhD is my priority, but I’m also very aware of the fact that I can’t let it consume my life… I could dedicate my life to it, and like, it would be amazing, but for me it’s quite important to have a balance.’ She noted also that, like for most of us, the return to normality means a far busier schedule: ‘in lockdown, it was quite good – obviously it was horrible – but there was so much more time. I noticed this term, because everything’s back to normal, I just can’t breathe!’ But the music and the work do complement each other well. ‘Making music, relaxing, expressing myself in that way… and the PhD – I can’t focus on that one hundred percent.’

Before coronavirus noisily arrived, Emily had been questioning herself. ‘I was going through this thing asking “why am I making music?” If no one was listening to it, I wasn’t really enjoying it anymore, it kind of felt like a failure. Growing up you always have this dream, that you’ll become this popstar, or whatever.’ It was lockdown that was the great remedy. During her days and weeks in isolation ‘it just came naturally, it didn’t feel forced, it just felt more mature.’

I wanted to know who Emily was listening to. ‘Greentea Peng… I’ve been loving her music recently. I think she might be originally from London, but she lived in South America for a while. She makes this reggae music, very chill.’ Other artists Emily was listening to were Lianne La Havas, Anderson .Paak and Bruno Mars. ‘I’d like to think of myself as a female Anderson .Paak,’ she said, ‘I feel like my music is trying to be more energetic, sometimes more witty, or fast paced, and I see that in Anderson .Paak.’ Listening to ‘Like a Woman,’ the first single from Manmzèl’s new album, the similarity is clear: the drum grooves are tight and a tongue-in-cheek vocal snippet kicks the song off. ‘I’d like to kiss ya but I just washed my hair,’ says a sampled voice, before the track leaps into life with a catchy synth lead and supple bassline.

I was intrigued by the title of her single, ‘Like a Woman.’ The phrase is heavy with connotation, not least musically. There are apparent similarities to songs like Carole King’s ‘You Make me Feel Like a Natural Woman’ or Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ – but in these songs it is the validation of a lover that makes the person feel ‘like a natural woman,’ or ‘like a virgin.’ In ‘Like a Woman,’ things are framed differently. ‘Cuz now I know it’s not me but you that I despise,’ Manmzèl sings. How much clearer can a message of self-assurance be? The song is a proud and emphatic declaration of independent womanhood.

In contrast to her time as EM|ME – which she herself described as ‘a bit chaotic’ – Emily is looking to make a more cohesive product in her new mini-album. ‘Now I’m trying to get a record out that has the same overall sound,’ she said. And from what I can tell, she’s going about it the right way. Her single, ‘Like a Woman,’ is infectious, smooth, and impeccably crafted. Keep an eye out in spring 2022 for what will no doubt be a release full of swagger, soul and sincerity.

Listen to Manmzèl’s new single, ‘Like a Woman,’ out now on streaming platforms. Her new mini-album is due Spring 2022.

Follow Manmzèl on Instagram and Twitter @manmzellll (that is, note, four Ls).

Image: Andrea Berlese

‘I’m a practical man’: Lech Wałęsa in conversation

Charlie Hancock
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‘I’m a practical man’: Lech Wałęsa in conversation

There can’t be many people who have inspired both an opera and a U2 stadium anthem. President Lech Wałęsa may well be one of the most famous electricians in the world, having been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1983 for his non-violent agitations against communist rule in Poland as leader of the Solidarity movement. The first recognised independent trade union to be recognised in a Warsaw Pact country, Solidarity directly caused the end of communist rule by pressuring the government to hold an election in 1989, which saw Wałęsa become the first President of Poland to be elected by popular vote.

We speak via an interpreter over Skype. Wałęsa is in Gdańsk, the city which includes the enormous shipyards where Solidarity was born. He is an animated speaker, gesticulating freely to emphasise important phrases. He still has his iconic moustache which made him instantly recognisable in photographs from the time, albeit now white and slightly more groomed. He’s wearing a grey rollneck sweatshirt bearing the KONSTYTUCJA – ‘Constitution’ – slogan which has become a symbol of protest against the populist government. He wore a similar shirt to the state funeral of President George H.W. Bush, and has even said he will ask to be buried in it.

Wałęsa describes himself as a practical man, which affects not only the way he approaches problems, how he breaks their solutions down like an instruction manual. Practicality, to Wałęsa, emphasises action and learning from one’s mistakes for the future, even if those mistake are painful. “I never forget anything I have practiced. I have eight children with my wife!” he says mischievously at one point

Wałęsa’s success as a labour organiser can in part be attributed to this practical approach, and his persistence in organising industrial action and negotiations. He attributes his drive to stand up to communism, despite its risks, to his upbringing. “I took it in with my mother’s milk”, he says, adding that his family had a history of anti-communism. “Whenever there were conversations about anti-communism at home, I lapped it up.”

The People’s Republic of Poland was formally established in 1952, seven years after the Red Army ‘liberated’ Warsaw and established a provisional communist government.

“The communist system was imposed on Poland after the war. It was never accepted by Polish people,” Wałęsa says as we discuss the history of anti-communist resistance in the country. The post-war years saw severe political repressions, and a state of near civil war as partisans loyal to the government on exile who had once fought against the occupying Nazis turned their attention to the communist authorities. Both partisans and civilians were subject to mass arrests and executions. Anti-communists responded by attacking prisons and detention camps, attempting to free the political prisoners they held.

“In the 1940s and 50s we tried an armed struggle – that didn’t work. In the 60s and 70s we tried strikes – that didn’t work”, he says, reflecting on how opposition to the Communists changed. The strikes of the 60s and 70s may not have led to the fall of the regime, but they taught Wałęsa and other activists hard lessons which led to the later success of Solidarity. March 1968 saw protests erupt across the country against the government over the high price of food, and frustration that the promised liberalisation under Gomulka’s leadership had failed to materialise. The month also saw protests by students, writers and intellectuals who were branded as Zionists, with the explicit implication that the dissidents were not Polish. 

Wałęsa encouraged workers at the Gdansk shipyard not to join the supposedly spontaneous protests against the dissidents which were sanctioned by the government. The shipyard because the centre of huge protests in December 1970 against rising food prices. The strikers, which spread to cities across Poland were met with gunfire, killing 45 and injuring 1000 people. The outcome cemented Wałęsa’s commitment to organising free trade unions, which were unaffiliated from the state. He lost his job at the shipyard, was arrested multiple times as punishment for this agitation.

Wałęsa during the August 1980 strike in Gdańsk. Credit: Giedymin Jabłoński/CC BY-SA 3.0 PL via Wikimedia Commons

But he got results. Further mass-protests and strikes in protest against high food prices, and in favour of gaining greater civil liberties erupted in  August 1980. The strike in Gdansk was ignited by the firing of Anna Walentynowicz, a crane operator who had been involved in organising earlier protests. The striking workers successfully pressured the shipyard’s management into meeting their demands over pay and labour rights. The resulting Gdańsk Agreement, signed by the strikers and communist authorities, permitted the formation of trade unions which were unaffiliated with the state. Solidarity was founded as the country’s first free trade union on September 22nd.

“Many of the people at the top of the Communist pyramid studied in the West,” Wałęsa explains. “They were slightly sceptical and they weren’t so much trying to defend Communism as they were trying to defend their positions of power. So it was possible to do a deal.”

The Gdansk agreement didn’t stop the government from imposing martial law in December 1981 to counter political opposition and Solidarity, which represented a third of the working population. Wałęsa was arrested, as were 6000 other Solidarity activists, and imprisoned for almost a year. Solidarity moved underground, albeit with the backing of the CIA who provided funding, organisational advice, and helped them spread their message through clandestine newspapers. Wałęsa tells me that Solidarity’s resistance through his time is thanks to the organisation’s determination and reasonableness: “Communism couldn’t combat that.”

After his release, Wałęsa was awarded the 1983 Nobel Peace Prize for “non-violent struggle for free trade unions and human rights in Poland.” He didn’t collect the award in-person in Oslo, fearing that he would not be allowed to re-enter Poland. His wife Danuta accepted the award on his behalf.

Despite the international acclaim Wałęsa has received for his undoubtedly enormous contribution to the course of history, he has been facing accusations that he had acted as a paid informant of the secret police in the 1970s. Wałęsa has denied these accusations, claiming that they are politically motivated. A special court cleared him of charges of collaboration in 2000. The controversy reared its head again in 2016, when documents which appeared to show his involvement were found by the Institute of National Remembrance, an organisation dedicated to identifying and archiving crimes committed under the Soviet and Polish Communist regimes. Again, Wałęsa defended himself, saying that the documents were forged to discredit him. Historians have acknowledged that the secret police used to fabricate documents to compromise members of the opposition.

What made Solidarity different from previous movements? The movement’s size and breadth meant that it encompassed otherwise polarised facets of Polish society: the anti-communist left and political right wings, liberals and nationalists, and the intelligentsia and workers, as well as atheists and believers. Wałęsa tells me that the hatred of communism acted as a common denominator between these disparate groups. “Through a system of trial and error, we realised if we all came together in solidarity we could achieve success. We realised we had to be a monolith to stand against communism.”

“When the Soviet Union collapsed, we lost that common denominator. In modern times, we no longer have that to unify different people.”

Lech Wałęsa on a 1991 visit as President to the headquarter in Brussels, Belgium. Credit: NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization/CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 via flickr.com

Wałęsa’s answers become longer as our conversation turns to the present political situation in Poland. His presidency saw Poland transition towards a free-market economy under the Balcerowicz Plan. He tells me he sees the present political order as going through a transition of its own – a transition from an age where nation states define the world, to an age of continents and globalisation which he believed is yet to solidify. He calls this in-between state the “Epoch of the Word and Discussion”.

What kind of discussions are taking place in this epoch? Wałęsa breaks the answer down into three questions. What should the coming epoch be based on? He identifies a conflict between people who want to build a society on freedoms, and those who say that we can only start talking about rights once the core values of a society have been laid out.

What should the economic system be? “Certainly not communism,” he makes clear. “Not because it’s good or bad, but because it’s never worked anywhere.” But equally, the current form of capitalism won’t do. “It worked for the old system of states and countries. But it led to a rat race of nations, which led to mass unemployment. Many people just couldn’t keep up with the pace.”

His third question is one I knew I wanted to explore the moment our interview was confirmed: How do we deal with the demagoguery of populist politicians? “Populists and presidents give the same diagnosis, that everything needs to be changed. It’s just that the populists’ solutions to the problem are wrong.”

Wałęsa is a fierce critic of the current Polish government, who he has accused of attacking the rule of law and democracy. In 2020, the NGO Freedom House downgraded its assessment of Polish democracy as ‘consolidated’ to ‘semi-consolidated’. In the five years since the Law and Justice Party (PiS) came to power in 2015, they have used their control over the formerly independent body responsible for appointing judges to promote party loyalists to the newly created Disciplinary Chamber. Polish judges and international observers feared that the chamber would put pressure on the judiciary to issue rulings which fall in line with the government’s wishes.

“The problem is that we’re only learning democracy, we’ve never had it before,” he says. 

He sees the situation as so dire that he has claimed a ‘dictatorship’ is being created in Poland. “In Poland, we are less than 50% of a practical democracy,” he says, according to the ‘Wałęsa Model of Practical Democracy’, which he uses to break the system down into three practical areas. Poland scores full marks for its constitution and legal system, but voter turnout in elections is low, and Wałęsa doesn’t think many people are willing to stand up for change.

Poland’s political troubles extend beyond the country’s borders and into Europe. Along with Hungary and Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz Party, the PiS frequently clashes with Brussels over the bloc’s promotion of progressive values and attempts to encourage the rule of law. Wałęsa has said that Poland should be thrown out of the EU over the PiS’s advances on the judiciary. But he also opposes ‘Polexit’, and speaks at Pro-European demonstrations alongside Donald Tusk, the former President of the European Council, who was an active member of Solidarity’s Youth Committee.

Wałęsa with Donald Tusk at the 2009 European People’s Party Conference in Warsaw. Credit: European People’s Party/CC BY 2.0 via flickr.com

“I’ve been saying this for twenty years: every vehicle must have a driver. The fight against Communism was a Polish matter which involved Polish people. Once that battle was won, we came to the challenge of trying to rebuild Europe. I passed this challenge on to the Germans.

“I would like it if Poland was the driver. But Poland doesn’t have the resources or influence. Germany does. Together with France and Italy, they have the ability to enact changes and find two solutions for each problem.”

But implementing solutions in the EU requires consensus between member states. Poland and Hungary recently vetoed the bloc’s COVID-19 recovery plan and €1.8 trillion seven-year budget because of plans to link a member state’s access to funds to their adherence to the rule of law.

“If we can’t do it with Poland and Hungary in the camp, let them destroy the European Union,” he says bluntly. “And five minutes later, we’ll propose a new one.” In order to access the rights and opportunities presented by this new union, prospective members would have to agree to a fresh series of obligations. “We have to establish these rights and obligations in such a way that this nonsense we see couldn’t possibly happen.”

Wałęsa now travels the world promoting Poland’s non-violent transition to democracy, speaking about human rights and the challenges and opportunities posed by the Epoch of Discussion he told me about. He has a Wikipedia page dedicated to the many awards, state decorations, and honorary degrees from across the world. Wałęsa never studied beyond his vocational training as an electrician, which he tells me he regrets. “If I’d had a university education, I would have ten Nobel Prizes, not just one!”

In the model of many US Presidents, Wałęsa founded a eponymous institute to preserve the memory of the Solidarity movement and its place in history, and to educate future generations. I end by asking him what message he would give if he was speaking to an audience of students at Oxford.

“My generation opened up opportunities for your generation. The world is yours. My generation has broken down a lot of barriers. Now you have to make the best of it, without these barriers and borders. It’s up to you to decide whether my generation has succeeded or not. Because if you fail, you’ll blame us.

“Previous generations were scarred by wars and revolutions. Nobody trusted anyone. It’s up to you to convince people and open up your minds to other people. Because right now, the populists have taken over the initiative and everyone is sitting around and watching.”

With thanks to Anthony Goltz, Roman Picheta and Aleksandra Słowik.

Image Credit: The Lech Wałęsa Institute

Christ Church Board of Governors warned of jail time

Isaac Ettinghausen
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Christ Church Board of Governors warned of jail time

The Charity Commission has warned Christ Church’s board of governors that they could face jail time if they mislead inquiries into an ongoing dispute with the dean. 

The Very Rev Martyn Percy, dean since MT14, is at the centre of the conflict; since a 2018 dispute over his pay, the college’s governing body of 65 dons has been attempting to remove him. Following his exoneration at a 2019 internal tribunal, Percy has now been suspended pending a second tribunal over claims that he stroked a woman’s hair in the college’s cathedral a year ago.

Both the police and the Church of England have dismissed the sexual assualt case, and in December the college announced that it was setting up a medical board to determine whether he was mentally fit to continue as dean. 

The dispute shows few signs it is reaching a conclusion; last July, mediator Bill Marsh, who has resolved disputes in the Middle East and Ireland, admitted defeat in an attempt to reconcile the two sides. The college’s legal spending has run into the millions – even without the reimbursement of the dean’s own legal fees, a measure which the Charity Commission has recommended.

The Commission, which regulates educational institutions with charitable status such as Oxford’s colleges, has become increasingly concerned over the legal fees incurred over the course of the controversy. In a letter to Christ Church’s board of governors, the Commission’s director of regulatory services Helen Earner warned the body that it was a criminal offence to knowingly provide false or misleading information or to suppress, conceal or destroy documents.

The Times reported that “several dons are understood to be worried about their legal position and question whether they have been kept fully informed.”

Earner also complained that the minutes of meetings had been unnecessarily redacted, and that the body had failed to provide sufficient documentation on the financial impact of the feud, demanding a breakdown on the college’s annual spending including fees paid to PR firms.

Late last month, attempts by the University’s chancellor were met by hostility on the part of the board of governors. Lord Patten of Barnes, the last governor of Hong Kong and Oxford’s chancellor since 2003, co-wrote a letter to the governing body on 20th December asking to be invited to its next meeting to discuss the dispute.

In the letter Patten, along with vice-chancellor Professor Louise Richardson, expressed concerns over the conflict, worrying that it was having a ‘deleterious’ effect on the university’s image.

Professors Dirk Aarts, Kevin McGerty, and Sarah Foot, the governing body’s leaders known as the Censors, replied two days later, saying that they would meet with Patten and Richardson with positive updates. This was following a fractious internal email correspondence, between the censors and Martin Townsend, the former editor of OK! Magazine and the Sunday Express, who is offering PR advice as part of the Pagefield PR agency.

Sarah Foot, the censor representing the cathedral, wrote that “while we have to say we are happy to meet [Patten and Richardson], I am worried how The Times will spin this as further evidence that college isn’t properly governed and outside authorities are circling with intent”.

Aarts, the senior censor and a chemistry professor, wrote that “it is none of their business… at the meeting we can explain that we are dealing with an investigation of sexual harassment (takes five mins) and they may then make suggestions. Are they really going to suggest we don’t investigate?”

Townsend warned of the PR risks of an open conflict with Patten, describing him as “a still-popular figure who is well known to far more of the general public than Martyn Percy”. He continued that “It is to our advantage there is still only limited public interest in this dispute” and that “picking a fight with Chris Patten would change that.” 

Junior censor McGerty suggested that a dispute may “severely” damage the reputations of Patten and Richardson, the latter of whom is leaving Oxford next January to become president of the Carnegie Corporation, an educational philanthropic fund.

McGerty continued: “Were Richardson visibly to be on the wrong side of how sexual harassment was portrayed in the press, I would not be surprised if her position at Carnegie evaporated and although you [Townsend] say that Patten is well thought of, none of our undergraduates were born when he was governor of Hong Kong, none of them remember a time when he was an ‘acceptable Tory’ in the New Labour era, so to them he is a dinasour [sic] who has been chancellor of the university for essentially all their lives. Appearing on the wrong side of how sexual harassment should be handled would be pretty humiliating for them.”

The Office of the Vice Chancellor declined to comment when approached by Cherwell.

Rev Jonathan Aitken, an ally of Percy and former government minister, told Cherwell: “I welcome the belated involvement of the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor.  At present it looks as though they are going to be blocked and snubbed by the Censors…But if they are allowed to address the entire 65 strong Governing Body and show bold leadership then the engagement of the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor could be a game changer.”

Martyn Percy, the Censors, Martin Townsend, and the Chancellor were approached for comment.

Oli Hall’s Oxford United updates: Week 0

Oliver Hall
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Oli Hall’s Oxford United updates: Week 0

As we move into a new term here at Cherwell, we are excited to bring you more coverage than ever of Oxford United.  We will have updates from the club every week as well as a series of feature-length interviews with players and staff, focussing on the behind the scenes running of the League One club.

As it stands, the men’s team sit fifth in League One, firmly inside the play-off places and just six points off the top two.  They fell to a disappointing first away defeat in three months with a 2-0 loss at Lincoln City last time out after goals either side of halftime from Anthony Scully and Morgan Whittaker.  Wycombe Wanderers are next up on Saturday 15th and U’s fans will be hoping for a big performance with a win set to lift them above The Blues and into third in the table.  Matty Taylor has been the star man so far this season, with his ten league goals so far averaging out to one every two games.

Oxford United WFC, the club’s women’s team, are currently sitting pretty in second in the FA WPL South, the third tier of the women’s game.  They are trailing pace-setters Ipswich Town by five points but off the back of five consecutive league wins, they will be confident that they can kick on and fight for the league.  The winners of the division will enter a play-off to enter the FA Women’s Championship.

So, a big week awaits both the men’s and women’s teams as they continue their bids for historic promotions.

Match Report: Lincoln City 2-0 Oxford United

Oxford United fell to a first away defeat in League One since September at the LNER Stadium.  Goals from Anthony Scully and Morgan Whittaker saw Lincoln City to what was ultimately a comfortable victory for the side that had started the day in the relegation places.

The U’s started the game in fifth and were looking to build on their points tally ahead of a crunch game against promotion rivals Wycombe Wanderers next week.  They did start well too, with Matty Taylor getting in behind the defence to force a save from Josh Griffiths in the Lincoln goal.

After that, the Imps began to take control of the game and Simon Eastwood was called into action inside 15 minutes, tipping an effort from former teammate Chris Maguire onto the post.  The pressure soon told when Lewis Fiorini played in Scully and the Imps striker duly curled in to score for his fourth goal in as many games against the visitors.

Matty Taylor thought he had equalised for United just after half-time but saw his goal ruled out for offside.  After that, there was a brief spell of dominance for Oxford before debutant Whittaker was on hand to sweep home a scrappy second goal for Lincoln and leave the Yellows with a mountain to climb.

Things went from bad to worse for the visitors when Herbie Kane was dismissed for a challenge on Fiorini in the 77th minute.

There were no more clear-cut chances for either side and the game finished 2-0.  Wycombe are next up for Oxford at Adams Park before a return home to host Sheffield Wednesday in two huge matches that might just go on to define their season as they push for a place in the Championship next year.

Image courtesy of Oxford United.

Rewriting the detective story for the modern age

Isobel Falk
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Rewriting the detective story for the modern age

CW for discussions of racism, coercive control, and sexual violence

A hero, vested with the authority of the law, doggedly pursues every lead that comes their way. With methodical tenacity, they unravel a web of lies to uncover the moral transgression at the centre of the plot. Truth is established, the guilty are punished, and order is restored. Details vary, but a basic structure persists: the detective drama formula has long been a mainstay of television. The BBC’s new drama, The Girl Before, reformulates this basic structure, but with a new intent: it attempts to speak into being a feminist crime story. With two Black women as its heroines, the drama takes the conventions of the detective drama in new directions.

The show unfolds in two parallel narrative timelines, following two women living at different times in the same, ultra-modernist smart home. Both women, Emma and Jane, have recently suffered trauma, and both enter into identical relationships with the house’s architect, the enigmatic and controlling Edward Monkford. As it transpires that Emma died in the house, it is up to Jane to unravel the events that led up to her death, discover whether Edward was implicated, and avoid the same fate herself. While at times the script can be overwrought, throwing in twists and turns seemingly for their own sake, the show’s close psychological study of its characters creates a real sense of menace that cuts through its melodramatic tendencies.

In recent years, the founding assumptions of the detective show format have found themselves on shaky ground. After the reckoning of 2020’s Black Lives Matter protests, The automatic faith that the mainstream British public once held in the institution of policing has been undermined – a faith which many of these shows rely upon to function as drama. It can no longer be assumed that the hero’s uniform is a signifier of their virtue. The archetype of the noble, neutral police officer committed to the pursuit of truth has been undermined by mainstream recognition of police brutality and institutional racism. As such, the form of the detective drama has been confronted with accusations of being little more than propaganda, manufacturing consent for the violent policing of marginalised communities. The Girl Before places limited trust in the police: while the officers are not outright malicious, it is clear they have their own agenda. Career progression is prioritised above the wellbeing of victims, and truth is sidelined in favour of a convenient conviction.

Instead, it is the heroine Jane, a lawyer reeling from a recent miscarriage, who must discern the events leading up to the crime. Jane lacks the institutional power and detached retrospective viewpoint of a conventional detective, investigating a crime after it has happened. She is vulnerable, implicated, living in the same house as the victim, and in an eerily identical relationship with the same man. She is compelled not only to establish truth, but to save herself. The drama does not wholeheartedly attempt to democratise the figure of the detective: as a lawyer Jane still has some legal authority in her sleuthing capacity, which gains her access to information and witnesses that another woman might not be granted. It is the successful legal professional, not the floundering marketing assistant Emma, who is granted authority to direct the untangling of the narrative’s web. But nonetheless, The Girl Before is significant in its transformation of the victim into the detective. Jane does not passively suffer for the audience’s gratification, but is granted the capability to save herself and find the truth about Emma’s death. 

But the nature of truth, and the issue of its public demonstrability in the eyes of the jury and the audience, is also a problem for The Girl Before. The crime at the centre of the show – the death of Emma – occurs within a private home, in the context of escalating tensions in her relationships. The show grapples with the implications of coercive control, criminalised in 2015, and how this challenges our conceptions of crime and justice. Coercive control laws criminalise abusive behaviour in relationships beyond physical violence. Verbal and emotional abuse, isolating or surveilling a partner, and controlling a partner’s finances can all become criminal acts under this legislation. Traditionally, crime is conceptualised as a public problem: criminals are dangers to society, and need to be punished by the law. But the introduction of coercive control as a crime problematises this by turning our most intimate relationships into potential crime scenes. The private spaces of the home, often considered personal and outside the scrutiny of the law, are suddenly brought into sharp, critical focus.

The criminalisation of coercive control has doubtless given protection to countless survivors of domestic abuse. But The Girl Before, with its lingering external shots through the glass walls of the heroines’ home, seems to implicitly ask what the cost might be of the entry of the justice system into women’s private lives. The sense of menace in the show is heightened by the omnipresent surveillance technology in their home, rigged as it is with cameras, microphones, and a digital assistant in every room, and sensors collecting data from the kitchen to the shower. But we, as viewers, also become an intrusive gaze in the women’s private spaces. Invested as the audience is in the revelation of the crime, and thus implicitly aligned with the sleuth, we too surveil the heroines as they inhabit their private spaces, in order to understand their fate, to form their lives into a comprehensible, familiar narrative of victimisation and violence. Our own gaze, conditioned by the formula of the detective show to expect bloodshed and then punishment, to critically and intrusively survey a woman’s life, is complicit in the violence visited upon Emma.

At the conclusion of The Girl Before, there are not one but three guilty men. Emma’s boss and rapist is arrested, her controlling ex-boyfriend Si is accidentally killed in an altercation with Jane, and Edward goes to therapy in an attempt to confront his controlling compulsions in his personal relationships. The show does not entirely divest from the law as a means to impart justice, as the arrest shows, but it does broaden its scope to consider other responses to crime. The death of Si is perversely satisfying, but its accidental nature sidesteps the problem of disciplinary violence. The show’s restorative justice approach to Edward’s transgressions was the most interesting to me, in how it navigates problems of authority. He turns to therapy to work out the emotional problems that lead to his controlling behaviour, and the show suggests he might be rehabilitated. But the therapist herself is hardly a neutral party: she was Emma’s therapist, and subsequently helped Jane’s investigation by revealing tantalising tidbits of information that her duty of confidentiality allowed. The therapist is thus not entirely separate from the process of sleuthing that leads to punitive justice. Her implication in the show’s spectacle of disciplinary investigation means that restorative justice never becomes separate from the punitive work of the legal system. Edward’s therapy also functions as confession: he submits to the therapist’s authority in order to receive punishment and absolution.

The Girl Before is compelling, if at times it stretched my capacity to suspend disbelief. It is speculative and thoughtful in its attempts to reform the genre of the detective thriller, but it never becomes radical, remaining invested in conventional notions of authority, revelation, and punishment. Our detective is not a police officer, but is still a legal professional, and deploys her class-based privileges to unravel the truth about Emma. It is the police who punish Emma’s attacker. And the possibility of restorative justice is never completely uncoupled from the public desire for punishment. This feminist crime story is imaginative, but never truly subverts the problematic notions of truth and justice that pervades its genre.

Image Credit: Wang Sum Luk

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