Monday 9th February 2026
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Lost and found: The art of translation

Beatrix Arnold
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Lost and found: The art of translation

In undergraduate Classics, translation is an unforgiving exercise, demanding almost mathematical precision. I’ve spent excruciating hours poring over lexicons and grammar books, only to face reproof for neglecting the odd particle. When so many English versions of ancient texts already exist, not to mention digital translation resources, it’s easy to question why we bother.  

Yet translation should be more than mechanic substitution. It demands that the translator acts as a conduit, conveying the intricacies of emotion, style, and intention, while negotiating the hurdles of linguistic complexity. It involves a degree of compromise, balancing fidelity to the original with creative interpretation. When a piece of literature is transposed into the idiom of a new age, a new culture, each adaptation becomes a radical re-reading, not a straightforward reproduction. Rather than representing the work as a historical artefact, mute and moribund on the page, the process of translation can shore up unmined meanings. In ancient languages, with a comparatively restricted vocabulary, each word is capable of being expressed in English in multiple ways, giving rise to vastly divergent interpretations. Word choice becomes a declaration of intent. As the translator Emily Wilson points out, the Odyssey’s opening line, which Fagles translates as “Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns”, could equally be rendered as “Tell me about a straying husband”, a very different framework for the same Greek words.  

Things inevitably slip through the cracks; wordplay in particular demands more than a literal translation. For instance, Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest in French translation frequently becomes L’importance d’être Constant, replicating the pun by renaming the protagonist, yet losing out on the connotations of deceptiveness. Moreover, there are concepts so tethered to their specific language that they defy straightforward translation. How far the unfamiliar should be domesticated is a consequential choice – is it better to retain culturally specific allusions, or facilitate understanding through parallels or explanations? English translations of Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Quartet embed words of dialect, a deliberate choice to ensure that the work remains firmly rooted in its original context, with its particular local colour. The rhythms of each language, which determine much of literature’s emotional impact, are likewise impossible to reproduce exactly. Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin, for example, is widely regarded as untranslatable, owing to the intricacy of its rhyme scheme, and the unique musicality of the Russian. The best that can be achieved is adaptation: Deborah Smith in her translations of Han Kang – The Vegetarian (2015) and Human Acts (2016) – attempts to emulate the cadence of the Korean, its repetitions and underspecifications, resulting in a stark prose that enhances the tragedy.  

The insistence on preserving the original essentially untampered with is futile; excessive hand-wringing over what is being lost in the process can only stunt creativity. Translation is, in a sense, a work of realignment – nothing can remain fixed. Since utter fidelity to the original source is impossible, the objective should be to create something that works in one’s own language, a discrete piece of art, so that the translator is effectively another writer of the same book. The boundaries of language are always permeable – a good translator is an unscrupulous gerrymanderer.  

After all, translation is an inherently malleable concept, and does not necessarily signify replication of the source material. Language is not exclusively about designation, but the meanings hovering between statements, the conveyance of a mood, a perspective, an intention. There is no need, then, for translation to adhere to semantic, generic, or even formal boundaries. In this expansive spirit, Louis and Celia Zukofsky wrote homophonic translations of the poet Catullus, rendering not only the meaning but also the actual sounds of the Latin into English (miser Catulle becomes “Miss her, Catullus?”). Anne Carson went even further in her ‘translation’ of Catullus’ poem 101, an elegy for the death of his brother; Carson’s version constitutes a single long sheet of paper folded concertina style into a box entitled Nox, an epitaphic reflection on her own brother’s passing. How far then can we push the definition of translation? What’s to stop any response to a literary work being considered a translation – is Petersen’s Troy (2004), for example, a translation of the Iliad (despite it being a terrible film)? 

The politics of translation are similarly complex. To translate a literary work into another language is, in a sense, to appropriate it from its original context for the enjoyment of another set of people. Taken further, a French translation of, say, an Arabic text could be viewed as an implicitly colonial act, while the ubiquity of English translations raises the spectre of global monolingualism. But surely this kind of engagement can be part of a dialogue, not an act of imperialistic plunder? Accessibility is the most fundamental objective of translation; widening the reach of a literary work is a conservationist practice, sustaining and invigorating its author’s voice, rather than an attenuation of its power. It is not sufficient for a translator to be merely a linguistic intermediary; the practice demands cultural proficiency and a profound understanding of the recipient language. The art of translation is one of bridging cultural divides, so that literature may resonate with readers worldwide. Such interaction eases the discomfort of translingual encounters and fosters cross-cultural understanding. 

It is this notion of a participatory culture via translation that enriches the literary tradition – Goethe wrote that “every literature grows bored if it is not refreshed by foreign participation”. Translation does more than keep the original alive (although sometimes I wish we’d just let Latin die); it also vivifies the recipient language, traversing linguistic boundaries to provide access to unfamiliar cultures, concepts, and perspectives. The translator is literary critic, co-author, cultural ambassador, and, most importantly, close reader, engaging in a fundamentally creative practice. So perhaps it’s misguided to ask what gets lost in translation. The more pertinent question is what may be found.

Sam Tanenhaus: “You can’t judge by the standards of this moment. No one will ever pass the test”

Gavriella Epstein-Lightman
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Sam Tanenhaus: “You can’t judge by the standards of this moment. No one will ever pass the test”

Sam Tanenhaus is best known as the incisive interpreter of William F. Buckley Jr., the most influential conservative intellectual of the twentieth century.  

Widely considered the father of modern American conservatism, Buckley remade the Republican Party from the moderate politics of Eisenhower into the avowedly radical right-wing movement of Reagan. By constructing a right-wing media infrastructure, Buckley packaged and promoted conservative ideas to a mass audience, guiding the movement from political obscurity to national ascendancy. A colossal biography of Buckley has recently been written by Sam Tanenhaus, who agreed to speak with me. 

Sam Tanenhaus is exceedingly warm and genial from the very start of our conversation. When he speaks, he seems to be swept up in his words. He does not merely answer my questions; he pushes the conversation forward with his insights, expressing himself with the same eloquence displayed in his writing. Tanenhaus has an undeniable intellectual thirst, a curiosity more akin to that of a youthful idealist than to a seasoned writer. Above all, Tanenhaus is desperate for readers to truly understand Buckley, rather than rigidly characterise him or dismiss him for his missteps.

Tanenhaus was born in 1955 to parents who were “aspirational, assimilated American Jews” and second-generation immigrants. “I was raised in an academic literary household”, he tells me. He initially thought he would follow the scholarly path, but while studying English Literature at Yale, he realised that he wanted to be a writer. 

It was while researching his first book in the 1990s that Tanenhaus first met the man who would change the course of his life: William F. Buckley Jr. The biography Tanenhaus was writing was of Communist agent turned defector Whittaker Chambers, a man whom Buckley knew well, so Tanenhaus reached out to him. “I was just starting out. I was in my early 30s. I’d written, published very little. And yet, Buckley took this very kindly interest in me”, Tanenhaus recalls. “He invited my wife and me to his house for dinner, which terrified us. Buckley was really famous then.” Tanenhaus’ genuine affection for Buckley – a man who helped him invaluably – is unmistakable in the smile that crosses his face. “It was really as if we were doing him a favour by visiting him, which is hard to imagine, because this is someone who was on television every week.” 

Whittaker Chambers: A Biography came out in 1998 and was highly acclaimed – especially by Buckley. Its success prompted Buckley to anoint Tanenhaus as his biographer, granting him remarkable access to his archives. Almost three decades later, Tanenhaus’ long-awaited biography was published and became one of the most-reviewed non-fiction books of 2025. “When people ask me, well, why’d it take so long to write the book?” Tanenhaus says, pre-empting my next question, “I tell them I’m actually not that slow a writer, but I’m a really slow thinker”.  

Despite writing two heavyweight biographies, Tanenhaus does not see himself as a biographer. Perhaps this is because his biographies are more than simply narratives of a life; Tanenhaus describes them as “moral dramas”. He explains that writers are often drawn to people who are bolder in the lives they lead. “I like the idea of the intellectual who somehow participates in history, because that’s the fantasy we all have”, Tanenhaus notes. Writing is his way of living out his fantasies. 

Crucial to being a writer, according to Tanenhaus, is being able to “immerse yourself in the world that surrounds your figure”. He adds: “If you can’t understand how the world looks to them, then you’re never going to see who they really were.” Tanenhaus is compelled to write about his subjects by an inescapable desire to understand them in all their complexity. As he sits down at his desk to write, his mind is no longer in his study in America – it is wherever he wishes. “Your mind goes out into the world”, Tanenhaus says of the process of writing. “You can just become anybody and anything, and that’s liberating.” 

“I wish there was more of that in our political conversation”, Tanenhaus remarks, a flicker of dejection crossing his face. “We pay a lot of lip service to listening to one another and setting aside partisanship, but I think it’s even more than that. It’s almost trying to put yourself really inside someone else’s character and mind.” Doing this, Tanenhaus argues, reveals the limitations in one’s own thinking. Tanenhaus exemplifies his own principles. A man with liberal, centre-left political leanings, he dedicated decades of his life to exploring Buckley, a towering figure on the right who exhibited views which today are considered racist and antisemitic. “You can’t judge by the standards of this moment”, Tanenhaus emphasises when I bring this up. “No one will ever pass that test.” Tanenhaus adds that he’s often mistaken for a conservative because of his endeavour to understand conservatives. “People are shocked when I tell them I voted for Jesse Jackson in Democratic primaries”, he exclaims, eyes widened in amusement. “They can’t believe it!”.

Understanding – and truly capturing – William F. Buckley Jr was far more challenging than Tanenhaus had expected when he started writing the book. Political figures are often categorised, presented in such a way as to fit an ideological straitjacket. Yet nobody is as simple as the one-line summaries of their careers suggest. People are more complex than the simplistic binaries that the conservative-liberal paradigm allow for. We are shaped not solely by a single ideological worldview, but by a constellation of influences – attitudes, people, events – which intertwine to form a distinctive perspective. In Buckley’s case, those influences included thinkers such as the anti-democratic libertarian Albert Jay Nock and the former Marxist philosopher James Burnham; formative events like the Second World War, the postwar Soviet expansion into Eastern Europe and the cultural revolution of the 1960s; and the traditionally Southern attitudes of his parents.  

“There are so many different Buckleys, and sometimes people will say, well, how do you reconcile them?” Tanenhaus observes. “And I say, you can’t.” That acceptance – even embrace – of contradiction is evident in the biography. Buckley can simultaneously be described as a globalist, due to his vehement support of the Vietnam War, and an isolationist, because of his opposition to US involvement in WWII. He was unyieldingly confrontational in debates and scrupulously polite in private conversation. He was racist in his early years, supporting segregation in the South, but by 1970 spoke of the need for a black President. The inconsistencies are endless. What was consistent throughout his life was his Catholic faith and his allegiance to the Republican Party; those loyalties never wavered. 

Tanenhaus and I then turn to discuss Buckley’s role in the rise of American conservatism. Of Buckley, Tanenhaus writes: “His weapons were not his ideas, which could be heard elsewhere, but his words, which sparkled with freshness.” Tanenhaus sees Buckley not as a theorist or a purveyor of original ideas but as an entertainer, a political performer. Tanenhaus expands on this vision in our conversation. “What Buckley saw was that the conservative arguments are never going to change all that much. The point of conservatism is to preserve and hold on to things”, he explains. Conservatism thus defines itself against innovation: it is a creed of continuity rather than rupture, stability instead of radical change. “So you have to make your arguments sound fresh. They have to have the kind of rhetorical excitements that liberalism does.” That Buckley did. As America entered the age of mass media, the entertainment aspect of politics became increasingly important. Buckley was one of the first to embrace this, unlike many of his political contemporaries, who felt threatened by it. Buckley recognised that intellectual ideas could not simply be incubated in the realm of rarefied debate – they needed to be presented compellingly to have political impact. 

How did Buckley conquer this nascent attention age? How did he transform himself into the foremost journalistic and television personality of the twentieth century? The answer lies in his construction of a formidable media empire of which he was the figurehead. This empire included National Review, the magazine which saw itself as the foremost purveyor of conservative ideas, and Firing Line, a television show in which Buckley interviewed political thinkers. “Buckley was the first intellectual to go on television who didn’t try to pretend to be anything other than what he was”, Tanenhaus tells me. Buckley thought people would be amused by his distinct voice, style and manner of speaking – and they were. Crucially, what so attracted people to Buckley was simply the fact that he was so different from them. His singularity was his strength. 

Conservative critics argue that Tanenhaus’ biography understates Buckley’s accomplishments by framing him chiefly as a political performer. But Tanenhaus is insistent that Buckley’s role was on par with, if not exceeding, the influence of that of a pioneering political theorist. The conservative movement needed him. “Buckley’s contribution was not to generate the arguments, but to create the space where they could happen”, Tanenhaus contends. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds: “He could sometimes make the arguments better than the philosophers!” Indeed, Tanenhaus’ biography deftly outlines how Buckley wove together disparate strands of political thought – anti-communism, social conservatism and economic liberalism – into a coherent philosophy known as Fusionism, a synthesis that propelled the American Right into positions of power. 

Fusionism no longer holds the American Right together. The collapse of the Soviet Union stripped anti-communism of its unifying force, while the rise of right-wing populism under Trump has provoked a backlash to economic liberalism. Only social conservatism endures. Yet Buckley’s significance remains undiminished. He was instrumental in shaping modern American conservatism, constructing a media ecosystem that enabled conservatives to project their ideas to a mass audience. 

Tanenhaus and I then consider an inescapable question about modern politics: did Buckley lay the groundwork for Trump’s rise? In many respects, Trump can be seen as Buckley’s political heir. Both cast themselves as leaders of a counterrevolution against an oppressive liberal orthodoxy, and both identified elite institutions – the Ivy League, legacy media, and federal bureaucracy – as strongholds of liberal dominance. 

Yet Tanenhaus insists that Buckley was also markedly different from Trump: “Buckley really valued civil discourse.” Buckley’s debates unfolded in the realm of ideas and language, not invective and insult. “He liked to conduct the conversation on a higher level.”

As Tanenhaus speaks, I’m struck that these qualities in Buckley are sorely at odds with the MAGA movement today. I posit that Buckley would have felt out of place in a populist Republican Party where intellectualism is disdained and the expert class is attacked. Tanenhaus concurs, pointing out that Buckley felt most comfortable in the company of intellectuals. “I do think it would be very hard for him to reconcile himself to a universe that disdains thought and questioning and writing.” Buckley was famous for the dinner parties he held at his elegant Manhattan maisonette, which were frequented by the luminaries and leading intellectuals of his time. “Who would be the intellectuals on the Right that Buckley would invite to a dinner party today?” Tanenhaus asks. “I don’t have an answer to it.” It is a poignant vision to end on: Buckley, a man unparalleled in influence, watching on as populism engulfs the very intellectual movement he helped create. A founder at odds with his heirs.

As our conversation draws to a close, I sense in Tanenhaus an open-mindedness and a curiosity which is vanishingly rare in our contemporary political age. We live in a deeply polarised environment in which political opponents are perceived as irredeemable enemies and debate across the aisle is little more than an exercise in insult. A return to the values Tanenhaus espouses in his writing would be a welcome remedy. In striving to understand Buckley – a man whose politics he does not share – Tanenhaus models an empathy that our divided political climate so desperately needs.

‘Making Politics Political Again’: Student left turns away from Labour

George Heeley
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‘Making Politics Political Again’: Student left turns away from Labour

In the miserable rain of last November, I found myself queuing at the Cowley Workers Social Club for a Your Party meeting at which Jeremy Corbyn was set to speak. With an attendance of no more than that of an average college dinner, it was a strikingly understated affair for an event hosted by a former leader of the Labour Party who would be travelling immediately after to his party’s first ever conference. Corbyn’s final words were addressed to students, calling on them to fight for their future amidst increasingly bleak prospects. However, the students in question were largely absent, making up just a small fraction of his audience. Even Oxford Left Society, the University’s only society that officially supports Your Party, was absent. They were instead being hosted by the Liberal Democrats for one of their “Liquor and Liberalism” debates. 

The Oxford Left Society was originally called Your Party Society Oxford when it began but later rebranded to its current name. It’s easy to see this as a consequence of Your Party’s chaotic internal struggles that have dissipated so much of their initial momentum. However, there is a broader picture here to consider. Left wing student societies are increasingly detaching themselves from organised parties across the country, preferring instead to represent a broader leftist movement without the restraints of toeing a party line.

Oxford is not alone in this phenomenon. More dramatic examples of this can be found across other UK universities. Warwick University’s Labour Society decided in August 2025 to back Grace Lewis, a councillor who had defected from Labour primarily due to the party’s response to industrial action in Coventry and cuts to welfare spending. In turn, the national party sent the society a cease and desist letter, officially disaffiliating themselves from one of the largest Labour clubs in the country (one significantly bigger than any of Oxford’s political societies). This was followed by a number of other societies such as those in Manchester and Newcastle choosing to disaffiliate from the national party. Both opted not to defect to another party, but instead to represent a broader socialist and/or leftist movement.  

While Oxford University’s own Oxford Labour Club remains steadfast in their affiliation to the national party, the emergence of a wider spectrum of left-wing societies (as well as the broader national context of disaffiliation) provides challenges to those holding on. It would be naïve and inaccurate to assume that students of any political society support entirely the policy platform of their corresponding party. In particular, Labour societies across UK universities have members with a range of views (thirteen consecutive years in opposition have somewhat forced their hand,). A visit to any of Oxford Labour Club’s weekly “Beer and Bickering”meets is more than enough evidence that this is still very much the case. A significant proportion of the membership find themselves ideologically to the left of the current Labour government. Though this in itself is nothing new, the emergence of left alternatives in Oxford, as well as direct disaffiliation happening nationally, indicate that there is more urgency than ever before to break from an association with one party. 

To make sense of how a hypothetical second year anarcho-communist could be a member of a Labour university society, Cherwell spoke to two ex-members of youth Labour organisations, who now consider themselves further left of the national party. Ed Swann, the current chair of Warwick Left Society, who oversaw its transition away from Warwick Labour told Cherwell that the previous belief was that: “Labour is the only option for ever having a government that is willing to even just succeed, [that may] give in to left-wing activism in any form.” Both Swann and Alex Evans, the current chair of Oxford Left Society claimed that it was realising that this was no longer the case that made their split from the party inevitable. And they have been followed by an exceptionally large proportion of left-wing students. 

Whether the consequence of this dissociation is increased fragmentation or the possibility for newfound unity is up for debate. The accusations that these distinctions between societies are arbitrary and electorally untenable (resembling Monty Python’s People’s Front of Judea versus the Judean People’s Front) is a common one. Former labour leader Neil Kinnock certainly shares these views, having recently rebuked Warwick Left Society after he was contacted to speak there. Swann observed that a form of the narcissism of small differences – in which the fraction of disagreement you may have with someone dwarfs the frustration caused by those who share none of your beliefs –  was definitely present at the Your Party conference. Zara Sultana’s boycott of the event for their exclusion of members from the Socialist Workers Party exemplified this. Nonetheless, Swann emphasised that the media portrayed a more hostile environment at the event than what he had seen on the ground.

Despite this, both chairs of Warwick Left and Oxford Left insisted that fragmentation has not been the result, and instead the dissociation from particular parties has offered a potential to unify student left-wing voices. Evans was clear, for instance, that Oxford Left represents a bridge between supporters of the Green Party and Your Party and it is likely that Oxford Left will work electorally in a similar fashion to the rumoured agreements between Your Party and Green. Regardless of this, the process of campaigning will inevitably be a more complex one for Oxford Left, as support for any party or candidate cannot be assumed or mandated among its members. 

Any account of Oxford student politics must inevitably take into account the elusive, so-called ‘Oxford bubble’ – the stereotype of a future MP’s journey from the panelled walls of a historic public school to those  of Oxford, and finally to those of Westminster. Yet it is a progression that has been true of three of the last five Prime Ministers. It does also bring into focus the inevitable careerism of much of Oxford’s political societies. Careerism is no stranger to student politics as a whole. Speaking about the most recent Labour conference, Swann said to Cherwell:  “People are out for themselves in many ways, [and] I think that does, unfortunately, trickle down and almost start with student politics. I think you see that to a vast extent within the Labour Party unfortunately…you’re surrounded by people who went to Oxbridge [and] Russell Group universities.”“Some of them come from political backgrounds of lower socio-economic backgrounds, different races, [or] different genders. But even so, they’re dressing up in suits, and they’re pursuing a career. . .over what they actually believe in.” 

While this sentiment is familiar to all student politics, Oxford is a particularly conspicuous example. Outside of parliaments and congresses there may be no other places as familiar with the ‘hack’ as Oxford’s spires. Student politics in other UK universities tend to be more tribal than they are in Oxford. There is a significant proportion of enterprising students in Oxford that frequent many different club debates  rather than allying themselves to one particular party – something that is more typical of environments such as Warwick. While this could indicate a genuine interest in hearing a range of views and perspectives, there may be another, more cynical interpretation:  attendees are opportunistic, with the sole aim of achieving a committee or executive position within one of Oxford’s political societies, no matter which.

Oxford Left, however, finds itself strikingly outside of this ecosystem. It represents an emerging enthusiasm for politics, not within the hallowed halls of Westminster, but on the streets and picket lines outside. Evans assured me that, while he could not provide specific numbers, the majority of Oxford Left’s members have not been involved in student politics before, and most have never been affiliated with Labour. Palestinian solidarity amongst student bodies  – for which Oxford has received significant national attention – was perhaps an impetus for this alternative route into politics.  Swann also noted this to also be the case in Warwick. He suggests that the inadequate response of the major parties to Israel’s assault on Gaza “pushed [young people]  more towards activism, community organising, any form of politics outside of Westminster”. This aligns with Evans’ belief that, among the left, there has been a resurgence in older, socialist ideals that exist outside of almost all party platforms and are far more cynical about the status quo of a capitalist system and foreign policy. 

There is evidence also that attitudes among the more established Oxford political societies are changing. When reporting on the student exodus from Labour taking place last September, the New Statesman placed the blame squarely at Labour’s inability to read the room among young people and their abhorrence for Israel’s actions (something that has been accompanied by a more than 60% decrease in youth membership under Keir Starmer).

This trend among some left-wing students is of particular interest when contrasted to their right counterparts. Nationally, right-wing student societies are not abandoning party platforms but have instead become largely dominated by the rise of Reform UK, which has called for, among other things, a draconian crackdown on immigration. Members of Conservative societies, including those in Oxford, are primarily faced with a question of how closely to align with Reform’s momentum, accelerated further this week by the defection of Robert Jenrick.

The left is experiencing a similar dynamic. New party platforms have emerged (such as those of Your Party and the Greens under Zack Polanski) which attempt to appeal to a new concentration of leftist principles. In such an environment, the rise of generalised left-wing societies seems inevitable and they will perhaps have more influence in the future of British politics than ever before. It also makes the electoral challenges of the left far more acute in comparison.

When I saw Corbyn in Cowley, he seemed to me fundamentally more of an activist than a politician. In fact, this is a critique that can be levied at Your Party as a whole. Indeed, much of their failings could be attributed to its nature as a political party void of politics. While Swann is sympathetic to such a view, Evans has an alternative interpretation: that a preoccupation with activism is instead simply evidence of a new party, and a new movement. It is laying down support that later can be electorally mobilised. Activism, by his assessment, is simply an electoral strategy in its infancy. In Evans’ view, it is precisely the current status quo of UK parties and student societies which has been a prolonged “attempt to de-politicize politics”, with very little that sets a current careerist politician apart from civil servants due to their bureaucratic focus and narrow conception of what the government should be and can do. His rallying plea was to “make politics political again”, attempting to redefine politics as societal instead of merely personal ambition. 

This is not unfamiliar territory for student Labour. While the party does not publish specific numbers on student membership, they have faced similar challenges under Prime Ministers Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. There were even similar calls for “collective liberation” against both the perceived imperialism of the Iraq invasion as well as the economic policies that resulted in the 2008 market crash, for instance the Occupy Wall Street movement. Labour may find some solace in the thought that this is an inevitable product of being in power. But the political landscape of the UK is far less kind to governments than it was in the 2000s. According to polls, Britain is functionally barrelling towards a multi-party system, and any suggestion of lost ground for Labour could well be fatal. If Oxford student politics really does represent the future of Britain, Labour has much to worry about.

Quantum mechanical process in proteins developed by researchers from the Department of Engineering Science

Alice Rubli
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Quantum mechanical process in proteins developed by researchers from the Department of Engineering Science

A study led by the Department of Engineering Science has shown, for the first time, that it is possible to engineer a quantum mechanical process in proteins. This is a process which occurs at the quantum level, typically between atoms and particles.

During the study, researchers created a new class of biomolecules called magneto-sensitive fluorescent proteins (MFPs), which interact with magnetic fields and radio waves.

To generate the engineered proteins, researchers used a technique called directed evolution. This method involved introducing random mutations to the DNA sequence encoding the protein, creating thousands of variants with altered properties. The highest-performing variants are then selected, and the process is repeated, leading to proteins that have significantly improved sensitivity to magnetic fields. 

The first author of the paper, Gabriel Abrahams, a DPhil student in the Department of Engineering Science, was particularly struck by this “hugely exciting discovery”. He noted the power of evolution: “We don’t yet know how to design a really good biological quantum sensor from scratch, but by carefully steering the evolutionary process in bacteria. Nature found a way for us.”

The ground-breaking nature of this research is due to the shift away from examining quantum effects in nature, to concentrating on their practical, real-world use. Biomedicine is one area that researchers have already explored in this regard. The team created a prototype imaging instrument that can locate the engineered proteins in a similar way to Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI). 

Once developed further, the prototype might be able to track specific molecules of gene expression within a living organism, enabling it to potentially be used for targeting drug delivery and monitoring genetic changes in tumours. 

Associate Professor Harrison Steel, senior author of the study, said: “Our study highlights how difficult it is to predict the winding road from fundamental science to technological breakthrough. 

“For example, our understanding of the quantum processes happening inside MFPs was only unlocked thanks to experts who have spent decades studying how birds navigate using the Earth’s magnetic field. Meanwhile, the proteins that provided the starting point for engineering MFPs originated in the common oat!”

Professor Steel also spoke of his appreciation of the support and funding from the EPSRC EEBio Programme Grant. He stated that it was  “instrumental in enabling our interdisciplinary vision to carry out bioengineering alongside robotics, control algorithms, and AI, all in one lab”.

Alongside side researchers from Oxford’s Department of Engineering Science, the project also involved collaboration with the Department of Chemistry, as well as international contributions from Aarhus University, The Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology, and others.
Now working to apply their discovery, the team aims to further the understanding of quantum effects in nature as part of a major recent project led by Oxford’s Department of Chemistry. The study – ‘Quantum spin resonance in engineered proteins for multimodal sensing’ – has been published in the natural sciences journal Nature.

British students simply can’t afford postgraduate study at Oxford

Laurence Cooke
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British students simply can’t afford postgraduate study at Oxford

Zero kroner. That’s exactly how much EU students pay for masters study at the University of Copenhagen. It’s not been the best start to 2026 for Denmark, but at least young people there know that should they so wish, they won’t face financial barriers to being able to study this complicated world we live in. 

Back at Oxford, a lot of attention is paid, and rightly so, to the University’s access efforts at undergraduate level. It’s now a year since the new access and participation plan for undergraduates was released. Focus has shifted to ensuring that the most disadvantaged students feel that Oxford is a place for them. Bursaries and loans mean that for most, study is not a financial impossibility. The graduate access situation, by contrast, is quite simply disastrous. Programmes like UNIQPlus and Academic Futures, while welcome, do not even scratch the surface of the problem, where elite universities have effectively become pay-to-play for certain courses. 

There are infamous examples, such as the Master of Public Policy (MPP), which will set you back £54,450. That’s well over the UK average disposable household income for a year, whichever way you cut it. Many students might receive scholarships in this case, but how many students didn’t even apply or couldn’t take up their offer because of this colossal price tag? 

In a way, these outliers distract from the ubiquity of the problem. For home students, an MSt in English is nearly £18,000, an MSc in Social Data Science over £28,000, and you’ll need to find £29,000 a year for the MPhil in Development Studies. The government’s postgraduate loan, by contrast, is a single payment just shy of £13,000.

The University proudly states it intends to offer “over 1,100 full or partial graduate scholarships” for 2026/27 entry. Putting aside the ambiguity of that statement and the fact even funding half of 50 grand isn’t going to do it for the ordinary person, it should be noted that there are around 6,000 postgraduate places each year. Something tells me that Magwitch-style benefactors aren’t secretly coming in and paying the fees of the remaining 5,000 students or more. 

What’s particularly misleading is the packaging of this issue as an EDI problem. It is undoubtedly true that so much more needs to be done to help the most disadvantaged to access Oxford. But really, anyone but the most advantaged would need help to afford these fees. This is not just a problem of the very poorest in our society being priced out of postgraduate study at Britain’s top institutions. This is ordinary people, middle class people, even statistically quite well-off people, who simply cannot pay such astronomical prices for their learning. This isn’t about ‘inspiring’ people to try postgraduate study, complete with punchy corporate branding. This is the cold logic of market capitalism: the sums simply don’t add up.

I suppose all this wouldn’t be such a glaring problem if there was a systematic programme of scholarships for home students. But if anything, the opposite seems to be true. Funding is awarded on the basis of merit, not need, and very little of it goes to British students. Of the 91 named scholarship programmes managed by the central University (or available on its website at least), British nationals are ineligible for most, while a great many are reserved for students who are ordinarily resident in countries other than the UK, such as China. 

That means we can’t assume from the fact that over 48% of students get some kind of funding (and even then not necessarily full funding) that this goes to the most in need. SU research from 2024 showed that 83% of international scholarship-holders are from the two most privileged socioeconomic groups, with 53% is the equivalent figure for home students. As many as 70% of low-income offer holders for some courses are not able to enrol because they simply cannot afford the fees. 

This is not a question of students feeling like they don’t fit in, or even struggling to make ends meet during term. This is a cut-and-dry case of gross income inequality. Students have been sounding the alarm about this for years, and nothing’s profoundly changed. Perhaps a wake-up call could be the strategic damage this is doing to the UK. In countries like France, students have the opportunity to study integrated masters across all disciplines, and pay fees of at most a few thousands euros for top institutions like Sciences Po, and often much less. It’s often cheaper for British students to study as internationals at elite continental universities than it is to study at Oxford, Cambridge, or LSE. 

The result of British graduates besides the very rich being locked out of elite postgraduate study is a less qualified generation, less competitive in the international job market, where a master’s degree is increasingly seen as the norm. The official line at the United Nations, for example, is that a master’s degree is not necessary, but you’d be very lucky to get a role without one. 

Fewer British postgrads also means less talent likely to stay in the UK, contributing to home-grown capacity in research, development, and the third sector. Indeed, many of the scholarships I’ve seen are conditional on recipients returning to their home country after their time at Oxford. 

Oxford thrives by accepting students from all around the world: that shouldn’t change. But British students have to be supported to complete postgraduate study at our nation’s top universities. To continue to ignore this crisis is to make a mockery of undergraduate access too; postgraduate study becomes a big asterisk in the corner of Oxford’s access mission. 

As it stands, ordinary people are priced out of elite universities overnight. Only systemic change to postgraduate study can rescue Oxford’s status as the true home of the best and the brightest. 

Publicity or progression: The Battle of the Sexes 

Gavriella Epstein-Lightman
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Publicity or progression: The Battle of the Sexes 

Fifty years ago, a tennis match transformed perceptions of women’s sport. It was 1973 and women’s tennis was struggling to gain recognition and credibility comparable to the men’s game. Earlier that year Bobby Riggs, a self-proclaimed misogynist and retired tennis star, had unceremoniously beaten women’s world no.1 Margaret Court in an exhibition match. Enter Billie Jean King, a tennis star in her own right, to save the reputation of women’s tennis. She challenged Riggs to a ‘Battle of the Sexes’ exhibition match. King won easily in straight sets, in front of an audience of 30,000 at the Houston Aerodrome and a 90 million strong TV audience. The match reverberated far beyond sport, prompting a shift in societal attitudes toward female athletes. It came at a time when the women’s liberation movement in America was gaining traction and demanding equal rights and opportunities for women. King’s win was more than a personal triumph; it was a victory for the women’s movement. 

Unfortunately, in 2025 the ‘Battle of the Sexes’ took on a rather different meaning. The recent iteration pitted Aryna Sabalenka, the reigning women’s world no.1, against Nick Kyrgios, a former Wimbledon finalist in 2022 who reached a career high ranking of 13 in the world. At the time of the match, however, Kyrgios had slipped to 671 in the world, and had played just six professional matches in three years due to injury. 

Beyond sharing a name, the two matches bore few comparisons. In 2025, the situation was markedly different. No longer was the match a noble endeavour to advance women’s tennis; it was a cynical money-making move engineered by an agency – Evolve – which represented both players. Gone was the sense of moral purpose that compelled King to participate fifty years earlier. In an interview with the BBC, King herself commented on the match: “Ours was about social change; culturally, where we were in 1973. This one is not… It’s just not the same.”

The match was not merely a harmless exhibition or a bit of fun. Instead of promoting the women’s game, it raised the profile of Nick Kyrgios, a man with a storied history of misogyny, in a cruel reversal of the 1973 iteration. Kyrgios has pleaded guilty to assaulting his ex-girlfriend, had to distance himself from Andrew Tate after a past endorsement, and has posted disdainful comments about female tennis players on social media. The match effectively handed a microphone to a misogynist.

The exhibition also unhelpfully reopened a conversation in sport which should have been shelved long ago: man vs woman. It is irrefutable that men are physically stronger than women. They are faster and can generate more power on their serve and groundstrokes. Yet, these differences don’t make the women’s game inferior to the men’s: the power deficit can actually make women’s tennis more intriguing to watch, as it is less serve-dominated and has a surfeit of wily, crafty players who may lack brute power but have tactical nous.

To the delight of many sceptical onlookers, the match itself was poor entertainment. The atmosphere was flat. Sabalenka’s side of the tennis court was smaller, to compensate for the fact that research by Evolve suggests women move 9% slower than men. This left the court looking, quite frankly, ridiculous. Kyrgios overpowered Sabalenka with relative ease, winning 6-3, 6-3, despite physically flagging after a mere 25 minutes. 

The participants seemed unable to understand why the match had attracted so much criticism: Kyrgios described it as “a great stepping stone forward for the sport of tennis,” before adding that it was “all the world was talking about for six months.” Sabalenka struck a defensive tone as she sought to frame the exhibition as entertainment which could help to grow the audience of the sport. “I feel like we just brought more attention to our sport and I don’t see how it can be bad,” she said. Both mistook publicity for progress. 

Ultimately, women’s tennis does not need exhibition matches to command attention. It is arguably more exciting at present than men’s tennis, due to the number of genuine contenders for each tournament – as opposed to the duopoly of Alcaraz and Sinner at the top of the men’s game. There’s a depth of talent and diversity of playing styles which is immediately evident once one tunes into a match. This reality only highlights the misjudgement behind reviving the ‘Battle of the Sexes’: a spectacle that helped push women’s tennis forward fifty years ago, but in 2025 served only to set it back.

Former Odeon to be demolished and redeveloped as an aparthotel

Beatrix Arnold
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Former Odeon to be demolished and redeveloped as an aparthotel

The former Odeon cinema on Gloucester Green is set to be demolished by Oxford City Council this summer. The cinema was closed at the end of January last year with plans to use the site for a £47m council project. It will be redeveloped into a new hotel and community space.  

Oxford City Council have approved plans by Marick Real Estate, in partnership with Makespace Oxford, for the construction of an aparthotel. This will consist of 145 rooms on the upper five storeys, along with a bar and a cafe. It will be operated by the Dublin-based operator Staycity Group under its Wilde brand. Plans for the development also include a cultural community space on the ground floor. 

The demolition of the former building will start this summer and is projected to be completed by the end of the year or at the beginning of 2027. Following this, the construction of the new hotel complex is expected to be finished by the end of 2028. The project is part of the Council’s effort to revitalise the area and support local jobs.  

Because of the building’s much-frequented location at the intersection between George Street and Gloucester Green, the demolition and subsequent construction process has the potential to cause disruption to the activity in the area. Trading in Gloucester Green market and neighbouring businesses, including the Old Fire Station venue, are particularly likely to be affected. 

An Oxford student told Cherwell: “I’ve always enjoyed visiting Gloucester Green market for the food and the vibrant atmosphere, but I think construction noise would put me off.” 

The building has been in operation as a cinema since 1936, when it opened as the Ritz Cinema, and has since passed through several owners before it became an Odeon in 2000. Its closure in 2025 followed that of the Odeon on Magdalen Street, which shut in the summer of 2023 after 99 years of business.  

Another student told Cherwell that although the former Odeon on Gloucester Green was affordable, “I only went once – I prefer independent cinemas”.

Earlier this year, The Oxford Cinema & Café was opened on the Magdalen Street site. In addition to this, Oxford’s cinemas include Phoenix Picturehouse in Jericho, the Curzon in Westgate, Ultimate Picture Palace on Cowley Road, and Vue on Grenoble Road, although the last is situated in Littlemore outside of the Oxford ring-road. Oxford’s nearest Odeon is now located in Aylesbury.

Prime Video releases trailer and premiere date for ‘Young Sherlock’

Lily Gage
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Prime Video releases trailer and premiere date for ‘Young Sherlock’

Prime Video recently released the teaser trailer and premiere date for Young Sherlock, starring Hero Fiennes Tiffin – best known for his role in the After series – as Sherlock Holmes. The thrilling series is about the origin story of the detective, unfolding in 1870s Oxford before venturing abroad. It follows 19-year-old Holmes and his early adventures as he attends the University of Oxford. The trailer displays iconic parts of Oxford, such as the Radcliffe Camera and New College’s cloisters and courtyard, which are also featured in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

Filming for the show saw a five-day closure of Merton Street, Oriel Square, King Edward Street, Queens Lane, New College Lane, and Catte Street in August 2024. There is no definitive evidence in Arthur Conan Doyle’s original Sherlock Holmes works that the detective attended Oxford University, most scholars and writers suggest he attended either Cambridge or Oxford, for example; Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street: A life of The World’s First Consulting Detective, by William S. Baring-Gould and Sherlock Holmes at Oxford, by Nicholas Utechin.

Oxfordshire County Council’s press office told Cherwell that they received “£2,644 plus VAT for the SEO (road closure Notice) & £5,810 plus VAT for the filming approval licence”.

All eight of Young Sherlock’s episodes will premiere exclusively on Prime Video in over 240 countries and territories across the globe on 4th March. The television show is the long-awaited third installment of Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock series, which he produced and directed for its first two episodes. Guy Ritchie previously directed Sherlock Holmes (2009) and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), both starring Robert Downey Jr., Jude Law, and Rachel McAdams.Young Sherlock is the prequel to both of these films. 

The series focuses on Sherlock’s first murder case, which he subsequently finds himself wrapped up in as it threatens his freedom, and he is sent on a worldwide mission in an attempt to solve it. Young Sherlock is expected to reveal an unfiltered, rebellious side to the character, with Prime Video reflecting on his character in the show as a “raw” and “disgraced young man”. Prime Video also describes the series as an “action-laden mystery that follows the iconic detective’s early adventures”.
The show will also star Colin Firth (Mamma Mia and The King’s Speech), Dónal Finn (The Wheel of Time), Zine Tseng (3 Body Problem), Joseph Fiennes (The Handmaid’s Tale), Natascha McElhone (Halo), and Max Irons (Condor).

‘An enormous amount of humour’: ‘Lemons’ review

Charlie Bailey
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‘An enormous amount of humour’: ‘Lemons’ review

Lighthouse Productions’ debut project delivered a fast paced, hilarious version of Sam Steiner’s script. Co-director Alys Young told Cherwell that she wanted her and Ivana Clapperton’s interpretation to reflect “the intimate space of a new relationship”, a “messy mix of humour, sadness, and hope” – and the play definitely did not fail to deliver. Bernadette (Caeli Colgan) and Oliver (Kit Rush) were a fantastic onstage pair, handling the many-layered script with relentless energy. 

The play is based in a dystopian world where a ‘Hush Law’ is introduced, restricting everyone to only 140 words a day. The action flits between the time before and after the imposition of the Hush Law, contrasting the chaotic joy of a relationship’s early stages with a painful new reality where the two are unable to have the conversations necessary to prevent their relationship from spiralling downwards. The play addresses imbalances in relationships. The number of words each character saves is used as a metaphor for the amount of love they provide to each other. 

The play deliberately disorientates the audience for the first few minutes, who only understand via the lighting choices that something went very wrong. Moments of youth and happiness – Oliver spinning Bernadette around, the two joking as they meet up in a pet graveyard, a lighthearted game of charades – are bathed in a warm golden light. This is contrasted to the restricted present of the ‘Hush Law’, which is cast in an icy blue light. Here, every interaction starts by saying a number – later revealed to be how many words they have left each day. The magic of Steiner’s script is that the audience only understands it as the play unfurls. 

Having not been familiar with Steiner’s work before watching Lemons, I read the premise of the script and assumed that it would be a demoralising watch, commenting on the rise of censorship. In actuality, the production was able to make clear allusions to today’s political context while retaining an enormous amount of humour. The actors made the most of the script’s comedic lines. Their well-timed delivery created laughs in unexpected moments: in a quiet, intimate conversation Corgan calls Oliver’s ex “fat”, and Rush created many laugh-out-loud moments by maintaining Oliver’s energy throughout ridiculously long lines. 

As the play jumped back and forth from past to present, they managed to come across both as naïve adolescents in the ‘honeymoon phase’ and as jaded adults whose petty jibes at each other’s flaws reflected typical relationship arguments.  

Rush was particularly hilarious, playing Oliver as an overexcited, slightly childish young man who speaks far too much when nervous. Colgan’s contrasting ability to deliver scathing put-downs of his over-excitement complemented this nicely. The actors’ chemistry was some of the best I’ve seen. Humour could also be found in their argumentative scenes, and this allowed the production not to be dragged down by its dark premise. 

The moments before the introduction of the Hush Law formed the dramatic climax of this interpretation: the two decide to say everything they’ve never said to each other, all at once. The decision to frame this with a projected scoreboard behind them, making them face each other as if in a boxing match, made what could have been a devastating scene one of the production’s funniest; with a breathless sense of triumph, Rush announces to Colgan “I don’t like your brother”. 

A frustrating aspect of the play were the moments focused on Oliver’s ex, Julie. Initial allusions to her were delivered comedically, but she quickly becomes a clear sore spot between the pair. It was only by checking the production’s promo material that I realised that the dancing girl (Elektra Voulgari Cleare) projected onto the background screen was supposed to be Julie. It seemed that there was no way of understanding this reference, since Julie is never a presence onstage. Given the political commentary present in the play, the screen could have been used more to draw attention to the dystopian themes, such as with the Gatsby-esque blinking eye, rather than introducing confusing extra elements. 

All in all, the boundless energy of the actors combined with clever production choices made this production exciting and thought-provoking. From the moment of horror as the Hush Law is passed to Oliver’s fear that it will only benefit the rich, the play’s central metaphor hits home with an audience living through the age of Trump and rising inequality. As repression of freedom of speech increases globally, the directors certainly picked this production at a crucial time. 

Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons runs at the Burton Taylor Studio, 27th-31st January. 

‘Does your doctor need to care?’: GREYJOY, reviewed

Abigail Lakeland
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‘Does your doctor need to care?’: GREYJOY, reviewed

A clock ticks. Hand sanitiser sits on a desk. The Michael Pilch Studio Theatre is, for the next hour and a half, a doctor’s waiting room. It’s GREYJOY’s opening night. 

Our playwright opens with “a bit of housekeeping.” First, she confirms that everyone is here to see GREYJOY, teasing that “there’s only one lemon in this play,” in a nod to Lighthouse Productions’ Lemons, which is also showing tonight. Then, Harper recaps her premise: five trainee doctors are sitting medical exams. They’re expected to brief a (fake) patient on their dad’s pending death. If this wasn’t metatheatrical enough – a character acting as a patient – there’s an added gimmick: “Our [actors who play the trainee] doctors have never read the script before.”

Harper has struck gold. Watching a trainee doctor (quite literally an improvising actor, literally reading from a physical script) fumble to deliver emotional news was deliciously comical. It’s a clear commentary on the state of healthcare but, beyond that, it’s also just plain funny.

Whilst the improv was a lot of fun, the play’s plot easily stood without the gimmick. Cait (Elizabeth ‘Zee’ Obeng) regularly volunteers to be the patient in these practice scenarios. Each doctor-in-training is tasked with briefing Cait – as the ‘patient’ Isabella – on the fact that her dad is going to die within the week. After each briefing, Cait ranks the trainee doctor on how successfully she feels they handled the interaction. Usually, these assessments would be overseen by a doctor called Lizzy, but she’s sick. Mina (Flora Tregear) fills in, furiously typing notes on the performance of each trainee doctor.

In between each assessment, Mina and Cait get to know one another. At first, they maintain a professional distance. Slowly, they breach the social confines of the workplace, diagnosing each other’s sources of unhappiness and prescribing treatments. Obeng is magnetic, beautifully transitioning between playing Cait and Cait’s patient personae, at times a grieving daughter, at others a woman experiencing mania. Tregear conveys Mina’s geeky idiosyncrasies well, offering a nerdy, insecure foil to the more self-assured Cait.

The downtrodden healthcare worker, neglected by those who should safeguard them, is by now a (regrettably) familiar trope. This is Going to Hurt (2022), the standout TV show starring Ambika Mod and Ben Whishaw, was one such treatment. Perhaps this is why GREYJOY’s character Martin (Mackey Pattenden) felt somewhat flat. Mina’s superior and bully, Martin struck me as a boring and one-dimensional addition. Martin’s pantomime villain was a far less complex antagonist than I would have expected to see in a play which is otherwise glittering.

Moments of humour were punctuated by grief-stricken monologues. One unnamed trainee doctor (Xander Lewis) delivers a memorable, defeated monologue about waiting for the death of his terminally ill mother. Themes of waiting emerged in Cait’s relationship with her sister, too, reminding the audience of both the tedium and the luxury of waiting around, and also signally that the theatre is itself a kind of waiting room.

Charlie Traynor’s sound design was subtle and effective. The echoing scuffle of shoes down a corridor emphasised the lack of privacy experienced in a hospital by staff and patients, even during Cait and Mina’s most private conversations. Libby Alldread’s lighting perhaps provided an unexpected remedy to this liminality, zoning off certain colours for specific interactions: red was reserved for when a character was overstepping a boundary; purple for whenever Cait’s sister was mentioned.

GREYJOY asks perceptive questions about authenticity and artificiality. Does it matter if your doctor means it when they express sympathy? Does it matter if they’re reading a script, especially if that script is effective at managing your emotions? Is it possible to provide genuine emotional support to a stranger in a time of need – and must a cup of tea always get involved?

Funny, touching, and with a hint of unexpected romance, GREYJOY is a stunning example of how intricate and thoughtful student theatre can be.

GREYJOY is showing at the Michael Pilch Studio Theatre from Wednesday 28th January until Saturday 31st January.

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