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From Oxbridge to Silicon Valley: The rise of student entrepreneurship

Emma Heagney
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From Oxbridge to Silicon Valley: The rise of student entrepreneurship

90% of startups fail – but some young people aren’t deterred by this infamous statistic. Between 2014-15 and 2022-23, there was a 70% increase in the number of UK university startups, with these being led by some of Britain’s brightest young minds. But as the graduate job market continues to suffer, these founders often look abroad to scale their businesses. The pattern is a familiar one, and one characteristic of an ‘incubator economy’, in which startups move to London or overseas due to a lack of funding. Does a university education remain valuable for these young entrepreneurs, or can entrepreneurship serve as an increasingly popular alternative to traditional routes to success?

Social media and startups

For content creator and Cambridge student Erin McGurk, entrepreneurship was the natural outcome of her social media experience. Beyond the hard-earned skills that come with a combined following of over 1 million on multiple social media platforms – such as negotiating contracts, having her voice heard in sales meetings, and creating engaging videos – Erin told  Cherwell that documenting her university experience was the main factor motivating her to launch her business. Egoist Machines allows users to create an ‘AI passport’, in which their personal information can be transported across AI platforms. The startup is backed by Y Combinator, arguably the most prestigious startup accelerator in the world – but, speaking to Cherwell from San Francisco, she still sees the immense value of a university degree.

Erin’s appreciation for her Cambridge experience derives primarily from the opportunity to connect with like-minded people: “Without Cambridge, I wouldn’t have met my co-founder, Daniel. There’s also a sort of availability bias, as I have the privilege of meeting experts in their fields.” Erin also shared on her TikTok page that she had switched courses in her first year, shifting from economics to land economy, stating that she wanted to study “the practical applications of economics”, a choice that seems to align with her ambitions in the business world. Nevertheless, Erin doesn’t entirely reject a traditionally successful career path, such as law or finance: “These industries make the world work!” For her, the risk of founding a business was something she was prepared for, because she had her social media career as a backup and was still young enough to lack significant financial responsibilities. If anything, one of the hardest adjustments has been to American hustle culture: “The UK has a disproportionate amount of talent, but ‘San Francisco optimism’ is abundant, and quite un-British.”

For some young entrepreneurs, however, university is off the table. Ishaan Bhimjiyani, better known online as Revishaan, shocked his ‘studytok’ audience in 2023 by abandoning his Oxbridge aspirations for an entrepreneurial path in Dubai. Speaking to Cherwell, he lists a number of factors that influenced his decision, the greatest of which was his social media success. With just over 400,000 TikTok followers as of 2026, Ishaan has been creating content since before he even sat his GCSE exams. He first gained attention for his study-focused videos, from livestreaming his revision to hosting study meet-ups in London. Speaking to Cherwell, he noted that developing his image and working with brands gave him the skills he needed to start his own business. He told Cherwell: “Content creation starts as a fun hobby and slowly becomes a side hustle. I had to file my own taxes, negotiate my worth, and learn how to be brand safe.”

This business acumen, acquired from a relatively young age, was bolstered by him having the right characteristics for entrepreneurship. “You can’t get anywhere without taking risks”, he said. “Being a good entrepreneur is about what you do with your opportunities, how you communicate, whether you know your worth, and whether you can solve problems.” For Ishaan, these characteristics are enough. “People think I come from a wealthy background, but I had no family connections in this industry. A full-time job isn’t enough anymore, and the pressure on young people to earn is enormous, so side hustles often end up performing better than a main career.” This precarious situation in the UK led Ishaan to relocate to Dubai, where he enjoys lower taxes and better support for his entrepreneurial vision. “The UK really punishes business owners,” he said. “You pay so much in tax, and you don’t see where it goes, whereas countries like Norway and Finland have high taxes but plenty of support for businesses. Silicon Valley and Dubai are the best places for an entrepreneur to be.”

Ishaan doesn’t regret his choice to forgo a university degree: “Gap years exist for a reason. You can always go back to education.” He is currently the CEO of TapLab, a talent management agency representing over 100 ‘study influencers’. With an impressive display of brand partners, from Apple to Samsung and Beats, his ed-tech company reflects the very beginning of his career – in his room, livestreaming his GCSE revision. When asked about the future of his business, Ishaan firmly states that he is aiming to eventually exit and sell the company. Investing is his main passion, and has been the focus of his content since deciding not to attend university. Speaking to Cherwell, he revealed that this pivot in itself was incredibly difficult, as it struggled to resonate with his study-oriented audience. But Ishaan believed first and foremost in pursuing his passions, whether that meant revision or entrepreneurship.

Being your own boss

For Erin, Ishaan, and other content creators, taking responsibility for their online presence made the foray into entrepreneurship natural. But there are other factors at play that make the world of startups, pitching, and incubators appealing.

The barrier to entry is lower than ever, with AI tools accelerating the process of building a business. From maximising the productivity of a small team to allowing for cost-free testing, what once may have required a dedicated marketing team or extensive market research can now be done in a matter of hours with Claude or ChatGPT, the latter of which is at many students’ fingertips. Similarly important is the widespread availability of open-source AI models like Llama, Qwen, and Mistral, which can be easily adapted and redistributed with little knowledge of the technical ins and outs – a practice known as ‘vibe coding’, and heavily criticised within the industry.

Much like the iconic, rose-tinted representation of Hollywood, San Francisco and its entrepreneurial culture are increasingly common symbols in popular imagination. TV shows such as Silicon Valley, Shark Tank, and even The Apprentice hold significant cultural weight as representatives of capitalist optimism – particularly for Big Tech – that has grown in recent decades in the UK. This has occurred to such an extent that the Oxford-Cambridge Growth Corridor has been dubbed ‘Europe’s Silicon Valley’ in government communications. Yet, the lifestyle and status of being a ‘founder’ is also increasingly glamourised. For instance, Steven Bartlett’s massively popular The Diary of a CEO podcast makes use of the jargon and self-help sheen of the Silicon Valley mindset, with The Times columnist James Marriott describing the show in 2023 as “encouraging, motivational, [and] vaguely businessy”. It raises the question of whether entrepreneurship is truly motivated by passion for a product or company, or is in large part a vanity project in tandem with content creation and personal branding. However, while there may be aesthetic motivations in getting stuck into ‘founder’ terminology and vying for a lucrative exit, much of the same could be said for traditional law or finance, in which industry rankings and generous perks are part and parcel of the profession.

But entrepreneurship is not accessible to everyone. Some of the most touching – and viral – stories are about entrepreneurs who come from nothing and have no connections, but this is very much the exception that proves the rule. Having access to wealth and connections through nepotism is often what allows individuals to take the risks necessary in business since they possess a safety net to fall back on. Even in the competitive race to attract investment, socioeconomic inequality runs rife: Y Combinator’s prestigious funding scheme includes a compulsory 3-month residential in San Francisco, in which accommodation and flights are not covered. These inequalities exist in almost every industry, but we should perhaps feel greater concern when these persist in a line of work so heavily entrenched in ‘meritocratic’ ideology.

The value of university

In many ways, student entrepreneurship also speaks to the real concerns young people have about higher education. Rising tuition fees, extortionate interest rates, and a precarious job market have markedly devalued a university degree, and the unattractive prospect of being saddled with lifelong debt makes for a poor return on investment. In January, Labour MP for York Outer, Luke Charters, described England and Wales’ student loans system to Parliament as a “mis-selling scandal waiting to unfold”. A scandal, it is. After years of paying their debts, graduates often find themselves left with higher remaining balances than when they took out these loans, a particularly concerning result when the terms of such loans were rarely advertised as being subject to change. Home ownership, children, and retirement are becoming unrealistic financial investments as a result.

More and more often, a university degree does not translate into a job at all, let alone a high-paying, high-status role. This month, a record 262,820 students were accepted onto an undergraduate course, with roughly 17,000 graduate jobs available. According to the What Do Graduates Do? 2025-26 survey, only 56.4% of first-degree graduates were in full-time employment 15 months after graduating. Of those working in either full-time or part-time employment, 10.2% worked as retail, catering, waiting, and bar staff, the second-most popular category. Statistic after statistic reveals a hostile environment for young people, but there are few alternatives, with places for degree apprenticeships being similarly competitive.

But university is not always doom and gloom. Particularly for those at Oxford and Cambridge, the institutional prestige and potential to form high-profile connections are unrivalled. In addition, Oxford and Cambridge both aim to promote entrepreneurship in their students. The OX1 Incubator, for example, has provided over £120,000 worth of equity-free funding to over 800 student founders. Cambridge’s entrepreneurial culture is perhaps even more impressive, with the city being a British biotech hub. Alongside the Cambridge University Entrepreneurs, a society which has awarded over £750,000 in funding, several colleges host their own incubator programmes, from the King’s Entrepreneurship Lab to the Trinity Hall Entrepreneurs’ Network. However, few universities can match the resources and funding of Oxbridge, and as the industrialised world’s most regionally unequal nation, the UK may be home to only a tiny minority of students who can take advantage of these programmes.

Anya Trofimova, a recent graduate from St John’s College and former Oxford BNOC, was offered a training contract in her final year. She turned it down to build her own AI startup, PRINCEPS, which aims to reshape how data centres are insured – PRINCEPS is backed by Y Combinator and recently won a £1.7 million prize at London Tech Week. While reminiscing positively on her Oxford experience, she felt that a life in corporate law was not for her. “It’s a huge privilege to have my first proper job be one in which I’m self-employed, and I certainly wouldn’t have had that opportunity had I not gone to Oxford. But in terms of making a meaningful impact, I couldn’t do that in law or policy without a good decade of experience.” Anya felt that the corporate environment was ultimately too far removed from the interesting, and often hugely consequential, cases which she got a taste of. Entrepreneurship, on the other hand, allows her to build her vision here and now. “The Oxford process facilitates this – you realise just how much you can achieve if you apply yourself.”

What’s the point?

Though it is one of the most popular industries for student startups, AI is a particularly contentious field to venture into – most AI is accessed in the cloud, hosted in large data centres which consume huge amounts of water and electricity. There are eight data centres in Oxfordshire alone, seven of which are situated in Didcot, while plans for a ninth near Bicester have recently been approved by Cherwell District Council. In a country significantly impacted by drought, and in which water bans are being introduced, reconsidering our distribution of these limited resources may be long overdue. Or, perhaps, as Erin tells Cherwell, it may be a mistake to ignore the inevitable: “There are good things happening with AI, especially in the medical field. After a rocky transition we’ll hopefully be left with these, but for now the environmental impact is disastrous.” For her, optimising data centres to be as environmentally efficient as possible is how we mitigate what is already well underway.

No one can know what the future has in store for these young entrepreneurs, but on paper, they have everything needed to succeed: a world-class education, substantial funding, and the audacity to aim high. An Oxbridge education, once a direct pipeline into law and finance, is changing, with students increasingly pursuing other ventures while still enrolled in undergraduate study. Perhaps our brightest minds could be put to better use, or perhaps they will continue to solve complex problems – even if they tend to be the problems of Big Tech’s wealthiest. In the meantime, these entrepreneurs will no doubt continue to build ferociously enviable CVs.

“What makes us human and why it matters”: In conversation with Frédérique Duyrat, Director of Collections at the Ashmolean Museum

Melissa Eddon
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“What makes us human and why it matters”: In conversation with Frédérique Duyrat, Director of Collections at the Ashmolean Museum

Two years into her role at the Ashmolean Museum, Dr Frédérique Duyrat looks right at home in her office, just down the corridor from the museum’s Japan from 1850 gallery. The first person to hold the title of Director of Collections at the museum, Duyrat is the curatorial and operational manager of the six departments of collections, which range from curatorial departments like Antiquites, to operational ones such as Conservation. Previously managed individually, Duyrat speaks proudly of her role in enabling these departments to “be heard like one voice”. “It’s not the most exciting thing” that she’s done here, but “still, I am very proud of what we are achieving”. 

Duyrat makes clear that her role represents something much bigger than herself. “It would be a shame to hide the Ashmolean behind a personal story. It’s not necessarily what students see first [when they come to Oxford]. They don’t really notice that the Ashmolean is their museum…Even our colleagues tend to consider it as a public museum, not realising that…it’s a university museum”. 

As part of this, the Ashmolean plays an active role in the educational function of the university, and one unique when compared with other museums. “What is achieved here, especially for hands-on teachers, with generations of students coming and working with the objects themselves. That direct contact…is not normal.” As Britain’s first public museum, the Ashmolean has an astounding number of primary sources. For Duyrat, the opportunity that the Ashmolean offers students to physically interact with historical objects “is not the same as studying from a screen”. 

Duyrat makes clear to me her deep desire for students to connect with the museum, both within their studies, and as part of their leisure time. In conversation, she tells me she’s heard a lot of people say that the Ashmolean has become a place “to refresh, to find peace, to find beauty. I’d like to say to any student who is not particularly involved in art history or archaeology, or even history in general, just come for a walk here. Have a stroll across the galleries, take a picture of things you like, put that online.” 

Duyrat is also Keeper of the Heberden Coin Room at the museum, one of the world’s leading coin collections. At the mention of coins, her face instantly lights up. Duyrat started her career as an ancient historian, and focused specifically on numismatics, the study of coinage, for her master’s thesis at Sorbonne University. 

I ask her what it is about coins that is so fascinating to her, she is quick to correct me: “It is not coins in general, it is Greek coins. They are beautiful”. She speaks with the joy that only an academic can have when speaking about something typically considered as mundane: “For me, it is so exciting to be able to embrace a civilization through one tiny object that you can handle.” 

Duyrat describes them as “holistic objects”, through which one can study “their materiality … the iconography of the society from which they came… It was quite addictive from the beginning”. Duyrat tells me that she began when she was my age, “and now I am 55 … I am never bored by them”. 

Having curated collections in her previous work at the Bibliotheque nationale de France, Duyrat understands the nuance needed when presenting artefacts to the public. “It is a difficult art…to transform academic knowledge, with its vocabulary, with its intricacies, into something that is not just education, but something that is exciting. We do that beautifully here.” For Duyrat, a good exhibition must start with a good idea and, she adds with a laugh, “a very nice layout. It requires a little bit of design, it’s a show”. 

Duyrat makes clear that quality and popularity do not always go hand in hand: “You can have a fantastic show that is completely overlooked by the public…it is much easier to catch the public when you say ‘Marie Antoinette’, than when you say ‘Colour Revolution’.” Duyrat refers here to an exhibition the Ashmolean held two years ago, about the change from natural pigment to industrial dyes in the 19th century, which received less footfall than the museum expected. It’s a difficult balance for museums to find: whilst there are many rich histories to explore, exhibits are often still “a commercial venture…if people don’t walk through the door, we are in trouble, financially”. 

One of the core debates around modern museums and collections is decolonisation. As global awareness of the atrocities of the colonial era have increased, so too has the demand for these complex histories to be addressed in museums. It has also brought with it questions of cultural ownership and repatriation: who is the “owner” of a historical artefact, and what right have other countries/communities to display it?  

“Decolonising is a tricky matter, because first it has created a sort of rift in society, between people who think it is super important and people who think we are unnecessarily ‘self-flagellating’.” In her mind, no single individual can be responsible for decolonising: “because we are born in a certain place, and we are educated in a certain way… we will all be biased because we are just one person”. 

It is not surprising that Duyrat argues against the attacks on museums as institutions: “Let’s try to imagine a world without museums…would that help?.” Still, she recognises the importance of changing the way we as societies collect and display artefacts, with the Ashmolean working often with local communities to repatriate items and ensure that all items have a complete object biography which guarantees both the legal and moral security of the item. 

A barrier to this, however, is that of funds. “If you want to change a map on the wall of the museum, that is £500. If you want to change the labels in a gallery, it will be several thousands of pounds.” She describes the process of change as “block by block”: “we don’t have unlimited money…you need to talk to people, you need to find the money.” 

This brings us onto a worrying trend: the defunding of the arts and humanities.

Duyrat argues that the arts and humanities play a vital role in modern society, one often overlooked by legislators and treasuries across the world: “You need the humanities to understand each other, to live as a community, to respect the differences in others. Where else can you meet other cultures, other civilisations like that: freely, in a completely open environment.” 

Museums are cornerstones of our society, helping us “to understand what makes us human, and why that matters.”  

At a time when Britain feels more polarised than ever, Duyrat’s creed offers a guiding hand to a kinder, more empathetic way of engaging with material culture, art, and the world more broadly. 

Finance workers strike at Oxford University Press

Stanley Arlidge
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Finance workers strike at Oxford University Press

Finance workers are on strike at Oxford University Press (OUP) over plans to offshore jobs to India, with trade union officials warning that “before long this great British institution will exist in the UK in name only”.

The strike, involving over 30 members of the trade union Unite, began this Tuesday and is due to continue until “at least” 11th September. A spokesperson for OUP told Cherwell they “have plans in place to minimise any potential disruption to colleagues, customers, and suppliers”.

This week’s strike comes after OUP, an official department of the University of Oxford, announced plans to offshore the finance operations department to the India-based company EXL Service. This recent move, which affects 48 jobs, is not the only recent job loss at the world’s largest university press. In June 2024 workers in the press’ American division went on strike over similar concerns about outsourcing of union jobs. Last November OUP began a “collective consultation” around organisational changes that would result in 113 UK employees being made redundant. The result of the consultation is still unclear. 

Naomi Gravett, a regional officer at Unite Southeast, told Cherwell: “Members took the difficult decision to strike to fight for their jobs. The affected group are dedicated professionals, who love what they do and are devastated that they are being cast aside in the pursuit of profit.” According to public filings, Oxford University Press made a profit of £47.1 million in 2025/26. 

A spokesperson for OUP told Cherwell: “Colleagues have been offered enhanced redundancy terms as well as opportunities for redeployment and support, including funding for professional development, and a number have secured alternative roles within the Press.”  

The spokesperson added: “Fewer than half of the colleagues impacted by the changes have voted in favour of industrial action and a majority have accepted the terms offered.” Alternatively, Unite claims that 78% of affected employees voted in favour of the strike. Cherwell has been unable to independently verify either claim. 

Gravett warned that the strike’s length could be extended beyond 11th September “if OUP don’t come back to the negotiating table”. A spokesperson for OUP told Cherwell: “We are committed to consulting with our colleagues to reach a resolution.” 

The hypocrisy of Oxford academics invoking ‘academic freedom’ for Nathan Cofnas

Saba Ahmadzadeh Noughani
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The hypocrisy of Oxford academics invoking ‘academic freedom’ for Nathan Cofnas

Nathan Cofnas, who was suspended from Ghent University following a “preliminary investigation” launched after Professor Jason Arday’s death, has now been permitted to resume his research. 

This follows close to a thousand academics signing an open letter in defence of Cofnas, arguing that he must not be “punished” and has a right to ‘academic freedom’. Among signatories were 18 Oxford University academics.

Such concerns of ‘academic freedom’ for a self-described “race-realist”, however, are meaningless considering that for the past three years, we have not heard the slightest about  ‘academic freedom’ when it comes to academics who have been fired, bullied, and suppressed for supporting the Palestinian struggle.

It was not long ago that Palestine encampments across universities in the UK, including those set up by Oxford students, were dismantled and 17 student protesters from Oxford Action for Palestine (OA4P) were arrested for a sit-in that took place at the University Offices in Wellington Square.

In June 2025, 13 of those arrested students underwent disciplinary proceedings. And while the University has not condemned the decades of Israeli occupation of Palestinian land, it was quick to call a sit-in protest a “temporary occupation”. And while the University has not condemned the daily violence imposed on Palestinians by the IDF, Israeli state, and settlers, it was also quick to call this sit-in a “violent action”. Protesters were accused of “overpowering the receptionist” despite CCTV footage contradicting that claim.

The suppression of those who support the Palestinian cause in academic spaces has become ever more pervasive. Indiana University suspended a professor for assisting a Palestinian rights student group; Muhlenberg College fired a Jewish Professor for pro-Palestine Instagram posts; and students like Usama Ghanem of King’s College were indefinitely suspended from their studies. The list can go on.

For those who say that academics should only advocate for these causes through their research: How are they to do this if universities receive complaints for simply using historical terms like ‘ancient Palestine’?

Neither can academics assign case studies for Art Therapy that mention the violence against Palestinians, as just two months ago, a professor from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago was suspended for it. Speaking about the suppression of academic freedom, she said: “We call it the P-word.”

In fact, Palestinian mental health is perhaps the most censored area of research. A recent case that comes to mind is Springer Nature, the world’s largest academic book publisher, retracting an entire peer-reviewed chapter on Palestinian collective trauma and mental health, following an anonymous complaint. 

In 2024, amid Oxford Action for Palestine’s (OA4P) protests, the Jewish Faculty signed an open letter critiquing the University’s lack of engagement with members of the Jewish community who supported the Palestine encampments and protests. Prominent Oxford academics signed the letter, which noted that Jewish academics  “reached out to you [the University] recently to propose a conversation” but were “ignored”.

It is the example of these Oxford academics that embodies the true essence of standing up for academic freedom, the right to call out academic institutions, and the right to protest in academic spaces.

It is therefore a shame to see that two years on, other Oxford academics who did not stand by their colleges in this matter in 2024 are now signing a different letter in defence of Nathan Cofnas. 

Cofnas was dismissed from Cambridge University following controversy over his racist statements, and his writings, according to Counsellor Pierre Thiriar of the Antwerp Court of Appeals, are punishable under Belgian criminal law. Last year, Cambridge dismissed 58 students’ formal complaints about Cofnas, and when Belgium’s Ghent University first employed Cofnas earlier this year, they received 300 complaints from their student body and staff.

They, of course, outnumber the 18 Oxford academics who have recently signed a letter in defence of Nathan Cofnas. These are Michael Biggs, Michael Sharpe, Jane Lightfoot, Paul Elbourne, Jacek Karwowski, Jonathan A Jones, Edward Howell, Shivaji Sondhi, Ruth Dixon, Nigel Biggar, David Deutsch, Amir Goharshady, David Owens, Ace North, Thomas Noe, C Hennessy, Graeme Creffield, and Richard Dawkins. 

The letter says: “We are also concerned that the University appears to be treating threats to academic freedom… as grounds for disciplining the very individual targeted by those threats.”

I’d like to ask each of these academics whether ‘academic freedom’ is only reserved for those who believe in eugenics? Or who believe Black people to be biologically and intellectually inferior to white people? Is ‘academic freedom’ only reserved for discussing race on podcasts with other former Cambridge academics like David Starkey, who said that “so many damn blacks survived” during slavery?

For the past three years, academics have repeatedly witnessed their fellow academics dismissed from their jobs, and their peer-reviewed writings on mental health retracted from psychiatry journals. I have been left stunned as to why the majority of academics did not unite to defend the academic freedom of academics who oppose the killing of Palestinians. 

The majority of Oxford academics did not seem to care in the slightest about ‘academic freedom’ then. In comparison, only a dozen Oxford academics had signed the Jewish Faculty’s letter in support of student protesters. 

Now, it cannot be clearer: ‘Academic freedom’ is only ever collectively invoked for those like Cofnas. Or for those like Oxford academic Nigel Biggar, so he can defend certain aspects of colonialism, and more recently defend the use of racial slurs against Black people.

‘Academic freedom’ is never cared for, considered, or invoked when truly required; not even when merely acknowledging Palestinian trauma, let alone critiquing Israel, has put academics’ careers at risk.

Academics and students are navigating a minefield, having to weigh every word and action to simply condemn one of the most pressing humanitarian catastrophes that continues to this day. 

If any one of these Oxford academics cared about ‘academic freedom’, surely they would not be selective nor reserve this only for Cofnas? Surely they would have instead started where and when it mattered the most?

Oxford academics sign open letter opposing Nathan Cofnas’ suspension

Stanley Arlidge and Mair Andrews
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Oxford academics sign open letter opposing Nathan Cofnas’ suspension

Over 17 academics affiliated with the University of Oxford have signed an open letter opposing the suspension of Nathan Cofnas for “whistleblowing”. 

Cofnas, a postdoctoral researcher at Ghent University, Belgium, and self-described “race realist”, was responsible for publicising allegations that the late Cambridge professor Jason Arday had plagiarised his doctoral thesis. The accusations began weeks of intense media scrutiny into Arday, resulting in the professor’s resignation. Cofnas’ suspension was announced days after Arday was found dead in his London home on 14th August. 

An open letter opposing Cofnas’ suspension has since been signed by 17 Oxford academics. Among others, the Oxford signatories include Regius Professor Emeritus and Member of the House of Lords Nigel Biggar, Professor Emeritus Michael Sharpe, and renowned evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins. 

The letter, addressed to the rector of Ghent University, urges the university to “protect Dr Cofnas from being punished for exercising his academic freedom”. It claims that the university’s disciplinary proceedings against Cofnas “appear to constitute retaliation, at least in part, for publicising academic misconduct that occurred in British universities”. 

During the suspension, Ghent University officials will conduct a “preliminary investigation” into his behaviour. The investigation includes whether his work on “race realism” and the “hereditarian revolution” is “fundamentally inconsistent with the contractual scope of [his] employment”. It also aims to determine whether he discriminated against Arday and created a hostile environment for students and staff. 

Professor Shivaji Sondhi, Oxford’s Wykeham Professor of Physics, told Cherwell that he signed the letter in response to a “detailed analysis” conducted by the Committee of Academic Freedom (CAF). CAF’s analysis claims that “a substantial part of the reasoning supporting Cofnas’s suspension rests not on his own conduct, but on the reaction of third parties to his appointment and public activity”. The CAF’s letter acknowledges that academic freedom does not remove him from legitimate disciplinary scrutiny. 

Cofnas’ views have previously caused controversy for students. In 2024, Cofnas was fired from Emmanuel College, Cambridge, after student reaction to a blog post. The post included the claim that, in a meritocracy, “Blacks would disappear from almost all high-profile positions outside of sports and entertainment”. He also faced student backlash upon his arrival at Ghent University this year, with 2,000 students signing a petition opposing his appointment.

Since the “preliminary investigation” after Arday’s death, Ghent University has issued Cofnas a three month teaching ban but permitted him to continue his research position remotely.

Over 500 sign open letter urging Oxford to resist “transphobic” EHRC code

Stanley Arlidge and Mair Andrews
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Over 500 sign open letter urging Oxford to resist “transphobic” EHRC code

Oxford University LGBTQ+ Society (OULGBTQ) has urged the University of Oxford’s Vice Chancellor and the wider Oxford community “not to passively accept transphobia,” in an open letter signed by over 500 students and staff.

The letter comes after the University updated its “Toilets and changing facilities” information to include guidance that “where toilets and changing facilities and single-sex these must be provided on the basis of ‘biological sex’”. These changes, which came into force on the 5th August, are a response to the updated Equality and Human Right Commission’s (EHRC) Code of Practice. The code followed last year’s Supreme Court ruling that the terms “sex”, “woman”, and “man” in the Equality Act 2010 refer to “biological sex”, meaning “sex registered at birth”. 

The open letter asks the University to resist the “immense pressure to adopt the EHRC’s transphobic interpretation of the law”. It describes the EHRC’s code of practice as “unfit for purpose” and claims that it is an “affront to the safety and dignity of trans+ people, both in their exclusionary policies and their notoriously unclear enforceability”. The President of OULGBTQ told Cherwell: “This letter is only the beginning of a broader campaign against the EHRC Code and its implementation in Oxford.”

The letter claims that the University has sufficient “power, prestige and money” to resist national pressures to adopt the EHRC code. The President of OULGBTQ told Cherwell: “The open letter lists some actions the University could take without breaking compliance, but Oxford University also sits on billions of pounds in endowment. Fully rejecting the Code as an institution would incur both cost and risk, and we are aware that this is a highly ambitious goal, but they do have the level of power to resist it.” Actions proposed include publicly challenging the EHRC’s interpretation of the law, reaffirming support for the University’s trans+ community, and a commitment to not policing people’s use of toilets and changing rooms. 

Additionally, the letter calls on the Oxford University community to make the code of practice “unenforceable” including by “refusing to take part in policing other people’s gender/sex”. While the vast majority of the signatories are students, the letter has also been signed by University administrators and officials including the chair of the University’s LGBT+ staff network Jonny Tridgell. 

In a statement to Cherwell, a University spokesperson said: “The University has updated its guidance on toilets and changing facilities in line with its legal requirements. Oxford is committed to ensuring that there is suitable provision of facilities for all staff, students and visitors.” This follows from their initial statement, in May, when the University initially reviewed policies following EHRC transgender guidance, where a spokesperson told Cherwell that “Oxford remains committed to being an inclusive university where everyone belongs and is supported to succeed. We will continue to work and to maintain an environment in which the rights, dignity, and wellbeing of all members of our community are respected, including all members of our LGBTQ+ community.” No colleges have yet issued independent statements. 

The President of OULGBTQ told Cherwell: “The positive response to the letter demonstrates that the student and staff body are committed to resisting the implementation of this code in their everyday lives.”

The problem with Nolan’s ‘The Odyssey’

Kelly Yu
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The problem with Nolan’s ‘The Odyssey’

Anyone who has been within earshot of me whenever the terms ‘The Odyssey‘ and ‘Christopher Nolan’ have been mentioned during the past few months would know my strong opinions about the costuming, colour grading, casting, and language choices dominant in the trailer. In the run-up to the film, Classicists I have spoken to at Oxford seem to be divided into two camps: those who are like me, cynical and decrying the modern depreciation of the Classics. Then there are those who call us purists and snobs, and say that Nolan is merely participating in the long-standing oral tradition that has always interpreted and adapted forms of storytelling, as Homer intended. So what’s the verdict?

Despite the trailers, I was surprised at the full extent to which Nolan leaned into the set design. Stark and devoid of colour, Troy has white pillars, statues, and temples. All of this looks like it was built in a lab – the set looks like a set. It is incongruent with the ancient Greece that has long been established by researchers, where people wore vibrant, patterned peploi, and the statues were painted in bright colours. Instead, Nolan’s Greek cities and kingdoms resemble the inaccurate remnants seen under the sterile lens of a curated museum collection. This feels thematically deliberate, and therefore brilliant. Moments of magic are downplayed – ironic, since the film’s opening card sets it “in a time of apparent magic”. Lacking the “glimmer” of magic, the transformation of Odysseus’ men into pigs becomes one of the most grotesque and viscerally disturbing sequences in the film.

This also makes pops of colour, what we regard as “signs of life”, perversely memorable – Agamemnon’s stark black helmet plume with its mechanical golden vertebrae becomes recognisable from a distance, and terrifying against the bright white of the city he is about to destroy. The opening shot of the Trojan horse half-buried in sand, cutting a bronze diagonal across the too-white beach and the too-dim sea is emblematic of Nolan’s choice of set and costume design, almost Backrooms-like in its struggle to reconstruct memory. The visual language of the film translates itself to something on the verge of collapse, which ties in neatly with the overarching theme.

Memory is important here. The film’s episodic structure reflects how Odysseus’ memories gradually come back to him on Calypso’s island, having long repressed them due to trauma. This is, in my opinion, one of the bigger points of reinvention that I actually don’t mind. Through the bard figure, hilariously performed by Travis Scott, Nolan shows an awareness of the weight this story carries within a long-standing oral tradition. The original text is itself already highly meta: a story that focuses on storytelling as an active act of remembrance, and attempts to translate the story as ‘live performance’ of stories within stories.

The film’s treatment of gods also relates to memory, specifically through Athena, the only ‘goddess’ who appears in physical form and stays constantly by Odysseus’ side. The reveal that she takes the face of the priestess beheaded at the Temple of Athena during the sack of Troy is haunting, while simultaneously making me insane with joy, because Nolan has managed to visualise the very human way the mortals relate to the divine. Athena shows up as the only god Odysseus can put a face to because her face is a manifestation of his guilt and grief. Despite the multiple invocations of the other gods in turning points of life and death by Odysseus’ men, most prominently Poseidon and Zeus, they remain silent. Is this representative of the perversion of the divine-human relationship, broken forever due to the Trojan War?

However, the film’s semi-atheistic outlook translates to something confusing and inconsistent. It cannot decide how much moral responsibility its characters actually have. The film’s tagline is ‘defy the gods’, and through the film this is framed as a condemnation – the defiance of the laws between men is a defiance of the gods. Yet a line from Athena at the start of the film, when Odysseus is still on Calypso’s island, throws a spanner into this moral, where Athena disparages Odysseus for taking full responsibility for what is already fated and inevitable. The implication here is that she condemns him for being almost hubristic in his urge to constantly assume full responsibility for the loss of other lives, when the gods have already decreed that they were bound to die. Such a bold statement never really gets resolved, and the scene in the Underworld, where Teiresias once again emphasises that there is nothing Odysseus can do to prevent his entire crew dying because he “cannot save them from themselves”, deepens this problem.

In Homeric epic, the gods, Fate, and free will toe a very fine line. The gods do intervene, but human motivation and human choice always come first in narrative terms. There are many moments where mortals blame the gods within the poem, and none of these positions are justified in Homeric theology. So when Odysseus laments that Zeus made him fall asleep while his men ate Helios’ cattle, the audience is not meant to sympathise with his argument that this therefore makes him blameless – it can be an expression of frustration that the god has not helped him, or the confusing incomprehensibility of the gods (which Nolan also emphasises), but it does not mean Odysseus is free of the responsibility of his choice. Characters’ freedom to make choices is integral to driving the plot and characterisation forward, and yet Nolan fails to make clear the explicit chain of human cause and effect between the plunder and massacre Odysseus and his men conducted at Troy and the disastrous journey home. This leads to interpretations that the whole action of the film is simply the gods’ decree, and Nolan risks diluting his moral message.

This confusion ultimately boils down to where the film suffers the most – the overt sanitisation of Odysseus’ character.  Throughout the film, Odysseus’ eyes are those we look through to judge the events of the Trojan War, the journey, and most of the narrative – the audience is inclined to sympathise with him, and having suffered the repercussions of his actions in the Trojan War, he becomes the plausible mouthpiece for Nolan’s message, the righteous avenger against the suitors who violated Zeus’ law first. But as the film repeats the shot of Odysseus staring out as he leans against the marble staircase at Troy, watching the priestess’ head get cut off, I cannot help but wonder – why is Odysseus so special? What makes Odysseus so much better that he is singled out by the gods to return home, and the rest of his men do not, when their actions have been so similar? If that moment where he watches the destruction of Athena’s temple is meant to be his epiphany, why does he carry on to burn down the first island he sees? Nolan has simplified Odysseus so much throughout the film that any straying away from virtue lands oddly instead of adding nuance. Emily Wilson is right: Nolan has written a very uncomplicated man indeed.

Homer, however, never hides how Odysseus is, in many ways, an incompetent leader, and most of the disastrous journey can be attributed to Odysseus’ bad judgement or arrogance. One famous example is the Cyclops episode, where after he and his remaining men successfully leave, Odysseus shouts back into the cave his name, his father’s name, and the destination he is heading to, entirely unnecessary apart from establishing glory for himself. Essentially, Homer establishes clear cause and effect (how Odysseus’ poor choices lead to the downfall of his men), and this elevates narrative significance when he does make the correct choices. Odysseus is not a character who can become a noble, simple character while retaining the same story beats. He is polutropos, a man of many ways – the complexity of his journey home reflects the complexity of the man. Dropping his incriminating story beats makes Odysseus more likeable, but the result is inconsistent characterisation, as well as a lack of character depth. Nolan’s version of Odysseus is unrecognisable when compared to Homer’s, who is cunning, flawed, and subtle.

The other issue with Nolan’s insistence on Odysseus’ nobility: it comes at a cost to the depth of other characters too, especially the women around him, and this is most evident in Penelope. Homer’s Penelope is Odysseus’ narrative parallel, and Book 23 is, in epic terms, Penelope’s aristea, her big ‘heroic’ moment, where she tests the reality of Odysseus’ identity by asking her handmaiden to move her bed, and waits for Odysseus to refute it because only her husband should know that it is immovable. Only then does she relent and greet Odysseus. There is much scholarly debate that Penelope had recognised him much earlier than Book 23, adding to the complexity that she may have been planning the exact type of contest that would benefit Odysseus ever since she saw him in disguise. The bed scene is left out entirely in Nolan’s film, and there is also no nuance as to when Penelope finally does recognise Odysseus.

Nolan also makes the mistake of telling rather than showing when Penelope screams at Telemachus that she has been ruling Ithaca for years and that it is about to be taken away from her male heir. Yet from an audience’s perspective, she isn’t doing much ruling, as all we see of her in the film is her crying and pining away for Odysseus. Even the scene where it is revealed that she has been taking apart the shroud every evening, her overarching line of characterisation throughout the story, is overshadowed by the strange scene where she almost caves to Antinous’ advances – stranger still, because at no point in Homer’s story does Penelope even remotely entertain him. Her complexity becomes less of a point of attention because her parallel character, Odysseus, is also not stepping up to the narrative depth game. In the poem, Odysseus and Penelope work since although they occupy very different spheres of movement and gender roles, they still mirror each other. Nolan’s Penelope falling flat is especially fatal because she has no ‘action’ to rectify or distract from it, unlike Odysseus.

In general, I think I liked the film a lot when I was watching the credits roll. It is a spectacle, and despite knowing the exact story beats of the plot, the escape from Polyphemus and the harrowing flashes of the storm still had me on the edge of my seat. Odysseus’ final stringing of his bow still almost brought tears to my eyes. And much of it for me is that there is clear love shown in the stunning visual and musical language to deliver those emotional beats, and in a very meta way, I love that this much is devoted to a subject that I have spent many years loving and studying, and seeing a work from so long ago come alive on the modern screen.

I also mourn the fact that this may be the only version of The Odyssey that a modern audience will see in their lifetime. To me, Homeric epic has withstood the test of time not only because of a flashy plotline, but because it is, at its core, a story that contains the scattering multitude of human experience and complexity – to return home as a complicated, flawed individual to a complicated, flawed community, and finding love anyway. For that to hold, the characters cannot all feel universal, and that is unfortunately what Nolan tried to narrow down with his characterisation and theology. I just wish that I could point to a moment throughout the film where I leapt for joy that Nolan understood the character, their motivations, and why some things are important for the story to keep. I wish I was actually watching the Odysseus I love to hate, and the Penelope that mirrored him in all the strangest ways. 

Nolan had all the tools for greatness. Instead, to my eternal frustration, his Odyssey will always only be just alright.

Difficulty Sleeping in the Third Trimester: Causes, Positions, and Relief

External Contributor
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If you are lying awake at 2 a.m. wondering whether rearranging every pillow in the house will finally help, you are far from alone. Difficulty sleeping in the third trimester affects most pregnant people at some point – whether that means trouble falling asleep, waking every hour, or feeling wide-eyed despite bone-deep exhaustion.

Part of the problem is physical: a heavier bump, a bladder with opinions, and muscles that ache after long days on your feet—or long days at a desk, which many of us know too well during a packed term. Some people find that daytime maternity support belts ease back and pelvic strain, which can make it easier to settle at night. This guide explains why sleep falters late in pregnancy, which third trimester sleeping positions tend to work best, and what actually helps when rest will not come.

Always speak to your midwife or GP if sleep loss is severe, or if you notice breathing pauses, persistent low mood, or pain that worsens at night.

Why Is Sleep So Hard in the Third Trimester?

Pregnancy and insomnia in the third trimester often stem from a mix of bodily changes and a busy mind. Common drivers include:

  • Physical discomfort — backache, hip pressure, round ligament pulling, and general heaviness
  • Frequent urination — the uterus pressing on the bladder
  • Heartburn — especially when lying flat
  • Restless legs or cramps — that urge to move just as you drift off
  • Foetal movement — lively evenings in utero
  • Anxiety — about labour, deadlines, or life after birth
  • Snoring or sleep apnoea — worth mentioning to your care team if new or worsening

Research suggests that roughly two-thirds of pregnant people experience insomnia in late pregnancy. If you are pregnant and cannot sleep in the 3rd trimester, it is frustrating, but usually familiar territory rather than a sign that something is uniquely wrong with you.

Sleep quality matters: poor rest in late pregnancy has been linked to longer labours, higher caesarean rates in some studies, and increased mood difficulties. That is not meant to alarm you into trying harder: it is permission to take broken nights seriously and ask for support when you need it.

Experts generally recommend sleeping on your left side in late pregnancy. This sleeping position during the third trimester supports blood flow to the uterus and kidneys and may reduce swelling. A slight bend in the knees, with a pillow between them, often eases hip strain.

Positions to Limit

Sleeping on your back for long stretches can compress major blood vessels and may worsen breathlessness or dizziness. Sleeping on your right side is fine for short spells, but left side is usually preferred. Stomach sleeping becomes impractical as the bump grows—though brief rolls in the night are normal.

Building a Supportive Setup

Good sleep positions for the third trimester often depend on pillows as much as posture:

  • A firm pillow between the knees to align hips
  • A small wedge or rolled towel under the bump
  • An extra pillow behind the back to prevent rolling flat
  • Head slightly raised if heartburn flares, relevant for sleeping position in the 8th month of pregnancy and beyond

There is no single perfect sleeping posture during pregnancy third trimester nights; experiment until you find an arrangement you can maintain without waking in pain. If you wake on your back, gently roll to your left and settle again, and there’s no need to panic over every turn.

Matching Position to the Problem

Heartburn often improves with the head and upper body slightly elevated. Hip pain may respond to a pillow between the knees and another supporting the bump from below. Shortness of breath can ease when you prop yourself up rather than lying flat. Treat pregnancy sleep positions third trimester as adjustable: what worked at thirty weeks may need tweaking at thirty-six.

Practical Habits When You Have Trouble Sleeping in the Third Trimester

Beyond third trimester sleep positions, small daytime choices affect night-time rest—particularly if your calendar still looks like a Michaelmas term timetable.

Wind-Down Routine

Dim lights an hour before bed, skip caffeine after mid-afternoon, and put screens away if they keep your brain buzzing. A warm bath, gentle stretch, or quiet reading beats scrolling through essay crises, or pregnancy forums that spike anxiety.

Manage Heartburn and Bathroom Trips

Eat smaller evening meals, avoid spicy or fatty triggers, and finish drinking a couple of hours before bed without cutting fluids entirely during the day. When you wake to use the toilet, keep lights low and avoid checking the time; clock-watching fuels trouble sleeping in the third trimester.

Daytime Strain and Evening Aches

Long hours sitting in libraries or hunched over laptops can tighten the lower back and hips, and that discomfort follows you into bed. Take standing breaks, support your bump when walking, and avoid cramming all movement into late evening when you are already overstimulated.

When Worry Keeps You Awake

If you cannot sleep after twenty minutes, get up and do something calm in another room, then return when drowsy. Lying awake catastrophising trains your brain to associate bed with stress—a pattern many of us recognise from pre-deadline insomnia, pregnancy edition included.

Naps and Schedules

Short daytime naps can rescue a wrecked night, but long late-afternoon sleeps may make it harder to drop off later. If your timetable allows even a twenty-minute rest after lunch – between tutorials, not instead of them – it may take the edge off without stealing evening sleep.

When Might a Maternity Support Belt Help at Night?

A support belt will not replace sleep hygiene, but it addresses a common piece of the puzzle: daytime strain that lingers after dark. By lifting the underside of the bump and stabilising the lower back, a belt can reduce pelvic pressure during standing and walking—so you reach bedtime with less accumulated ache.

Wear one during the hours that trigger discomfort (commutes, errands, long desk sessions), not necessarily in bed unless your midwife suggests otherwise. Choose adjustable styles, remove the belt if you feel pinching or numbness, and treat it as one tool among many, alongside side sleeping, pillows, and realistic expectations about how much sleep a third-trimester body allows.

FAQ

I am 35 weeks pregnant and I cannot sleep. What could be causing this?

At 35 weeks, common culprits include bump size, back or hip pain, heartburn, frequent urination, restless legs, baby movement, and anxiety about labour. Try left-side sleeping with pillow support, lighter evening meals, and daytime pacing. Contact your midwife if pain is severe, you have breathing problems, or mood changes worry you.

Why is my insomnia so bad in the third trimester?

Hormones, physical discomfort, and a larger uterus all peak late in pregnancy. Many people also sleep more lightly because they wake to reposition, use the toilet, or respond to kicks. Insomnia is common, and it’s not a personal failure.

Is it normal to be wide awake at night during pregnancy

Yes, especially in the third trimester. Night-time waking does not always mean something is wrong, though chronic sleep loss can affect mood and energy. Focus on rest when you can, not perfect eight-hour blocks.

Does a sleepless night mean labour is near?

Not necessarily. Many people have broken sleep for weeks before labour. A sudden pattern of regular contractions, waters breaking, or bleeding are clearer signs to call your maternity unit. Occasional insomnia alone is not a reliable predictor.

Rest Is a Requirement, Not a Reward

Difficulty sleeping in the third trimester can feel cruel when you know sleepless nights with a newborn await—but better rest now still matters. Prioritise side sleeping, build a pillow fort that works, protect your wind-down, and ask for help with daytime loads where you can.

You do not need to earn rest through productivity. In a term that never quite slows down, giving your body permission to stop may be the most radical thing you do—and the best preparation for the weeks ahead, however your nights unfold.

A beginner’s guide to being an amateur

May Bruce
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A beginner’s guide to being an amateur

When I was seven, my grandma decided I was going to be a pianist. For the next twelve years, I sat through weekly piano lessons, despite a complete absence of enthusiasm for the instrument. Long after my grandma informed me that I was not, in fact, going to be a pianist, but rather a lawyer, I carried on these lessons. My goal was not enjoyment, but that treasure of infinitely greater value: a grade eight certificate.  

What teenage me didn’t understand was the value of putting time and effort into something non-productive, purely for the sheer joy of it.  I’ve heard people complaining that they don’t know how to relax, and the advice given in response is always that they’re lacking hobbies, that if they pick up a new interest their free time will become fulfilling and restorative. However, I think that what this fails to acknowledge is that it’s not simply a case of acquiring any old hobby. Our aim should be to find a genuine source of enjoyment, rather than a new avenue through which to seek validation.

We’re well into August now, the summer vacation stretching out both behind and ahead of us. While you’ve got a bit of time on your hands (Michaelmas pre-reading is a September problem), this is the perfect opportunity to ditch productivity and perfectionism, and instead, embrace the art of being an amateur. 

Amateur, a word often used as an insult, comes from the Latin verb amare, meaning ‘to love’. ‘Amateur’ in its modern form stems from the French word for ‘one who loves’. To be an amateur in the literal sense, therefore, isn’t about an absence of skill, or experience, but rather doing something for the sake of passion, and without profit. 

So what might doing something just for the love of it look like? This is an impossible question – the answer will look different for everyone, and will vary across different phases of your life. But the central idea is that whatever you’re doing, you’re not doing it for the sake of gaining something else. You might learn an instrument without taking graded exams, or maybe you want to write terrible notes app poetry that you will never show to anyone. Or perhaps what really calls your name is turning bottle corks into life-size models of the wildlife of the West Midlands. It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone but you. 

If there’s one thing we’re all familiar with as Oxford students, it’s the constant pressure to be ‘LinkedIn warriors’ and build up an impressive array of things to put on a CV. It seems even the much-coveted summer internship isn’t enough – you also need a hobby with tangible achievements that confirm your status as a strategic, results-driven team player. Activities that boost your employability are undoubtedly important, but they are not a substitute for doing the things you truly love. 

Around the time my grandma accepted that I was not destined for piano greatness, I joined a choir. I would love to tell you I joined purely for the love of it, but this would be a lie – I joined because my older sister had. However, after the first couple of months, I found myself hooked. The feeling of hitting that high note, perfecting that one impossible harmony, was a far cry from anything I’d felt playing the piano. I didn’t take singing exams, I never went for solos. And of all the hobbies I’ve taken up in my life, choir is the one I always return to. 

Let’s be honest, how many of us genuinely make an effort to try new things on a regular basis? It’s intimidating – it involves accepting that you will not be good at something, that the most you can hope for is ‘good for a beginner’, which is never much of a compliment. Perfectionism is not an easy thing to kick. And though it can be useful in many situations, it can also be very effective in holding you back for fear of failure. This is where the amateur thesis comes in. If you are doing something for the love of it, then the act of doing is enough. It doesn’t need to be perfect, so there’s really no way to fail. 

I think we can all agree that our culture is obsessed with productivity. Many of us now find the idea of doing nothing far from relaxing, and it’s sometimes even downright uncomfortable. With weekly essay deadlines, and a constant sense that you’ve forgotten something, the fear of time wasted creeps into every part of life at Oxford. Is it any wonder that committing time to being an amateur isn’t something that comes naturally to us? Maybe this speaks to a wider issue: a disinclination to see our own immediate happiness as a valid goal.

Through building up hobbies that give us joy rather than measurable achievement, we cultivate self-validation. As human beings, we are very good at outsourcing our need for validation. This is especially true in the age of social media, where you can build an image of the great life you’re leading, regardless of whether or not it’s true to reality. What if we tried to practice self-validation instead? What if your joy was an end in itself, regardless of whether or not other people knew, understood, or were impressed? By treating our own independent interests as something valuable, without seeking external confirmation of that value, we are, in turn, treating ourselves as worthy of effort. In our pursuit of confidence and self-esteem, this is surely a crucial practice. 

My grandma and grandad were two very different people. While my grandma was the kind of person who’d lovingly (but firmly) encourage me to chase the validation of the music examination board, my grandad was never happier than when he was with his beloved pigeons. He had names for the clans (what he called the different colours and patterns), and no one was allowed to feed them but him. No one else understood, and no one else had to. He was an amateur pigeon-feeder, doing it purely for the love of it.

The hypocrisy of aestheticised wilderness

Ava Doherty
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The hypocrisy of aestheticised wilderness

We seem to have been locked in an eternal attempt at domination over nature for millennia. My recent trip to Thailand shifted this into clear focus: perhaps the attempt was never really about humans over nature. Perhaps it was humans versus anything that refuses to behave itself.

When I was in Thailand, I saw signs telling tourists not to anger, feed, touch or otherwise harass the animals. Sensible enough. Yet tourists, and occasionally locals, still seem determined to test the boundaries.

I watched a pig bite down on a plastic water bottle handed to it by a boy on holiday. The pig squealed and fought back when the boy tried to pick it up. He dropped it. I felt shocked and unnerved at his behaviour, but clearly I could not intervene; it was not my place, and his family was there.

And there it was: an acute example of our relationship with nature in miniature. We like animals right up until they stop being cute.

The pig had not suddenly become aggressive for no reason. A teenager had put a plastic bottle in its mouth, invaded its space and then tried to grab it. It reacted like an animal. Yet somehow the animal becomes the villain: ungrateful, dangerous, and stupid. We are remarkably good at creating the conditions for conflict and then blaming nature for responding to them.

The double standard becomes even stranger when we compare animals with humans. When a person causes harm because they ‘didn’t know any better’, we often regard that as an extenuating circumstance. With animals, ignorance is rarely afforded the same generosity. An animal trapped in a man-made environment can respond according to instinct and still be punished as though it possesses the same understanding and intentions as a human being.

And before anyone reaches for the familiar argument that humans are more intelligent, we should be careful about confusing intelligence with moral entitlement. Being clever enough to build skyscrapers, develop financial markets, and create nuclear weapons certainly does not give us a sense of moral superiority over the natural world. We cheat, lie, and steal, and are not the perfect paragons of morality we assume ourselves to be. Besides, anyone who has watched five minutes of reality TV anywhere in the world might want to reconsider how confidently we use ‘intelligence’ as our species’ trump card.

The more interesting problem is what happens when humans’ supposed love of nature meets modern consumer culture. We don’t simply want nature; we want nature packaged for consumption.

Our consumerist tendencies towards nature are best seen through the ‘cottagecore’ trend: curated hiking trails, luxury eco-resorts, wellness retreats, and the endless Instagramming of supposedly untouched landscapes. Nature is wonderful, as long as it is photogenic, accessible, and preferably equipped with decent Wi-Fi.

This is the deception of capitalist aesthetics. We take something wild, unpredictable, and inconvenient and remove the parts we dislike before giving it attractive branding and selling it as an authentic experience.

Nature, but with a convenient booking link. Mud is no longer mud; it is an obstacle on the hiking trail. Insects are not part of an ecosystem; they are pests. Decay is not part of nature’s cycle; it is something to clean up. And an animal behaving like an animal is an affront to our sanitised version of nature. Thailand makes this contradiction particularly visible. Islands are marketed as pristine escapes while motorways and industrial-scale ferries help move ever-growing numbers of people towards these supposedly untouched places. Humans want wilderness – but we also want convenient infrastructure capable of delivering us directly to it. Ideally, between 10 am and 4 pm, with a return transfer.

Our environmentalism therefore has a surprisingly low tolerance for actual nature. As soon as it contradicts our perfect reality, with biting animals, unbearable heat, or a lack of creature comforts, we turn against it. This reveals something deeper than hypocrisy; it reveals our obsession with control.

We have spent centuries trying to place ourselves above the natural world rather than recognising that we are embedded within it. We pave it, fence it, landscape it, label it, and commodify it. We make it predictable enough to enjoy and tame enough not to frighten us, because genuine nature is volatile. It grows where we don’t want it to grow. It dies, rots, bites, floods, escapes, and refuses to care about our schedules, property boundaries, or aesthetic preferences. This is precisely what makes it frightening.

The fantasy of the sovereign human depends on believing that we exist outside of nature and are capable of mastering it. But this is not the case. We are animals who build unusually elaborate buildings and maintain an impressive capacity for self-delusion. The pig did not violate some sacred contract with humanity when it bit the bottle; it simply behaved like a pig.

Perhaps the lesson is not that nature needs to be taught how to live alongside us. Perhaps we need to learn how to live alongside something we cannot completely control. Does the responsibility not lie with humanity to learn to live alongside the uncontrollable force of nature rather than vice versa? The battle was never between humans and nature. It was humans versus our own arrogance, the desire to dominate, sanitise, and commodify a world that we are terrified to admit we never truly controlled in the first place.

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