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‘We have to end the complicity of Western countries with Israel’: Peter Beinart on Purim, Palestine, and the importance of changing your mind

Stanley Smith
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‘We have to end the complicity of Western countries with Israel’: Peter Beinart on Purim, Palestine, and the importance of changing your mind

Peter Beinart knows the importance of admitting when you’re wrong. A professor of journalism and political science at City University of New York, a New York Times columnist, and Editor-at-Large of Jewish Currents, he has spent the last three decades as a leading liberal voice in the United States. But, unlike other pundits who pin their flags to the mast in order to pay the bills, Beinart’s writing is characterised by subtlety, self-reflection, and a remarkable political transformation.

Nowhere is this more evident than in his latest book, Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza: A Reckoning (2025). In this slim volume, Beinart, a once outspoken advocate for Israel, makes an incisive intervention into the debate within his own community as to how to respond to the violence that the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) have unleashed on Gaza. To Beinart’s mind, the killing of more than 70,000 Palestinians by the IDF necessitates deep reflection as to how “Jewish texts, history, and language” have been appropriated to justify “genocide and apartheid” in Palestine.

“The argument of the book”, he tells me over the phone, “is that there are a series of interlocking stories about what it means to be Jewish that are very powerful in many Jewish communities around the world – particularly the United States – which situate Jews as the world’s permanent, righteous victim; and also centre the relationship with the state of Israel as the ultimate test of Jewish loyalty and identity”. Beinart, who observes Modern Orthodox Judaism, argues that such narratives overlook the clear warnings within Jewish texts about how his people, as no different from any other, have a capacity to do harm. 

He gives the example of how the Purim story, which is typically celebrated as the heroic survival of Jewish people in ancient Persia from a plot to exterminate them, ends with the roles reversed and the would-be killers slaughtered. The issue, Beinart tells me, is that ignorance of these theological portents creates a notion that it is impossible for Jewish people to be the perpetrators of oppression. This belief prevents supporters of Israel, whatever their faith or ethnicity, “from reckoning with some very, very painful proof about what Israel has done to the Palestinians”. 

Beinart has lived a life that makes him uniquely attuned to these warnings. Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, his parents were Jewish immigrants from Apartheid South Africa, a state whose system of racial oppression Beinart likens to Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. He completed his undergraduate studies at Yale, before coming to the University of Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar to undertake an MPhil in International Relations. 

When I ask Beinart about his time in Oxford, he hesitates for a moment. He begins to list the positives: the friendships he made, the merits of the tutorial system, the freedom to procrastinate making career decisions for two years. But, after some reassurance that he’s not obliged to say nice things about the University, he speaks more candidly: “Oxford was never a place where I felt as comfortable as I did at Yale in the US. There were ways in which its particular version of Englishness was hard to penetrate for me as an American, maybe as a Jewish American.”

Yale in the early 1990s, he describes, “was an institution where public expressions of Jewish identity were very normal and routine”. Oxford, in contrast, felt different: “There was more of a sense that identity questions were private affairs and that in public you didn’t need to be waving those flags.” He clarifies that he doesn’t think it was antisemitism he was experiencing, citing instead the differing cultural attitudes towards religion on either side of the Atlantic. Nonetheless, during his time at the University he always felt somewhat “an outsider”. 

Beinart returned to the United States after graduating from Oxford, beginning as a managing editor at The New Republic magazine. When I ask him how he settled on journalism for a career, he tells me that he left education because he didn’t think he had “the patient temperament to be a good academic”. “I think I’ve always been a bit more dilettantish in the sense that I like to read and engage in academic ideas, but I think that I’m better at translating those ideas for a broad audience than actually producing those ideas by doing the first-hand scholarship.”

Beinart quickly emerged as a stand-out talent, becoming editor of The New Republic in 1999 at only 28 years old, a post he would hold until 2006. It was during his editorship that the magazine supported the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Whilst an editorial the following year expressed “regret” that the “rationale for war” had “collapsed”, Beinart continued to advocate for American interventionism in his first book, The Good Fight: Why Liberals – and Only Liberals – Can Win the War on Terror and Make America Great Again. 

By the time he published his second in 2010, however, Beinart’s views had changed dramatically. The Icarus Syndrome: A History of American Hubris was his attempt to reckon with how he had got his stance on Iraq so wrong, and demonstrated his new conviction to oppose US military adventurism. He also began to rethink his opinions on Israel, writing in 2012 The Crisis of Zionism, in which he called for an end to Israel’s occupation of the West Bank. Eight years later, he went further, penning a piece in the progressive Jewish Currents magazine in which he declared that the “two state solution is dead” and called for a single state where Israelis and Palestinians would be equal citizens – a clear rejection of the main tenets of Zionism.

I ask whether his earlier reckoning with his support for the war on terror helped stimulate his reassessment of Zionism. He entertains this idea: “I think I’ve in tandem had to reconsider the ways in which I bought into mythologies about an American exceptionalism, and a Jewish exceptionalism, which I think led me to overlook the harsh realities about the role America has played in the world – and also the way in which Israel was created and the way in which it sustains itself.”

But, Beinart clarifies, the real driving force behind his shift in thinking was his personal interactions with Palestinians. “I think going to the West Bank for the first time roughly 25 years ago was the beginning of a transformation.” Beinart says that encountering the realities of occupation and the humanity of Palestinians in the face of it unravelled the narratives about Israel that he had been raised on, like “peeling away an onion”. 

In Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza, he recalls one particularly pivotal moment. Walking through a market in the West Bank city of Hebron, he and his 12-year-old son were briefly left alone by their Palestinian companion. Instinctively, Beinart started to fear for their safety, only for their friend to reappear with a Bar Mitzvah present for Beinart’s son. Beinart writes of that day that the true gift their friend gave his son “was helping a young Jew grow up without racism”. He tells me that only through “engaging with Palestinians, listening to Palestinians” can we begin “to chip away at the dehumanisation… which is pervasive in the West”.

For Beinart, such experiences led to a “growing sense that the position I was arguing for – a Jewish state and a Palestinian state alongside one another – was becoming more and more hollow, less connected to reality”. But it also exposed what he sees as fundamental flaws in the “two-state paradigm”. He argues that a two-state solution “can’t really reckon” with the right of Palestinian refugees to return to their homeland and “it can’t really reckon with the desire of Palestinian citizens of Israel to be treated as equal citizens”. 

The solution, then, has to be one state between the River Jordan and the Mediterranean Sea in which all are equal citizens, and which power is shared within a democratic system. To Beinart, this would benefit Palestinians and Israelis alike: “When you have two populations living alongside one another their safety is intertwined. And so a system of violent oppression of one group is not actually the best guarantee of safety for the other group, because that system ultimately produces violence that endangers everybody.” What is required is a “system of representation where people of different backgrounds all have a nonviolent mechanism of having the state answer their concerns. A process of politics, anchored in equality under the law, while it can be messy and dysfunctional, is actually much safer for everybody”. 

So, what is the likelihood of this goal being realised? On the one hand, Beinart observes that, when it comes to Israel, in many Western states “there’s been a massive change in public opinion” in the last three years. He attributes much of this to social media, “which has allowed Palestinians and their supporters a voice that they have not traditionally had because they were largely locked out of the mainstream media… It’s given them what Edward Said famously called ‘permission to narrate’”. 

Beinart also points out that, for liberal supporters of Israel, particularly in America, “Israel has to justify itself in liberal terms as a liberal-democratic project – the Netanyahu era has just made that much, much harder. It used to be that people would claim that Israel wanted to create a Palestinian state but the Palestinians wouldn’t accept one. Netanyahu basically destroyed that line of argument. The effort to translate Israel’s frankly very racist political debate into a more palatable American debate has become almost impossible after more than ten years of Netanyahu – and the magnitude of what Israel has done in Gaza and the magnitude of what Israel is doing in the West Bank”.

But Beinart is under no illusions about just how far off an end to occupation and the creation of a just peace are. Whilst public opinion might be shifting, he points out that the policies of Western states towards Israel, by and large, are not. Within Israel itself, Beinart tells me, very little reflection about the immeasurable suffering the state has inflicted on Palestinians has occurred. While there are fierce debates about the personality of Benjamin Netenhayu, about the role of religion in the state, and about what kind of country Israel should be for Israelis, “there’s not really that much of a debate about how Israel should treat Palestinians, or the debate is within a very narrow framework.

“No one is really operating from the principle that Palestinians have a right to be free, and almost nobody is really saying that there should be a sovereign Palestinian state. Even if Netanyahu is defeated, I don’t think you’re going to see anything more than a cosmetic shift.”

So what can be done to bring about change? “We have to end the complicity of Western countries with Israel”, Beinart argues. He identifies ending the supply of weapons from the United States and the EU’s trade agreement with Israel as the top priorities. “It wouldn’t make sense to expect anything to change absent of that because, in supremacist political systems, whether it’s the United States under Jim Crow, [Apartheid] South Africa, or Northern Ireland, people who benefit from these supremacist systems, their plan A will always be to continue them. They are only willing to think of a plan B or C or D when the resistance, internal and external, becomes so strong that the system starts to break down, that it no longer works for them. 

“Until we have this kind of resistance – which I hope is nonviolent, ethical in nature, and offers a vision of mutual liberation – I don’t think you’re going to see powerful forces in Israel be willing to seriously consider an alternative to supremacist politics.”

And, more locally, what can Oxford students do? He says that students should “find a balance between different kinds of virtues”. The first is curiosity about the rationale behind opposing views. He says that students should ask: ‘What life experiences have led you to these views?’ “That’s a question that unfortunately people very rarely ask of Palestinians, but I think that’s also a question that pro-Palestine activists sometimes don’t ask enough of Jews who support Israel – ‘What’s the family experience that you had that made you so convinced that a Jewish state is necessary for safety?’ Those stories might not convince you that those views are right but they give you a greater degree of empathy for where people are coming from.”

The second, however, is a steadfastness in standing up for your beliefs. Beinart describes opposing Israel’s military occupation of the West Bank and Gaza and its statewide discrimination against Palestinians as “one of the great moral challenges of our time” and insists that “people should try to rise to that challenge by fighting for justice. It’s important, at a certain point, to be able to say clearly that there are grave injustices taking place and to speak out against them”. For Beinart, empathy and an unequivocal commitment to justice can, and must, go together.

Beinart’s principled, high-profile stance on Palestine has placed him in the firing line of scathing criticism, the most vociferous of which accuses him of “abandoning” his own community. When asked about this, he is remarkably unfazed: “You know, I’ve been doing this for long enough that angry responses and condemnations… don’t particularly bother me.” But he is also candid about the personal cost, admitting that he has lost “some relationships that were very important to me. I feel a sense of sadness, because some of those were relationships that were very important to my kids”. Nonetheless, he will not indulge in self-pity: “A whole new set of relationships have opened up that are also very precious to me in a different way with people with whom I share an ethical perspective. So there’s loss, but also gain.”

Beinart’s faith is what sustains him through all of this. In a life defined by evolution, it has been his one constant; the anchor keeping him tethered through personal and political sea-changes. Speaking with him, it is also clear that it underpins his progressive politics. But Beinart has the prescience to avoid making the same mistake as those he criticises in Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza: he refuses to argue that being an observant Jew compels one to subscribe to a specific political ideology. “I think it would be very silly to say that the essence of Judaism is progressive or liberal or anything like that. It’s a tradition that is ancient and vast and speaks in many, many different voices, just as Christianity and Islam do.

“I have to be honest in saying that I take within Judaism certain traditions, and those are the ones that are more powerful to me.” He recognises that, just as “in the 19th century there were devout Christian slave holders and devout Christian abolitionists”, Jewish people can hold diametrically opposing views, without one being a truer believer than the other. Judaism is complex and pluralistic, he tells me, pointing out that extremist Israeli ministers such as Ben Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich “read the same texts, they also get up and put tefillin on in the morning like I do, but they emphasise different strains”. 

As for his interpretation of Judaism, it epitomises the outlook of the present-day Peter Beinart; a man whose commitment to equality supersedes everything else. “To me, my starting point, my meta-principle, is that the Torah begins with universal human beings who are of no ethnicity, religion, race, or nation, who are created equal in the image of God. Everything flows from there.”

‘If not me, then who?’: George Abaraonye’s return to Oxford

Madison Garrett
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‘If not me, then who?’: George Abaraonye’s return to Oxford

The jubilance in George Abaraonye’s demeanour matched my memory of our first encounter, coincidentally placed at the location where his university career may be defined: the Oxford Union. I first met the student – who has subsequently become a polarising figure among the politically conservative and a victim of online racial persecution approximately a year prior – at the Oxford African and Caribbean Society (ACS) meeting, Say It With Your Chest. Leading the event as then-Vice President, Abaraonye moderated the society’s annual debate meeting, posing questions on the legitimacy of Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch and offering his views on topics such as the definition of Black excellence. Ironically, he would occupy the hot seat months later for his political views, but in a much different capacity. Abaraonye’s ideology in the Oxford Union would instead make him the subject of intense, highly publicised scrutiny. Celebrating the shooting of right-wing podcaster Charlie Kirk in an internal WhatsApp group chat and on social media immediately upon the release of the news, the then-President-Elect of the Oxford Union would be ousted. 

“I’m doing great, Maddie. I’m doing great. I’ve had a nice little summer, a nice little bit of time. Just relaxed. I’m doing good. How are things in New York?” Abaraonye said, appearing on our call in a New York Knicks T-shirt, seemingly fitting for a conversation organised from my Brooklyn bedroom. My icebreaker, “How are you?”, carried the expectation of unpacking much more than sentiments of a courteous greeting. The year Abaraonye experienced was an aberration from the routine of the typical rusticated Oxford student, to say the least. Much had happened since the controversy that ignited a media storm of right-wing publications, his widely reported removal as President-Elect of Oxford Union, and scathing tweets regarding his race, sixth-form grades, and clothing. 

Now, preparing to complete his Oxford degree amidst the one-year anniversary of Charlie Kirk’s death and racialised hostility towards Black academics in Britain, Abaraonye’s reflection on the past year appeared quite light. “I’m coming back to Oxford, and I’m excited. Oxford is ultimately a means to an end. It’s not the end in itself.” After a summer of reflection working for a film company in Cairo, Egypt, the weight of the controversy no longer appeared insurmountable. “Being in Egypt and not quite having that freedom, or having to know people in a certain district in order to go there, really made me appreciate why I grew up with the freedoms I had growing up. And it helped put things into perspective. It made Oxford feel very small in a sense. There’s so much more going on in the world, and it helped me reorient what was important.” 

Yet, this was the tranquillity Abaraonye was trained to adopt. After losing the vote of no-confidence among members and alumni of the Oxford Union, he remained in Oxford as a rusticated student for the next few months, hounded by the press and unprotected by any authoritative figures, Abaraonye tells me. Reduced to a mere member of the public rather than a matriculated University College student, Abaraonye immediately received clarification on where he stood with his college.  “On Monday, October 19th, after my no-confidence vote, is when I had my panic attack… I had a really, really bad panic attack in Oxford. I remember being taken to college by two people, both in my college, and we spent the day at the University. I spoke to the senior chaplain and porters, and they set me up in a room with the agreement and understanding that I would vacate by Friday. They let me stay for a couple days, and then the porters kicked me out around 11am that Friday, like, on the door… They said, ‘You’re not allowed to come back to college because you’re a safety risk.’ I get it, but it felt very much like done and dusted. You’re not my problem anymore.” 

Abaraonye faced boundaries that barred him from his familiar student life. “I had received an email from the senior tutor reminding me once my temporary accommodation had run its course, I would not be able to reside in college or access college facilities without prior written permission. I was also told no extension to temporary accommodation would be granted, and no subsequent request for college accommodation would be considered while I was rusticated, and that if for whatever reason I did not vacate college premises, it would become a disciplinary matter.” 

Friday morning, after being escorted from his college, Abaraonye received a final message from the senior chaplain: an email wishing luck and permission to “reach out” if needed.  Apart from the Master of University College, Baroness Amos, Abaraonye said he was offered little mental health support. “At the time, the email from the senior chaplain felt a little harsh and, to some degree, did compound a feeling of not having any safe or neutral spaces during that scary time. In hindsight, I do understand where the college is coming from with a safeguarding duty… I am grateful for being allowed to stay onsite. It felt like I wasn’t too welcome back, especially with the whole news saga, but again I do understand why.” 

Still, Abaraonye recalls that the loneliness caused by Oxford administrators remained with him. “There wasn’t much of a connection there, or if I wanted to, I could not really go to them and say, ‘I’m really struggling with this, I need help.’ There was no support, for example, of how to navigate the press or the press scrutiny or the news cycles or anything like that, which was arguably the most difficult thing… I was quite lucky that I have friends and people that, you know, could help me write statements… but Oxford provided nothing.”

In a final return to his London home after spending the remaining months of Michaelmas as a rusticated student in Oxford, his ultimate retreat was rest and he spent most of his days asleep. Abaraonye grew accustomed to the many stares by Londoners on public transport and being cold-approached by strangers of both political spectrums: “I remember a couple times being approached on trains, for example, and people, complete strangers, come up to me and ask: ‘Are you the Oxford Union guy?’ I remember being in the pub once with my cousins, and someone asked me to take a picture with us. I had some people come up to me and ask, ‘Why did you say it?’”

In context, the celebration of the death of a media figure who had expressed racial insensitivities such as “Happening all the time in urban America, prowling Blacks go around for fun to go target white people, that’s a fact. It’s happening more and more” is illuminated by Abaraonye’s past record as a self-described pro-Black activist. Born in London, Abaraonye attended a multicultural state academy with a majority of economically disadvantaged students who received free school meals, himself included. Starting as a transportation advocate at 14, speaking out about road safety and bike protections, his social activism soon followed. At 17, as deputy head boy, he and his fellow schoolmates organised a workshop on microaggressions, guiding school teachers on how to spot any racial bias they may hold. Further, as a sixth-form student, Abaraonye helped draft anti-racism guidelines for his school, supporting the creation of a complaint system that let students hold teachers accountable. 

Past activism aside, Abaraonye admonishingly reflects on his reaction to Charlie Kirk’s death. “Was my reaction time appropriate? No. Probably not. I should have taken a touch, guys. It didn’t need to be that quick and that public… It’s not to say that I hated free speech or I even hated Charlie Kirk or that I wanted to see this happen.” 

Yet, as Charlie Kirk memes occupy social media timelines, and viral skits by comedians such as Druski poke fun at the lack of emotions displayed by Kirk’s widow, Erika Kirk, Abaraonye sees a racialised double standard in how he was treated. “I also think it would have looked very different if I wasn’t a Black person who’s debated Charlie Kirk. It feels disingenuous how strong the reaction was before, and now we have none of this energy for the general public who make the same jokes. I wouldn’t call myself a martyr, but I do think people will look back in a couple years and think: ‘Did we have to pop off on him like that?’ I don’t know, man. Maybe not.” 

While his personal feelings towards the Kirk family are not rooted in spite, he directs contentious feelings to the institution from which he was removed: the Oxford Union. The Oxford Union’s vote of no-confidence sparked controversy. Grievances were raised regarding the Union’s poll, including the ballot-counting process, admission of proxy votes, and accusations of intimidation. Abaraonye maintained he lost because of a “compromised” poll due to alumni participation rather than student engagement. Community assertions of a “racist witch hunt” would support Abaraonye, yet to no avail, as a presidential successor was subsequently elected. 

“I still have a modicum of respect for the Oxford Union… but the Union is not doing anything productive right now, at least in my opinion.” The Oxford Union, considered one of the world’s most prestigious student societies and an institution with its own Wikipedia section on ‘Allegations of institutional racism’, is, according to Abaraonye, an organisation steeped in anti-Black sentiment. “Being Black, especially in the Oxford Union, places you in a box. You can’t display yourself with truly radical ideas or even have the luxury of really making a mistake. Or you’re punished, and you’re punished tenfold.” As the debating society has attracted much attention and protests due to the invitations of right-wing figures such as Tommy Robinson and Laurence Fox, Abaraonye argues that the Union’s attempt at division is not only internal but external. “The Union seems more concerned in attracting attention by that division than by actually addressing issues with a level of attention needed to have a productive conversation… You will not catch me there during Hilary term. I’ll tell you that.” 

So, what is next for George Abaraonye as he prepares to begin his final year? Well, for one, his activism continues. Recently penning a piece on the death of Cambridge Professor Jason Arday, who was alleged by self-identified race realist Nathan Cofnas to be a career fraud,  Abaraonye found similarities between himself and Professor Arday were too great to ignore. Aside from the likeness of wearing locs and studying or working within elite UK universities, both Black scholars were ridiculed by right-leaning news articles, largely receiving racist comments from British audiences regarding their academic achievement in the slot of diversity, equity, and inclusion. “It was traumatising having to watch Professor Arday go through that this year. And it really motivated me. I feel like I should have perhaps said more when I was going through what I did. I feel like I should have said more now, when Professor Arday was going through what he did. The next time this happens, because I know it will happen again, I hope that I’ll be able to stand up and actually say something,” Abaraonye reflects. “Now, in the context of Professor Arday, I understand things could have gone very differently, and my story could have ended very differently.” 

As Black figures at England’s most prestigious institutions continue to face accusations of incompetence – The Spectator declared the Black principal of Cambridge’s Homerton College “not fit” to lead – Abaraonye asks institutions to protect the vulnerable from media scrutiny. “For us, as horrible, horrifying, and disgusting as the incident with Professor Arday is… I actually don’t think anything would have been different if the Professor Arday incident had happened after the Kirk controversy. We’re yet to see any institutional change come as a result. We have barely seen so much as an apology from Cambridge or the Vice-Chancellor at Cambridge for how she handled the Professor Arday’s situation, calling him an aberration, which is wholly inappropriate given not only was an inquiry still open, but so many of the kind of allegations against Professor Arday being completely falsified or untrue. Because we’re so underrepresented, these spaces also don’t accommodate us, so we aren’t given adequate support in terms of counselling. I’ve now seen a professor die at Cambridge, and these are clearly, for as much as we hold them up, these great institutions. They’re clearly not safe spaces. Otherwise, people wouldn’t be dying or… people wouldn’t be dying as often as they are.” 

Unsurprisingly, Abaraonye’s concerns about Oxford as an institution heightened his reservations about returning this October. Although he may attend a few Oxford events, interacting with tutors after his controversy raises anxiety, particularly as a report revealed that academics from the University of Oxford have signed the letter defending Cofnas in his investigation of Professor Arday. “Even though it’s not my tutors [who signed the petition], that’s the academic environment. I’m coming back into a level of complicity with what was essentially a murder, murder by the media. I can imagine, especially for a student of colour, if they’re coming back and their tutor is on that list, it must be a really uncomfortable situation to be around someone who not only is in a position of power in regards to you, but then also has clearly come out in support of someone who would happily see a member of our community die.” 

More positively, Abaraonye said he has begun to receive more communication and support from the University: “My college Disability Advisory Services representative recently reached out to me, offering support and anything that I need coming back, which was nice. And my personal tutor also reached out to me in regards to the academic transition and coming back into university. So I had some contact with the University. And to be fair, in the last couple of months, in the summertime, I’ve not really needed much support from the University.” 

Acknowledging that his return to Oxford may be sensationalised by students and professors alike, he said that “it feels very much like a spectacle, as if you’re engaging with me as a concept, as an idea. It feels less like you’re a person in Oxford sometimes”. Abaraonye does not plan to let his past controversy hinder his enjoyment of his final year of university, nor spoil his future professional ambitions. “If I was going to do anything, being a mayor would be a dream. That would be amazing. But, I think for me, it’s not necessarily about the office. I want to improve people’s lives. I want to improve my community’s lives. I don’t get the privilege of living a comfortable life, going home and taking that £110k a year by the time I’m 24 because that’s done through the oppression and institutionalised harm of millions. Whatever I do, it’ll be rooted in a lot of blackness. It’ll be rooted in a lot of good people doing good things, and I feel like that’s where I wanna be… If not me, then who?”

Asked if he has any regrets, Abaraonye offers advice instead. “Stay firm in your convictions. You’re not a bad person. You made this mistake. Sure. But don’t let them paint you out as this person that you’re not, and don’t let yourself fall into this idea that you won’t go and do something with your life because you absolutely will.”

In response, the Oxford Union told Cherwell: “Since 1823, the Oxford Union has upheld the principle of free speech through the exchange and debate of a wide range of ideas and opinions, presented by a diverse range of speakers – some inspiring, others controversial. We acknowledge that certain speakers may hold views that are regarded by some as unacceptable but nonetheless believe that it is more important to debate an issue in full rather than shy away from a difficult subject or to silence certain voices.

“Like any other member of the Oxford Union Society, Mr Abaraonye is entitled to voice his opinions. The Society maintains a variety of fora for its members to do this, including weekly meetings of the Consultative Committee open to all, public questions of officers at the Society’s public debates, and termly elections. We look forward to Mr Abaraonye’s contributions.”

In response, University College told Cherwell: “At the time of this incident, Mr Abaraonye did not have accommodation in College. This was because he had already withdrawn from his studies for a year, at his own request, and therefore was not living as a student in Oxford. Mr Abaraonye subsequently requested and was given temporary accommodation in College on an agreed short-term basis. He vacated this temporary accommodation on the date which he had agreed. The College is committed to providing appropriate welfare support to its students, including both those who are on course and those who have suspended their studies.”

The University of Oxford was contacted for comment.

Seasonal reads: On childhood hobbies, growing up, and guilt

Elizabeth Gammaidoni
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Seasonal reads: On childhood hobbies, growing up, and guilt

Reconnecting with reading is something many people tend to do on a summer holiday, and statistics suggest it is one of the only times the majority of  adults read throughout the year. WalesOnline reports that 25% of its 5,000 respondents only ever read whilst away on holiday. Perhaps more interestingly, it reports that, whilst 29% of people would be too embarrassed to be seen reading romance in their day-to-day life, 17% change their mind when they are away on holiday. Although it feels like a societal issue that people would be too self-conscious to read romance in public (perhaps because it is a genre enjoyed by more women than men), this speaks to how much further from their regular selves people feel whilst on holiday.

It seems that many people find summer holidays to be a time in which they can disconnect from their real lives and read things they would usually feel too self-conscious to. This same study reveals that over half of adults wish they read more, implying that not everyone manages to crack open a book whilst on holiday. The study reports that the average number of books read on holiday is 2.3, but it does not say how widely the results ranged. Given that over half of people wish they read more, it is quite possible that, rather than a lot of people reading two or three books each, many read none at all and others read copious amounts.

I personally find this to be the case. Every summer holiday, reading for pleasure is something I either nostalgically reconnect with or grow ever more distant from and feel guilty whilst doing so. I will spend a week either reading a similarly obscene number of novels to what I consistently read as a child, or not once broaching the first page, and pre-holiday it is impossible for me to predict which will occur. For more self-aware readers, perhaps this is not such a surprising phenomenon, but I find each time I am surprised either by the large amount of my to-be-read list I’ve suddenly ticked off, or by the fact that the most words I consumed were on a restaurant menu.

You might assume that, since this article is in the Books section of Cherwell, I am about to try to convince you that you should have spent your summer reigniting your childhood passion for reading. It is not an uncommon pipeline for someone who is nerd enough to get into the University of Oxford to have greatly enjoyed reading as a child, only to arrive here and have reading become their entire life. This, for many, leads not necessarily to falling out of love with reading, but perhaps to a reading fatigue that makes us increasingly reluctant to spend our precious free time with our nose in a book.

I know many people who at least somewhat mourn the more casual relationship they had with reading as a child. One thing that categorically never encourages a reignition of a love for casual reading, however, is guilt. At no point has a nostalgic childhood hobby been happily rediscovered through guilt. I also think that, for many people, guilt is a feeling associated specifically with reading for fun. It’s almost like many people who grew up with a love of reading also developed a need for academic achievement to such an extent that this would be carried into adulthood hobbies.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines a hobby as “an activity or interest pursued regularly in one’s leisure time for pleasure”. Unfortunately, when it comes to reading, many people seem to forget the final two words of this definition. So, ultimately, guilt seems to be almost exclusively applied to reading as a hobby, in a way that is damaging to our enjoyment of it. Reading seems to be the one hobby that causes people to forget what the purpose of a hobby actually is: pleasure. If you’re no longer wanting to read for pleasure, that’s not something that should be forced. I’ve watched people obsess over reaching arbitrary reading goals in a way that prevents their hobby from matching its definition.

In my opinion, as long as you’ve replaced it with other hobbies rather than an alarming screen time, falling out of love with reading is not something to be ashamed of, and it shouldn’t be a hobby forced out of some misplaced sense of guilt. The pause doesn’t have to be permanent, and perhaps not forcing it will allow it to come back naturally (as well as leaving a part of our lives in which reading comprises alarming amounts of our time).

Corn-ish at Oxford: A reflection on identity

Oliver Crosher
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Corn-ish at Oxford: A reflection on identity

“A Cornish childhood ends with the lights of Oxford.” I first read these words when I was lounging on a chair at Christ Church, surrounded by the dark wood-panelled walls of the room I had called home for the past year. It had been written by a proud Cornishman called A.L. Rowse, long before I had been born. The book was given to me by my wholeheartedly and unapologetically Cornish grandparents over a year ago, and had been silently waiting on my shelf to be read ever since. The afternoon on which I put the book at ease was a rare one: I had no impending essays, no readings to slog through, and no translations to hand in. I could count on only one hand the number of times I’ve found myself in such a situation at university, so I decided to seize this golden opportunity and read A Cornishman at Oxford.

A Cornishman at Oxford is an autobiographical memoir written by A.L. Rowse that details the dramatic change in the life of a working-class Cornishman when he begins his studies at Oxford in 1921. Cornish folk are few and far between at Oxford. As a Cornishman myself (albeit half Cornish), I can vouch for how little people know of our nation – aside from a vague awareness of St Ives or some other holiday town. Few people are familiar with St Piran (Cornwall’s patron saint), our folklore-rich stargazy pie, and traditional Cornish carols. Many are also quick to dismiss Cornish identity as trivial, without understanding that Cornwall was independent from England for centuries and had its own Celtic language (Kernewek), spoken as late as the 19th century. The fact that I grew up being told I was half Cornish and half English should tell you how seriously some consider the cultural divide to be, even to this day. This made reading the experiences of a fellow Cornishman during the 1920s all the more captivating.

Some may question why such a book would be important enough for me to feel obliged to write an article about it – after all, Cornwall is just another part of the UK. But this book is more than a commentary on Cornishness and studying at Oxford: it’s about fitting in, standing out, and overcoming the challenges therein. Rowse stuck out like a sore thumb amongst his peers, not only for his brazen Cornishness, but also on account of his working-class, state-educated background, and his homosexuality. Because of this, he dealt with a lot of insecurity surrounding his own intelligence compared with that of his fellow students, as well as a deep dissatisfaction regarding the conservatism that was rife in Oxford. It is for these reasons that I find his story not only comforting, but also hugely inspiring. Rowse was among the very first to prove that those from disadvantaged backgrounds belong at Oxford. He even became the first person from a working-class background to be awarded a fellowship at All Souls College. As a result, his achievements simultaneously marked a turning point in academia and acted as testimony to the fact that Oxford is open to all, no matter their background.

There is no doubt that Rowse and I share a host of similar experiences. From the Cornish clotted cream and scones sent from the homeland (jam first, obviously), to a similar disdain for the theatrics of the Oxford Union, much is the same. It seems that even our predecessors enjoyed a ‘Trinifree’ lifestyle in the summer, with Rowse at one point commenting: “Oh, dear: work and the summer term at Oxford are rather incompatible.” Coincidentally, Rowse, just like myself, attended Christ Church. His descriptions of Mercury Fountain, Tom Quad, and the Meadows are seemingly evergreen. It’s apparent that, despite obvious changes over the past 100 years, the enchanting charm of Oxford has remained much the same. Rowse’s writing transports me back to the wonderment of my first year, and the amazement that he felt upon first discovering the city truly resonates with me. Our part of the world is more rugged, less ornate, and far quieter, making the shift to the Oxford lifestyle a significant one.

Among the pleasing similarities between our lives, reminders of our differences are peppered throughout. Though it seems odd to say, given the luxuries we all experience as students here, Oxonians of the past enjoyed comforts that we do not. Larger rooms, constant tea parties, and regular drinks with dons were frequent occurrences for students in the 1920s. However, the contrast in our lives surrounding technology really struck a chord with me. The common doomscroll-induced guilt of the modern student simply wasn’t a feature of Rowse’s life, and the more I read about his personal pursuits, the more I began to envy the lifestyle he described. The Oxford Rowse presented seemed more close-knit, more passionate, and more creative. I realised that many of the same hours our predecessors whiled away with poetry, politics, and personal development, I now spend vacantly looking at my phone. Many of us are passively aware of the addictiveness of this element of modern life, but reflecting on this comparison is what really urged me to contemplate how I spend my own time. Though I’m far from perfect, after reading Rowse’s work I’m now more likely to favour a book over my phone – I’ve even started to learn bits of Cornish in an attempt to reconnect with my roots.

Rowse, like me, came from a state school, and I find the way in which he navigated relationships with those from other backgrounds both familiar and reassuring. When reading about Rowse’s return to Cornwall during the vacations and talks of his visits to local landmarks that I know all too well, I was left with a strong sense of nostalgia. Whilst I’ve come to feel at home at Oxford, it’s impossible to keep homesickness at bay forever. Though I’m sure others experience it more intensely, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t felt like a fish out of water more than a few times at Oxford, both on account of my state comprehensive background and my ‘country-bumpkin’ mentality. Due to this, it can be all too easy to push reminders of home to the back of my mind: views of old Cornish engine houses that my ancestors worked in, trips to the beach with my family, and the stories of miners and other Cornish folk that make up the history of our nation. But after reading this book, I was reminded of what I leave behind when I come here. Thanks to Rowse and his century-old writing, Cornwall no longer seems so far away from Oxford, and I feel a little bit more in the right place.

Oxford-Cambridge ‘growth corridor’ falls behind global competition

Gavriella Epstein-Lightman
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Oxford-Cambridge ‘growth corridor’ falls behind global competition

The “growth corridor” connecting Oxford and Cambridge is falling behind its global rivals despite its world-leading research output, a new report has warned. 

A recent report by a public consultancy and industry leaders found that the region produces more scientific publications per resident than any other global innovation cluster, but lacks the infrastructure, talent retention, and transport links needed to turn its research strengths into economic growth. According to the report, Oxford-Cambridge “does not yet have the scale or depth of a top-tier cluster”. It warned that Britain is “competing in a global innovation race that is only accelerating”, adding that “we cannot lose focus or slow down now”. 

The Oxford-Cambridge region has become a major focus of the government’s growth agenda after former Chancellor Rachel Reeves announced plans to “unleash the potential” of the region as part of the government’s ambition to create ‘Europe’s Silicon Valley’”.

The report argues the government needs to “go further and faster”, warning that “if OxCam moves too slowly, more of the firms and talent nurtured in the UK will move abroad”. The report describes addressing these constraints as “one of the clearest routes to long-term national renewal and economic security”. 

One of the five constraints identified as holding back the Growth Corridor is talent retention. Around two-thirds of unicorn companies founded by Oxford and Cambridge alumni are not headquartered locally, while one in five has left the UK. Infrastructure was also identified as a significant barrier to growth, with industrial electricity costing over 60% more in Oxford-Cambridge than in Paris and Boston. 

The region also suffers from poor connectivity between its two university cities. Travelling between Oxford and Cambridge by public transport currently takes three and a half hours, despite 45 minutes being considered to be an easily commutable distance, according to the report. 

East West Rail, which is intended to connect Oxford and Cambridge by train for the first time in decades, has faced repeated delays. The first part of the route, connecting Oxford and Milton Keynes, was due to open by the end of December 2025. However, the route has only been used for training runs and freight services, and in August, operator Chiltern Railways could not provide a date for the route opening. 

The government announced over  £500 million in investment last October as part of its commitment to the Oxford-Cambridge growth corridor, which it said would unlock new private sector investment. They estimated that developing the Growth Corridor could add £78 billion to the UK economy by 2035.

A spokesperson for the Ministry of Housing, Communities and Local Government told Cherwell that the growth corridor “has huge economic potential for our nation’s growth prospects”. 

“We’re unlocking this potential by exploring plans to go further than ever to create growth in the area, so we can boost the economy and put more money in people’s pockets,” they added.

Rhodes scholarships cut amid financial difficulties

Peter Chen
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Rhodes scholarships cut amid financial difficulties

The Rhodes Trust has restricted funding for professional degrees, introduced tighter limits on doctoral study, and reduced spending on events for scholars at Oxford amid financial difficulties.

Scholars pursuing a Master of Public Policy, Master of Business Administration, or Master of Financial Economics will now be limited to one year of funding, preventing them from combining any of these qualifications with another degree. Rhodes recipients wishing to pursue a DPhil also face restrictions.

Under conditions of tenure published in September, scholars are formally discouraged from undertaking courses of study longer than two years. If a scholar wishes to pursue doctoral studies after selection as a Rhodes Scholar, they must secure additional approval from the Rhodes Academic Review Board and prepare an alternative two-year course of study.

Places on the route combining a one-year master’s with a DPhil are described as “very restricted” in the conditions of tenure. In general, doctoral study is described as “non-standard” and limited to students for whom “undertaking the DPhil at Oxford at this stage of their academic and professional journey is a necessary next step towards achieving their long-term aspirations”.

Previous conditions allowed scholars to undertake professional degrees as part of a two-year programme with another academic master’s degree, and contained no restrictions on direct DPhil entry.

The changes extend to social life at Rhodes House. In conversation with Cherwell, numerous new scholars have noted considerably fewer induction events. Cherwell understands that alcohol will also no longer be provided at House events.

“It’s a stressful situation”, explained one Rhodes Scholar who is planning on doing a DPhil next year. “There’s a lot of uncertainty.” Another scholar said that it was “disappointing” to see that the Trust had ended the Global Constituency, which provided opportunities for students from countries not previously eligible for the scholarship. 

The measures narrow the academic options available through one of Oxford’s oldest scholarships. Established under the will of Cecil Rhodes in 1902, the Rhodes Scholarship is one of the most prestigious scholarship programmes in the world. Currently, it awards scholarships at Oxford to over 100 students each year. Previous Rhodes Scholars include former US president Bill Clinton, astronomer Edwin Hubble, and singer Kris Kristofferson. The scholarship has been subject to much scrutiny in recent years due to Rhodes’s colonial legacy. 

The restrictions come amid pressure on the Trust’s finances. Its report for the year to June 2025 recorded £27.7 million in scholarship expenditure, with an average annual cost of approximately £85,000 per scholar once overheads were allocated. It identified cost inflation, including university fees, stipends, and staffing, and outlined the trustees’ intention to reduce withdrawals from the endowment. Rising overseas student fees are a particularly significant drain on the Trust’s finances. A 2025 Cherwell investigation revealed that international student fees had risen by 37% from 2022, with fees on some courses rising by over 60%.  

The financial pressures follow the £38 million redevelopment of Rhodes House, which was completed in 2023. The Trust reports approximately £800,000 in annual interest on a bond issued to finance the building project, alongside income from commercial events and accommodation that contributes towards operating costs.

Investment returns have also fallen short of the Trust’s goals. Most of its endowment is managed by Oxford University Endowment Management (OUem), a preliminary estimate revealed to investors in June indicated that OUEM would return 3.6% in the year to June 2025, far short of its goal of inflation plus 5%. The Rhodes trust financial report noted that this was “modest relative to our goals, but reflected currency headwinds”.

A spokesperson for OUEM said: “The Oxford Endowment Fund’s (OEF) investment objective of a 5% real return is a long-term objective, not a short or medium-term one. Over the 17 years since inception to 31 December 2025, the OEF has returned 5.9% annualised in real terms, ahead of its investment objective, and in 2025 it returned 10.9%. The OEF provides a stable and growing annual distribution to its investors, which has increased ahead of inflation, enabling our investors to continue to meet their spending commitments.”

The latest restrictions follow the suspension of the Global Scholarships in April 2026. This programme provided a route for applicants ineligible to apply through existing geographical constituencies, including those from many African countries. The Trust’s public notice attributed the suspension to “shifting strategic priorities”. 

Rhodes is not the only international scholarship programme to cut back recently. In August, the Jardine Foundation announced the end of its scholarship programme for undergraduate students from Southeast Asian countries to study at Oxbridge after 44 years, focusing instead on regional institutions.

In a statement to Cherwell, the Trust said that it is “in a solid financial position”. At the same time, it said that “the University of Oxford has dramatically increased international postgraduate course costs in recent years, and costs are expected to continue rising”, which “will inevitably affect some future options”. It states that previously approved study plans will be honoured.

Unsilenced: I reported Damian Howard, too

Alexis Poindexter
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Unsilenced: I reported Damian Howard, too

When looking back on abuse cases that have plagued the church, some of the most common questions centre around whether there were early warning signs, whether something was missed, and most importantly, whether we can prevent this from happening in the future. The answer to each is wrapped up in a simple, yet difficult proposition: we need to start encouraging and listening to those who speak up and stop blindly trusting those in power.

A few months before Father Damian Howard, my former Senior Chaplain at the Oxford University Catholic Chaplaincy (OUCC), was removed under obscure circumstances, later revealed to be due to a sexual abuse complaint, I filed a non-sexual complaint against him. I had recently gone to Damian for spiritual support, explaining that I was struggling with my faith. In response, he spent the better part of an hour mocking me, belittling me, and – just for good measure – rolling his eyes at me. While I came away from the conversation upset, it was not until I spoke with family, friends, and an academic dean that I realised his responses and behaviour, given his position, were inappropriate. At the suggestion of my dean, I opted, hesitantly, to file a complaint.

At the time – late January of last year – the safeguarding officer of the chaplaincy community was, in fact, Damian. While I now realise this was a failure to properly safeguard the community, I thought little of it then, and simply opted to file a complaint with the Jesuits in Britain’s safeguarding officer, Julie Ashby-Ellis. Julie had previously worked as the safeguarding officer under Damian’s provincialate, as he was the prior leader of the Jesuit organisation in Britain; however, considering the asininity of reporting Damian to himself, she was my closest hope of ensuring any impartiality.

Ruled as a ministerial complaint – and not safeguarding – by Julie, a designation meaning that my complaint, according to her judgement, did not meet the criteria of abuse, my complaint landed in the hands of the current British Provincial and organisation’s leader, Father Peter Gallagher. In response to my complaint, the provincial immediately prohibited Damian from having any further contact with me, a response that inadvertently prohibited me from worshipping at or taking part in the chaplaincy community for over six months, while Damian carried on with his life as usual. He also reprimanded Damian, assigned him to be retrained and “closely watched,” and finally promised me that this sort of behaviour would never happen again, a promise that sadly ended up broken in late July – within the span of six short months.

Only after the alleged abuse became public, months after the initial abuse allegations, did I find out what led to that promise being broken, while I was gone from the chaplaincy. The Jesuit Provincial, with some prodding from me, informed me he had assigned Damian to speak once a week with two Jesuits from Campion Hall and once a month with a Jesuit psychotherapist, during which Damian simply told them that he was overworked and overtired. He did not disclose to them the conduct later alleged by another student about him, including allegations that Damian encouraged the student to remove clothing and get into bed with him, a fact I only later found out after media-publicised reports of the alleged sexual abuse and institutional cover-up this past February. And while the provincial-appointed training was focused on “inappropriate language and underlying negative attitudes”, there was no actual supervision, like a safeguarding officer or trained professional, to keep an eye on Damian and to ensure he was improving, in the aftermath of my complaint, as the provincial opted not to inform the two safeguarding representatives underneath Damian at the chaplaincy of my complaint. To the Jesuits, whatever Damian said was sacrosanct.

While the provincial later expressed deep shame for the inadequate supervision of Damian at the chaplaincy for those six months, this was not the first time I came away from an interaction feeling that Damian’s truth was greater than mine. And in the months since, I have firmly come to believe that the key to stopping abuse in the church might be found in examining the why.

Power and status, in the Catholic Church, are construed as markers of integrity and character. Priests are placed on a pedestal, separated from the rest of the Catholic population and are believed to be good by virtue of their position, not by virtue of their character. This erroneous conflation of power with goodness results in a church that trusts only her priests as mouthpieces. This proxy additionally, and adversely, causes anyone who speaks up to learn that silence, and the obedience and deference to power needed to achieve that silence, might as well be the church’s cardinal virtues.

Unquestionably, this culture was evident in the provincial’s blind trust of Damian for six months, but that alone does not even scratch the surface. There was the time I confided in a fellow Catholic about my experiences with Damian. He insinuated that I was lying, since Damian was the former provincial of the British Jesuits, and as a priest in good standing, simply could not have done anything I claimed. And there was the time I sought advice from another Oxford Catholic chaplain, months after Damian’s removal, over whether to file a second complaint about a comment he said that was likely sexualizing – “If you had a partner, you’d be spending a lot more time with your partner than with God, right?” The chaplain dismissed me, believing that Damian was a good person who just said a bad thing. Or, the one that hurt the most was the social isolation I felt after being shunned by a number of students who linked my return to the chaplaincy to Damian’s disappearance. Moments like these, sadly, worked to make me doubt my own perception and silence my own voice, all the while the conduct another student would later describe as abuse was happening right under the nose of the Oxford Catholic community.

While the culture of the Catholic Church hammers in the virtues of obedience, silence, and blind deference to those in power, a darker reality is haunting: those in power are aware of this. To illustrate, for months, Damian became a master of duplicity, pretending to become a better person under provincial-appointed supervision, all the while allegedly engaging in abusive conduct with a student behind closed doors. No one questioned Damian; everyone was blindly trusting him. The culture was working exactly as it was supposed to, and all he had to do was take advantage of it.

In the months after media reports of Damian’s sexual abuse allegations surfaced, I felt uncontrollably angry, due to the widespread belief that the abuse came out of left field. That was never the truth. I, for one, should know. I kept trying to speak up. It is just that the Catholic community fostered an environment in which my voice never mattered, and by virtue of his position alone, my priest’s did. While it has been said a thousand times over, hopefully, this will be the last: the key to preventing abuse in the Catholic Church must be to make sure that this never happens again.

In response, Jesuits in Britain told Cherwell: “The Jesuits in Britain take concerns raised with us seriously.”

“The written complaint from Ms Poindexter concerned a pastoral interaction with Fr Damian Howard SJ. She described feeling that her concerns had been minimised and dismissed, and that she felt invalidated by the response she received. It did not allege that Fr Howard had mocked her. We did not receive an allegation of abuse.

“The complaint was received by our Safeguarding and Professional Conduct Coordinator and assessed in accordance with our policies and procedures. It was then dealt with directly by the Provincial Superior, Fr Peter Gallagher SJ. As the major superior and head of the Jesuits in Britain, the Provincial has responsibility for the leadership, governance and oversight of the Province and its members. His direct involvement reflected the seriousness with which the complaint was taken.

“Fr Howard was called to account for the way he had responded and apologised for the hurt caused. Fr Gallagher also apologised to Ms Poindexter on behalf of the Jesuits and maintained communication with her about the concerns she had raised. Action was taken with Fr Howard, including training focused on better pastoral approaches, language and underlying attitudes. There was also ongoing follow-up and oversight of Fr Howard. It would therefore be inaccurate to suggest that there was no follow-up or oversight following the complaint.

“The Jesuits in Britain recognise that Ms Poindexter experienced the response to her concerns as unsympathetic and dismissive, and we are sorry for the experience she had.

“Our Safeguarding and Professional Conduct Coordinator, Julie Ashby-Ellis, provides a clear point of contact for anyone wishing to raise a concern. She is responsible for receiving and assessing concerns, advising on the appropriate response and overseeing matters in accordance with our policies and procedures. Her role includes ensuring that concerns are followed up appropriately and that those who come forward are listened to, treated with respect and taken seriously.

“The complaint made by Ms Poindexter was not related to the decision in August 2025 to ask Fr Damian Howard SJ to step down from his role as Senior Chaplain at the Oxford University Catholic Chaplaincy. That decision followed a complaint received in July 2025 and an internal investigation which found that professional misconduct had occurred. The investigation did not find evidence of abuse in relation to that matter.

“An independent review by the Catholic Safeguarding Standards Agency (CSSA) subsequently found no evidence of abuse or grooming, and concluded that the relationship was not abusive under safeguarding standards. The full findings have been published on our website.”

Between beer gardens and picnics: Climate Culture Care at the Ashmolean

Leo Maudsley-Barton
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Between beer gardens and picnics: Climate Culture Care at the Ashmolean

When I returned to Oxford this term, just as England teased us with the sixth heat-wave of the year, I found myself at a loose end. With the deadline for two vacation essays still far in the distance, the sun lit up the sign for Soma Surovi Jannat’s Ashmolean Now exhibition, Climate Culture Care. I went in to see it (rather grateful for the museum’s air conditioning, if nothing else), and I was directed to the basement level. 

From the first few lines of her introduction, the importance of Surovi’s exhibition is clear. Her work is groundbreaking: “The first solo presentation of any Bangladesh-based artist in a UK museum.” Looking at the list of her exhibition’s supporters (including The Patrons of the Ashmolean Museum, British Council Bangladesh, Samdani Art Foundation, Charles Wallace Bangladesh Trust and Gallery Espace, New Delhi), the weight of this presentation should not be underestimated. Her work is tucked between the bustling cafe and gift shop. 

Like the other viewers who came in behind me, I was first struck by Surovi’s “ephemeral work”, She Carries the River in Her Skin. A single piece, the work bends around the corner and spans almost the length of the back wall. Drawn directly onto the wall in March, when the exhibition opened, the white plaster is a mighty canvas, but the black skeletal shape that arches over it does not overwhelm the space. Surovi seems to trust you to come closer to see the intricate details of her strokes. I do, as do the others. We find the figures wrapped around each other, hands that become trees, then scissors which slice through a single flower. The different parts of the wider body are all kept in individual, connected ovals. They start to feel like eyes watching us, a gaze which I am forced to drop, while it remains unblinking. 

The wall text beside it is a sobering description: “Surovi examines the impact of climate change on women and children.” The words explain that this work is focused on the social challenges that women face after losing their husbands to tiger attacks in Bangladesh. She also draws attention to the health risks posed to those who find their home in the Sundarbans (the world’s largest mangrove forest). They have reduced access to clean water: “A basic human right that remains unfulfilled for many.” Her artwork is beautifully detailed, but perhaps does require the accompanying commentary to be properly appreciated. The final line especially really resonated with me: “While the work has been carefully documented, it will be erased at the end of this exhibition.” 

I find that sense of erasure – the art’s self-proclaimed ephemeral nature – more compelling than the physical work itself. I think of the plants, the houses, the people, the lives that were just as uniquely intricate and detailed, then so brutally erased by the unforgiving violence of wildfires and storms. The eyes keep watching me. 

I turn to take in the wall opposite, and find another impressively expansive artwork. Between the Sea and the Sky, Who Holds the Ground? is a scroll nearly 10m long. Unlike the black-and-white wall piece behind it, this artwork is an archival ink-on-paper work with acrylic colour, gold and silver leaf. This time, I read the description first: “Surovi’s work reflects the strength of ordinary people facing migration challenges, depicting a long scene of climate refugees, including both animals and humans.” As suggested, I follow it from right to left, appreciating the representation of shifting ecosystems and “cosmic transformations” caused by climate change. Again, I am not sure it would be as impactful if the meaning was not explained beside it.

Then, about halfway through, I am suddenly stopped by a ceramic hand mounted above the scroll. It was not mentioned in the description. I think it is one of the “Ashmolean inspirations” scattered throughout the exhibit, historical artefacts that influenced Surovi in her creation of the exhibition. The raised red hand is held upright, as if urging us to stop, but it has lost its thumb and forefinger. It is one of the most striking images in the basement room. It feels like the past is reaching out and begging us to change, desperate for us to stop the destructive consequences of climate change. But then I, like everyone else, move past this warning. We leave it behind as the reality of those consequences continues on the scroll. 

In the middle of the room, a few smaller artworks are organised on free-standing displays. They are circular and part of a series which “delves into the emotions of animals, and the feelings of being trapped in the human world”. Looking around, they are not getting as much attention as the bigger pieces, but as I weave in and out of them, something suddenly catches my eye. An air purifier sits at the end of the room, wafting cool air through the displays. I am quickly beside it, enjoying the breeze it allows. 

From my cold haven, I cannot help but mark the uncomfortable irony of this exhibition. Surovi’s works warn us of the pressing danger of climate change, and the museum must plug in units to cool the room down. She constructs works whose gaze you cannot look away from, and the exhibition is fitted underground at level minus one. It takes a committed viewer – who doesn’t mind the occasional shriek of an excited child in the cafe – to find it. 

Eventually, I climb back up to the ground floor of the Ashmolean. I am quickly blinded by the light of the unseasonably hot September day flooding in through the main doors. Climate Culture Care is an important reminder that between the beer gardens and picnics, our world is being destroyed. Walking home, I find it is not so much the individual works that stay with me, but that final sentence: “It will be erased at the end of this exhibition.”

What else is being lost, as the world above us gets warmer?

This free exhibition ends in November, and I would suggest that if you have time, stop by the Ashmolean to visit it. Before it is erased.

Oxford offer holders “speechless” after court rejects challenge to visa brake

Mair Andrews
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Oxford offer holders “speechless” after court rejects challenge to visa brake

A high court case by four women prevented from studying at Oxford by the government’s visa brake was rejected in August, with an appeal pending.

At least 15 students offered places at Oxford have been prevented from taking up their places this October after the government introduced a student visa “brake” on nationals of Afghanistan, Cameroon, Myanmar, and Sudan.  The policy, introduced in March, was challenged in the High Court by women from the four affected countries, including Oxford offer-holders. 

The Home Office introduced the measure following an increase in asylum claims from people who had initially entered the UK through study and work routes. Measures are intended to “prevent abuse of the visa system” and ensure that study and skilled-worker routes were used for their “proper purpose”. The government estimated that the policy would prevent around 4,300 student visas being issued over 18 months, while reducing asylum claims from people on student visas by around 1,300. 

Claimants challenged the process by which the four countries were selected and alleged that the Home Secretary failed to consider or investigate the discriminatory impact of the student visa brake on women. 

Zeinab Mohamed, a current Sudanese student at Somerville College, attended the court case. She told Cherwell: “For many of us, this case was about more than visas. It was about whether students from countries already going through war and crisis would still have a fair chance at an education… The visa brake closes one of the few doors that were still open.”

The Court recognised that the policy had “dashed the hopes and expectation” of students who had secured places at prestigious universities, including students who had received or been shortlisted for scholarships. 

Safar Amin, a student from Afghanistan who had an offer to read an MPhil for development studies, told Cherwell: “For me, Oxford represented a possibility: the belief that, if people with the fewest resources are given an opportunity, they can become catalysts for change within societies that have endured decades of war and violence.” His offer has now been withdrawn. He told Cherwell that there was no option to defer it because the visa brake is expected to remain in place for at least 18 months, into the next application cycle. 

Another affected offer-holder, Afghan human rights activist Aisha Khurram, had planned to read for MSt in Diplomatic Studies in Oxford this October. Khurram told Cherwell that studying her offer to study in the UK was part of a life-long plan: “I somehow wanted to pursue the dream I had left off in Afghanistan which was this diplomatic studies in Oxford.” 

She told Cherwell: “Studying in Oxford is a dream in itself, but also a dream that started in Afghanistan. I wanted to take it to the next level, I would have been studying in Oxford.” 

Alongside her studies, Khurram has piloted an e-learning programme providing university-level, certified education to women in six Afghan provinces. She said she had hoped to use her time at Oxford to expand the programme through the University’s networks. “One of the reasons I also wanted to join Oxford was to bring that idea into that network and expand it with their support,” she told Cherwell. 

The Court acknowledged the “appalling systemic eradication” of women’s and girls’ access to education in Afghanistan, but ruled that the Home Secretary was not legally required to consider the impact of an immigration measure on gender inequality overseas. Since the Taliban took over Afghanistan in August 2021, women have been barred from secondary and higher education. 

Khurram added that she was “quite speechless” about the court’s resolution: “people have been finally able to survive the Taliban, then they are faced with policies that are only based on a prejudice that excludes them from opportunities or from their right to stabilise themselves and have a dignified future, just because they have a certain passport, not because they are not qualified.”

A spokesperson from the University of Oxford told Cherwell: “’We receive a significant number of talented students from countries affected by war and persecution. As a University of Sanctuary, we are committed to ensuring that outstanding offer-holders from crisis-affected backgrounds can take up their places at Oxford.”

Alongside the University, Mansfield and Somerville became Oxford’s first Colleges of Sanctuary in 2021. In a joint statement, the colleges told Cherwell: “When the student visa brake was announced earlier this year, we said that preventing talented scholars from travelling to the UK on legitimate student visas would do nothing to address the complex causes of irregular migration.

We continue to believe that ability and potential, not birthplace or background, should determine who has access to education at Oxford.”

Botley Road reopens after three and a half years

Orla McMahon
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Botley Road reopens after three and a half years

Botley Road, which has been closed since April 2023 to accommodate expansions to Oxford railway station, reopened to the public this week. 

Originally scheduled for August, the reopening was pushed back to 20th September due to repairs to the gas network under the road. The road is now open to both pedestrians and vehicles. The reopening also brings improved bus services, a new walkway and a cycleway that runs under the rail bridge.

The road serves as a main passage into the city centre. It spans from Botley, which sits on the A34 to the west of the city, to Frideswide Square, near Oxford railway station and next to the Said Business School. 

These developments form part of the Oxfordshire Connect programme. According to an information pamphlet provided by Network Rail, this infrastructure project seeks to build “a bigger, better station for everyone” and add “additional rail capacity for the future”. Plans include a new line linking Oxford and Cambridge and the reopening of the Cowley branch line. Network Rail estimates that the total cost of this scheme so far is £237.4 million, well above the initial estimate of £161 million.

Oxfordshire Connect justified their decision to close the entire road, rather than just one lane, with the intention to complete construction before the end of 2024. However, construction was delayed multiple times due to unforeseen circumstances, including the discovery of a Victorian brick arch under the road and complications with utility infrastructure. 

Local residents have previously expressed their frustration at these delays. Following the closure of the road in 2023, many local businesses reported that their trade was negatively affected. Layla Moran, MP for West Oxfordshire and Abingdon, took the issue to Parliament and met with Minister of State for Rail Peter Hendy in 2024 to discuss the ongoing closure. 

In response to the reopening, Layla Moran told Cherwell: “Whilst I feel relieved that the Botley road has reopened, it has come at long last after three and a half years of terrible disruption to the lives of my constituents…I promise to push for accountability, having requested that the National Audit Office carry out an investigation into why the cost of the project has now soared to £237.4 million”. 

Network Rail have released a statement upon the road’s reopening which acknowledged that the road closure had a “significant impact” on Oxford residents and that they are “sorry for the disruption and the frustration it has caused”. 

Although no date has been confirmed, the station renovations are expected to resume at a later point.

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