Tuesday 10th June 2025
Blog Page 333

Witches, Maths and Plato: Hypatia of Alexandria

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Mainstream study of antiquity is dominated by learning about great male scholars: for philosophy it’s Plato or Socrates, for history it’s Thucydides, and for literature it all starts with Homer. It may come as some surprise, then, that the figure often associated with the so-called death of antiquity is a woman: Hypatia of Alexandria. 

Hypatia was born around 350 AD in Alexandria, one of the world’s most renowned scholarly centres. Her father, Theon, was the last known member of the museum at Alexandria. A museum had somewhat different connotations than what we think of today, as being monuments to the past. Indeed, when Alexandria was founded by Alexander the Great, the museum at the centre of the city was set up as a location dedicated to the Muses – patron goddesses of the arts, culture, and education. Theon taught here in a position analogous to the modern professor in mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy. 

Hypatia was born into a rich scholarly tradition both due to her surroundings at Alexandria and her father’s influence. Her father tutored her from a young age, and she took full advantage of the great Library of Alexandria at the museum, which housed more than half a million scrolls full of wisdom on different subjects. 

Her city would not remain a paradisiacal centre of learning for long, however. Alexandria was conquered by Rome in 48 BC under Julius Caesar, and by 364 AD it had been assimilated into the Roman Empire. The official state religion of the empire had at this point become Christianity, and in the early days of Christianity, academia in Alexandria flourished. 

Hypatia took full advantage of this, slowly overpassing her father’s legacy. She founded the Neoplatonic school in Alexandria and tutored young men from across the empire. She integrated the teachings of Plato with mystic philosophical ideas. She believed that maths was the language of the universe, and linked her mathematical lens on the cosmos to the ordered harmony of music. Hypatia also taught her students about an indivisible source of the universe transcending the reality which we see, called the One. Aside from the mystic side to her teaching, she invented a calculator called the astrolabe – used up until the 19th century.

Hypatia was greatly respected by her male students and colleagues despite her gender, with one of her fellow philosophers, Socrates Scholasticus, commenting that ‘Neither did she feel abashed in coming to an assembly of men. For all men on account of her extraordinary dignity and virtue admired her the more.’ 

Not all of her contemporaries took a similar viewpoint, however, and political and religious tensions flaring up in the city contributed greatly towards this. Hypatia was a close friend of the governor of Alexandria: Orestes, a moderate Christian. Orestes clashed greatly with the archbishop of the city, Cyril, over their spheres of influence. Cyril wanted greater power for the institution of the church, and Orestes opposed this in favour of secular governance.  

Tensions reached a tipping point when Orestes had a man named Hierax, one of Cyril’s followers, arrested for inciting violence. Hierax had slipped into a synagogue to spy on Jewish residents of Alexandria and find evidence of an anti-Christian conspiracy. When discovered by the people in the synagogue, Hierax was reported and punished on Orestes’ orders. This enraged Cyril, who in turn ordered his zealous followers to punish the Jews. 

 As tensions between Jews and Christians, and between Cyril and Orestes increased, violence became more and more commonplace. Orestes was accused of not being Christian, and as vitriol grew an all too common motif in history was played out. A woman was scapegoated as being a witch and accused of corrupting Orestes from his faith; this woman was Hypatia. 

Popular across the city and labelled according to dichotomous standards as a Pagan witch, Hypatia’s association with Orestes was fatal. A band of zealous monks who were followers of Cyril attacked Hypatia when she was delivering a public lecture at the museum. Hypatia was dragged from her chariot to a church called the Caesareum, stripped, beaten to death with tiles and the remnants of her mutilated body were burned. 

Though she may not have viewed herself as a particularly courageous woman, Hypatia’s death shows the danger associated with being a free-thinking woman even in one of the greatest hubs of scholarship that has existed. Rarely do we get to see great examples of female scholarship from antiquity, but Hypatia certainly was one – expounding and building on the doctrines of Plato, Pythagoras, Plotinus, and forerunning many modern mathematical concepts. Her death, which cast her as a so-called pagan sorceress, gave her the role of a corrupting Clytemnetra or a vengeful Medea, but her legacy should not be defined by this. Hypatia stands as an example of the power of academia and a questioning mind to foster an environment where all, regardless of gender or religion, can join in the pursuit of learning. 

The Map to Happiness: Shrek and Saudade

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Shrek and saudade are two things that don’t usually go together. One is a heartfelt sense of longing and nostalgia, whilst the other is a children’s film about a grumpy ogre and his misfit gang of fairytale friends. However, this week, Shrek helped me understand saudade in an unexpected way. 

Saudade was defined by Portuguese writer Manuel de Melo as “a pleasure you suffer, an ailment you enjoy.” We don’t generally associate ailments and suffering with happiness, but I can see why saudade is included in the book this column is based on. It’s a word that describes the sudden pang you get for home when you’re on holiday or the wistful feeling of flicking through old childhood photos. It’s about the joy of reminiscing, but also the bittersweet recognition that these moments don’t last. 

When I spoke to Portuguese tutor Georgia Nasseh, she explained that the awareness that nothing lasts forever is an important part of saudade. As a Brazilian living in the UK, she said she found that “it’s very much linked to the idea of home and the impermanence of things”. “Sometimes saudade isn’t something you feel after the fact, maybe you’re in a situation and the knowledge that it will come to an end already creates the feeling of saudade”. 

This, she added, is part of the appeal of carnival. “I think carnival is a really interesting phenomenon in Brazil because carnival is short. It has this sense that it’s very limited, it’s only that short period of time.” Each year millions of people across the country take to the streets for five days of drinking, dancing and just generally having a good time. The knowledge that carnival isn’t forever, Georgia explained, means that people can really let their hair down and enjoy the celebrations while they last. 

Sadly, Coronavirus meant that organising our own verison of carnival was out of the question,  but this week my household made an effort to get together for drinks in the evenings to channel the celebratory spirit. I also tried to catch up with friends I hadn’t spoken to in a while over zoom. One afternoon I met up with a friend from school and we chatted happily about disastrous dates and summer plans over a cup of coffee. I was reminded of how nice it is to touch base with people from back home, especially since Oxford can sometimes feel like a bit of a bubble. 

My household also decided that a Shrek movie night was the ultimate way to re-live our childhood experience and feel saudade. As I watched the film surrounded by friends laughing and chatting, I felt nostalgic, but also incredibly grateful for the chance to make new memories to add to old. I realised that these were the times I would treasure in future, and the words from a song Georgia had quoted came to mind. “Tristeza não tem fim / Felicidade sim”. Sadness has no end but happiness does. Moments like these wouldn’t last forever, but that just made them all the more special. 

 

Cannibal coming-of-age: Julia Ducournau’s Raw

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Meat sweating through the pocket of a lab coat, blood dripping slowly to the floor, the sound of flesh being torn apart. Only fleeting moments in Julia Ducournau’s Raw (2016), but an accurate taste of the film’s uncompromising use of graphic horror. In the first ten minutes alone we are shown spitting, sloppy mashed potatoes, tongues, sweaty bodies, and jars of pickled animals. These descriptions were what initially turned me and many others away from watching. When confronted with such graphic and unfamiliar ways of using human flesh my gut reaction was to feel nauseous and light-headed. The idea of having to watch someone do something I have always been told is abhorrent felt so wrong to the point of producing a physical response. I have often found that, whatever I have been told I may get out of watching a graphic film is not worth the harrowing experience that I must go through to get it. Raw, however, is different. 

Raw is gross and disgusting, but it is also an important story about acceptance, about what makes us normal, and about our relationship with what we eat. Though the very idea of the film is sickening, disgust is central to the point it wants to make. Ducournau wants us to feel ill but then uses the length of the film to convert this feeling into a more productive force. It is a unique cross-genre blend of the horror and the coming-of-age drama, combining an interesting collection of ideas from both. Raw is telling what might be a familiar story about the young adult experience, but through the horrific vehicle of cannibalism – and this is what really drew me in. 

The film follows Justine, an unassuming 16-year old girl, arriving at veterinary college for her first year. On her first night she is subjected to an intense hazing ceremony that extends into a week-long induction. They are made to crawl on the floor like animals, showered with buckets of blood, and expected to worship the older years like Gods. Raw constantly surrounds Justine’s story with the story of the calculated violence of the initiations. Ducournau sets up a violence that is easy to immediately criticise as a backdrop that contextualises the story she really wants to tell. So, when Justine begins to eat raw meat, followed by her first taste of human finger, it felt justificable to me considering what she was being subjected to during her induction week. I could easily criticise the hazing, but the complex nature of Justine’s turn to cannibalism was much harder to immediately reject. This, along with the fact that I felt a huge amount of sympathy for Justine, meant that, as I sat through my first watch, the cannibalism began to feel almost normal. It seemed no different to any other monstrous taboo or dirty little secret. It was only after finishing the film that I actually noticed, despite my initial reservations, how necessary the gross stuff was. If I was so blinded by my own sympathy for Justine that I could ignore intimate scenes of human flesh being torn apart, what does that say about how I relate to Justine’s young adult experiences?

Interestingly, at the same time as cannibalism becomes more understandable to us, Justine herself is constantly suppressing these desires, actively shielding the secret from all those around her. We may be being pushed towards understanding, but Justine feels nothing but shame – in much the same way as girls are often expected to feel about their own bodies. The disgust that she feels for herself and her inability to stop wanting meat regularly extends into a physical, bodily reaction. The first time that Justine eats meat is when she is peer-pressured into it as part of the initiations. Her body goes on to reject this, shown to us through an extremely visceral (and disgusting) all-body allergic reaction. Her body’s reaction represents both the disgust she feels for herself at having eaten meat, and also her body’s literal rejection of the first attempt to blend in. Every time a piece of graphic body horror is shown,  it is cleverly used in much the same way – symbolising the changing relationships Justine has with herself, other people, and other animals. 

Some have labelled Raw as a piece of vegan propaganda, perhaps implying that quitting vegetarianism will turn you into a cannibal. Whether this is true or not, certainly Ducournau has a lot to say about our relationship with meat. Justine enters college as a vegetarian, and her feelings about animals as food are in constant focus. She also relates to the animals she works with, in many ways reflecting how she is treated as sub-human – as an animal – during the college induction rituals. When she does eat human flesh, it seems as though it is an outcome of these things, of her changing relationship with animals through how she relates to and consumes them. She begins to eat animal flesh, but then also sees herself more and more as an animal, resulting in blurred moral boundaries that mean, in her view, how is animal eating animal any different from human eating human? Ducournau weaves together these different threads, asking questions about both humanity and animality, forcing you to contemplate your own relationship with animals. 

Raw is undoubtedly a disgusting film. It uses graphic body horror in many of the flesh-eating scenes, with varying degrees of visual gore and sickening sound design. But, though gloriously grotesque, they do not cheapen the experience nor make the film unwatchable. Raw is brilliant because of how necessary these moments of the gruesome are, not despite them. The horror does not lose its power by being manipulated in unusual ways, but is in fact enhanced and expanded beyond the traditional confines of the genre to tell new stories in new ways. And it is because of these things that I, a newcomer to the world of horror, have become such a big fan of the film in such a short space of time. With that in mind, as I sit down to watch Raw for the fourth time in two weeks, I would encourage you to put aside any reservations and embrace the power of the disgusting. 

The Epic Highs and Lows of Riverdale

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Teen dramas have been ridiculous for years. We’ve seen Chuck Bass’ dad fake his death only to fall off a roof while dramatic orchestral music plays in Gossip Girl. We’ve seen the ever-mysterious ‘A’ put five girls in a huge fake dollhouse in Pretty Little Liars. We’ve seen teenagers pray to a grilled cheese sandwich that happens to look a little bit like God in Glee. Until recently, however, we’d never seen a girl talk to her twin brother’s taxidermied corpse. We hadn’t seen a villain called the Gargoyle King kill people through a game that’s basically Dungeons and Dragons. We definitely hadn’t seen a plot about tickle porn, or organ farming. 

Riverdale is the teen drama to end all teen dramas. What started off as a fairly standard show about a teen murder mystery has evolved into essentially a parody of itself. The dialogue has to be heard to be believed, with real lines including “you can’t have any of my bodily fluids, you succubus!” No, I’m not kidding. Let’s do a quick recap – spoilers incoming, although with this show there’s no way I’ll ever be able to cover more than a brief outline so there will still be literal shocks at every corner.

Based on the Archie comics, the first series of the TV show follows a group of high school students trying to solve the death of their classmate Jason Blossom, and also looks at love triangles, teacher-student relationships, and gang clashes. Season 2 focusses on a serial killer called the Black Hood, but also features conversion therapy and fake siblings. Season 3 centres around a cult called The Farm which is revealed to be for organ donation, as well as Gryphons and Gargoyles, a deadly rip-off of Dungeons and Dragons. Season 4’s main plot is clearly based on The Secret History, about a murder plot at a rich private school, while there is also a story about a ‘voyeur’ who has been sending residents of the town videotapes of their front doors. Season 5, so far, jumps forward seven years to see the original characters trying to save their town. If it sounds like those things can’t possibly all be in the same show, that’s because they can’t. It’s impossible. And yet Riverdale does it anyway. 

Riverdale is pure chaos. None of the plot lines make sense together, and most of them are completely unrelated. The dynamics between the characters are endlessly confusing, with secret siblings and pseudo-incest galore. The dialogue, as I’ve mentioned, sounds like it absolutely can’t be real. And yet, the show is undeniably a success. It’s on it’s 5th season already, ratings are still high, the cast are all stars, and it doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon. So, frankly, how? How is a show so categorically bad doing so well? Like the characters themselves, we’re going to do some investigating.

First: the genesis of Riverdale. A creation story to rival that of Adam and Eve. The way I see it, there are two key elements to Riverdale’s birth. The first, of course, is the comics. The series starts off with characters that already exist, and are quite familiar to some, and pretty much everyone under the sun has heard the song ‘Sugar, Sugar’, which is by the characters’ fictional band. There is existing lore, as such, and dynamics between characters that make sense. Familiarity is always helpful to get people to start watching a series. The second component is a person: Roberto Aguirre-Sacasas. RAS, as fans refer to him as, has a long past with the Archie/Riverdale universe: in 2003, he wrote and staged a play about the comic characters grown up, in New York, where Archie is gay and mixing with real-life serial killers. He was issued a cease and desist order by Archie Comics, but went ahead with the play anyway, just changing character names, such as making Jughead into Tapeworm and making Veronica into Monica. Yes, really. He also spent a few years writing for Glee, because of course he did. When you think about it, this creation story makes perfect sense: take iconic comic characters, combine them with a writer known for the weird and the camp, and you get Riverdale

RAS’ Glee past also explains one of Riverdale’s most random elements (okay, maybe not most random, that’s highly contested): the musical episodes. The show has now tackled Carrie, Heathers, and Hedwig and the Angry Inch, managing to squeeze an ungodly amount of songs into these 40 minute episodes. They’ve become internet-famous, but for bad reasons: half of the cast literally can’t sing. There are also random musical numbers in other episodes, and have been since the beginning: they’re a key element of the show now. A particular recent classic is the Riverdale cover of ‘Midnight Radio’ from Hedwig. It is a classic purely because it is terrible. At the same time, however, the musical episodes are some of my favourites. We’re a generation of musical theatre lovers, and it injects fun into the show, even if it also makes your ears bleed. Who doesn’t want to see a high schooler initiate a threesome in her auditorium while singing ‘Dead Girl Walking’ from Heathers, or a girl group singing ‘Milkshake’ on the literal roof of a diner? Don’t pretend you don’t. 

There is so much joy to be found in terrible art. Riverdale is, I would argue, the singular worst piece of television in the last couple of years, and yet it’s also one of my favourites. It’s impossible not to enjoy watching it. While the dialogue is unfalteringly abysmal, there does also seem to be some skill and craft going on behind the scenes. The show clutches on just about tightly enough to some semblance of plot, so the end-of-episode cliffhangers do leave you wanting to find out what happens. The character dynamics, while obviously bizarre, are easy to get invested in, especially as we’ve been following the same small group of friends for five seasons. Riverdale walks – or rather, totters – on the line between conscious satire and just poor writing in a way that’s unfailingly captivating to watch. I for one can’t wait to see what they do next – although I doubt they’ll manage to outdo the time Archie fought a bear. 

All kinds of vulnerable: reflections on the past year

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While the worst some could imagine was a life without pubs, the worst I could imagine was the loss of my three closest family members. Upon reaching the one-year anniversary of the first lockdown, I have had the chance to reflect on the events of the past year. My experience, one of constant fear for the safety of my family, still haunts me a year on.

As keen as I am to forget the trauma of the last year, I feel a duty to reflect. Living with a vulnerable family during a global pandemic was frightening, to say the least. As the one non-vulnerable person of the family, the weight of responsibility to keep my family safe was suddenly shifted onto my shoulders as I learned of the horrifying effects of the virus on the clinically vulnerable.

I was in my final year of secondary school when the first lockdown was announced in March 2020. Not only had my school year been curtailed by the announcement, but so had an entire chapter of my life. Initially, the effects of Covid were limited to uncertainty about exams and university places, and rushed goodbyes with friends and teachers. There was a mutual anxiety shared by anyone who was in Year 13 during the start of the pandemic. Saddened by the way in which our memories of school life were ending and anxious for how this pandemic would affect our future prospects, our year group felt isolated and lost, unable to find solace in the government’s decisions.

At this point, we were still feeling no active threat to the health of the populace and our minds were crowded with anxieties regarding our own futures. However, as the death toll rapidly rose, worries about my own future dissipated and became altogether insignificant as I became increasingly worried about the welfare and health of my family. Throughout my life I have lived with my mum and my two grandparents — all three of whom qualified as extremely clinically vulnerable. This meant that they were required to shield, for if any of them were to contract Covid, the likelihood of a very serious, if not fatal, outcome was extremely high. Overnight, my entire world shifted — their safety and welfare became my priority.

I found myself having to adapt my fairly self-absorbed way of life to the needs of my family. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that I was bored or that I was missing out on my final year of school — there were greater things to worry about. Every anxiety I felt about my social life and a wasted summer felt trivial in comparison to my family’s fight for safety and health. This idea reverberated throughout the country as attention was turned away from the missed frivolities and was instead directed towards the key workers and the vulnerable members of society.

Naturally, this priority shift changed and affected my day-to-day routines. The weekly grocery shop required a task force. Fully masked and gloved and on our knees, my mum and I would meticulously disinfect every grocery item that had been delivered before storing it away. As the least vulnerable, I was sent out to the shops draped in PPE, but despite my ridiculous protective attire, I still came back racked with paranoia that I could be bringing the virus home. The fear was constant. Wearing gloves when opening the post, disinfecting the doorbell each time it was rung, and obsessive handwashing became routine in our house. Every simple household task was made more tedious — as the severity of the pandemic heightened, the safety precautions we took only increased. My motivation to protect my family was spurred on by the constant reminder of the prospects that awaited them should they be exposed to the virus. One shocking news headline was enough to make me run around the house with anti-bacterial spray, frantically cleaning doorknobs and handles. My Dettol spray and I grew to be inseparable.

However, it got to a point where such routines took a toll on my mental wellbeing. I found myself drained not only from the constant disinfecting but also from the sheer emotional exhaustion that came from my permanent state of worry. Every day I woke up to what felt like a perpetual anxiety. For a while I had taken comfort in my friends — I rested assured that the whole country was in the same boat experiencing the burdens of lockdown. However, even when restrictions were eased, so long as I was shielding with my family, those positive changes would not apply to me.

This is when it started to dawn on me that the country was moving forward and those in vulnerable households were being left behind. The FOMO set in as social media reminded me that I was now at a loss — I was totally healthy, yet here I was indoors and shielded from the world. There’s a difference between knowing you can’t go out anyway and therefore not going out, and knowing you can go out and still choosing not to. The clinically vulnerable had no choice about staying indoors, but I did: I was living my life every day as if I was vulnerable, but I wasn’t. I was living with restrictions which were entirely self-inflicted. Living with the feeling of I could be out right now was heavy as I kept on reminding myself that the anxiety would be all be worth it once my family came out in good health at the other end.

This anxiety was only amplified by a deep frustration I felt. Those not at medical risk who had been given some aspect of freedom (the freedom to walk and interact with other households) were abusing their liberty, which meant that another spike in Covid cases was triggered. The irresponsible exercising of their freedom brought with it only more restrictions and more days locked inside for those who were shielding. Families like mine were paying the price for other people’s carelessness. I felt a distinct lack of empathy during this time; the doors were open for those not at risk to go out into the world, but the vulnerable were quickly forgotten.

It took a few more months before government advice stated that it was safe for shielding families to go on walks, and this freedom felt overwhelmingly good. Skip a few months forward and my entire family had received their vaccines. The past year has been one of pain, grief and realisation. There has been nothing I regret, and I would do it all again for those I love. I realised the value of family and my ability to de-prioritise my own needs when it comes to protecting loved ones. I have also realised that there were all sorts of vulnerable people throughout the pandemic. Whilst I wasn’t medically vulnerable, the pandemic made me vulnerable to an array of emotions. The loneliness and frustration and exhaustion also contributed to my mental vulnerability. A year on, I look back and think that all of us were in a sense, some kind of vulnerable. Dealing with loss, guilt, grief, anxiety and fear every single day made each person who lived through the pandemic some kind of ‘at risk’. We were all at the mercy of the virus, whether it be medically, emotionally or mentally, and it is this shared vulnerability I take solace in.

Image credit:<a href=”https://www.freepik.com/photos/hand”>Hand photo created by freepik – www.freepik.com</a>

Looking a right punt

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Punting is one of those things that I had always associated with Oxford in the abstract. I can still remember walking around Christ Church Meadows during interviews, seeing groups of students huddled in punts, puffer-adorned and wine-drenched, like Elysian gods on cerulean water. The punting of Oxford and Cambridge has a distinct prestige; talk of quants, tills and all the lexis of punting somehow became emblematic of my desire to attend Oxford, with all its opulence and archaic excesses.

So, when I eventually arrived at Oxford, punting was at the top of the to-do list. It would be a rite of passage, something that would affirm my status as a student of Oxford – transformative, transcendental. It is perhaps fitting then that the chance to punt came on matriculation, the day that I actually was confirmed as an Oxford student. Wrangling COVID-restricted matriculation was an odd thing in and of itself. Missing the contact with higher years, none of us really knew what we were supposed to do, aside from getting dressed up in flappy gowns and a suit, take pictures by the Rad Cam and drunkenly terrorise the residents of Oxford. So, after a rather depressing watch party of the online Formal Welcome, the only logical step was to drink an enormous quantity of wine, cram in a McDonald’s and stagger down to the Isis in the hope of finding a punt.

With a crew assembled of four similarly inebriated Univites, we took to the water. Suffice to say that our technique did not mirror that of the Venetian gondolas. Any smoothness of motion remained elusive, as the quant was wielded like a lightsabre, hacking at the riverbed and more often than not leaving us drifting horizontally down the river. Not that we really minded – the fact that we were subfusc wearing students in a punt was enough to sate our headiest conceptions of Oxford life. As we zig-zagged down the straight of the river, music blaring, all seemed to be going well. But, as it turns out, cornering in a punt after two bottles of wine is no easy feat. We very quickly became jammed beyond repair, and of course, the only logical solution was to rock the boat from side to side. Needless to say, that one second I was standing and the next I was submerged in the murky water of the Cherwell, as was another of my crewmates. After flailing futilely for a while in the water, we eventually managed to haul ourselves back into the punt, sodden and delirious. The most profane of acts was then performed, as we two abandoned our punt-mates and jumped onto the riverbank, to seek the warmth of college. If this first foray into punting was certainly unsuccessful, it was only made worse by the fine we were slapped with for bringing our boat back late; yet it remains one of my fondest memories of Oxford.

Punting seems to return me to the visions of Oxbridge students glimpsed in literature, the sloth and excess of the undergraduates of Thomas Hardy’s Jude The Obscure, the students of Evelyn Waugh’s Decline and Fall, and E. M. Forster’s Maurice. And so even if punting for me started as a self-satisfying fulfilment of Oxbridge status, it now seems to me an act that I cannot dissociate from my own experience of Oxford, even though I definitely looked a right punt whilst doing it.

Image credits / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

OULC elects new Co-Chairs after failure to resolve internal dispute

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Laura Ennis and Danial Hussain have been elected as the new Co-Chairs of Oxford University Labour Club after the previous Co-Chairs stepped down following a series of issues in regards to an internal complaint. 43 members voted for the pair, with over 60 members attending the online extraordinary general meeting.

In their manifesto, Danial and Laura spoke of the importance of working with their BAME caucus officer to implement recommendations made to the club by Melanin, a student led-group aiming to “a welcoming environment where we can talk about the ethnic minority experience.” The pair also want to ensure that all colleges have an “active college rep,” and implement a welfare officer as “being on committee can take a mental toll and we think [that] OULC should be better equipped to deal with this.” 

The two Co-Chairs of Oxford University Labour Club initially elected for this term resigned following a series of issues in regard to responding to an internal complaint. In a resignation letter sent to members of the Labour Club, one of the Co-Chairs stated that they hoped their resignation would “allow for members to feel more confident in their committee, and that it will provide some form of resolution to the current situation the club finds itself in.”

The dispute was initially resolved, whereby it was decided that the two Co-Chairs would not step down and would instead work to ensure “constitutional and club reform, antiracism training, and a public apology” were put into place. The decision for resignation was made after an internal meeting, with the Co-Chair citing the “emotionally and mentally taxing” situation for the committee and the need to ensure closure as reasons for the resignation.

Their statement went on to say that “OULC is not a place for sleazy or petty student politics yet at times members of committee have felt that issues that have genuinely caused distress have been weaponized, which is not what the OULC stands for.” The Co-Chair also issued an apology to BAME members for the “fraught and tense BAME caucus which does not represent the values that the club should uphold,” and went on to say that while the club did not have an adequate complaints procedure in place, “this does not excuse our failing in our duty of care towards members of the committee.”

The other Co-Chair stated that in their response to the complaint, they were “initially more worried about the consequences for me than how other members may feel.” The Co-Chair went on to consult with Melanin.  Although the Co-Chairs were initially voted by the committee to remain in their roles leading the club, they stated that “the resignation of a member of the committee made clear to us that the club could not move on without new leadership.”

Laura Ennis and Danial Hussain told Cherwell: “This has been a turbulent time for OULC, particularly so for members of the BAME caucus. Going forward, we want to provide both stability in the leadership of the club and aim to create an environment in which all members feel comfortable in having difficult discussions with and about the committee.”

“Our first steps in this direction are to implement the recommendations by Melanin. We are also in the process of introducing a formalised complaints procedure, which will ensure transparency in any future issues of this nature and make the committee more accessible to all members. In response to the stress that this has caused members, we are exploring ways to create a new welfare officer role, to support current and future members so that they are always supported and never have to feel alone in OULC.”

“We have faith that these are the right first steps to both substantially create change within the culture and institution of the club, and also to restore the faith of ethnic minority OULC members and the wider Oxford community.”

Image Credit: Billy Wilson / CC BY-NC 2.0

13:26, 17/05/2021: This article was edited to remove any implication that Melanin suggested the involvement of the University resolution services.

High levels of E.coli detected in Port Meadow swimming spot

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As the weather warms, lockdown restrictions begin to lift, and students return to Oxford for Trinity Term, outdoor activities, including wild swimming, are on the rise. Students have been taking to the banks of Port Meadow for picnics, and some are venturing into the water of the River Thames. This idyllic summer image, however, is undermined by the alarming levels of bacteria that can be found in the water as a result of sewage dumping by Thames Water into the waterways in and around Oxford. 

A study funded by Thames Water and published by the group #EndSewagePollution found harmful levels of E. coli Bacteria present in The River Thames in Port Meadow from January to March 2021. At each of four tested locations, E. coli levels exceeded the threshold level for safe bathing water quality during three of the ten weeks. This study, amongst others, is part of a movement supported by Thames Water to turn Oxford into a designated bathing water area, allowing the already-existing population of wild swimmers to continue with their activities safely. 

Symptoms of E. coli infections include vomiting, stomach cramps, and fever. Diarrhoea is another common symptom, and around half of those infected develop bloody diarrhoea. In rare cases, an infection can lead to kidney failure. Tim Harris, an associate at the Rivers Trust, told the Oxford Mail: “We don’t know for certain whether these levels of bacteria are from raw sewage or other sources like agriculture – to know that, we need to wait for a few more months of results. However, this data indicates that, if you swam in the river this winter and swallowed some river water, you could have had an unpleasant dose of E. coli”.

A survey sent out by the Iffley Fields Residents Association Waterways group revealed in a set of results sourced in April that Port Meadow is the most popular bathing location. Participants cited “physical, mental, and spiritual rejuvenation” as the benefits they experienced through wild swimming. However, participants also cited “fear of pollution, fear of injury, and lack of access” as the major issues that are preventing people from enjoying the benefits of Oxford’s bathing sites. 

A petition on Change.org has over 5,000 signatures to give the Thames in Oxford, also known as the Isis, designated bathing water status. While the movement to achieve this status has been taken on by Oxford City Council, at the current levels of dumping, the water quality assessment for such a swimming area would still fall into the “poor” categorisation. In the meantime, various projects are in place to help swimmers make educated decisions about safety. Amongst these is a brand new alert system published by Thames Water that gives live updates on sewage discharges from six locations in and around the city. 

The alert system is currently operating via Twitter and Facebook, with updates stating “please be aware our monitoring systems at [discharge point] are indicating a discharge of diluted sewage to the river started at [time].” Recent updates have been coming in on what can sometimes be a daily basis.

The data from the 2020 Annual Thames Water Return reveals that last year, these six locations collectively produced a total of 281 spills and 3,817.62 hours of spill duration. While the levels of bacteria in the water could be in part due to local agricultural waste, it is clear that a significant amount of sewage has been contributing to the issue, as is currently allowed by law. If Oxford is to achieve designated bathing water status, the Environment Agency will create a water profile in addition to monitoring and protecting the water. This will provide the community with legal grounds upon which to fight against dumping into local rivers. 

The City Council’s bid will likely be submitted sometime before this autumn to be examined by DEFRA, the Government’s Department for the Environment, Food, and Rural Affairs, and hopefully accepted by next summer. The official DEFRA guidance on applying for such a designation requires that an application be supported by local authorities as well as including user surveys, information about any facilities at the site, and evidence of a consultation. User surveys must show a breakdown of the number of swimmers, children paddling, and other beach and water users. Local consultations must include any local groups that might be affected by the designation, including but not limited to bathers, residents of the closest town, local environmental groups, town councils, and local tourist offices. 

After an application has been submitted, DEFRA will consult the local water company, the Environment Agency, the Country Land and Business Association, the Marine Conservation Society, the Outdoor Swimming Society, Visit England, Water UK, and a number of other relevant groups. Ministers will make the final decision. 

Cherwell met with local community activist Ned Wells to discuss the movement to #EndSewagePollution. Wells is an Oxford resident, a graduate of Oxford Brookes University in Engineering, and a fly fisher. In fishing for wild trout, which are an indicator species, he realised that the Thames had poor water quality as it is not a suitable environment for the trout. When he was approached by another member of the campaign, Claire Robertson, Wells decided to help. 

Cherwell also met with Claire Robertson, a PhD student in freshwater ecology and avid year-round river swimmer. Robertson explained that one of the biggest obstacles in ending sewage pollution is the water companies’ outdated infrastructure: “Groundwater easily infiltrates into sewage pipes, meaning they rapidly overflow when there is heavy rain.”

Wells and Robertson cited four organisations as being particularly supportive of their goal: The Rivers Trust, Thames 21, Oxford City Council (specifically Councillor Linda Smith), and Thames Water. The Rivers Trust is a federated charity that has produced a GIS-based map (Geographic Information Systems). According to The Rivers Trust, this technology “helps develop an understanding of complex environmental systems, builds confidence and eases communication between a wide range of people and organisations who need to work in partnership to improve the water environment.” 

On Thames Water, Wells explained, “Although they’re the villain in this plot, they know the game is up and they know they’ve got to do something about it. There’s a charitable point of view that says that if lots of their customers are livid with them, it should be easier for them to get sign-off on the huge investment needed to make the sewage system fit for purpose.” Wells is working closely with Thames Water on the project to provide sewage alerts. Robertson elaborated, “Thames Water are providing funding for my time to work on the entire project, lab time and space for the bacterial water quality testing, and funding for equipment.”

Looking forward, Wells and Robertson say the team is feeling confident about the prospective success of the application to DEFRA, which is due to be submitted around October 2021.

The movement has truly been spearheaded by the “local community community of passionate river swimmers, paddlers, anglers, rowers, and nature enthusiasts,” Robertson explained, “the people of Oxford genuinely love their rivers, and want to see them clean, healthy, and well-protected.”

Richard Aylard, Thames Water’s sustainability director, said: “Discharges of untreated sewage are unacceptable to us, our customers and the environment, and we will work with the government, Ofwat, the Environment Agency and others to accelerate work to stop them being necessary.”

“Our business plan for the next five years includes an unprecedented amount of investment, much of it directed towards safeguarding the environment. We have a long way to go and we certainly can’t do it on our own – but the ambition is clear. Our aim will always be to try and do the right thing for our rivers and for the communities who love and value them.”

Iffley Fields Residents Association and Oxford City Council have been approached for comment.

Image Credit: AstacopsisGouldi / CC BY-SA 4.0

Will Biden’s Climate Summit Succeed?

By organising the virtual climate summit in April, Joe Biden didn’t fail to address one of his most important campaign promises, which is to tackle climate change in unprecedented ways. After four years of climate change denial under Donald Trump, this summit, that brought leaders of 40 countries together (Xi Jinping and Putin included), and Biden’s vow to halve the United States’ emissions by 2030, places the President and his country back as leaders in the fight against what he (rightly) considers to be the “existential crisis of our time”. This display of leadership will only strengthen his position ahead of the Glasgow COP26 taking place in November.

However, despite displaying this proactive attitude to fighting climate change, Biden’s plans for America and the rest of the world are fragile; for now, no one can confirm whether he will succeed in uniting the world around this pressing issue. Looking at the history of climate politics, it wouldn’t be the first time that promises are not kept when it comes to reducing emissions and increasing sustainability. Nonetheless, there are always some who do believe that “it’s different this time”, and it’s true that Biden’s extraordinary summit leaves room for optimism so let’s start by looking at what can keep our hopes alive.

Following Biden’s initiative to set more ambitious goals at home, other countries have decided to readjust their targets too. Justin Trudeau, who has been criticised and labelled a “climate laggard”, because of Canada’s lack of impetus in reducing their emissions, has made a commitment to reduce Canada’s emissions by 40-45% from 2005 levels by 2030, as opposed to the initially planned 30%. Similarly, Japan pledged to go carbon neutral by 2050, which puts them in line with the European Union as well as with America. Closer to home, Boris Johnson praised Biden for “returning the US to the front rank of the fight against climate change” and his government announced plans to cut the United Kingdom’s carbon emissions by 78% by 2035 compared to 1990 levels. Even China has spoken about their plans to reduce their use of coal. But will this list of commitments, pledges and targets suffice? Will these words turn into actions, and if they do, will they prevent the planet from overheating?

You might have noticed that Brazil and Russia have not been featured in the previous listing of “hopeful” promises. That is because Biden might have to consider himself lucky that the heads of these states were at all present for the discussions; especially noticeable was the presence of Vladimir Putin given the tense relationship he has with the United States. The president of the Russian federation hasn’t made any vows to reduce Russia’s dependency on fossil fuels; in fact, Russia’s greenhouse gas emissions have risen in the past few years, and so has the countries oil exportation, another matter that Putin did not address

Jair Bolsonaro, Brazil’s president and a well-known denier of scientific evidence when it comes to climate, made vague promises about stopping illegal deforestation and achieving carbon neutrality. As good as this might sound, very few experts believe these claims. Indeed, Bolsonaro has repeatedly weakened the institutions and organisations in charge of the protection of the Amazon rainforest, and if we look at the increase of deforestation (legal and illegal) since he has taken office, there is little evidence to show that he is willing to reverse the curve anytime soon. Needless to say unless those who contribute the most to the destruction of the planet are ready to make a significant effort on their own and together, Biden’s summit can be considered a flop.

Even for the countries who did make commitments, these are not binding words. Most countries are not on track to meet the goals set by the Paris Climate Agreement. According to the Climate Action Tracker (CAT), Gambia and Morocco are the only countries whose climate policies are compatible with the targets set by the agreement. With most countries’ efforts deemed as “insufficient”, “highly”, or “critically insufficient”, it is difficult to believe that Biden’s summit will suddenly galvanise countries around the world to change their ways. In fact, even at home, Biden’s plan to cut emissions is going to prove difficult. Congress is yet to be convinced, and even with the Democrats’ majority this isn’t a given. With no guarantee of how long Biden will stay in power and who could potentially replace him in the oval office, his efforts might be interrupted after just one term. 

Conversely, Xi Jinping is unlikely to face the prospect of being replaced anytime soon, his climate engagements above mentioned are in fact less promising that they first appear. Indeed, he spoke about a “controlled increase” in the use of coal for the next five years, and only then, actions will be taken to slowly decrease China’s use of coal. Furthermore, China is aiming for carbon neutrality by 2060, which is an impressive goal; however, they have not mentioned any targets for their methane emissions, which are likely to increase in the near future given the development of the Chinese farming industry.

So, what can we make of Biden’s summit? One thing which is certain is that it places him, his administration, and his country at the forefront of the fight against climate change. Nevertheless, if Biden wants to mark a real turning point, he needs to do more. He will have to take actions by reviewing trade deals with certain countries a step that no countries have previously taken for environmental reasons. Such measures will undoubtedly affect the lifestyle of most Americans, which is probably enough of a reason for any president to avoid acting this way. Even if Biden’s efforts to lead the transition to a more sustainable world are commendable, America can no longer be the sole driving force for change. This time there needs to be a joint effort from all countries to fully commit to making the fight against climate change their top priority. If they do not, “uncertain” would be an understatement when talking about the future of humanity.

Image credit: Gage Skidmore / (CC BY-SA 2.0)

Billie Eilish and the exhaustion of being a young woman in the public eye

Since Billie Eilish burst onto the pop music scene in 2016 with Ocean Eyes, her voice has reverberated around many a bedroom, club, and festival, cementing her as one of the defining female voices of our generation. She is the youngest person and second in history to win all four major awards at the Grammys. She has won two Guinness World Records and sang a Bond theme song aged just 18. The list is endless, making it irrefutable to say that Eilish is one of, if not, the, most accomplished young female music artists of our generation. So when her British Vogue cover broke this week, I anticipated comments about her accolades, about the candid conversation she has engaged in surrounding her Tourette’s Syndrome, and excitement for her sophomore album, Happier Than Ever,  which is set to be released this coming July.

Yet social media was whipped into heated debate about her outfit choice. 

Eilish’s entire interview her thoughts, her words, her feelings was swept under the rug, overshadowed by her ‘new look’ which many people felt invited them to discuss, and, as is the wonderful way of social media, rip apart (“She finally sold her soul, don’t expect her to go back to baggy stuff now!… proof that money can make you change your values,” wrote one Twitter user). A unique sense of fashion defined Eilish’s look as she came of age in the public sphere, with much of the media attention surrounding her focused on her taste for baggy clothing; it is understandable that this new look would generate a buzz, almost appearing as a milestone on her journey into adulthood a taste of the new Billie to come. However, the whirling discussion of Eilish’s decision to pose in corsets and lingerie for Vogue has completely saturated the internet in the past week. Many comments exuded anger, branding her a sell-out, even threatening to boycott her music.

Eilish was, until last year, when she turned 18, a child. Her decision to cover up was to protect herself from the hounding and over-sexualisation of young people, particularly young women, in the media. You only need to take one look at a tabloid newspaper and this will become clear as day. Upon wearing a tank top years ago, pictures of her chest went viral, with disgusting, predatory comments circulating about a teenage girl. A child. So she continued to cover up, explaining in a Calvin Klein campaign: “I never want the world to know everything about me. I mean, that’s why I wear big baggy clothes: Nobody can have an opinion, because they haven’t seen what’s underneath, you know?”.

Even then, she was attacked for her ‘weird’ dress sense, ridiculed and mocked; scrutinised for avoiding scrutiny itself.

Women do not owe you sex appeal, in the same way they do not owe you modesty. They owe you nothing. She was evidently not coerced into this shoot, and responded to the backlash on Instagram commenting “I love these pictures and I loved doing this shoot”. And while women in the public sphere should never feel pressured into taking off their clothes for a photoshoot, so what if they do choose to? Choice is the key word Eilish chose to cover up, and she can choose at any point to cover up again.

The whole fiasco reminded me of the age old saying: ‘you can’t do right for doing wrong’ young women cannot avoid scrutiny, no matter what they do. And it is exhausting. It is exhausting to be told that your humanities course is ‘girly’ and therefore ‘easy’, it is exhausting to be told you only got onto your STEM degree because ‘you’re a girl’. It is exhausting to be a prude if you cover up, but a slut if you don’t. It is exhausting to see yet another bright, brilliant, talented woman heckled for her clothing choice and for her achievements to be neglected for the sake of commenting on how much leg or chest she may have decided to show.

Enough is enough, I am exhausted of this very exhaustion. And so I embrace Eilish’s own words:  “Do whatever you want, whenever you want. F**k everything else.”

Artwork by Aleksandra Pluta.