Saturday 26th July 2025
Blog Page 367

Lockdown in Football: a sacrifice worth making?

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With the current increase in coronavirus cases around the UK, it raises the question: should elite sport, specifically football, see another lockdown like it did in March last year? The last few weeks have been plagued by stories of footballers failing to follow lockdown rules, with the period around Christmas and New Year seeming to have a new story everyday about a top-class player who had attended a party or gone on a trip to Dubai.

This, of course, has had a knock-on effect on the pitch, with games being cancelled left, right, and centre due to entire squads having to isolate after a positive case. Just last weekend I watched my team Derby County lose in the FA Cup to Chorley after fielding a team made up of predominantly under 18 players due to our squad isolating. This was the same in the case of Aston Villa and begs the question: how much further does it have to go before sport has to be cancelled? There have been suggestions within the last few days that players just need to be reminded of the rules and prevented from celebrating as a team once a goal has been scored; in reality, that takes so much of the passion away from the game – at a time when it is already lacking due to no crowds – that it may as well just be cancelled (without even mentioning the limited likelihood of a player not celebrating).

Clubs themselves have acted recklessly. Celtic went on a warm weather training trip to Dubai, which whilst not illegal when they went, did lead to positive cases and game cancellations. Just this week, it came to light that several players in the WSL took a “business trip” to Dubai; resulting positive cases have thrown the fixture schedule into doubt. I understand that football is an escape for many people, offering a sense of normality when the rest of the world is anything but. However, in a time such as this, with over 1000 people dying of Coronavirus daily in the UK, it seems entirely irresponsible for football to continue, especially when so many footballers have shown complete disregard for the rules time and time again. Furthermore, with so many games being cancelled due to positive cases at clubs, fixture congestion is only going to get worse in this already shortened season, increasing the risk of player injury.

I want football to continue as much as anyone else, and the sooner fans can be back at games the better, but at the moment, with the country facing possibly its toughest struggle against coronavirus to date, the continuation of elite football seems like a luxury and a risk that we cannot afford to have.

Image credit: Katie Chain via Wikimedia Commons

Like A Record Baby: Vinyl in the Pandemic

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There are so many harsh ways in which this respiratory pandemic has affected people, but one of its more minor impacts is that it has denied us the experience of skimming through reams of records in person. I’m at risk of sounding pretentious here, but with a pinch of self-awareness, I can say that music browsing is a hobby of mine. With its worn paper case, browning at the corners, a pre-loved vinyl invites its owner to remember that there are other people out there too – people who listen and love, smile and cry to the same songs as us. 

In an ordinary world, these are people you might meet at a concert and instantly feel connected to; but our experience of that category of friendship has all but disappeared since March 2020. It seems unlikely that this attraction of vinyl is something that can fill the void left by casual musical friendships, but it may contribute to its rocketing popularity right now.

But vinyl renaissance started long before the pandemic. After years of only hardcore enthusiasts keeping the industry alive, record players and vinyl are now sold in Urban Outfitters. The industry has grown for thirteen consecutive years, from only 205k vinyl sales in the UK in 2007, to 4.8m in 2020. These statistics indicates vinyl’s re-emergence is not just something I’m imagining in my relatively indie, Oxford bubble. It is especially impressive that the record industry stayed resilient through 2020, with sales increasing by a tenth on 2019’s figures despite the restrictions on the art of instore record shopping.  Geoff Taylor, Chief Executive at the British Phonographic Industry has summarised this surge as demonstrative of “the timeless appeal of collectable physical formats alongside the seamless connectivity of streaming”, which rings true to my own relationship with records.

While I’m glad that we’re seeing a vinyl second coming, there can be no denying that the industry has morphed into something new in the last few decades. The fact that 40% of the 40 top-selling EPs of 2020 were released more than a decade prior shows that nostalgia is crucial to sales. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours is widely regarded as an essential piece in a record collection, so it’s no surprise that this flawless album was the #1 best-seller. The idea of some albums being essential to a record collection extends nostalgia into a sense that when you’re buying a record, you’re engaging in a tradition. A tradition of forking out for a physical symbol of your dedication to a band, of being cautious with it as you lower it onto the turntable, and of listening to the crackle and craft intently. Admittedly, this experience is one that Pinterest, Tumblr and Instagram are pretty familiar with. Yet, what does that show, other than that our generation loves to show off what we’re listening to?

Since March 2020, I’ve set foot in only one record store – the pretty small Vintage and Vinyl, in the coastal Kent town of Folkestone. I was aware of how different this experience was to the first time I excitedly visited Rough Trade East. The sanitiser that coated my hands before entering Vintage and Vinyl was sticky. I was conscious of every fingerprint I might leave– a world away from thumbing through endless stacks of records in a pre-COVID world. I noticed soon that there was a couple waiting outside the store – I was taking up precious space. Since I wasn’t planning to buy anything that afternoon, it seemed irresponsible to linger. 

The pandemic has undoubtedly transformed our retail experience. Record stores around the world have committed to operating online stores and Discogs marketplaces, and even  delivering by cycle. Nevertheless, I’m reassured by our pandemic love affair with vinyl  that the importance of physicality cannot be diminished by the technology that surrounds us, or the circumstances we’re in.

Image credit: Milesoftrane.com via Creative Commons.

(Re)call Me Maybe: Re-evaluating Carly Rae Jepsen

Picture the scene: the year is 2012, you’ve spent the afternoon crimping your hair and messily applying glittery eyeshadow, and now you’re ready for the highlight of your social calendar: the famed Leavers’ Disco. Sure, you may not even be leaving school, and sure, you definitely don’t have a date, but this is it. Tonight is going to be your night.

You arrive at your grotty school hall-meets-gym, tottering on your kitten heels, and know exactly what you have to do first. Awkwardly avoiding your crush, you wobble over to the DJ, wait in the endless queue of sugar-high ten-year-olds, and prepare yourself to request the absolute best song in the world right now: “Call Me Maybe.”

Okay, so maybe we didn’t all have the same primary school experiences as me. But there’s no denying that for at least a year after its release, Carly Rae Jepsen’s annoyingly catchy pop single could not be escaped. It made her pretty much a household name, but not in a favourable light: she was branded a one-hit wonder. 

But of course, “Call Me Maybe” is not the only CRJ song most people know. Her other two hits came in the form of “Good Time”, a cheesy collaboration with Owl City (yes, of “Fireflies” fame), and “I Really Like You”, a pop hit famous for featuring Tom Hanks in its music video. It’s the latter of these which is most interesting in terms of Jepsen’s music career: this is because it came out in 2015, just before the release of her third album, Emotion.

One element of her career that has made Jepsen something of an internet music icon is her habit of releasing B-Side albums – both Emotion and her fourth studio album Dedicated were followed up by B-Side albums of almost the same length and quality as their predecessors. Alongside her collaborators, who include pop mastermind and Bleachers frontman Jack Antonoff, she can churn out consistently excellent pop music at double the speed of almost everyone else in the game… except Taylor Swift, perhaps.

Pop music, especially by younger female singers, gets a reputation for being ‘bad’ or ‘trashy’. But what is pop music supposed to do in the first place? By putting on Katy Perry or Jessie J, you’re probably not looking for a quasi-religious experience. There’s no need for overly philosophical lyrics or boundary-pushing orchestral accompaniments; rather, you want catchy hooks, relatable lyrics, and, above all else, fun. Jepsen does this all flawlessly. 

Let’s look at an example: “Want You in My Room”, from Dedicated. The song starts with an instantly 80s-sounding rhythm. After the first verse we get an incredibly catchy pre-chorus complete with instrumental beats that it’s impossible not to dance to – this is one of the Antonoff tracks after all. The digitalised backing vocals make the chorus feel like it’s from another era – whether this is the eighties or the future is yet to be determined. The lyrics are very tongue-in-cheek, and far more risque than the candyfloss world of “Call Me Maybe” and “Good Time”: you’ll have ‘on the bed, on the floor’ stuck in your head endlessly. Coming in at just under three minutes, the track is a nugget of pure pop gold.

This is my message to you: forget about “Call Me Maybe’”. Listen to either Emotion or Dedicated with a fresh mindset. Think of her as the next exciting thing in pop rather than a tired one-hit-wonder. You’ll be surprised how much-preconceived notions influence your enjoyment of music. We all need a little joy right now, and Carly Rae Jepsen offers it in bucketloads. Do it for my lipgloss-covered ten-year-old self.

Image credit: Raph_ph via Wikimedia and Creative Commons

Narratives of Grief: Creating ‘Opera for One’

CW: death, grief, abuse.

Back in December, when I was once again scrolling through the Oxford side of Facebook, I stumbled across Opera for One. They were looking for composers and librettists to produce new songs for a production. Intrigued by this unusual writing opportunity, I filled out a Google form and promptly forgot all about it. Two months later, I’ve written the libretto for a new opera piece and our performance is being recorded. 

Opera for One is a recorded musical performance consisting of five original songs, commissioned for the piece and all written by students. While able to function as individual pieces, the songs each focus on one of the five stages of grief, meaning the performance as a whole acts as an exploration of the grieving process. I spoke to some of the composers and librettists involved to get a look into how this narrative of grief progresses in this exciting new performance.

The first piece explores the theme of Denial, and is composed by Toby Stanford with lyrics by Cyrus Larcombe-Moore. It is followed by a composition on the theme of Anger, composed by Lauren Marshall, with lyrics by Oliver Banks. They took inspiration from a range of sources, with Oliver mentioning Russian novels and free verse sound poetry, but focussed on personal experiences. Many of the compositions walk this line between the specific and the universal: Oliver said his lyrics ended up being ‘quite archetypal’, but were written with the feeling of satisfaction of taking revenge upon a former abuser in mind. 

This composition is followed up by a song on the theme of Bargaining by Dan Gilchrist with lyrics by Tamsyn Chandler. In the fourth piece of the performance, Georgina Lloyd-Owen and Joshua Ballance then explore the theme of depression. In light of a concept that could become dreary and flat, they said that it was very important to them not to ‘over-simplify what can be a varied and complex experience for individuals’. This is a strength of the performance: with a range of experiences of grief explored by a variety of composers and librettists, no one singular experience is presented, but instead the performance looks at the nuances of the emotions of grieving. Not wanting their it to feel lifeless, Georgina and Joshua felt their piece was characterised by ‘the feeling of immobility, and inertia’. They also wanted to contrast the lethargy of depression with ‘the fight of the individual’, doing so with ‘more impassioned moments of piano and vocal writing’.

One of the most unique aspects of this project was the way in which composers and librettists worked together, most of whom having never met each other in real life. Writers signed up via Google form, and were then paired together and allocated one of the five stages. Georgina found that she really enjoyed the process, saying ‘it really has been wonderful to be able to create something, and to connect and bond over shared experiences through this process too’. It’s comforting in these times of turmoil to see how the arts can bring people together, providing inspiration and enjoyment even when dealing with difficult themes.

I felt similarly about the process: working with composer Adam Possener, we were commissioned to pen the final piece in the show, on the theme of Acceptance. After bonding over our shared love of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s ‘Crashing’, we created a Google doc of ideas that ranged from YouTube short films from 2016 to books about LGBTQ+ psychology. Acceptance felt slightly different from the other stages in that it looks to the future, and finds an element of hope; we were keen to have this in our piece. 

Our composition was originally not specific: words of my libretto include ideas about memory and imagery of fading into the sky, but never specify any names of genders. The lightly hopeful lyrics are set to a score that repeatedly switches focus to reflect the different images in the libretto. Adam said that ‘the vocal part draws out the consonance and harmony that is hidden within the dissonances of the piano based on the constructed chords’. This conflict between hopeful lyrics and a score full of dissonance echoes the experiences of accepting grief. As Adam said, ‘the final stanza explores a tension between the two parts, with the piano eventually bowing down to the tonality articulated by the singer’ – we were keen to present a piece that feels resolved, while still leaving open the possibility of moving on and life continuing. Our piece took on a new specificity when Adam’s grandmother passed away: we titled it ‘May her memory be a blessing’ as it’s a Jewish honorific for the dead, and dedicated the piece to her. Ironically, though, Adam noted ‘my grandma would not have enjoyed the music one bit, but hopefully would have appreciated the sentiment!’

It is this that makes the way Opera for One deals with grief so interesting: with so many voices approaching the theme from so many different angles, both imagined and personal, the performance as a whole encompasses the full range of experiences. 

Opera for One is available on YouTube from 6pm on Tuesday 16th March. 

Navalny: A New Hope?

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“Why are you still alive?” CBS news show 60 Minutes’ Lesley Stahl asked Alexei Navalny in 2017 as he was building momentum in Russia ahead of the presidential elections. He was facing an uphill battle — partly because he was up against Vladimir Putin and his political machine of ballot stuffing, voter suppression and corruption, and partly because he was not even allowed on the ballot due to an illegitimate, politically motivated Russian court case in 2013 and 2014 in which he and his brother, Oleg, were convicted of embezzlement. Alexei got a suspended sentence; Oleg has been imprisoned to this day. The Russian constitution states that a person convicted with a criminal charge shall not be eligible to run for high office: this precluded Alexei Navalny’s chances. The European Court of Human Rights stated this case violated his right to a fair trial, and he received over €63,000 in compensation from six different complaints. Despite this, his original convictions were never overturned in his home country. Still, he rallied his supporters to boycott the election and partake in protests across the country supporting him.

“That is a favourite question of my wife…” he joked. Three years later he was poisoned with Novichok just prior to flying from Tomsk to Moscow. Rushed to Berlin through an emergency evacuation, he barely escaped with his life. However, this near-death experience did not deter him from continuing his crusade for a better Russia; rather it has only appeared to steel his resolve. Less than five months later and despite understanding the risks associated with returning, Navalny boarded a flight back to Moscow and was immediately arrested and separated from his wife upon landing. He has since been detained, and convicted for three years in Matrosskaya Tishina, which Politico called “Moscow’s most notorious prison.” 

There is a fascinating relationship between Navalny and Putin. Putin portrays himself as macho, intelligent and politically untouchable. This is quintessential to understanding why many in Russia fell for Putin: for he is the ideal Russian man. But Navalny strips back the facade and enlightens the public on the coward beneath the cold exterior and political calculus. That is why Navalny is so dangerous to Putin – in fact he is the man Putin is most afraid of. Putin is like the Wizard of Oz and Navalny is the one exposing him. And the irony is that Navalny is the one that fulfils those criteria. Surviving Novichok, and other politically motivated attacks, are as macho as it gets. Navalny, in returning to Russia and forcing Putin’s hand, made himself politically untouchable. Putin had three choices: kill Navalny and make him a martyr, imprison Navalny and make himself look weak and afraid, or let him free and allow his movement to grow ever larger. So, they imprisoned him.

Despite everything the Kremlin throws at Navalny and his supporters, his anti-corruption, anti-Putin movement has only grown more powerful. Navalny’s unwavering resolve and inclusive campaign for liberal ideas such as freedom of speech, freedom of the press and the freedom to marry who you choose, combined with his stance to better the lives of those living in poverty across Russia has inevitably garnered countrywide support for Navalny with mass protests in at least 85 cities. This is a country weary of being held in ironclad clutches of the Kremlin, but possibly a country contemplating a new path.

Russia gives the impression that it is a prosperous nation, but under Putin, nothing could be further from the truth. According to award winning economist Paul de Grauwe, “Russia is economically weak”, and the figures bear that out. Russia’s GDP, according to data from the world bank, is a relatively modest $1.7 trillion. Whilst Putin did take over a struggling economy from his predecessor, Boris Yeltsin, GDP growth in 2019 was 1.3% lower than in 1997, when the economy was struggling due to the controversial “shock therapy” economic strategy which involved immediately shifting from state control of the economy to a private system. However, as de Grauwe points out, “Russia is an important supplier of raw materials, including oil and gas,” ensuring relative stability in our carbon-based global economy. As more countries move to adopt green environmental agendas, however, Russia’s economic outlook looks worryingly bleak. This becomes even more concerning when it’s taken into account that 21 million Russians (14.3%) fell below the poverty line in the first quarter of 2019. This figure, despite Putin’s intervention, has only grown due to the economic fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Navalny’s strategy has been to uncover and expose the fact that, despite the economic hardships faced by everyday Russians on the ground, those in and around Putin’s circle of influence have brazenly and immorally enriched themselves on the taxpayer’s cash. Through his blog posts and YouTube documentaries, Navalny has investigated corruption at the highest levels of government and business. His most recent documentary, which now has over 100 million views, divulges how Vladimir Putin himself has built a palatial compound using taxpayer money equalling ~$1.35 billion. (For those Kremlin agents who are avid Cherwell readers, I should note that this is only alleged, and that oligarch and childhood friend Arkady Rotundburg has claimed ownership. However, if we apply a legal standard equivalent to Russia’s treatment of Navalny, I think we can convict without a fair trial). 

Coupled with the Navalny’s arrest, the well-timed release of this documentary has led to widespread protests from Moscow to Siberia leading to over 5,000 arrests. The sight of peaceful protestors, who braved below-freezing temperatures, using snowballs as a method of self-defence as they were beaten and arrested indiscriminately by the police led to international condemnation from government officials, including both foreign secretary Dominic Raab and shadow foreign secretary Lisa Nandy. Meanwhile, worldwide protests sprung up in solidarity for Russians from London all the way to Tokyo. Even Oxford got involved as placards supporting Navalny were spotted outside the Radcliffe Camera.

Considering the circumstances, though, it is easy to presume that there is no hope of change. Putin’s grasp of the Kremlin and the oligarchy means the traditional form of change from the inside of the political system is impossible unless Putin dies or retires. However, should Navalny play his cards right, there is a genuine possibility of a grassroots movement able to shift public opinion towards a more democratic future. 

In light of this fight for freedom, I am reminded of the saying which my boyhood football club, Wolverhampton Wanderers, is proud to display “Out of darkness cometh light”. Navalny’s movement needs to use this idea — fighting even when things look impossible — to have a chance at success.

Achieving this success lies primarily in how Navalny’s movement does two things: expanding their local support across all ages and drawing the world’s attention towards the corruption and increasing desperation of the autocratic regime, whilst also being an acceptable, competent political alternative with a transparent and inclusive agenda. Navalny could, perhaps, take inspiration from another political outsider who created a grassroots political campaign to surge to become leader of their nation against all the odds in the face of adversity: Nelson Mandela.

Mandela, Navalny should note in light of his larger and harder to control protests, made non-violent protest the key pillar of his campaign as he knew violence would lead to failure. Aside from any other implications, violence makes coalition building harder. It could put off people otherwise sympathetic to the cause. For those who disagree with the movement, it allows for an easy propaganda opportunity to paint themselves as victims. The backlash from the propaganda could lead to heavy and potentially bloody clashes. This violence may tar the reputation of the movement. Furthermore, the international press coverage and views from the international community will become a lot less sympathetic which takes the pressure off the government in charge. Without the international support, internal pressure from the Kremlin will crush the struggle. Navalny’s movement has so far stayed peaceful but the risks of straying are great.

Navalny must capitalise on this success and expand his support. Despite having widespread geographic appeal, Navalny’s support mainly comes from a younger demographic. The internet — mainly used by the young — is the one medium of communication not controlled by Putin (despite his best efforts), so Navalny’s success here has helped his movement to grow. However, he needs to find a way to crack into the more mainstream news sources in Russia, those predominantly consumed by the older Russian population who are more wary of him. If he can’t do that, he must find a way to compete with these mainstream news sources. Stunts such as turning his trial into a way to expose Putin’s corruption, calling Putin “underpants poisoner“, and spreading his message on social media are a great start. The mainstream news has shown these live, thus reaching audiences Navalny may not have accessed otherwise.

Bringing Putin to the negotiating table may sound ludicrously naive, but he is ultimately a pragmatist when it comes to retaining his power — for instance, he took the less powerful position of Prime Minister in 2008 to preserve his executive power after being President for two consecutive terms which is the longest the Russian constitution allowed at the time. If Navalny managed to garner widespread political support, abroad and at home, Putin will attempt to find a way to save his own power. It is plausible, in that scenario, that Putin may consider entering negotiations, wherein Navalny would need to be clear in his vision for Russia or else risk Putin rolling him over. For Putin has been here before: he hijacked Russia’s first attempt at democracy in his rise to power. If he has the chance, he will hijack what may be its last in Putin’s lifetime. If there ever was a country that Navalny’s crusade could succeed, however, it would be Russia; it has already drastically changed politically so many times in recent history. From tsardom to communism to oligarchy to autocracy in the space of just over 100 years — why not add democracy to the list?

Change may not occur immediately, but the tides of history have shown that even the most powerful individual can be dispensed when supported by the right conditions. Russia should know — they’ve done it before.

Image credit: ‘Alexei Navalny marching in 2017‘ by Evgeny Feldman licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

“There Is No Pandemic”: A First-Hand Insight into Oxford’s Anti-Lockdown Protest

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The first thing you’d notice, approaching the University Parks on the 14thFebruary, would be a trail of red, heart-shaped balloons. By early afternoon, the Banksy-esque decorations were tied to bins, lampposts, clutched in the hands of children passing by. Like us, you might have thought it was someone’s heartfelt Valentine’s Day gesture. Until we heard accusing screams of “Russia!” and turned to see a small group of protestors, nose to nose with the police.

On paper, the Oxford Valentine’s Day demonstration was about one thing: what protestors believe to be violation of human rights taking place under UK lockdown. Some believe COVID-19 to be a hoax, others held signs asserting that “children’s mental health matters”, but all shared the opinion that lockdown is a direct attack on personal freedom. Just this week, this cry has been echoed at larger protests in Melbourne, Dublin, Birmingham, and Thessaloniki (to name a few). Here in Oxford, they were marching; and out of morbid curiosity, we followed. 

We caught up with a demonstrator holding a balloon, proudly displaying replica military medals. With his consent, we recorded our first interview.

“There is no pandemic…there are no more people dying this year than any other year. I’m not very clever, but there’s no flu deaths, there’s no pneumonia deaths….the same total of Covid deaths is what used to be flu and pneumonia. You haven’t got to be very brainy to see that they’ve just moved them.” 

According to the Office for National Statistics, between January and August 2019, 17,432 people died from Influenza and Pneumonia (pre-COVID). For the same months in 2020, the figure was 14,013. The annual figures have oscillated over the previous decade, at almost 16,560 in 2010 and over 21,300 in 2018, so the 2020 statistic is not extraordinary. As of the 17th February 2021, there have been a total 129,498 UK deaths that can be attributed to COVID-19 since the start of the pandemic[2]; a vast number of lives lost that cannot be attributed to mere misdiagnoses.

When asked where the protest was headed, the man told us to “follow the sirens.” 

There was relative calm at Bond Square, where the protestors had spread out. There were around 70 of them, and about 20 policemen, attempting to encourage social distancing (which was largely met with laughter from protestors). Children ran around playing. Their parents and grandparents, many over-60, stood around unmasked. A few were shouting at the police while their children stood quietly beside them; others were queueing for coffee.

“We do not consent to this,” one protestor shouted, apparently threatened with arrest, before joining his counterparts in the kiosk queue. He agreed to talk to us, but only after insisting that we remove our face masks (“unless you’re undercover police”). He told us this wasn’t the first time he’d faced potential arrest, having also been detained in London for “trying to educate [his] children”. He chose not to expand on this, because “you never know who might be listening”. I asked him if the children next to him were his. “These are my property, yes.” 

His son’s sign read: “Did you know there’s chimpanzee virus in the Oxford vaccine?” He wasn’t strictly wrong: according to the University of Oxford, the ChAdOx1 vaccine is a chimpanzee adenovirus vaccine vector, which is “harmless”, and has been “genetically changed so that it is impossible for it to grow in humans.” Nevertheless, every protestor we came across was resolutely anti-vaccine. 

The 9-year-old boy explained, with surprising eloquence, that lockdown was “the biggest killer”, and a cover for human experiments. A woman nearby applauded and the child beamed. He then pointed out that he was actually one minute older than his twin brother, “which makes me boss”. He seemed like an authoritative source. 

Everyone we spoke to, despite their differences, shared the collective sentiment that the government can no longer be trusted (a few expressed shame over having voted for Boris Johnson in 2019). “What we’re living under now is Communism”. However, it isn’t just the UK government being criticised by anti-lockdown campaigners, if the protests all over the world are anything to go by. “It’s any government that’s buying into this b******s”, as one protestor put. 

Despite the balloons, none of them seemed sure why they had chosen Valentine’s Day, other than perhaps it was a conveniently timed weekend. “It was just the Sunday we decided on,” one mother said. “We’re here as parents and as people who are concerned about what the lockdown is doing to young people and children.” 

So, for some Oxford locals, the day of love was a day of rebellion; a day of desperation. “It’s about freedom and liberty”, they told us repeatedly. Despite the confrontation between protestors and police, no public arrests were made. Eventually, everyone went back to their lives, taking their red balloons with them. But the protestors assured us that, as long as the UK remains in lockdown, this won’t be their last word. 

Be

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Peel away my shame like burnt skin,

Chip the crystals of hurt out of my heart,

Put a faded hat on my head, and make sure it fits.

Chew on a piece of lavender, wink at a pretty girl.

Stretch and break out of the shackles that are

Holding me to the earth; so long, resentment,

Farewell, bitterness. And finally I draw the arrow

Out from my heel – I pack up my baggage,

Douse it in fuel and light a match. 

Walk away with burning behind my back.

Vault off the ground and onto a horse,

Tap its sides lightly with my spurs, click

My tongue. Throat on fire from whiskey,

Guitar slung over my back. Rodeo flares

Wrapped around my legs and a check

Shirt around my chest. Travelling into

The sunset, a new cowboy ready to ride,

Chewing on a piece of lavender,

Working it round a smile.

Artwork by Rachel Jung.

The Felling of Yggdrasil

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Worlds branch off like capillaries

From an oaken aorta.

Rustle of emeralds

Wreathed in drifting clouds.

I think of Tolkien’s son’s bedroom,

Dreams swimming through the window pane.

How many nights I might have spent opposite,

Chatting on street corners,

Watching lamplight blur in puddles,

Lost gems in overflowing storm drains.

All those pathways closed off:

Axe straight to the trunk,

Leaves twinkling out.

How many nights have been washed away?

Image Credit: Katie Kirkpatrick.

Ten Days Troilus Waits for Cressida

Behind the heat-devils that dance on Trojan sands, 

A silver crescent wavers. 

It looks out of place on the placid blue 

Like a lone fish scale, flicked and floating 

On saltwater – suspended for a moment – 

Before it sinks,  

Swallowed by sea, 

And blurs to nothing in its depths.  

 

From these high white walls I hear 

The shriek of an owl. The violence

Of its call astounds:

A night-born banshee’s wail  

That shatters still air into slivers 

Cutting at the belly of the night.  

Above me, the Milky wheel turns round and round, 

Spinning Fortune’s golden thread  

Into Fate’s mouth. 

Her iron teeth are ready to bite  

When Fury commands,  

And between the stars,  

Venus descends in silent harmony 

While Mars blots the sky with red. 

As Phoebus wakes, 

Spreading rays low and long  

From the lazy lanterns of his chariot, 

Each pillar of the temple is bathed 

In rosy light. It weaves 

A net of rainbows from the dewdrops 

Of their night-sweat.  

That cold, Palladian marble  

Is fire-dyed, its rivulets 

Awash with a toil  

Of gleam and shadow.  

But the acanthine curves  

Are overwrought.  

The colonnades shift with figures  

Too lost to be seen. 

Their limbs are stone, 

Their bodies ice.  

The sunrise freezes at their touch. 

 

In the midst of it all, 

Pallas Athena waits; 

She is waiting for the arms  

That must drag her out of Troy.

And all the statues are weeping,

For in the garden beneath the wall, 

A swallow sings of

The blood that swells in its breast.

 

And all the statues are weeping, 

For in the garden, under the ivy,  

A nightingale chants 

That it will always remain 

Misunderstood. 

Artwork by Rachel Jung.

‘Because I shall write the history’: The National Trust’s uphill battle to acknowledge colonialism

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CW: violence, colonialism, racism.

By the time that Winston Churchill was gloating at the 1943 Tehran Conference that “history will judge us kindly…because I shall write the history,” Bengali children were eating grass, begging for the starchy water in which rice had been boiled, or being thrown into wells by their desperate parents to avoid them dying of starvation. This was the stark reality of the 1943 famine in Bengal, which killed up to 3 million people; many historians have pointed to the decisions of Churchill’s wartime cabinet as exacerbating the disaster, as they failed to heed multiple warnings that extensive exports from India could result in famine. Churchill himself was quoted as blaming the famine on the fact Indians were “breeding like rabbits”, and that “the starvation of anyhow underfed Bengalis is less serious than that of sturdy Greeks.” This narrative blamed the starved people for their own starvation, and denied any responsibility of his own government in perpetuating this atrocity. Yet Churchill’s statement at Tehran is true; the influence of his version of history retains its hold today, as critics rail against the National Trust’s recent attempts to investigate the links of various properties with colonialism. These endeavours have been accused of ‘attacking Englishness’, of ‘smearing’ historical figures, and of ‘indoctrinating children’. 

September 2020 saw the start of the row, with the publication of the Trust’s Connections between Colonialism and Properties now in the Care of the National Trust, Including Links With Historic Slavery report, which head curator Dr Sally-Anne Huxtable says was compiled to acknowledge the origins of many of the Trust’s properties in slavery and colonialism, as “only by honestly and openly acknowledging and sharing those stories can we do justice to the true complexity of past, present and future, and the sometimes-uncomfortable role that Britain, and Britons, have played in global history since the sixteenth century or even earlier.” The report revealed that Powis Castle in Wales, for example, is imbricated in Robert Clive’s colonising and looting activities in India. Today the property still holds around 1,000 items from the amalgamated collections of Robert and his son Edward, including statues of Hindu gods, weapons and ceremonial armour from India and East Asia, as well as a gold tiger’s head finial taken from the throne of Tipu Sultan, who had been murdered while defending his fort of Seringapatam – every Briton that took part in that siege was awarded a medal by the Governor-General of India, the design showing “the British Lion subduing the Tiger, the emblem of Tippoo Sultan’s Government.”

Controversy arose when, as part of the Trust’s attempt to “challenge the familiar, received histories, which both exclude the vital role that people of colour have played in our national story and overlook the central role that the oppression and violence of the slave trade and the legacies of colonialism have played in the making of modern Britain”, Winston Churchill’s former home, Chartwell, was included on the list of investigated properties. Rudyard Kipling – the creator of many wholesome family favourites, such as ‘The Man Who Would Be King’ where white British men become gods and kings of Kafiristan – had his family home ‘Bateman’s’ also included. This prompted a furious response, as many rose to ‘defend’ the former prime minister and author. The Daily Mail described the list as a “BLM-inspired list of shame” and Robert Clive as a man who merely “played a key role in Britain’s colonial dominance in India and … amassed a vast collection of Indian artefacts”. Anne Widdecombe announced she would be cancelling her membership because she was “tired of these sorts of woke games being played”, and historian Andrew Roberts wrote that “These ahistorical and highly prejudiced attacks on Churchill seem to be part of an attempt to strip Britain of a heroic narrative rooted in the most glorious moments of her past.” Current Culture Secretary Oliver Dowden similarly stated that the National Trust should focus on ‘preserving and protecting’, as its depiction of Churchill would “surprise and disappoint people.”

Yet it is essential to consider what the report itself actually said. It only mentions Churchill twice: once to say “Churchill…served as Secretary of State for the Colonies from 1921 to 1922. He was Prime Minister during the devastating Bengal Famine of 1943, the British response to which has been heavily criticised. Churchill opposed the Government of India Act in 1935, which granted India a degree of self governance.” and again to mention his family home, writing “Chartwell was the family home of Sir Winston Churchill…Leading historians, such as Robert Rhodes James, comment that Churchill lived an ‘exceptionally long, complex, and controversial life’. He… helped to draft the Anglo-Irish Treaty at the time of the creation of the Irish Free State.” All of these statements are factually accurate – those criticising the report as ‘smearing’ ought to take it up with Churchill. Despite Tarnya Cooper, the Trust’s curatorial and collections director, stating that “We are not doing anything more than present the historical facts and data,” the National Trust’s attempt to simply avoid censorship is perceived as a threat by those who are more interested in following the traditional heroic narrative of British imperialism, obscuring a reality of millions of deaths.

Such criticisms are arguably grounded in warped perspectives of British imperialism itself, epitomised by Andrew Roberts’ description of the British Empire as “overall a noble endeavour that for the vast majority of time brought great benefits for most of its native inhabitants” and points to “Britain’s mutually beneficial relationship with her colonies”. The facts somewhat challenge this ‘mutually beneficial’ picture: Britain obtained £8 billion in cash and materials from India, whilst during the period of British occupation, India’s share of the world economy dropped from 23% to just over 3%; Britain demanded around £18 million in taxation per year from 1765-1815, while India got land taxes averaging 80-90% of the rental; British civil servants got their highest paid source of employment in India, which India had to fund. The sinister myth of mutual equal benefit is one long debunked – railways, a common example of a ‘benefit’ brought to India by the British, were designed to transport  Indian exports predominantly to Britain (like the 70,000 tonnes of rice exported from India between January and July 1943, even as famine set in and victims subsisted on 400 calories a day from government-run relief centres). Railways in India were designed and built for British use and profit. The myth of the British Empire as a benevolent force is a dangerous, but persistent, falsehood  – YouGov in 2019 reported that 32% of the British public thought that the empire was something to be proud of, rather than ashamed of; 33% thought it left colonies better off and 27% said they would like it if Britain still had an empire. 

The debate was ignited again in December and into January over Colonial Countryside: National Trust Houses Reinterpreted’, another National Trust project, this time working with primary school children to teach them about various sites linked to colonial and slave trade history. The children at Colmore Primary in Birmingham, for example, wrote poems about their findings at Charlecote Park in Warwickshire. One child wrote about a sword stolen during the first war of Indian independence – “The sword is jewelled, the sword is stolen, but from who? The answer is: the Indians. This strong sword was used to fight for freedom, the freedom sword, the freedom sword.”

This educational focus of new National Trust projects, despite suggestions to the contrary, is one that is desired by the public: a recent poll by Policy Exchange found that 76% of people thought the National Trust should be doing more to educate visitors on histories of slavery and colonialism, and in 2020 a petition that the government should ‘Teach Britain’s colonial past as part of the UK’s compulsory curriculum’ gathered 268,772 signatures. Many have welcomed the Trust’s recent efforts, but argue that they have not gone far enough in addressing historical realities; Catherine Bennett has suggested that “you could see this as a long-overdue and welcome rebalancing,” which “might perhaps have benefited from some more detail,”. Yet as long as these projects remain flashpoints in Britain’s escalated ‘culture war’, more extensive research will be hard-won. Nesrine Malik points to how rightwing politics benefit from such controversy “by fostering a sense of threat, a fantasy that something profoundly pure and British is constantly at risk of extinction.” The issue of the National Trust’s desire to educate remains embroiled in political conflicts over ‘British identity’, despite the evidence which shows that there is demand for the National Trust not only to continue its educational projects, but to engage in even more thorough investigation. 

The major question that arises from recent criticisms of The National Trust, aside from ‘did anyone actually read the report?’ or ‘does anyone know what the word ‘smear’ means?’ is this: how does a falsehood of glory, based on the suffering of millions, match with our current aspirations for education, understanding and diversity? It doesn’t, and shouldn’t. As long as British identity rests on the censorship of our own history to uphold a false narrative built on subjugation, we are no better than those who chant ‘Make America Great Again’. British people can be proud of the sacrifices they made in World War 2 to defeat fascism (which they achieved alongside 2.5 million Indian soldiers, the largest volunteer army in history) without turning a blind eye to Churchill’s role in imperialism, and the vicious consequences that this inflicted. The National Trust is not ‘rewriting’ history, but rectifying a false narrative based on notions of white, British superiority. The Trust itself has a long way to go in its research, and uncovering the histories of its properties. But these projects mark an important first step toward a telling of British history in which Churchill is an impactful figure, but not its most privileged author.  

Artwork by Rachel Jung.