Sunday 1st February 2026
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Oxford University Catholic chaplain removed after student sexual abuse complaint

Cherwell Investigations
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Oxford University Catholic chaplain removed after student sexual abuse complaint

CW: sexual abuse, grooming, suicide

The Senior Chaplain at the Oxford University Catholic Chaplaincy (OUCC), Father Damian Howard, was asked to step down last August after a student made a complaint of sexual abuse against him. A Cherwell investigation has subsequently revealed that Jesuits in Britain, the organisation which appoints the Senior Catholic Chaplain at the OUCC, substantially misrepresented the nature of the complaint made by the student.

The student submitted a report, seen by Cherwell, to Jesuits in Britain in early August, which alleged that Father Howard initiated sexual contact with the student on multiple occasions last summer, often while the student was under the influence of alcohol. Before becoming the University Chaplain, Howard was the Provincial Superior of Jesuits in Britain from 2017 to 2023, the leading role in the organisation.

Sexual abuse complaint

Howard met the student, who was reading for a DPhil, in 2023 through his capacity as Senior Chaplain. According to the student’s statement: “It was around this time that Damian took up the cause of my funding request to the Province, and with his help, the funding was secured.” 

In Hilary term 2024, Howard reportedly invited the student to day trips and dinners on multiple occasions, which Howard usually paid for. The student wrote in his statement: “[Howard] urged me to stay in the Chaplaincy accommodation in the 2024/5 academic year, notwithstanding… my belief that I could find cheaper housing and a calmer atmosphere.”

According to the student, from late 2024 to early 2025, Howard became prone to jealous behaviour when the student spent time on other commitments. The student reported that in Michaelmas term 2024, Howard “would often end nights in his office with intense, intimate hugs”, and tell the student he loved him. In his report to the Jesuits, the student stated: “I have never been in love with him nor have I ever initiated intimate contact with him”. The student alleged that Howard initiated kisses several times last year, encouraged the student to sleep in his bed, and to remove layers of clothing. He also alleged that Howard felt his chest on several occasions.

In his report, the student claimed that, by last Hilary term, he felt “trapped” by Howard, describing the Chaplain’s involvement in his personal life as “oppressive”, but felt that he relied on him for support amid issues with his mental health and bereavement after the death of a close friend.

The student’s complaint alleged that, after one such incident, Howard told him not to “tell anyone” about the incident, because it would “ruin” him. At a later point during this period, the student reported that Howard asked again for secrecy because “a single call to Julie at safeguarding” would have him removed from his post, a reference to Julie Ashby-Ellis, Safeguarding Coordinator for Jesuits in Britain.

In the report, the student stated that Howard “failed me when I was in a vulnerable position, chiefly after the suicide of my friend. He was my University Chaplain… He was entrusted, by both the Church and the University, with the pastoral care of everyone who passes through the Chaplaincy. He witnessed the implosion of my faith, my life, and my emotional state; rather than offering the kind of disinterested support a Chaplain would, he used me as a crutch for his loneliness”.

The student concluded his report by saying: “I now believe that I was abused by Damian Howard.”

The report was submitted to Father David Smolira SJ, who is currently the Provincial Delegate for Ignatian Formation, responsible for overseeing the spirituality work of Jesuits in Britain. Smolira is also a former Provincial Superior of Jesuits in Britain.

Response from OUCC and Jesuits in Britain

Howard has been the Senior Chaplain at the Oxford University Catholic Chaplaincy (OUCC) since 2023. On the OUCC website, Howard described his employment as University Chaplain as a “pastoral role”. Jesuits in Britain confirmed in a statement to Cherwell that Father Howard “was asked to step down as Senior Chaplain at [OUCC] in August due to professional misconduct, following a complaint that was investigated and substantiated”.

“An independent review by the Catholic Safeguarding Standards Agency (CSSA) is currently underway, and we are awaiting its recommendations. The matter has also been reported to the Charity Commission and to the police. We take our safeguarding responsibilities very seriously and will continue to act as required.” Prior to the Cherwell investigation, neither OUCC nor Jesuits in Britain had issued a public statement confirming that Howard had been dismissed for professional misconduct.

The CSSA, an independent agency which ensures safeguarding standards are maintained by the Catholic Church, confirmed when asked by Cherwell that they were investigating the allegations against Father Howard. 

When approached for comment, Howard directed Cherwell to the statement by Jesuits in Britain.

Father Howard was also an Honorary Fellow at Campion Hall, a Permanent Private Hall at the University of Oxford, run by Jesuits in Britain. A spokesperson for Campion Hall told Cherwell: “When the Hall was informed by Jesuits in Britain that he had been asked to step down as Senior Chaplain of the Oxford University Catholic Chaplaincy for professional misconduct, it was decided on these grounds to end his fellowship of the Hall also.” Honorary Fellows do not have teaching or pastoral responsibilities.

Misrepresentation of complaint by Jesuits in Britain

Cherwell understands that Jesuits in Britain substantially misrepresented the nature of the complaint made against Father Howard. Documents seen by Cherwell show that safeguarding staff from Jesuits in Britain sent a report concerning the student’s complaint to the Archdiocese of Birmingham, which oversees the activities of the Catholic Church across a wide territory, including Oxford. 

In that report, the writer incorrectly claimed that the student had “withdrawn” his claim that an abuse of power took place in his relationship with Howard, and that he stated that the relationship was in fact consensual, and that he had chosen to postpone his further studies at Oxford. 

The report also claimed that the student would deny that abuse had occurred if approached by police or safeguarding officers, and that a Jesuit member of staff had determined that no abuse had occurred following three hours of interviews with the student. 

In an email sent last October, Smolira wrote to the student that he and Ashby-Ellis had agreed that there was no evidence of “grooming” in the student’s relationship with Howard. He implied that the student had recognised that the “possessive” phase of his and Howard’s relationship had lasted a few weeks, following which the student had reported his allegation of abuse.

However, in the official report that the student sent to Smolira in August, he reported possessive behaviour by Howard from as far back as Trinity term 2024. Last October, Father Peter Gallagher, the head of Jesuits in Britain, agreed to an independent review into the Jesuits’ handling of the abuse allegation. By early November, he proposed that the investigation be handled by the CSSA, to which the student agreed.

The student obtained the report sent by the Jesuits to Birmingham archdiocese through a subject access request last November. A subject access request is a person’s right under data protection law to access information pertaining to them held by an organisation.

As no further communication with Jesuits in Britain regarding the student was provided by Birmingham archdiocese, Cherwell understands that the Jesuits did not contact Birmingham archdiocese between August and November to correct the account of the allegation that they had provided. The student maintains that Howard’s conduct was not consensual and that he would co-operate fully with any police investigation into the case.

The scope of the CSSA review does not include an investigation into how and why a member of safeguarding staff for Jesuits in Britain incorrectly told the safeguarding team at Birmingham archdiocese that the student had withdrawn their allegation of abuse. A CSSA staff member told the student in December that: “We are not able to look at new concerns raised before the Jesuits have had an opportunity to investigate and respond to them themselves.”

When asked by Cherwell about whether they misrepresented the student’s complaint, Jesuits in Britain declined to comment. 

Additional context

The Catholic Church has been haunted by sexual abuse controversies for several decades. Pope Leo XIV stated in June last year that the Church “must not tolerate any form of abuse”, sexual or otherwise. 

In his capacity as Provincial Superior of Jesuits in Britain, Howard issued a personal apology to one of the victims of Peter Orr, a Jesuit priest who was subject to allegations of sexual abuse of minors between the 1960s and 2000s.

Jesuits are members of the Society of Jesus, a Roman Catholic order of priests founded in the 16th century. A chaplain is a religious leader who provides for spiritual needs within a predominantly secular environment, rather than a traditional church. As most Roman Catholic chaplains are priests, the Church generally expects them to be celibate.

The Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (SNAP), which is the world’s largest community of survivors of clergy and institutional sexual abuse, told Cherwell that “religious orders, such as the Jesuits, are known for being highly insular and evading accountability, but we have seen countless instances through the years where Catholic dioceses have knowingly allowed [members previously credibly accused of abuse] of religious orders to minister under their jurisdiction.

“There is currently no law in the Catholic Church that mandates the permanent removal from ministry of individuals who have abused a child or an adult. The result of the current policy is that there are currently thousands of abusers, known to the church, who have been legally permitted under Vatican law to continue holding positions of public trust and authority.”

The University of Oxford declined to comment on this matter. 

Reporting by Archie Johnston, Stanley Smith, Arina Makarina, Gaspard Rouffin, and Mercedes Haas.

If you have been affected by the issues raised in this article, there are resources available to help. 

Safe Spaces provides free and confidential support for survivors of church-related abuse in England and Wales. Help line: 0300 303 1056, or make a referral at https://safespacesenglandandwales.org.uk.

Solace Thames Valley provides a 24/7 sexual assault referral service. For a referral or to book an appointment, call 0330 223 0099 or email [email protected].

The University of Oxford provides a Sexual Harassment and Violence Support Service, which can be found here: https://www.ox.ac.uk/students/welfare/supportservice.

Wellington Square redevelopment plans submitted

Alice Rubli
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Wellington Square redevelopment plans submitted

Plans have been submitted by Oxford University Development (OUD) to include new graduate accommodation and teaching and retail spaces at Wellington Square. 

OUD, a joint venture partnership, submitted a planning application to Oxford City Council for a two-phase redevelopment scheme. If approved, the first phase would involve demolishing 25 Wellington Square, which borders part of Little Clarendon Street. In a press release, OUD said the building would be replaced with a four-storey academic and office facility, including teaching space, with plans also indicating a possible café on the Little Clarendon Street frontage. 

25 Wellington Square currently consists of graduate accommodation on the upper floors, which have been closed due to maintenance issues.

The second phase of the project would entail the refurbishment of the Western Terrace of the Square, 32-42 Wellington Square. As part of this redevelopment, around 100 graduate rooms of varying sizes would be created. Although this phase would involve developing the buildings, the existing historic terrace facing the Square would be preserved. 

In addition to the redevelopment of the buildings themselves, Wellington Square would also undergo renovation with “streetscape improvements”, including a widening of the pavement, “cycle parking, and an electricity substation”. Public seating, pedestrian, and cycle movement have been “carefully considered to ensure safety and comfort”, according to OUD, and the connection between Wellington Square and Little Clarendon Square has also been revised under the plans.

Clare Hebbes, Director of Development at OUD told Cherwell: “Our aim is to create a place that supports the wider community, contributes to the local economy, and provides world-class facilities for the university and its students.”

Previously this year, public consultations were held to gather opinions from residents, businesses, and the wider community. Sustainability was a key focus during the consultations, and “both phases of the proposals include a strong emphasis on sustainability”. 

The new building’s design meets high environmental standards, including Passivhaus principles, and increases biodiversity through landscape changes. Oxford University Development told Cherwell that it would aim to use a sensitive construction approach, using a “Construction and Environmental Management Plan, dust control measures, and the Considerate Constructors Scheme”, amongst others. 

Clare Hebbes said: “We are grateful to everyone who took the time to take part in the two stages of consultation. The feedback we received has informed our approach to the final proposals, including our thinking about the construction.”

Formed in 2019, Oxford University Development is a joint venture between the University and L&G, a UK financial service group and major global investor. Previously, OUD has completed several projects around Oxford, including delivering the Life and Mind Building and homes for graduate students at Court Palace Gardens. OUD expects to deliver approximately 150,000 m2 of University space and 3,000 new homes for University members and the wider community by 2035. 

Plans for Wellington Square’s redevelopment are currently under consideration by the Council, and if approved, construction would likely begin in 2027. 

Four Oxford researchers honoured at Royal Astronomical Society awards

Edmund Remington
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Four Oxford researchers honoured at Royal Astronomical Society awards

Four researchers from the University of Oxford have been honoured in the Royal Astronomical Society’s (RAS) 2026 Awards. Professor Suzanne Aigrain, Dr Deaglan Bartlett, and Professor Andrew Bunker from the Department of Physics all received awards, along with Associate Professor Paula Koelemeijer from the Department of Earth Sciences. 

The ceremony recognises significant achievements in the fields of geophysics and astronomy, with some awards aimed at younger scientists in the field, while others recognise research experience. Professor Mike Lockwood, President of the RAS, extended his congratulations to the recipients for their achievement and “effort to spark interest in potential young scientists”.

Professor Aigrain was awarded the George Darwin Lectureship in recognition of her research on detecting and characterising exoplanets. She has been involved in surveys that have discovered thousands of new exoplanets over 25 years, developing research methods which are now widely used. Aigrin is also took part in the European Space Agency’s PLATO mission and the UK-led Terra Hunting Experiment.

Professor Aigrain told Cherwell: “Exoplanet research has tremendous resonance for the general public in their broader context, and aims to answer questions like ‘where do we come from’ and ‘are we alone’.”

Professor Aigrain also plays a key role in scientific outreach initiatives and is a former TEDx speaker. In a comment to Cherwell, she emphasised the need to “demystify the process of scientific research, and to inspire others” through outreach work.

Professor Bartlett was awarded the Early Career Award in Astronomy. His work focuses on developing statistical and machine learning methods, including the construction of high-performance machine learning models, for research in cosmology and astrophysics. His research involves international collaboration to apply machine learning to accelerate and improve computer simulations of the Universe.

Professor Bartlett told Cherwell: “My work focuses on a branch of machine learning where we ask the machine to discover (hopefully simple) mathematical equations.” He also described the great change to his research being brought by AI, which comes with “both risks and benefits”.

Professor Bartlett told Cherwell he was “totally delighted” to receive the reward: “It is an honour to receive such an award, and humbling to receive this recognition from the RAS.”

Associate Professor and seismologist Paula Koelemeijer from the Department of Earth Sciences was honoured with the Fowler Award for Geophysics. Koelemeijer’s work involves a range of seismological applications, including the use of seismic noise to study human and animal behaviour and global tomography to image deep Earth structure.

Professor Koelemeijer told Cherwell: “A lot of my research focuses on imaging of the Earth, to diagnose processes that occur, very similar to CT scans of a human body. This is fundamental research…fundamental science often leads to innovation and developments in applications in the end. 

“The news of the award was ‘an early Christmas present’. It is a real honour to be recognised for something that I enjoy doing.” She thanked her mentors, collaborators and students, without whom “the research that led to this award would not have been possible”.

Andrew Bunker from the Department of Physics was awarded the Herschel Medal, honouring investigations of outstanding merit in observational astrophysics. His research focuses on the formation and evolution of galaxies and the search for distant galaxies formed when the Universe was far younger. He has recently worked on the near-infrared spectrograph NIRSpec on the James Wepp Space Telescope, an extremely sensitive instrument that has enabled the discovery of some of the most distant galaxies yet observed.

The Royal Astronomical Society told Cherwell: “Scientific outreach is extremely important because it helps to inspire the next generation, seeks to attract people from all backgrounds and walks of life to the wonder of astronomy and geophysics, and allows those within our fields to share their passion and excitement about their subject.”

Professor Andrew Bunker was contacted for comment.

In defence of the default order: The Alternative Tuck Shop

Luis Prenninger
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In defence of the default order: The Alternative Tuck Shop

There is no place in Oxford that my muscle memory takes me to more reliably than the Alternative Tuck Shop. This happens regardless of my state – still half-asleep, perhaps slightly hungover, or already late for class. I order by default, nodding or mumbling, somehow conveying that I have, once again, come for my usual. A Salmon Cream Cheese Bagel (£4.50).

If you’re a regular at the Alternative Tuck Shop but don’t have a standard order, I don’t trust you. If you do, I am more than happy to ignore whether you are punctual or dress well. I will judge you by your sandwich order. Dear reader, try this next time you’re at the Tuck Shop: while waiting outside, listen closely to the orders that are called out. And make note of the judging looks that follow the cry of “Roast Beef, Brie and Mushroom with horseradish on Olive Ciabatta” (£5.60). If you witness the embarrassed, awkward silence this choice receives, consider how much it exposes the person behind it. This mild ritual of public humiliation is integral to how the place works. You queue. You order inside. You are pushed back out again, left to declare your allegiance when the time comes for you – that is, your sandwich – to be called out.

The workings of the Alternative Tuck Shop revolve around efficiency – even though its atmosphere romanticises the place. Stanchions outside organise the masses of customers. In fact, if it gets any busier next term, I wouldn’t be surprised if they hired a bouncer. At peak times, at least four people assemble sandwiches, equipped with an enormous, weapon-like contact grill each. After all, the Alternative Tuck Shop offers – trust me, I counted – 113 different sandwich options, accounting for cross-possibilities between fillings and carriers (baguettes, paninis, bagels and ciabattas). But there is more: samosas, Cornish pasties, flapjacks, and the yum yum (£2.90) – those aggressively glazed, donut-adjacent things that could probably put a diabetic straight to sleep. There is fruit. Ribena. Coffee. Personally, I appreciate the honest ignorance with which the flat white (£3.10) has been degraded to a white Americano. Unlike those specialty cafés, any coffee here is just dangerously hot, with milk added in haphazard amounts.

For the purposes of this review, I betrayed my usual order, trying the Chicken Tikka and Mango Chutney Panini (£5.00), and the Pastrami Swiss Cheese with Grain Mustard Baguette (£5.40). Both were great. But frankly, I do not think that matters too much. The Alternative Tuck Shop is one of the last places that is quietly doing what it has always done – a stronghold of simple, small business against the expansionism of Taylor’s, or the multinational sameness of Subway or Pret. When I asked how long they’d been open, they shrugged and said something like 20 years, possibly 25. One last clarification – in case you ever wondered: the Tuck Shop further down the road has nothing to do with the Alternative Tuck Shop. Either way, as long as they keep turning out sandwiches, I’ll keep ordering my Salmon Cream Cheese Bagel, just the way I always have, without thinking about it too much.

A noble mind o’erthrown: ‘Hamlet’ at the National Theatre

Beatrix Arnold
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A noble mind o’erthrown: ‘Hamlet’ at the National Theatre

There are few literary characters so fully developed, and yet so liable to re-interpretation as Shakespeare’s Danish prince. In its 400-year performance history, continual stagings have still not mined the text for all its potential resonances, such that the world of Elsinore, while being instantly familiar, is always unexpected. This month, Hamlet returns to the stage in a new production soon to be released on National Theatre Live, following its staging last autumn.  

With a run time of two and a half hours (take notes, Kenneth Branagh), Robert Hastie’s heavily cut production narrows its focus to an exploration of the prince’s psychological state, whilst bringing out the humour inherent in his madness. Hiran Abeysekera gives a captivating performance in the titular role, bringing a frenetic vivacity to the young prince’s speech.  

Throughout, Hamlet appears to inhabit a parallel mental universe, from which to observe the denizens of Denmark’s court. From his first appearance, clothed in a black suit and an air of cryptic truculence, his difference from the rest of the court, assembled in a mood of celebration, is manifest. Hastie draws this out even more, freezing the rest of the cast and using a harsh spotlight to isolate the protagonist from the action. Abeysekera delivers his soliloquies directly to the audience, questioning them and raising laughs through his assumption of intimacy. This is compounded when he directs lines conventionally spoken to Horatio, his usual confidant, to the audience instead (most notably before the play-within-the-play), enlisting them as accomplices in his plot to unmask Claudius’ guilt.  

Abeysekera puts great emphasis on each moment of antanaclasis, engaging in a witty form of double-speak that serves as both a shield and a weapon, while drawing attention to the opacity of language itself. As the play progresses, his manipulative repartee becomes less sardonic and more grimly enigmatic, exploding into visceral rage. The spiraling intensity of Hamlet’s neurosis propels the narrative, as the audience becomes increasingly drawn into its emotional matrix. When Hamlet shoots Polonius with what at first appears to be a finger-gun, but then is revealed as an actual gun, and when he gestures wildly towards an empty chair, where the ghost of King Hamlet traditionally appears, the entire play becomes distorted by the pressure of Hamlet’s psyche. The audience is given no access to objectivity, but is instead immersed in his “antic disposition”.  

Hastie’s cuts and directorial choices, particularly in his staging of the soliloquies, mean that the figure of Hamlet entirely absorbs the audience’s attention, so that other characters become oddly peripheral. Claudius (Alistair Petrie) is an unemotional statesman, reserved in his villainy, to the extent that it is difficult to feel invested in his development. Gertrude (Ayesha Dharker), too, is oddly underdeveloped – the production does not exploit the fraught relationship between mother and son. It was gratifying to see the script circumvent the often-overblown Freudian interpretation of their intimacy, yet this comes at the cost of emotional vacuity. The ire of the so-called bedroom scene is utterly deflated, the acidic frisson excised from what should be the play’s emotional centre. 

Humour is instead the keynote of the production, drawing on the ample comic resources already present in the tonal register of Shakespeare’s tragedy. Hastie is not the first director to lean into the play’s often-overlooked comedic elements; Sean Holmes’ 2022 production entirely overwrote the tragic genre, resulting in a hollowed-out comic pastiche of the play devoid of emotional depth. Hastie does not go this far. Much of the speech is ironised and delivered for laughs, such as Ophelia’s sarcastic promises to obey her brother, and unscripted movements are vivified by moments of physical comedy, such as when Laertes does a shoey as the Danish court cheer him on. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are made entirely parodic – preppy, boarding-school types with whom Hamlet engages in flirtatious banter. Polonius is stripped of complex characterisation, represented as a docile, even likeable, ‘dad’ figure, existing mainly as a springboard against which Hamlet may display his eccentric wit. The players, in turn, are a comedic caricature of an amateur dramatics society. Although Hastie balances the humour and the tragedy more effectively than Holmes, the characters around Hamlet often veer too far into the farcical.  

The enduring appeal of Hamlet, and the reason why it is put on year after year (much to the chagrin of the English A-Level student) is its capacity for innovation. There are innumerable opportunities for radical re-readings, from Frankcom’s gender-swapped production (2014), to Eyre’s exclusion of King Hamlet’s ghost (1980) – not to mention Disney’s The Lion King (1994), of course. Yet there is a distinct lack of novelty in Hastie’s play. The apparel oft proclaims the man, yet the choice of modern dress appears distinctly unremarkable. The humour, the fencing match, the fourth wall breaks – all these have become familiar, almost hackneyed, staples of the play’s performance history.  

It’s difficult to pin down the production’s emotional core, for the precise reason that it lacks one. No particular theme stands out as the guiding principle, and each idea is engaged with only superficially, often sacrificed for the sake of a punchline. The production eschews even the most surface-level political engagement, cutting out extended passages of stage intrigue, and diminishing the external pressure from Fortinbras who is portrayed prosaically as an uncomplicated soldier in standard military uniform. The narrative appears oddly suspended, set in the modern day yet removed from real-world resonances. Such a frequently performed play demands innovation and fresh interpretation. It is this frustrating vacancy that, in the end, lets an otherwise well-executed production down. 

Overall, Hastie’s direction is engaging, amusing, and (for the most part) faithful to the text, excelling particularly in its exploration of, and complete immersion into, Hamlet’s complex psychological state. Beyond that, the rest is silence.

Who cares about college politics?

Eve Richardson
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Who cares about college politics?

A self-righteous model citizen since as long as I can remember, it is little surprise that I quickly became attached to the bureaucratic rituals of General Meetings (GMs), committees, and elections when I entered my college community. It is also equally unsurprising that few others seem to share my enthusiasm. I’ve found myself part of a small core of my JCR who still care about JCR politics – those who fulfill a minimum requirement of simply turning up to things. Needless to say, the bar is low. Of this committed few, the majority are existing or prospective members of the committee, with just a handful of non-committee members practising consistent engagement with the business of the JCR, let alone engaging with it at all.

The committed core comprises a group of politically engaged individuals who instinctually feel the gravity of civic duty and positive change through political institutions, even those institutions as seemingly low stakes as a college common room. We joke self-consciously about our own prominence in the political fixtures of the JCR, and uncomfortably reflect that the democracy we purport to be sustaining does not feel very democratic at all. 

I witnessed this crisis of participation, in my JCR’s committee elections for the coming year. There were no candidates for key welfare roles such as international, LGBTQ+, and disabilities officers, leaving us with glaring vacancies in our committee. It is easy to take them for granted, but committee officers perform vital roles for their JCR, frequently tending to issues like housing, sports, access and admissions, reimbursement for health and hygiene products, and organising BOPs – issues and events affecting us all.

Poor attendance of GMs is a second manifestation of the participation crisis, caused by a much broader disengagement across JCRs. Last term, I was shocked when my JCR failed to attract enough attendants to meet quorum for a meeting needed to pass an important motion about housing which would impact the most of the student body. The convenience of online voting means that even GMs with an apparently high turnout have much lower genuine in-person attendance. When only a fraction of those voting are actually present, the purpose of the meetings seems to be eroded: discussions are short and sparse, and the resulting decisions often feel arbitrary.

I will concede that the ordinary business of JCRs is scarcely revolutionary and far from thrilling. GM agendas are usually filled with a predictable mix of funding requests for student plays and JCR amenities, with the odd constitutional tweak on the table, or occasionally a statement to be made online. Admittedly, JCRs have very little de facto power within their own domain, and even less political impact on the wider world. It is not difficult to see why so many students view college politics as a pointless activity, and perhaps it is for this reason that they do not consider it worth their time or energy to get involved.

Political disillusionment is also a phenomenon which is well-documented beyond college walls. The nation seems to be tending towards apathy in unison – arguably the strongest point of consensus in an increasingly divided society. That this sentiment should pervade student politics too is only natural; in a world where many of us feel a lack of agency, politics can begin to seem fruitless on any scale.

In spite of this, the cycle of apathy can be broken. To do so, it is important to recognise the great things which college politics do have the potential to achieve. Search past Cherwell headlines for the word “JCR”, and you will find a plethora of instances of JCRs coming together to challenge controversial University policies and critique the misconduct of college leadership. Whistleblowing powerful institutions is an essential undertaking, and students are in a uniquely advantageous position to hold their college or the University accountable. JCRs also have an exceptional capacity to make tangible improvements to student life as a result of their often close relationships with college administration, from negotiating housing prices down, to advocating for underrepresented individuals, and providing peer welfare support.

So whilst I can easily understand the view that college politics affords little reward for the time it demands, I do not think it is a pointless pursuit. Let’s not pretend that JCR politics is designed to reach far into the politics of the outside world, but instead acknowledge the meaningful impact it can have on a local scale, improving the everyday lives of their students. In summary, allow me to moralise: do not overlook the work our committee officers do for us, nor underestimate the power of a well-argued GM motion. Our active participation is the essential ingredient in breaking the cycle of political apathy, and we owe it to each other to keep looking to the future.

Lighthouse Productions on ‘Lemons’

Abigail Lakeland
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Lighthouse Productions on ‘Lemons’

Alongside producer Grace Yu, the team outlined the vision for their debut production: a political, surrealist, five-night run of Sam Steiner’s Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons (2015) at the Burton Taylor Theatre. “This is really fresh writing,” says Alys. “It’s nice to do contemporary theatre [written] by young people. It brings a certain energy.”

The text is set in a world where language has been limited by a so-called ‘Hush Law’, and everyone is given a daily word limit. When Oliver and Bernadette start a relationship against this background of linguistic and political suppression, it’s not just their conflicting personalities that pose a problem.

“They have their own communication issues, regardless of the law. The law just crystallises an experience that was already there,” says Alys. “It genuinely would resonate with so many people, especially people in relationships,” Grace adds. “Communication issues are so important, and most people don’t even notice they’re there.”

Lemons is a play of two elements. Like a lemon, sliced in half: there’s the opposites-attract love story, and a political commentary on freedom of speech. Lighthouse’s performance homes in on the latter. “[The] different elements seem like they wouldn’t go hand in hand, [but] these exterior motions can leave such a devastating impact on our daily lives,” says Ivana.

“[The Hush Law is] always a shadow over them,” says Alys. The trio selected the play over summer, amidst the proscription of Palestine Action as a terrorist organisation in June 2025. Alys recalls when Banksy’s mural, Royal Courts of Justice (2025), was immediately scrubbed. “Theatre is a tool of resistance,” she says. For Alys, Lemons is “scarily relevant.”

40 students auditioned for the roles of Oliver and Bernadette. “Call-backs were a nightmare,” the team recalls. “We did a workshop with every possible pairing, since the play depends on chemistry.” The team landed on Kit Rush in his debut performance as Oliver, who Alys describes as “an absolute blinder”, and Caeli Colgan as Bernadette, who Ivana describes as “a powerhouse.” Grace also mentions an exciting original score composed by Oliver Spooner.

Talking to Kit Rush and Caeli Colgan provided some insight into the leads of the two-hander. “On the surface of it, Oliver and Bernadette’s relationship might be described as the classic ‘opposites attract’,” says Colgan. “But actually I think part of the chemistry between the characters comes from their similarity.”

“They balance each other out,” explains Rush. “Oliver is charming and fun; Bernadette is hard-working and reserved. Are they a good match? The jury is out.”

“I think what makes them a good match is that they find each other exciting,” Colgan says. “What the Hush Law does is it transforms that excitement into frustration. Where before they might have enjoyed being challenged by one another, maintaining a relationship in 140 words a day simplifies the types of communication available, which forces everything they say into a kind of total bluntness.”

On the more demanding aspects of the play, Rush and Colgan cite different challenges. “The structure of the play is very fast paced because it is made up of lots of little vignette-like scenes in non-chronological order,” says Colgan. “It’s quite challenging to keep a clear sense of the narrative when it flits between pre and post Hush Law, but I’m hoping this also challenges the audience in an interesting and exciting way.” For Rush? “Actually, doing a two hander – I didn’t realise how many lines there were!”

“The play is rejecting realism,” Ivana describes. “We’re trying to experiment with different mediums.” The team wanted to add many “absurd surrealist elements”. They plan on using a montage, projected onto the walls of the Burton Taylor, which they hope indicates “how the sense of being watched can be traumatic, in a way.”

The Burton Taylor is a recurring topic in my conversation with Lighthouse Productions. “It is a very small space, as we all know,” laughs Grace. “Having acted in the BT, the intimacy is perfect for this play.” In comparison, Grace says that at the similarly-sized Michael Pilch Studio “you still feel a little bit of distance, it’s surprisingly big.” The BT, however, gets it just right.

“The fourth wall is so thin. But we want it to be so thin,” Grace states. Alys adds that they wanted it to feel like Big Brother is watching, with the audience also under the microscope. “They’re being brought into the action as well.”

On inspirations, Alys says she’s fascinated by the ballet based on Lemons. The Limit (2023) was performed for eight nights at the Linbury Theatre, London, in October 2023, starring Francesca Hayward and Alexander Campbell. In Lighthouse’s Lemons, the team has incorporated movement to illustrate that when language fails, movement supports communication. Present too in the brainstorming was the West End performances, where the actors only wore socks. “You’re in that very intimate, domestic setting,” Alys says, in a sentiment echoed by Rush, who notes: “You’ll feel like you’ve been inside that intimate space of a new relationship. It’s a messy mixture of humour, sadness, and hope.”

When asked how they want audience members to respond to the performance, the co-directors diverged. “I want them to feel all the emotions, to laugh, to cry […] to be distressed. I want them to leave thinking about the current political climate,” says Alys. Ivana’s response was more ominous. “I don’t want to freak people out, but I do want them to leave feeling scared,” Ivana laughs. “[The Hush Law] seems like a very unusual thing, but it could so easily happen to any of us.”

Lighthouse Productions’ Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons shows at the Burton Taylor Studio 27th – 31st January.

Faith in humanity restored: Taste Tibet, reviewed

Nancy Robson
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Faith in humanity restored: Taste Tibet, reviewed

It might have something to do with the freezing January rain outside, but when I arrive at Taste Tibet in East Oxford it seems a lot like paradise. The décor is stripped-back but welcoming: a blackboard with the weekly-changing menu written on it, a counter from which hot food is served, and several long benches designed for communal eating. Julie Kleeman, who, alongside her husband, is the lifeblood of the restaurant, welcomes me in from the rain and suggests we sit down with a cup of chai. This is precisely what the drenched-to-the-skin, cold-to-the-bone me needs, but it is also lovely in its own right, warmly spiced without being overly sweet.

The restaurant, Julie tells me, began over a decade ago as a market stall in Gloucester Green, where her husband – who grew up in the mountains of Tibet – would cook the food of his childhood. At the same time, they organised takeaways out of their own kitchen, eventually opening this restaurant in the middle of a COVID lockdown. During the summer months they still take their food stall to festivals, partly – Julie explains – so that they can share the desperately underrepresented wonders of Tibetan culture and cuisine with a larger audience.

Time and again during our talk she returns to the idea of community, which is central to the restaurant’s ethos and practices. Julie seems genuinely pleased to see everyone who walks in, many of whom are regulars. There are those who linger over a meal, but also those who have braved the biblical storm outside to pick up a takeaway, or one of the meals from the freezer. The latter of these is a revelation to me. Julie explains how they freeze all of their leftovers, meaning that the restaurant creates nearly no food waste and that it is possible to try their food at an even more affordable price.

If you’ve never had Tibetan food before, it is built around hearty, comforting dishes or, as Julie phrases it, food to warm your hands and your stomach. Their menu has an impressive balance of vegan and meat options, so I begin with the dal, which is everything a dal should be – rich, almost creamy, with a subtle complexity of flavour. The two chicken curries I try are just as delicious, although my personal favourite is the wonderfully fresh sesame chicken. Having resigned myself to the wilted, soulless greens served in Hall, the vegetable dishes bring me the most surprising joy. This is how broccoli was born to be served. The real stars of the meal, however, – and there is tough competition – are the momos, the generously sized dumplings which seem to be Tibet’s unofficial national dish. The menu has two varieties, so, since this is not the time for following New Year’s resolutions, I sample both. The beef feels like proper mountain fare – rich and wholesome enough to help you weather a snowstorm –, but it is the ‘Heavenly Vegan’ momos that live up to their name. I can’t exactly describe the flavour, because it tasted like nothing I’d ever eaten before, but I can only urge you with every single inch of my being to try them yourself.

When I eventually – and very reluctantly – leave the restaurant, it is still pouring with rain, but my faith in humanity and in friendly, high-quality neighbourhood restaurants has been restored.

I ate:

  • Meat Feast for One (two dishes + dal + rice + momo) – £17.00
  • Side of Stir-Fried Broccoli with Garlic – £2.50
  • Tibetan Chai Tea – £3.50
  • Vegan momo – £2.50

Criticisms of Oxford slang aren’t really about language

Aaron Butters
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Criticisms of Oxford slang aren’t really about language

Sub fusc, college marriages, BOPs, sconcing, Prelims, the Bod: Oxford boasts a unique catalogue of words and phrases. Some would critique them as elitist and exclusionary. Doing so sadly misdirects such critiques, and fails to see the important role that Oxford’s language plays. It’s a uniquely complex, ever-changing system that we should be proud to call our own. 

The eclectic vocabulary referred to as Oxford’s ‘language’ is a sociolect. This is a distinctive way in which language is used by members of a particular group, which necessarily reflects the social soil from which it sprouts. To use the linguist Ferdinand de Saussure’s terms, what we have in Oxford’s slang is a series of signs referring to various signifieds. The signs are arbitrary, and no amount of criticism of the sign will do anything to affect what is signified. Even if I manage to weed out the term “sub fusc”, so long as academic dress exists there will always be a new word to spring up and take its place, because the signified concept is still present. If I wanted to eradicate Oxford’s slang, I would have to render it obsolete, by removing what it refers to. We can’t direct our anger at the words themselves. But I don’t think we should be burning sub fusc in any case, because from such traditions comes our Oxford sociolect, and sociolects serve important social functions.  

The most important thing to realise about sociolects is their ubiquity. Oxford has a sociolect; Durham has a sociolect; Southampton has a sociolect; your town and your school have sociolects. Whenever a new social group is formed, a unique sociolect won’t be far behind. We can even see sociolects within sociolects, like college slang. An example from my college, St Peter’s, is the words used to refer to parts of the library. The college library itself is the plib (Peter’s + lib-rary). This pl- prefix appears to have then been used to create plungeon, which is the very bottom level, and pleaven, which is the very top. Sociolects aren’t necessarily elitist or exclusionary, and that we all speak many of them. 

What is unique about Oxford’s sociolect, however, is that it was once spoken exclusively by the upper, ruling classes who were educated here. This is no longer the case. It’s not to say that Oxford no longer produces the ‘ruling classes’ – 75% of judges, 66% of private secretaries, and  54% of MPs were educated here or Cambridge. However, the process that produces this ‘ruling class’ is far more meritocratic today than it ever has been. Oxford is no longer a feudalistically gated university, with over 60% of its UK-domiciled students coming from state-educated backgrounds, and with active efforts made year on year to increase the proportion of underrepresented groups that make up its student body. The memory of Oxford having been exclusionary still persists, but the diversity of people who now speak its sociolect demonstrates that it no longer is. 

Sociolects promote social cohesion and foster a sense of group identity. Oxford’s is no different in this respect. In fact, Oxford’s sociolect is much better equipped to achieve this purpose than others because its greater age and vocabulary size gives us more in common with each other, leading to closer feelings of camaraderie and connection. The unpaired uniqueness of Oxford, rooted in its history and its traditions, is completely capable of existing without classism or elitism. Its language is a sign of not just of those traditions, but also of its proud and enthusiastic student community today. We should feel proud to be Oxford students without descending into some kind of superiority complex. To assume that Oxford’s language is forever going to be exclusionary suggests that we aren’t capable of re-evaluating what it means to be an Oxford student. But we are. 

Sociolects are always changing. This means that new members of Oxford’s social community, be they freshers or international students, are as much capable of influencing its development as anybody else. As Oxford has become more open and representative, those new members have been able to leave their mark in its language when opportunities for new coinages arise: for example, the opening of the new Schwarzman Centre this year. Already it’s been shortened to the Schwarzman, the Schwarz, and even (perhaps rather tongue-in-cheek) the Schwozzy C. As a fresher myself, from a state school, mostly non-university-going background, I do not feel excluded by Oxford’s language. I feel intrigued, and proud that I get to be a player (and rulemaker) in this idiosyncratic language game.

To conclude, to call Oxford’s language ‘exclusionary’ is to misread its place today. It is to allow yourself to be haunted by top-hat wearing, moustache-twiddling, RP-talking ghosts who no longer swarm its streets. When we strip away its antique garbs, we find a sociolect like any other. And, thanks to, not in spite of, those antique garbs, Oxford’s sociolect is uniquely adept at creating a shared group identity, reminding everyone who speaks it that they belong to this University, in which we should all be able to take pride.

Why you should talk to your scout more

Tarana Varma
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Why you should talk to your scout more

Quite apart from our academic work, students at Oxford University lead a life very different to that of students at other institutions, a fact which some of us seem more aware of than others. Porters who are available 24/7, kitchen staff who not only cook but serve food multiple times a day, and scouts who clean your rooms are not regular parts of the university experience, however hard it may be for some to imagine fitting scrubbing the bathroom floor into their daily schedule. For many, both from outside and within the University, this system is just another reason to regard Oxford students with a certain degree of moral distrust, and it’s not hard to see why. Surely, being treated like overprivileged boarding school children will only lead to the production of entitled students lacking in the ability to take responsibility and look after themselves, exacerbating such traits within those who have already been raised in this way. 

Indeed, the system of services provided by the University was embedded exactly for the kind of people such critics would hold in disdain. The Oxford cohort of the 19th and early 20th century was almost entirely made up of men from the landed gentry and clergy; it was therefore necessary that the services provided by the University matched those that these young men had been accustomed to during their childhood. Cultural depictions of Oxford life before the 21st century, such as in Evelyn Waugh’s classic Oxford novel Brideshead Revisited, show these men in all their self-assurance, lording it over the menial labourers who are so clearly seen as belonging to a different world. Luckily, most of us have now moved away from such reprehensible treatment of those who work for our colleges, and from such discreditable attitudes towards class division. Do we then have nothing to learn from the past as regards the university’s workforce? 

While I don’t pretend to harbour much nostalgia for the English culture of previous centuries, I do believe that we miss something when we view our changing treatment of our staff as merely another part of an abstract social progression. The fact is that the standard relationship between the Oxford student and the staff they interact with on a regular basis is still riddled with problems, despite the greater levels of respect, politeness, and appreciation we hopefully hold ourselves to. Fundamentally, this is because there is really no relationship at all. How many of us know the names of the kitchen staff, porters, or scouts of our colleges? And no – knowing the names of the people who run your college bar in an attempt to curry favour does not count. These staff, so deeply integral to the running of our communities, often slip into the cracks of both the everyday and the incidental. A friend who had a slight mishap with her dinner recently after a night out, for example, had to discuss her actions only with the college dean, and did not have to apologise to or even acknowledge those who had to clean up after her, a clear display of the blatant disregard we often show for our responsibilities towards our staff. 

At the same time, not only do we owe something to those who serve us, but we often forget what they can do for us, outside of what we consider to be their jobs. Maybe we shouldn’t think only about the fact that we are provided with people who cook our food, deal with us losing our keys, and tidy our piles of paper, but more about the resource of being surrounded by those who might genuinely understand the specific problems of  every-day Oxford life. These people have truly seen it all, and do not deserve to be treated as outsiders; they might be the biggest insiders around. When it comes to the staff who enter our rooms, I believe we can in fact learn something from stories of old, both the real and the fictional. 

An article published by the University of Cambridge titled ‘The bedders’ story’ interviews Lilian Runham, a veteran ‘bedder’ (the Cambridge equivalent of the Oxford scout) who describes the motherly relationship fostered by the regular visits to a student’s room and by the relaxed rules and regulations that were once a part of the system. For Runham, this consistent contact created a high degree of comfort and intimacy between bedder and student. Bedders would often be the first to notice signs of stress, illness, or homesickness, and the students she helped would often talk to her about their problems. On the other side, 20th Century books such as Brideshead Revisited may not quite depict relationships of affection, but the interactions between students and staff, such as the frankly expressed irritation of Charles’s scout regarding his behaviour and the state of his room, sometimes seem preferable to the culture of boundaries we find ourselves so accustomed to. True, we might object to the idea of institutional moral policing that is betrayed in Lunt’s comments to Charles, but this practise is at the same time suggestive of a culture that admits that the staff around us are enough a part of our community that they might help and guide us just as much as our friends or our family back home. 

I am not suggesting that you befriend those in the practise of talking to their toy bear, fall in love with two siblings, or in any other way emulate Waugh’s Oxonian protagonist, but I am asking that we all question the limited number of interactions beyond pleasantries that we have with the workforce of this university. This is, or should be, a community, but it cannot be until we treat every member of it as if they are truly part of our lives, and learn to remember that we are a part of theirs. 

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