Monday 30th June 2025
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Tenet review: Can visual spectacle make up for missing humanity?

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After three postponements and millions of dollars’ worth of Covid-induced extra marketing, the much-anticipated action-thriller film, Tenet, has finally greeted a global audience, giving many the necessary push to make their first cinema trip in months. Said to be in the high-risk tier of activities, sharing a screen with multiple strangers has become a daring adventure in and of itself.

The whole world is crumbling, and people need a pleasant distraction. But cynical as it may seem, cinephiles these days are finding themselves wondering: is the film worth the risk? With the promise of a star-studded cast, a cerebral setting that will make you wish you know more about physics, and a real Boeing 747 set on fire – my answer to this question is yes, albeit with hesitation.

Tenet tells the story of a CIA agent (whom I’ll refer to as “The Protagonist” as he goes unnamed throughout the entire film) who is recruited by the eponymous secret organisation after a failed rescue mission at an opera house in Kiev. Tenet introduces The Protagonist to the concept of “inverted” entropy, a theory that allows things and actions to be rendered backward both materially and temporally. A team is sent to seize and destroy an algorithm designed by the villainous Sator, who intends to wipe out the world by inverting it. The Protagonist seeks help from Sator’s estranged wife Kat, and fellow Tenet agent Neil. Together they embark on a mission to prevent World War III.

One of the most prominent features in Nolan’s oeuvre has been his novel applications of the laws of physics, and Tenet is no exception. The idea of “inversion” not only allows the director to further explore his fascination with time, but also creates room for ambitious action scenes. Nolan’s dedication to this concept is unmissable and applaudable. To accommodate an “inverted” timeline to the fullest, several sequences in the film require both forward and backward motions in the same on-screen space, including a car chase which proved so challenging, a highway in Tallinn almost ended up shut for a month. Nolan’s habitual dismissal of CGI means audiences can expect both meticulously choreographed movements and dextrously assembled mise-en-scène – visual stunners which would no doubt constitute an immersive viewing experience, if accompanied by the right sound and music.

Regrettably, the acoustic dimension of the film lacks lustre against its breath-taking moving images. With Hans Zimmer having “defected” to join the next-door production of Dune, composer Ludwig Göransson was hired in his stead, and had to record musicians at home following the onset of the pandemic. Beyond the undeniably original stroke that was playing part of the soundtrack backwards to match the backwards motions on screen – another sign of loyalty to the film’s wholistic design – the music in Tenet feels unremarkable and bares no comparison to films like 2014’s Interstellar (which was nominated for Best Original Score at the 87th Academy Awards). The score shows little interest in distinguishing scenes from one another; the background music in the opening opera house scene sounds almost identical to that which accompanies Tenet’s various, more intense operations in later scenes. Tenet‘s auditory landscape is also polluted by flawed sound mixing. This is especially noticeable during action sequences, where diegetic and non-diegetic sounds are so poorly balanced, one has to strain to hear the dialogues even with Dolby Atmos. These factors further frustrate one’s understanding of a plot line already brimming with brain-twisting concepts.

Yet Tenet‘s biggest disappointment is not technical in nature. With cinemas around the world recycling Nolan’s other works to reopen, we are reminded of their virtuoso presentations of human emotion; be it the parental love of an astronaut that defies time and space in Interstellar, or the collective desperation and fear of abandonment on the French sea front in Dunkirk, it is Nolan’s ability to evoke sympathy that has ultimately made his films unforgettable. One can hardly say the same for Tenet. Despite the actors’ undeniable skill, most of the characters’ motives on an emotional level are indiscernible. One finds oneself wondering, on several occasions, why some of them are going to life-threatening lengths to save and protect other key characters they barely know.

Among the few relationships that feel sufficiently developed is that between Kat and Sator, which, in a nutshell, is an abusive marriage characterised by violence and coercion. There are several scenes of domestic violence, one of which included moments so explicit, they were removed from the UK theatre version to avoid a 15 certificate. Compared to other violent scenes in the film, of beating and torture between men with little blood and gore, these depictions of a man’s power over his wife are tackled with a precision that not only feels extraneous to the storyline, but produces a level of unpleasantness that escapes the screen. The film eventually attempts to tie up loose ends regarding the connections between characters, there are no feelings visceral enough for tears.

Tenet’s launch in cinema at the end of August marks Hollywood’s awakening from an anxious sleep. With film festivals gone virtual, and many films released online, it has been offered more screens per multiplex than originally planned, quickly becoming the fifth highest-grossing films of 2020. After months of uncertainty, anger, and grief in the midst of pandemic and protests, the return of big screen invites reflections: what is it that makes us love cinema? Need there be more to it than an extravaganza of escapist excitement? Watching Tenet will help you find your answer, whatever it may be.

Image credit – Wikimedia commons / Thekingross

Satire: A Letter to the Neophytes

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Dear uninitiated ones,

“New students will be matriculated in absentia” – my tears flow like gutters for you, future freshers. What worth is a degree without the accompanying theatre of success at every stage; and you, my darlings, will be missing the most curious of all Oxford’s mysteries. So, as a prospective parent on the brink of that plunge into responsibility, I thought I might write to you, and why not about this. I have nowt better to do.

For those of you who haven’t yet figured out what you’ll be denied by the current pestilence, here’s a potted history of matriculation, from a guide for tourists I found flapping against a George Street lamppost one Hilary night:

Matriculation (a corruption of “Matron’s lactations”, a common public-school ambrosia) is a ceremony that takes place every year in Oxford, marking the final severing of the students’ weak connection to reality. Taking place in the Sheldonian Theatre (a corruption of “we shouldn’t really have called it a theatre, should we?”), this ritual dates back until at least the year 0 A.W. (after the war) and possibly further, and was invented by radical Wadham Marxists to prove Debord right. The rites require formal attire for the students, attending, as they are, the funeral of their own sensibility. Central to the ritual is an address in what is often mistaken for Latin, but is actually rhyming slang, spoken at high-speed by an unlicensed cockney, in a practise similar to the controversial chav socials of tabloid fame. Finally, the students strip and self-flagellate, an action that symbolises their rejection of social conscience, before attempting to drink their own bodyweight in the distilled blood of those who, sadly, did not make it through ‘interviews’. All in all, a curious ritual, enjoyed from a distance by people like you.

People like me indeed.

Sadly, for some of you, it’s not just an excuse to get pissed you’re missing, but a familial tradition. The 2020 Michaelmas slot in your family photo archives will remain empty, void of another phalanx of identikit fresh faces, squinting glibly into the midmorning sun, shrunken heads atop bulky black robes. I can’t imagine what it’s like to stand there, the sense of history you have, knowing you follow in the footsteps of your thoroughbred ancestors, hoofed feet firmly in the same stall, waiting for the vice-chancellor’s starting gun for the great steeplechase to begin, first to the City via Westminster takes it all. Don’t worry, you worked for this, years in the boathouse trap, right? Not many get out of Cheltenham alive, do they? And it’s not as if it was Eton, I mean, daddy had to shake the old Panamanian settee rigorously to find a few spare bob, and couldn’t get a Harley Street chiropractor when it did his back in.

You deserved it, the chance to be part of the same dance-as-old-as-time as all the other, former Bright Young Things, who clambered up this greasy pole before you, no helping hands to offer bar better diction, the ability to tie a bowtie and an algorithmic nudge or two. It’s ok, calm your incandescent rage, you won’t tear stain this letter, I’ve had it laminated mate. Anyways, I’m only here thanks to some hidden, invisible, secret quota for normal people; here to make the uni look accessible. Here to make the uni look good.

Biff! Pow! Working class man commits social suicide for only the fourth time this week, and all cos his parents couldn’t find a few grand to have the ungrateful twerp slapped out of him.

Of course, not all of you can be neatly sorted into the categories of Upstairs folk and the kind of depressed cynic who agrees with me. The reasoned, middle-of-the-road, fence-up-your-arsecrack types out there have a claim on being worst hit, the cancellation a real shotgun blast to your Instagram clout. For you, this magical occasion was the physical recognition of all your hard work, a binding ceremony that would take equals, from a rainbow of social backgrounds, and make them look all equally twattish. You will be unable to splash out on a nice suit, only to get it grass-stained whilst tempting death at the hands of some psycho porter, desperate to keep you off the grass.

Maybe some of you are international students, somehow slipping through the net in this great departure into insularity, disappointed you won’t get the chance to be conned into thinking you’ve participated in something uniquely British, which you would have, one supposes…

Queuing? Perhaps? For something ultimately perplexing, and often disappointing, but which seemingly provides many others with joy, like a Wednesday home loss or a childhood donkey ride in the driving, Skeggy rain.

At least try to smile, they said to the small child, piss-wet through on a smelly non-horse. Well, the child thought, at least I’ve never been fucking skiing, as the great container ship of aspiration reared its ugly bow through the sea mist.

There is a lot of queuing involved, and then Latin.

No, not the queuing. Perhaps something even more British then, yes? Like attempting to legitimise the ubiquitous elitism and class divides of the country by donning a silly hat? Yes.

Little do the state-schooled among us know, but the ‘Latin’ spoken is an incantation, a spell to summon the ghosts of Mr Orwell’s bicycling old maids, to scare the homeless out of town for the day.

A hilarious selection of headgear for hierarchical happenings
Attached: a page torn from some kind of hat encyclopaedia

All a bit rich, some of you might be thinking for someone who must have been matriculated themselves. Quite, but then, true to form, I subverted tradition by attending dressed in a homemade bin bag bralette with duct tape G-string, and exchanged the self-flagellation for self-loathing. Beware though, the price the university demands for allowing such tomfoolery is the sale of your soul: becoming a professional parody northerner, paid £4.80 a week for thinking of snide comments about people’s choice of championship side, and every now and again hurtling your fragile form at some quad’s paving, in a futile attempt to burrow your way back home.

If you were yourself considering the above option for matriculation, then congratulations, you are the ones missing out on the most. We, shoulders chipped like the Venus de Milo (though we hide it skilfully, only ever unleashing its full strength on unfunny, crap little letters no one will read, italicising words to make it look considered) only really applied for one reason, and were quite surprised when it paid off: the sexual thrill of trespass.

In Oxford, the joys of both voyeurism and exhibitionism are on offer; on a typical morning I can choose between lurking in the bushes, Bullingdon Club members fixed in my binoculars as they stumble home, stinking of semen and farmyard excitement, or climb an empty plinth in the Ashmolean, and declaring oneself the last example of social mobility caught in the wild before the country devolved back into feudalism. But the best chance for roleplay, regrettably, has been denied to you. Same shoes, same suit, same smile, same sandstone walls to prop yourself against – if you’ve never pretended that this is life, will you ever be truly Oxonian? There is a positive correlation between the number of likes you’d be getting for that photo and the success of the transubstantiation of your blood into theirs.

The day would’ve been your last shot at a sense of belonging, before you start to wonder how exactly you got here? The ability to bullshit has served you well, got you somewhere you thought someone might finally have something insightful to say, but nah, its more agile, flexible bullshit, able to make a supposed political commitment to social justice compatible with smiling at Tories and a weekly wage of a bar tab.

Because it’s black and white.

And you start wondering how exactly you got here? A carousel of strange rooms, music from your hometown blaring, a thousand gloss-paper Ewan McGregors staring at you in judgement. This is you. Stumbling round Bridge. Mutual giggles while queuing for Hassan’s, as young women attempt to explain to you the intricacies of London’s zoning system.

You remember the flexible bullshit cos it takes you to the brink of being a cunt but never tips you over the edge. You remember the flexible bullshit, cos it takes them to the brink of being a cunt but never tips them over the edge. It rescues them from all your silent prejudice. And everyone’s subconscious class fantasy remains intact.

Because its grey.

The day would have been your last chance to slow your descent into this stupor of rage, forever yelling at yourself to be less judgemental, as you laugh at people laughing at Nish Kumar.

***

Again, my deepest and most heartfelt emotions are with you all, these times were hard enough without learning you were forever to be neophytes, never truly to join the ranks of us oh-so-betters, forbidden to be a true denizen of this hothouse of ferocious talent. No anecdotes of mortar-boarded naughtiness for you to tell at some Goldman Sachs circle-jerk thirty years from now. No chance encounters with confused tourists, bowing when you spit at them, shrieking with laughter when you burn £50 notes for them. No opportunity to become the symptom. Still, at least you might save some face when the revolution comes, and you can give me a knowing smile, when our eyes meet, both of us against the wall.

Much love in absentia,

A. T. Watt

Finder’s note: Mr Barker would like to say he agrees with none of the above, being an ever-contented centrist by week and fist-shaking fascist by weekend, and this is exactly the kind of pinko nonsense he expected to find at university. Additionally, he has never met an Etonian, a woman, nor indeed a donkey, and being wokest of woke, would never stereotype anyone based on their social background, not even himself.

Review: Midnight Sun

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Whether you love it, hate it, or couldn’t care less, Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight is undeniably cemented in 21st-century pop culture. It was even included in the BBC’s list of ‘100 most influential novels’ alongside the likes of To Kill a Mockingbird and 1984. The thought of Meyer’s vampiric romps sharing a trophy cabinet with Lee and Orwell may cause the literati to shudder, but the franchise was undeniably a near-instant cultural phenomenon. The books set the young adult genre alight and they subsequently spilled onto the big screen, raking in billions of dollars and catapulting their actors into A-lister territory.

Despite all this, Twilight has faded into nostalgic obscurity over the last decade. Eight years after the final film was released, the majority of Meyer’s ‘twi-hards’ are in their late teens to early thirties, the posters of Robert Pattinson ripped down from their childhood bedroom walls and their copies of the books replaced on the shelves by less frothy, more ‘grownup’ stuff, perhaps Plath or a Nigella. When people discuss the novels now, labels of anti-feminism and Mormon ideology are thrown around, the simplistic writing is looked down upon and even the leading stars of the films seem desperate to be disassociated from the franchise, embarrassed by their participation.

Nobody expected, then, a Twilight renaissance after all this time – but 2020, in all its glory, has been the year of ‘expect the unexpected.’ Perhaps this is why Meyer chose this year to yank Twilight from hibernation, and during the height of lockdown announce that she was releasing a new book in the franchise, a retelling of the original novel from Edward’s perspective, titled Midnight Sun. After all, we have nothing to do and the world has already been turned upside down, so there really is no better time for Twilight to make a surprise reappearance.

I am not going to pretend that a new Twilight book is the biggest event of the year, and a more cynical person might write this off as Meyer needing a bit of cash. But for us Twilight fans, this announcement was kind of a big deal. For those less clued up on the drama, here’s a little bit of background: Meyer attempted to write and release Midnight Sun over a decade ago. The draft was leaked, the project indefinitely shelved, and countless teenage hearts broken at the loss of Edward’s inner monologue. However, it has been years. We’ve moved on. Why should we care any more about a whingy 104-year-old virgin? Clearly, we do still care, because the book has already sold over a million copies in the month since its release.

It doesn’t seem fair to review the quality of Meyer’s writing in Midnight Sun, as it was never her writing which was lauded. Nor does it seem productive to comment too much on the plot, since (spoiler) the plot is exactly the same as the original novel. In my opinion, however, the lack of deftly written prose or an innovative plot does not actually matter. Midnight Sun was never intended to be read as a standalone book, and I’d put good money on it that 90% of those 1 million copies were bought not by new readers but by old fans already familiar with Meyer’s overly descriptive and indulgent style.

Midnight Sun excels in the same way that any good remake or reunion special does, providing the reader with a healthy dose of nostalgia, a thing to be vociferously devoured during the demoralising haze of a global pandemic. Meyer, or Meyer’s marketing team, knows that this nostalgia sells. She dedicates the new novel to her OG readers with a saccharine observation on the passing of time ‘When we first met, many of you were young teenagers with bright, beautiful eyes full of dreams for the future. I hope that in the years that have passed, you’ve all found your dreams…’ Meyer had previously adopted this role of being a friend to her fans often enough– hosting parties in hotel rooms, releasing playlists and dream casting her own novels– and Midnight Sun is no exception. Whilst her fans may have grown up, the author doesn’t seem to have left 2008, running contests and making playlists as if we all still have the free time to enter fan art competitions as we did at the age of thirteen.

The book is so similar content-wise to Twilight that the déjà vu will slap you round the face. The speech and narrative are carefully transposed from the original novel but with Edward’s verbose analysis threaded in. The book is most interesting when it steps away from the plot of Twilight deeper into the world to which Bella was not originally privy. There is a sweet, albeit slightly odd, section where Emmett and Edward set up Bella’s classmates, and a later chapter where we learn the details of Alice’s meticulous cover-up job.  Meyer wastes time rehashing chunks of the plot which were not only in the novel but also included in the film adaptation, forcing a third perspective of a discussion about the mitosis of onion root onto the reader, instead of fleshing out characters and storylines which we previously only glimpsed from Bella’s human viewpoint.

Midnight Sun is 756 pages long, inexplicably over 300 pages longer than Twilight itself, but the pace and plot only pick up when Bella and Edward are separated, and thus their narratives also diverge. Edward’s angsty thoughts are suffocating and dragged out, hampering what should be a fast-paced narrative as they race to save Bella’s life, and ultimately there is no real suspense because the reader knows how the race ends. Meyer tries to create some excitement throughout the novel, moments where Edward struggles to restrain himself and fleeting visions of Bella dying, but inevitably she is restricted by her own canon. The plot cannot drastically differ from Twilight, so any attempt to create real tension falls flat.

I wouldn’t recommend reading Midnight Sun if you are new to the franchise. However, if you haven’t read or watched Twilight in years, Midnight Sun is a decent walk down memory lane, taking you back to a time when it mattered if you were Team Edward or Team Jacob. The insight the book gives into the peripheral characters’ psyches, understanding Rosalie’s poisonous jealousy of Bella for example, is satisfying, but an exploration into the world beyond Edward and Bella would have improved Midnight Sun immensely. Even as a firm member of Team Edward, 756 pages of Edward tormenting himself over a girl is fundamentally tedious. Nevertheless, Midnight Sun provides a welcome hit of nostalgia and a few hours of light escapism back to Edward, Bella and the endless debate about whether someone watching you sleep is creepy or not.

EXCLUSIVE: Oxford Union Michaelmas 2020 Termcard

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Former Prime Minister David Cameron, Dr Anthony Fauci, Hong Kong activist Nathan Law, and footballer Mo Salah are among the speakers on the Oxford Union’s termcard. 

David Cameron will be appearing in-person. Since overseeing the Brexit referendum, he has published a memoir, For the Record, and held various advising and consulting positions.  

Dr. Anthony Fauci is an advisor for the White House Coronavirus Task Force, providing recommendations on public health for the United States. In his role as director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, he has advised the government on HIV/AIDS, the swine flu, Ebola, and now COVID-19.

Several prominent activists have been invited to speak, including Alicia Garza, co-founder of Black Lives Matter, and Derrick Johson, President of the NAACP. The Union is also holding its first ever Black History Month debate, with the proposition, “This house is not proud to be British”.

Speakers with ties to activism in China are also abundant. Nathan Law is a student activist who organised the 2014 Umbrella Movement before fleeing Hong Kong after the 2020 National Security Law. Chai Ling was a leader at the Tiananmen Square Protest Leader who has been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. Finally, the Hon. Chief Justice Geoffrey Ma is a Senior Hong Kong Judge.

Prominent businesspeople include Susan Wojcicki, CEO of YouTube, and Alex Cruz, CEO of British Airways. 

Mo Salah, considered to be one of the best footballers in the world, accompanies other athletes including  Osi Umenyiora, former American football player for the Giants, and Baroness Tanni Grey-Thompson, a Paralympian for Great Britain. 

There is a formidable list of US politicians, including John Kasich and Carly Fiorina , both former Republican presidential candidates; Julian Castro, a Democratic presidential candidate; and former Governor Chris Christie of New Jersey, whose reputation was damaged by the “Bridgegate” scandal.

16 speakers will be in-person, as will the LGBTQ+ panel and all debates but one. Events will be held in the debating chamber at reduced capacity and a one-way system will be put in place. Tickets for in-person events will be released on Fixr to avoid crowded queuing, and the recordings will be released on YouTube shortly afterwards. 

Beatrice Barr, President of the Oxford Union, stated to Cherwell: “I’m thrilled with the efforts of our committee to put together such an exciting series of events this term, in keeping with our commitment to engage in forward-thinking and responsible conversations. We’re lucky to be able to bring our members a programme of both in-person and online events, in line with government guidelines – though we are, of course, ready for everything to change at very short notice! I hope that members old and new will take advantage of everything the Union has to offer this term, in whatever way they feel comfortable.” 

Additionally, the Union Bar and Library will be open, both operating at reduced capacity. The library may be booked online in advance for morning and afternoon slots. The bar will abide by government guidelines on hours and social distancing, with measures including table service only and an order-ahead app.

While the membership fee has not changed, it has not increased as it usually does year-on-year. 

DEBATES

This house has no confidence in Her Majesty’s Government

This house is not proud to be British (Black History Month debate)

This house believes America is a failed state

This house believes the scientists have let the public down

This house would sell out 

This house believes the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house

This house believes there is no future for the free press

This house believes the Labour Party has turned its back on the working class

LIST OF SPEAKERS

0th Week

Sir Mark Sedwill – Former Head of the Civil Service

Amb. Dame Karen Pierce – British Ambassador to the USA

1st Week

Amb. João Vale de Almeida – EU Ambassador to the UK 

John Simpson CBE – Veteran Broadcaster 

Reeta Chakrabarti – Journalist and BBC Newsreader 

Gloria Allred – Leading Women’s Rights Attorney  

Alastair Campbell – British Journalist and Political Strategist

2nd Week

Chai Ling – Tiananmen Square Protest Leader

Martin Lewis OBE – Founder of MoneySavingExpert.com

John Podesta – Former White House Chief of Staff

Osi Umenyiora – American Football Player 

Ken Burns – Documentary Maker 

3rd Week

Dave Franco – Actor and Director 

Prof. Leslie Thomas QC – Barrister representing family of Mark Duggan

Scott Mills – Radio 1 presenter

Frank Gardner OBE – BBC Security Correspondent 

Andrew McCabe – Former FBI Director

General H. R. McMaster – Former National Security Adviser 

4th Week

Baroness Tanni-Grey Thompson – Team GB Paralympian and Presenter 

Robert Icke – Director of 1984 and Oresteia 

Billy Bragg – Singer Songwriter and Activist 

Fiorina Carly – Former Republican Presidential Candidate

Dr Anthony Fauci – White House COVID-19 Advisor 

 Prof. William Easterly – Economist 

5th Week

Daniel J. Jones – Exposed CIA torture

Governor John Kasich – Former Republican Presidential Candidate

Governor Chris Christie – Former Governor of New Jersey 

6th Week

The Hon. Chief Justice Geoffrey Ma – Senior Hong Kong Judge 

Derrick Johnson – President of the NAACP

Cecile Richards – Former President of Planned Parenthood

Alicia Garza –  Co-Founder of Black Lives Matter 

Carlo Cottarelli – Economist 

Susan Wojcicki – CEO of YouTube 

Rachael Denhollander & Maggie Nichols – Former American gymnasts who brought down Larry Nassar 

Prof. Gita Gopinath – Chief Economist at the IMF 

7th Week

Mohamed Salah – Egyptian Footballer 

Lt. Com. Pete Reed OBE – Team GB and OUBC Rower 

Julián Castro – Former Democratic Presidential Candidate

Michael Wolff – American Author and Journalist 

Alex Cruz –  CEO of British Airways 

8th Week

Nathan Law – Hong Kong Democracy Activist 

Robert Peston – Political Journalist  

Rafał Trzaskowski – Mayor of Warsaw

The Hon. Mamata Banerjee – Chief Minister of West Bengal

TBC

The Rt. Hon. David Cameron – Former Prime Minister

Benazir Bhutto Memorial Lecture 

 

Image credits: Number 10; PublicResource.org; Kirill Venediktov, Wikimedia Commons; Michael Vadon; TechCrunch

SPONSORED: 180 Degrees Consulting Oxford – Apply Now!

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Interested in management consultancy or charitable endeavours? 180 Degrees Consulting Oxford is currently recruiting student consultants for Michaelmas 2020. 

180 Degrees Consulting (180DC) Oxford is part of the world’s largest network of consulting societies, all united behind charitable objectives. You likely know at least one person who has travelled to help developing economies by planting trees or building schools, and you may well have identified that this is well-meaning but inefficient. 180DC’s approach is different, and we know that the most meaningful asset Oxford students can contribute to charities are their skills of analysis and external perspective. Each term, 180DC consultants in over 35 countries help charities and nonprofits to improve their responses to critical issues including poverty and education, improving charitable contributions to communities and to the world.

As part of 180DC, student consultants work in small teams to tackle a charity’s most-pressing project, working directly with the charity. These teams allow consultants to apply their academic capabilities to make a positive difference for charities, and previous Oxford teams have tackled issues ranging from strategising donation strategy for a Singaporean non-profit to helping to design a museum which perpetuates the inclusive message of a pioneering South African civil rights figure.

180DC consulting projects help participants develop the effective team working and leadership abilities which employers search for. Moreover, 180DC Oxford is partnered with BCG, a leading consulting firm which introduces Oxford student consultants to how to tackle challenges with structured but creative thinking, as well as offering networking opportunities. Taking advantage of these professional development opportunities, 180DC Oxford student consultants volunteer and participate in work experience at the same time, and previous consultants have emerged from their projects with newly-developed skills of communication and collaboration, a strong understanding of the consulting sector and friends who share their passion for social impact.

This student consultancy with a difference accepts applications from all disciplines and from everyone ranging from freshers to postdocs – just be sure to highlight how you have made a difference in your academic life and extracurriculars through communication, teamwork and proactive problem-solving! Making an application is simple, and it comprises just two short questions during the first stage and a brief second stage interview.

You can apply today by heading to https://180dc.org/apply and selecting Oxford. Do not wait too long – applications close on Wednesday 14th October!

What does it mean for fashion to be political in the 21st Century?

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Artwork by Ellie Thompson

If Miranda Priestley has taught us anything, it is that there is no such thing as neutrality in fashion. Even the decision not to care about what you put on your body is a decision. And as long as fashion has existed, its wearers have been readily embracing the extent to which it can be used as politics as well as aesthetics.  Dr Jonathan Michael of Harvard University has called fashion “one of the most readily available political tools” given the free access everyone has to their own bodies – now even more readily available in a time when communication is more and more visible, with citizens absorbing pictures and videos more readily than words.

What this has meant in the 21st century has been near-constant headlines about fashion, particularly on celebrities, being used to make a statement. This can range from the overt – Stormzy’s Union Jack stab vest at Glastonbury, NBA players wearing “I Can’t Breathe” shirts following the death of Eric Garner – to the subtle, like Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez wearing red lipstick and hoop earrings during her confirmation hearings so that girls “from the Bronx” could see themselves reflected in a congresswoman. 

Particularly for people who already have access to the spotlight, there is often more of a struggle to make what they wear non-partisan. With more and more women entering political or public arenas comes increased scrutiny of how they choose to dress, from Hillary Clinton’s classic pantsuit uniform, to the media’s obsession with figures like Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle. The power of the male suit is that it is the closest thing to apolitical you can get, a uniform that puts the subject first, rather than their outfit. This is an option women have never had access to.

Fashion, particularly in the last century, has been a consistent tool of those wanting to make a statement, political or otherwise. The story of recent decades, however, has also been one of individuals being forced to confront the extent to which there is no such thing as neutrality in what you wear, particularly in your role as a consumer. A PrettyLittleThing haul is a declaration of apathy about the devastating impact of fast fashion on the planet and scavenging or worse, reselling from charity shops is a potential act of micro-gentrification, hiking up prices for those who genuinely need them. Brands are also under increasing pressure to place themselves on the right side of history, not just in public commitments or donations, but in the products, they make – see ASOS’s gender-neutral COLLUSION pieces, or the H&M “Conscious” range.

But even with good intentions, we should be realistic about the capacity of fashion to be a valuable political statement or engender real political change. Political fashion, particularly the mass-produced kind, often serves to make a political movement an aesthetic aspect of an individual’s identity, rather than a force for institutional change. No matter how public, or how positive its stated political intentions, brands will always have a bottom line at heart; whether that’s “This is What a Feminist Looks Like” t-shirts being manufactured by women in sweatshops in Bangladesh or Gucci making a #BlackLivesMatter post months after recalling knitwear reminiscent of blackface. Global capitalism has every motivation to incentivise consumers to express their beliefs with commodities as well as their voices. If they’re going to make a statement, why not make it a statement you can buy?

This isn’t to say that it is inherently harmful, or that there haven’t been incredibly moving examples of fashion used as a tool of speech and solidarity. But if style is going to remain a valuable tool of expression, it should be by making fashion political, rather than making politics fashion. And this means remaining wary about the extent to which what we can do with our bodies meaningfully challenges structures of oppression – or whether it is just funding them.

Four Children

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And I sat with my back to the skies

as I mouthed out a prayer to the winds

and imagined them ghosts; for where I sat, half-anaesthetised,

four children had used to sit, themselves unafraid (although as I speak each sings as he falls,

down, down; and is indifferently bruised) –

and the willows trembled just the same,

and my fucking lungs gave way.

The stream and moss and road and tree –

not less but more romantic now, for now all soft with their silk scars –

fell and fall flat. I cursed at God;

Half sick are we of vulgar printed smiles,

the shadows of long-faded grace,

Not youth, but an ornament,

not an image but an exile, as the face

of a dozen tragedies stares apologetically out. Still

I’m in love with pictures; beauty frozen, curling smoke, all caught on film –

here, where beneath my feet, miles of ruins break; until

daisies, like orphans, are born.

A stain against the sky,

I mourn and haunt this wreck; I recall

a time when we feared words but not death, as we scaled what remained of a century.

You are dust; and gentle you fall, over years of stark fucking wounds,

laments, which are ours to bury.

But home, whenever you are,

yours are the spectral innocents,

and all we are is strangers.

Illustration by Liv Fugger.

What TikTok tells us about our toxic relationship with celebrities

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Child stars have always been a feature of the modern celebrity world. This status, held by the likes of Shirley Temple, Lindsey Lohan, and more recently by Millie Bobby Brown and Finn Wolfhard, is a heavier burden than one might think. In addition to these traditional silver screen stars, notable TikTok influencers such as Charli D’Amelio and Addison Rae have also been welcomed into the fold of early fame which includes its sexualisation of their lives, primarily through their highly-publicised relationships. Whilst the child stars of the early 20th century certainly faced immense pressure and difficulties, social media now adds a perverse layer to the intense scrutiny these children and young adults face. Stars can now make successful careers out of being watched 24/7 – in fact, Addison Rae is reported to have made $5 million this year, making her the current highest earning Tik Tok-er. The job of such celebrities is in no way a 9-5. They are expected to always be on show. And as these individuals dance, joke and show us round their homes and lives, weaving through their friends and relationships, their every move is picked over by vultures, eventually harming these stars. 

For TikTok stars, fame means that their lives are laid bare for all to see. No part of their lives is too insignificant for their audiences to unpick. For example, Charlie D’Amelio recently documented her nose operation (reportedly to help with some breathing difficulties) and in true influencer style condensed the whole procedure into a 16 minute documentary-style clip. This highlights how TikTok-ers feel that they must give their fans an insight into their private lives. Even personal facets of their lives like their dating history are widely reported on by major media outlets including the Daily Mail. Such outlets prey on the average teenage foray into adult relationships and blow it up in size, splashing it across front pages. Whilst this is not overt sexualisation per se, it is nonetheless a sinister force. Such journalism seeks to make these stars adults before their time, treating their personal lives as they would treat hardened celebrities’. These child stars are denied a support system which allows them to flourish as adolescents first and celebrities second. It forces them into the lion’s den, attaching sexual and adult themes to their lives.

The issue is that these TikTok-ers, many under 18, are exposed to the full force of the idea of the internet celebrity. They are, possibly without realising it, expected to fulfil a set of behavioural conditions to qualify them as a ‘celebrity’. They are, without consent, adultified by mainstream media; the expectation of these stars to conform to adult behaviours stunts their development as children and young people and will ultimately detrimentally affect their development and mental health. The problem is that sex sells and the media knows it. So the media sexualises one and all and enables them to rise to celebrity status through notoriety. Young stars see this, and are unable to object to it, instead playing to the media. Stories published by papers such as The Sun detail activities of stars including Addison Rae and Bryce Hall, chronicling the “PDA-filled clip of the couple kissing over the weekend” whilst describing Rae as “flaunt[ing] her toned stomach in a red crop top and distressed denim jeans”. Not only do the tabloids sexualise these young adults’ relationships but sexualise their images and bodies too.

Amongst the elite of the TikTok community there have been public Twitter spats, relationships bust ups, and accusations of cheating from individuals ranging from 14 to 18. Such behaviour is not the norm for most teenagers, but is encouraged by mainstream media and its audience as a way to remain ‘relevant’. These stars play at relationships and adult scenarios in the highly stressful and intense world of social media where they are constantly asked to live up to unrealistic expectations. We, the audience, also play into this cycle despite being aware at some level that sex is a powerful tool used by the media.        

I am not suggesting these stars should hide themselves away at all. They are perfectly entitled to showcase as much of their lives as they want, but it is important to consider why they do it. It seems that what starts out as the extra-curricular use of a social media platforms is manipulated to view these teenagers through an adult lens without their permission.  How much autonomy do these young stars really have in a celebrity culture where paths have already been carved out and there already exist moulds to fit? 

One could very well ask why the parents or management (they are so often one and the same) do not do more to protect these stars. But these people are operating in a fully formed system, where the roads to stardom are firmly established. There are only two choices: follow the rules and get rich, or refuse and fade out of fame. And we support these unspoken laws. As we sit at the dentist, we pick up the gossip magazine and flick though to find out who is having an affair with whom. We feed off that information and in our own small ways perpetuate the narrative that monetary success should be based on sex and conforming to adult behavioural codes that are simply unsuitable for child stars. Articles run stories recounting the timeline of high profile relationships such as Cosmopolitan’s “Official Timeline” of Charli D’Amelio and Chase Hudson’s relationship, which includes statements made by D’Amelio’s mother asking the media to stop commenting on her daughter’s teenage relationship. The problem with such media coverage lies in our idea of celebrity and its connection with the media.

We expect actors, singers, influencers etc to make a contract with us, the audience, when they enter into the spotlight. Their privacy is no longer valid, their lives are our lives. We hold them, so often, to a higher moral standard whilst simultaneously gorging on their failures and insecurities. Ultimately, we make them our role models whilst never telling them quite what we want from them. TikTok stars are attempting to fit into this traditional celebrity institution. They strive to give their followers what they think they want based on that model. And so, the content they produce covers their relationships, insecurities, and cosmetic procedures in an attempt to remain relevant. Social media accounts are filled with loved-up videos and posts honouring their ex-partners who “will always hold a special place in my heart for the rest of my life”. Such hyperbolic language and public testimony is expected of adult celebrities, and similar statements can be found on social media and in tabloids following their divorces. It seems odd that that same expectation is applied to teenagers’ short lived, experimental high school relationships. This is a prime example of teenagers feeling pressured to behave publicly like adults, simply because there are no other apparent alternatives.

Problematically, this means they try to force themselves into a mould not created for them as essentially child stars. As an audience, we have not provided them with a different mould to fit into or a space to inhabit. Instead we have presented them with the same pervasive and lecherous identity as we have for adult celebrities. But these younger stars are not equipped to manage it – everything is magnified and so we are left with the ‘child star burnouts’ all too familiar to us. It appears that Tik Tok stars themselves have begun recognising this burn-out, with Griffin Johnson recently commenting that “[o]ur [his and Dixie D’Amelio’s] relationship was put out into the public out of our control and I have been taking heat ever since.” Johnson’s experience shows us that such teenage forays into relationships and other milestones should not be splashed across tabloids which enable the public to relive every gory detail.

Yet, when we see this burn-out play out, we shake our heads at the headlines and sigh “what a shame, they had so much potential,” before scrolling on in search for the next up-and-coming star to devour. These TikTok stars are what we have made them through our gluttonous appetite for celebrity. Their crash back down to earth will be a product of that same greed, but instead of fixing it we continue condemning future generations to the thrall of social media stardom and the mental and emotional toil it takes. I fear for the exploitation of young adults, and children who in their desire for fame play into a role not built and not fit for them. Ultimately the behaviour of TikTok stars is a symptom of our broken relationship with fame, celebrity, and the media.

Say Bye Bye to Billionaires

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“We should certainly know by now that it is one thing to overthrow a dictator or repel an invader and quite another thing to really achieve a revolution.” – James Baldwin, 1963.

The accumulation of capital and stunningly opulent lifestyles lived by today’s billionaires is beyond the bounds of human imagination. Keeping in mind the levels of abject poverty that still define people’s lives across the world, one must practice a sort of cognitive dissonance to resolve the two lived experiences into one vision of humanity. Yet the status of ‘billionaire’ is the ultimate sign of accomplishment in the age of global capitalism. Depressingly, with the UN coming out recently and warning that the 2020s may be a ‘lost decade’ economically, such divides are set to widen. This is not some accident of fortune either. With the advent of global capitalism and the worldwide influence thus granted to those who hold massed capital, those at the top of the food chain – billionaire elites – are able to maintain their positions by directly or indirectly keeping those below them in destitution. All this may sound a bit dialectical, but such is the state of the world’s current wealth disparities.

Jeff Bezos, as of August 26, has a net worth of USD204.6 billion; debates can be had over the liquidity of this figure but it still stands as the sum of his capital assets. The median yearly wage for those working full-time in the UK is approximately USD 38,770. It would thus take around six million and seven hundred thousand years for someone on that (pretty substantial) salary to build up a net worth equal to Jeff Bezos’. However, given the currently buoyant state of global stock markets he will likely have gotten a fair few billion richer by the time this article is published. We can surmise, then, that if one could get into a time machine and grant immortality, a decently paying desk job, and an understanding of currency to one of humankind’s Ardipithecus ancestors they may by now be laughing (or possibly grunting) with delight all the way to the bank as the wealthiest being on earth. Sadly, taxation on salaried income may slow our prehistoric friend’s progress – not something Bezos or his billionaire buddies have to worry about.

The existence of absurdly wealthy individuals is of course nothing new, but globalisation has boosted their power immensely. Mansa Musa of Mali or Charles V of Spain had monopolies on capital beyond today’s billionaires’ wildest dreams. However, they lacked the worldwide financial frameworks through which the super-rich can now spread their influence across all seven continents. Europe and North America together have populations comprising 20% of the global total, but hold around 67% of the world’s total wealth. This wealth gap is reflected in those regions’ share of the world’s billionaires, with the number of European and North American billionaires almost doubling the number of billionaires in the vastly more populous Asian region. As global capitalism’s agents of change, western billionaires and the companies through which they operate uphold systems of western dominance aided by the legacy of colonial exploitation the world over – Amazon’s incursions into the Indian market are a prime example.

In 2018, Amazon overtook Flipkart (a domestic rival) as the largest ecommerce retailer in India. In that same year, to the horror of Indian smalltraders, a controlling stake in Flipkart was acquired by the Walmart corporation (controlled by the Walton family – a billionaire dynasty to rival the Habsburgs or Von Hohenzollerns) and Ebay relaunched operations in the country. Foreign capital has thus come to dominate a crucial emerging sector in a country with 1.35 billion potential domestic entrepreneurs. Africa faces a similar loss of its crucial infrastructure to foreign capital; much is made of China’s massive investment in the continent’s physical infrastructure, but Google’s dominance of its web infrastructure stands only to be challenged by another Western player – Facebook as headed by Mark Zuckerberg. The West’s relative capital advantage, built on the foundations of colonialism, thus stands to allow the dominance of western capital for decades to come. The extravagant lives lived by billionaires may be sickening when compared to the plight of the world’s poorest, but the exploitative financial systems from which they benefit and through which they exercise their wealth are even worse. A Mark Zuckerberg or Jeff Bezos born in the Democratic Republic of the Congo would have nowhere near the level of opportunity afforded to their western counterparts. In fact, they may end up mining for cobalt aged six aiding in the production of smartphones on which we lucky few can poke our pals or shop for Chilly’s bottles. Billionaires, and western billionaires in particular, thus stand as wretched totems of global capitalism; if you can put aside all humanity, wrestle the other hogs away from the trough, and get your snout deep enough into the swill, you too could be a billionaire living high to the detriment of millions.

As I write this, I can already hear screams of protest from apologists for this absurd state of affairs. Philanthropic efforts on the part of billionaires get a lot of media attention and can aid in the achievement of great things; The Gates Foundation’s part in the battle to eradicate polio in Africa has seen a lot of success, and the exceptional case of Chuck Feeney – who recently finished giving away his entire USD 8 billion fortune – suggests his being an extremely generous soul. But why is the ability to achieve positive change being left to the whims of individuals? Someone with access to the unrivalled resources of a billionaire could just as easily pursue ego projects like Elon Musk’s SpaceX as solve global hunger. Additionally, altruism isn’t the only motivation for a billionaire to set up a charitable foundation. It can also act as a useful extra element of their tax dodging arrangements, and provide positive PR to those seeking to add themselves to the ranks of our new plutocratic overlords. Why is Bill Gates, a man who made his money off selling computers, now a key player in the global response to COVID-19? The payrolls of charitable foundations are often packed with billionaires’ offspring on massive pay packets with ample travel opportunities (25% of privately chartered flights are by philanthropic organisations). Altruism in fact stands as anathema to the systems which put billionaires on their perches. It is continued consumption on the scale that has taken our planet’s ecosystem to the brink of disaster and helped keep millions in poverty that allows for the induction of businesspeople worldwide into the billionaire classes.

Despite my whining, billionaires are not at the heart of the sickness; rather, they are surface tumours. It is the global capitalistic system that has taken us to this surreal epoch in which 10.7% of humans are malnourished while less than 0.0001% hold the resources to live a thousand lifetimes. In which around 2100 individuals have more capital than the poorest 60% of the world’s population. If the system doesn’t go, we will. Our patterns of consumption – upheld by those at the top to the detriment of those at the bottom – are set to destroy us. Of course, once the super-rich are bored of their slowly melting playground, they will doubtless have the funds to make it up to Elon Musk’s shiny new Mars colony. To utilise James Baldwin’s idea, until we apprehend the danger we are in, nothing can be done about it. The sooner that happens the better.

Author wishes to remain anonymous.

Image by Steve Jurvetson

Monza & Mugello: Great TV, Depressing Sport

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The past couple weeks have played host to some excellent television spectacle in motorsport, as this season’s two back-to-back F1 Grand Prix in Italy saw anything but conventional racing. At Monza, a poor start from Bottas and an illegal pit stop from Hamilton, which saw him get a stop-and-go penalty, opened the field up for the unlikely narrow victory of Pierre Gasly in the Alpha Tauri over Carlos Sainz and Lance Stroll. At Mugello, a twice-red-flagged race, only 12 cars finished following an enormous pileup. Despite this chaos, the dominance of Hamilton in the driver’s championship and Mercedes in the constructors only solidified.

The records keep stacking up for Hamilton – his victory in the inaugural Tuscan GP at Mugello sees him both tie Schumacher’s record of most race wins (90) and exceed Nick Heidfeld’s record of most consecutive F1 points places finishes (42), a record he valiantly equalled at Monza with a charge up the field into 7th from the back of the pack following his stop-and-go penalty. Whilst he has arguably been heavily helped with the former record through having the fastest car on the grid since 2014, his impressive consistency, exemplified by the surpassing of this latter record, and enduring pace that have continually allowed him to overshadow teammates prove he is well worthy of being strongly considered the greatest British racing driver of all time. Moreover, with his inevitable victory in this season’s driver’s championship and equalling of Schumacher’s record seven world championship titles, quite possibly the greatest the greatest racing driver to have ever lived. After all, Schumacher’s Ferrari was arguably just as dominant of a car in the early 2000s, and it is easy to forget that whilst Mercedes appear unbeatable in 2020, Hamilton on more than one occasion overturned a points deficit to a highly competitive Vettel in the Ferrari in the mid-2010s to win the championship.

Something that can be in no doubt, however, is the entertainment presented for viewers in these two races in Italy. Following a procession-like race at Spa, we should be glad of seeing two races with enough action to warrant three red flags and a healthy amount of excitement and overtaking. Indeed, the spectacle of seeing Hamilton charge back up the pack in Monza prompted optimism about the ‘reverse grid’ system that some have proposed for F1 in the future in an attempt to improve the viewer experience. The unexpected victory of Gasly at Monza and his last-minute tussle with Sainz prompted edge-of-your-seat entertainment and delight in seeing Gasly attain his first ever race win. Mugello also saw a first, with Alex Albon achieving his first ever podium in what has proven a troubled season for him. Sadly, however, George Russell was again denied his first points finish as the two restarts bunched up the pack and pushed him down into eleventh place. Nobody, though, will have likely been quite as entertained as the Finnish man who placed a 20 cent bet on a Gasly-Sainz-Stroll podium at odds of over 1-160,000.

It is concerning, however, that either of these were firsts. In fact, not only was this Gasly’s first win, but this was the first victory in a Grand Prix for a non-Ferrari/Red Bull/Mercedes team since the start of the Turbo-Hybrid engine era in 2014, a statistic that lays bare the wild unbalance in the sport. Even the Premier League has a higher proportion of teams capable of winning contesting championship titles. The FIA, and most F1 fans, will surely be hoping that the new regulations coming in in 2022 and financial fair play rules will tighten the group.

Out of all these unlikely events, however, the greatest shock must be the horrendous performance of Ferrari at both their ‘Home’ Italian GP at Monza and at Mugello, a track they own. At Monza neither Ferrari car even managed to finish, and at Mugello they scored a combined dismal 5 points (Mercedes scored 44 with their 1-2 finish). They remain in the bottom half of the constructors’ table, behind Renault, an embarrassing place for a team whose contract with the FIA sees them receive more money for competing that any other manufacturer, including Mercedes. One wonders how long Ferrari leadership will be willing to maintain faith in Matteo Binotto, the team principal.

This McLaren fan, though, will not exactly be losing any sleep over Ferrari’s misfortune.

As the wins continue to stack up for Mercedes, who now enjoy an over-150 point lead on Red Bull, their victory this season seems completely inevitable, especially when the aforementioned Red Bull fail to take victory, or even a podium, when Mercedes eventually dropped the ball at Monza. And after failing to properly capitalize on Hamilton’s penalty at Monza and having the lead taken back from him after the restart at Mugello, Bottas will feel his chances at a driver’s championship slip ever farther away as Hamilton takes an even more commanding lead. There might yet be an interesting battle brewing for taking the title of ‘King of the Midfield’ in the constructor’s championship, and second place in the drivers’, but even racing as chaotic as that seen in the last couple weeks seems unable to shake the might of Toto Wolff, Lewis Hamilton and the Mercedes team.