Tuesday 1st July 2025
Blog Page 423

“Be good citizens”: University responds to objections about “patronising” Responsibility Agreement

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Queen’s College has labelled the COVID-19 Student Responsibility Agreement as “patronising” and opposes it “in principle”. Speaking to Cherwell, the University has responded to concerns about the Agreement, saying: “What we’re asking people to do is to be good citizens. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Oxford University’s COVID-19 Responsibility Agreement, which all students have been asked to sign, requires that individuals abide by both government regulations and University guidance throughout the term. The Agreement supplements students’ existing responsibilities under University and college student contracts.

The email to Queen’s College students wrote: “The College’s Governing Body strongly opposed key aspects of an earlier (but still quite similar) draft of this document, in principle (it’s not the university’s place to create rules for what happens in College) and with its patronising tone and degree of minutiae. In the end, Governing Body agreed […] because there was a real risk [students] would be denied access to university teaching and spaces if we did not go along with it.”

In response to this objection, Karen O’Brien, co-chair of the Michaelmas Coordination Group, said to Cherwell: “It wasn’t an agreement that was imposed from above. It was an iterative process, and there were discussions amongst all colleges about the topics that should be included, the tone, and the information that the agreement was going to provide.”

She further emphasized: “What we’re asking people to do is to be good citizens. Nothing more, nothing less.”

In addition to Queen’s objections, an open letter by students which has received 190 signatures states that “we do not […] consider it to be a necessary or reasonable requirement for students to sign the responsibility agreement in its present form.”

The letter, sent to the Vice-Chancellor on Monday, argues that “asking the students to adhere unconditionally to policies not yet known to them gives the university far-reaching powers over the private and social lives of students. […] Combined with the university’s decision to reintroduce the residency requirement, this gives students no choice but to sign the agreement. If signatories are held to ransom, an agreement cannot be a true and honest affirmation of shared values.”

The letter calls on the Vice Chancellor to “lift the requirement to sign this agreement and to establish a framework through which the concerns and feedback of students can be expressed and integrated into the university’s COVID-19 response and policies”. 

Speaking to Cherwell, O’Brien stated, “The Student Union was involved throughout, and we came up with this responsibility agreement after a long process.”

Students who sign the agreement commit to “abiding by all national public health regulations brought in to stop the spread of COVID-19,” as well as “the University and/or colleges’ specific guidance on health measures, together with local public health guidance as relevant.” It requires students to isolate and request a test upon presenting symptoms, participate in contact tracing, and practice good hygiene. 

The University’s website states: “The purpose of the Agreement is not to prescribe an additional code of discipline; it is to support community safety and well-being. It is an affirmation of shared values – community, consideration for others, patience and tolerance, and inclusion.”

Image credit: Kaofenlio/ Wikimedia Commons

Have I heard that somewhere before?: i’m thinking of ending things and a crisis of originality

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“Most people are other people”, according to Oscar Wilde. It is, of course, highly cliché to begin a piece of writing with an Oscar Wilde quotation, “quotation”, of course, according to Oscar Wilde, being a “serviceable substitution for wit.” It is apt, therefore, that Wilde himself is here referencing Emerson, so when Jessie Buckley’s character in Charlie Kaufman’s i’m thinking of ending things quotes Wilde, she is actually quoting Wilde quoting Emerson.

Confused? When Jessie Buckley’s character in Charlie Kaufman’s i’m thinking of ending things quotes Wilde quoting Emerson, she is actually a construction of a school janitor’s subconscious mind quoting Wilde quoting Emerson as she looks at pictures she painted, except she didn’t actually paint them, the janitor painted them, except the janitor didn’t paint them, Ralph Albert Blakelock painted them, and the janitor has imagined Jessie Buckley’s character realising the paintings she thought she painted weren’t actually painted by her at all but by her boyfriend Jake, who is actually the school janitor, who has actually copied the paintings from Ralph Albert Blakelock in a film by Charlie Kaufman based on a book by Iain Reed because most people are other people. This is a good film, I promise.

i’m thinking of ending things is a crisis of originality put into film form. Except also put into ballet, musical, and cartoon form. Except it was a book before that. “This idea is new”, the Young Woman states at the beginning of the film, “[b]ut it feels old at the same time. […] What if this thought wasn’t conceived by me but planted in my mind, predeveloped.” On the surface, this line is merely Jessie Buckley’s not-quite-named character considering ending things with her boyfriend. By the end of the film, as we learn that this woman is actually a construction of a lonely, elderly janitor’s fractured psyche, the line takes on a more sinister note: all of her thoughts are predeveloped, because they are someone else’s thoughts. The thing she is thinking of ending is her life, and her life is actually the janitor’s. Most people are other people. The entirety of the film is a fiction created by the janitor as he comes to terms with his suicidal thoughts. He uses the memory of a girl he saw at a bar to construct a fantasy where he is young and in love, not old and lonely.

Even the plot of his fantasy is based on a film he watched: at one point, i’m thinking of ending things becomes the final scene of a fictional film, Order Up! (credits included), and from then on Jessie Buckley’s face, and the name of her character, shifts between her own and that of the lead actress in Order Up, as does the story of how she and Jake met. Her name starts off as Lucy, then shifts to Louisa, and to Yvonne as the janitor’s mind flicks from Wordsworth’s Lucy poems to Order Up. Her interest in conveying light and depicting interiority in her art is copied and pasted from the janitor’s interest in Blakelock’s ‘interiority and light’ collection. The poem she wrote is actually a word for word copy of one Jake/The Janitor had in his childhood bedroom.

Nothing here is original: the film is a palimpsest of one man’s subconscious. Iain Reid writes that “getting to know someone is like putting a never-ending puzzle together […] we get to know ourselves in the process”, and as the Janitor ‘gets to know’ the young woman, and Jake, and pretty much the entire film, by ‘putting them together’ based on books, memories, films, and musicals, he is getting to know himself, is coming to terms with ‘ending things’.

In a scene cut in the transition from book to screen, Jake – the Janitor’s self-insert into his own fantasy world – tells his girlfriend to ‘Just tell your story. Pretty much all memory is fiction and heavily edited. So just keep going.’ Kaufman’s adaptation takes this idea of our thoughts, our memories, being reconstructions, being predeveloped, and warps it into a disturbing film about the impossibility of originality. During a discussion on their way back from Jake’s house (read: ‘Jake’s’ ‘house’ – pretty much any noun in this film is deserving of scare quotes) the young woman and Jake discuss two theorists whose work can be read as central to the film.

In what I hope is a self-parodic reference to David Foster Wallace (both Kaufman’s and Foster Wallace’s work attract a certain type of dude-bro humanities student fan – “you have to read Infinite Jest/Synecdoche, New York, man.”), Kaufman alludes to an author concerned with the exhaustive nature of entertainment as simulacra, copies of copies of other people’s thoughts, so far removed from originality as to be completely meaningless: “it’s like we don’t know how to be human anymore.” The real key here, as far as this never-ending puzzle can ever really be unlocked, is in the discussion of Guy Debord’s Society of the Spectacle:“[we] watch the world through this glass, pre-interpreted for us. And it infects our brains. We become it. […] Like a virus.”

Everything in this film is a quotation of something else, a Frankenstein’s monster made up of popular culture: Wilde; Wallace; A Beautiful Mind; the song ‘Baby it’s Cold Outside’; Order Up; Ralph Albert Blakelocke; the film critic Pauline Kael, who at one point is quoted word for word by the young woman, her words being directly pulled from the book of Kael’s criticism found in Jake’s bedroom. “People all over the world spend countless hours of their lives every week being fed entertainment,” Kaufman states in his BAFTA screenwriters lecture, “it’s ludicrous to believe that this stuff doesn’t alter our brains.” i’m thinking of ending things turns this mediation of our life through the entertainment we consume, a kind of pop-cultural determinism, into something horrific.

The film is set in the landscape of the Janitor’s subconscious mind – “a landscape would attempt to express how I feel at that time”, the young woman says as the Janitor’s thoughts bubble up through her – where everything, every person and setting, is copied and pasted from something he’d seen before. The parents take a while to appear after being called downstairs, as if the Janitor’s subconscious has to load them in. The dog, an extraneous accessory to the fiction, only appears when mentioned, when absolutely necessary. The camera often moves before the characters, as if they are following a pre-determined pathway.

Casting Toni Collette, now practically synonymous with uncannily disturbing mothers, seems like the filtering of Hereditary into the film. She often repeats herself in exactly the same tone, and often freezes in place, like a glitch in a game. The girls at the milkshake shop are transposed from girls the Janitor saw rehearsing Oklahoma! at school. The kids put on Oklahoma! every year, Jake tells us; he begins to see them everywhere. Even the plot of the film mimics that of the musical: the janitor who paints this landscape is clearly a fan, Jake can reel off 19 musicals on the drive to his house. Two men, one dreamy, one creepy, are in love with the same girl. In the musical, Laurey chooses the dashing Curley over the creepy Judd. Real life is not, however, a musical: The Janitor’s version of events, depicted (of course) via dance, shows Judd/The Janitor murder Curley/Jake, then killing himself. The world the janitor has created is one constructed from the building blocks of mass media; Oklahoma! and Order Up! have infected his brain, his world has become spectacle, reality is heavily edited fiction, predeveloped thought.

The audience, too, is implicated here. We, too, are watching through a screen of pre-interpreted thoughts, the screen of the car window becomes the screen of our televisions at home. The janitor may be living a fantasy world woven together from pre-published fiction, but we are watching him, a character in a film woven together from a pre-published novel. We are watching a film in which the characters are unable to form an original thought, the dialogue a composite of various theorists, movie quotes, song lyrics, overused clichés about ageing, and lines from earlier on in the film itself. i’m thinking of ending things is mediated completely through the mind of the janitor, and his thoughts are literally media-ted, constructed through the media he has consumed. The square aspect ratio, a relic of antiquated filmmaking, suggests sampling of old footage, scenes recorded through the gaze of a pensioner raised on black and white film. It is possible to equate Kaufman with the Janitor, men attempting to create whilst being confronted with the impossibility of forming a new idea in a world where everything has been thought before, by someone else, where everyone is mostly someone else.

It’s difficult, as an English student whose life is spent thinking about the thoughts of others, writing essays about other people’s novels, articles about other people’s films, not to empathise with this exhaustion. The film we write in our head when we sit on the bus, as private or original as it may seem to us, has been written before. Even this article contains nothing original, and by now even this level of reflexivity is cliched, just another dude-bro that hasn’t even read Infinite Jest using French Marxist theory to pretentiously explain how film should “speak to us all, man”. The horror of i’m thinking of ending things is that, like a virus, it infects our thoughts, or rather reminds us that all of our thoughts have probably been thought before, even the thought that all of our thoughts have probably been thought before has been thought before, by Kaufman, before him Reid, before him Wilde, before him Emerson, ad infinitum. So, how do we trust our thoughts in this culturally mediated horrorscape? Just tell your story, the Janitor tells himself through Jake, just keep going, piece together a puzzle and get to know yourself in the process. Personally, I’m not very reassured.

Image – Flickr

Essay Crisis

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The transient turning of pages when the words no longer start to make sense,
When the lights suddenly start feeling too bright,
yet your room still seems to be about as dark as these intangible thoughts that cloud your mind.

People often say that progress,
is not always linear. 

and p r o g r e s s,

sometimes doesn’t always look like 2,000 words* (including citations) on a Microsoft Word document;
and that’s okay.

Stand-still water by the side of the table, held by a transparent glass so fragile you wonder what it would take for it to break and spill over 

you start to think if the glass of water can sometimes be as a metaphor of your life: the vulnerability of your arguments in this essay being so…
see through,
so breakable,
so fragile.

Where everything might be a little bit. too much:

Bubbles of gas trapped underneath the surface of still,
coffee breath at 2 o’clock in the morning;

Time starts to feel so stagnant in this strange world of yours. 

Your existence slips into in a limbo –
And these long nights always feel like a fever dream;
Blurring the boundaries between reality and obscurity,
it becomes hard to tell the difference.

Always feeling like a dead body can also sometimes mean
that it takes so much to do so little,
and progress sometimes feels nonexistent.

The clock in the corner of your room ticking like a time bomb,
its volume amplified as loud as your chaotic thoughts,
Loud,
Chaotic thoughts
Heartbeat racing, rapid drumming awaiting the moment it detonates
Especially when your soul has worn away after many hours of toil;

Time
Starts to feel so transient in this strange world of yours. 

But p r o g r e s s , 
also means that I am still determined to do my 3am best
Even if my best may be equivalent to 
my more intelligent and articulate and always-has-their-shit-together-unlike-me tute partner’s worst, 

I am still making progress,

And that’s okay. 

Illustration by Liv Fugger.

Brexit and breaking the law: ‘it’s only okay when we do it’

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When the UK formally left the EU on the 31 January 2020, it felt like the nation, whether pro-leave or pro-remain, breathed a sigh of relief. We had a Withdrawal Agreement that Parliament had voted for, and the European Parliament approved. The four-year-long saga that saw the rejection of the Chequers agreement and the unlawful prorogation of Parliament was finally coming to an end. Although trade deals still needed to be negotiated, it seemed as if we were out of the woods.

Except now, it appears that this saga is very much not over. Not even a year since the Withdrawal Agreement was ratified by the Council of the European Union, our government is attempting to pass a Bill allowing it to be disapplied, constituting a breach of international law. This Bill, the United Kingdom Internal Markets Bill, has just survived a first vote in the House of Commons.

Setting the terms of the UK’s withdrawal from the EU, the Withdrawal Agreement is enshrined in UK law in the EU (Withdrawal) Agreement Acts of 2018 and 2020. The specific part in contention recently is the Northern Ireland Protocol, designed to avoid a potentially peace-threatening hard border between Northern Ireland and the Republic, with Northern Ireland following single market rules in some instances and administering EU’s customs code at its ports . The protocol assumes that a trade deal will eventually be negotiated between the UK and the EU regarding trade with Northern Ireland, but until such a deal can be finalised, the default EU position would apply to prevent a hard border.

The mutually sanctioned agreement is now threatened by the Internal Market Bill, seen as explicit authorisation for the UK to breach the international obligations set out under the Withdrawal Agreement. Clause 42 would allow exit procedures required under the Northern Ireland Protocol to be disapplied while clause 43 further allows provisions concerning state aid to be disregarded. Finally, if there was any doubt left about the potential of the Internal Market Bill to breach international law, clause 45 assures that clauses 42 and 43 will still be in effect even if they breach the Withdrawal Agreement, a clear sanction for the former legislation to override the latter.

You may be thinking ‘so what?’ or questioning why this particular breach of international law is so important. You’d be correct to think that international obligations have been broken before, and, indeed, some EU member states are particularly serious offenders. Sometimes our international obligations are breached when new circumstances come to light, with the UK’s introduction of the General Anti-Abuse Rule (GAAR) in 2013 to combat new forms of tax evasion being an example. GAAR serves to prevent the use of abusive tax-avoidance schemes that amount to more than responsible tax planning to minimise the amount of tax that one might pay. There was debate at the time on the passing of the Finance Act 2013, which included GAAR, about whether it may have broken international law. Secretary of State for Northern Ireland Brandon Lewis suggested that GAAR sets a precedent for further breaches of international obligations under the Internal Markets Bill, but there is strong evidence that GAAR wasn’t inconsistent with our continuing treaty obligations.

Even if international obligations are breached, enforcement is difficult and there is very little actually stopping France, for example, from deciding that they want to shut their borders because they are no longer supporters of free movement. International courts, such as the European Court of Human Rights or the European Court of Justice, can rule on issues concerning international law, but ensuring that the correct action is taken is where the problem of enforcement lies. Typically, the United Kingdom is willing to take heed of international court rulings, but this isn’t always the case. Though the European Court of Human Rights ruled that a blanket ban on convicted prisoners being able to vote was a violation of their rights, prisoners in the UK still do not have the right to vote.

However, the issue goes beyond any ‘punishment’ for breaching international law, and is more about upholding and respecting the rule of law. It seems pretty outlandish for the government, the makers and enforcers of law, to not accept their own legal duties, more so considering they currently expect people not to socialise in groups of more than 6. As the rule of law is a cornerstone of our constitution, it absolutely matters when anyone, not least the government, attempts to disregard it.

While the government response to the contentious bill has been mixed, there has mostly been an outrageous display of support for the breaking of international law or denial of any such attempt taking place. The level of misinformation permeating this discourse is concerning and, understandably, some members of the public are seriously misinformed.

Secretary of State for Northern Ireland Brandon Lewis acknowledged that the UK government was attempting to breach international law, but added an irrelevant and nonsensical caveat that the breach was only “specific and limited”. We could say that any breach of the law is “specific and limited”; if I steal a mere £20 from someone’s wallet, it is a crime that is limited in its severity, but we wouldn’t say that would make the crime any better. A breach of the law is a breach of the law. Recently, Lord Keen had jumped to the defence of Lewis, asserting that he “essentially answered the wrong question”. It should be noted that Lord Keen has since resigned as law officer for Scotland.

Home Secretary Priti Patel has also stated that “we are absolutely not doing that [breaking international law],” and that “Parliament is sovereign when it comes to how international treaties … are not just interpreted but actually applied through our Acts of Parliament.” She is plainly incorrect in her denial and horribly mistaken in her interpretation of parliamentary sovereignty. Yes, Parliament is sovereign and can legislate to the contrary of any of our international treaty obligations. However, this doesn’t mean that our treaty obligations cease to exist, and we are no longer bound by them.

Attorney General Suella Braverman set out her legal position along the same lines as Patel, defending the Internal Market Bill on the grounds of parliamentary sovereignty and a horribly confused interpretation of R (Miller) v Secretary of State for Exiting the European Union. She spectacularly misses the point that our international obligations may not be enforceable in the UK courts (unless enshrined in domestic legislation) but are nevertheless binding for the government. There have been calls for Braverman to resign, as the head of the Government Legal Department Jonathan Jones has done, but this seems unlikely given her strong, but misguided, defence of the government’s position.

Lord Chancellor Robert Buckland QC told Andrew Marr that he will resign if the rule of law is broken in a way that he finds “unacceptable” . The Constitutional Reform Act 2005 only references that the Lord Chancellor must respect the rule of law, with no caveats about acceptable and unacceptable breaches, which begs the question of what offences the Lord Chancellor finds to be acceptable. Only going 5mph over the speed limit? Taking £10 from someone who had £30 in her purse? Buckland has gone on to say that if the law is broken in a way that cannot be “fudged” (I am not making this up), then he will resign.

Even more ridiculously, MP Desmond Swayne asserted that: “[t]here is a principle in international law that no country can be bound by an obligation when that obligation is interpreted in such a way as to undermine the very integrity of that country.” This principle, quite literally, does not exist.

I want to be clear that this is not, and should not, be a political issue. Any government breaking, or threatening to break, laws should be held accountable regardless of their political affiliations. We can all agree how damning the Chilcot Inquiry was for Tony Blair’s decision to invade Iraq, regardless of whether you vote Labour. One thing to highlight is that more people should care about such blatant breaches of fundamental principles like the rule of law. If we care about democracy in any meaningful sense, we cannot allow politicians to get away with such brazen lying and misleading of the public.

Police patrols and pub inspections: City prepares for students’ return

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At yesterday evening’s Virtual Town Hall, Oxford’s universities, students’ unions, the City and County Councils, and the police presented their COVID-safety plans for students’ return to Oxford. 

Thames Valley Police have set aside a portion of the force to respond to breaches of coronavirus regulations, while balancing “normal policing duties”.

Along with neighbourhood police, they will be “proactively patrolling… hotspot areas” in the evening and through the night. They will respond to “spontaneous reports” of COVID regulation breaches. 

The police’s focus is on large gatherings as “they present the greater risk to wider public health”. They have a “Four Es” strategy to deal with large gatherings: engage with members of the gathering, explain the regulations, encourage the gathering to disperse, and enforce the regulations with fines if necessary. 

The City Council will also be ensuring coronavirus regulations are being followed. From 8pm to 1am, there will be “proactive inspections” of businesses to ensure they are complying with the Rule of Six. These will be focused on the pubs “primarily frequented by students”.

This ‘Out of Hours’ Service will also respond to complaints about student parties, carrying out early intervention alongside the police. 

These measures come as Oxford Brookes has been under scrutiny for student parties since students returned on 14th September. There have been 30 recorded cases among Brookes students so far, stemming from off-campus student gatherings.

Pro Vice-Chancellor of Student and Staff Experience at Oxford Brookes, Professor Anne-Marie Kilday, told the Town Hall that the university has issued “150 fixed penalties” for breaches within halls of residence.

Professor Kilday states that the universities “do not have enforcement powers off-campus”, but that they had been working with Thames Valley Police and other partners to “disperse groups meeting outside of halls”. She encouraged residents to contact the police on 101 or report online if they believe students are breaching coronavirus laws.  

Professor Kilday stressed that the majority of students are taking regulations seriously and the university has communicated extensively with the student body to ensure they are aware of their responsibilities. 

Ahead of the start of term, Karen O’Brien, Co-Chair of Michaelmas Coordination Group at Oxford University, told residents the University would learn from Brookes and other universities across the UK, and apply those lessons upon students’ return.

Image credit: Dick Elbers/ Wikimedia Commons.

Investigation: Scottish Under-representation at Oxford

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In May 2020, Oxford celebrated as the proportion of state-educated students at the university hit 62.3%. In a triumphant foreword to the Annual Admissions Statistical Report, Vice-Chancellor Professor Louise Richardson described this as “steady progress towards diversifying the makeup of our student body”. This summer’s A-level fiasco brought fresh gains: 67.8% of incoming students are from state backgrounds, exceeding the University’s latest target. 

Yet as the dust settles on this most recent, though unplanned success, one group remains chronically under-represented at Oxford. Scottish schools are experiencing no such gains. In 2018, 13 English private schools sent more students to Oxford than the entire Scottish state school system, which sent 16 students. The situation has not improved much since. 

The figures for 2019 bore evidence of similar failings, with just 109 applications, 16 offers, and 11 final acceptances for state school applicants. 2020’s statistics, whilst not representing a new low, do not show significant signs of improvement either. Only 104 applications were made by state-educated students this year, resulting in just 19 offers. 

The record for Scottish state representation is clearly abysmal, but it isn’t just state schools facing a disadvantage. Independent representation is also poor. As in the case of state schools, 2019 was a difficult year; only 127 applications were made, resulting in 19 offers and 17 acceptances, a significant decline from the previous year (155 applications, 27 acceptances). 2020 promises to return to the not-so-heady heights of 2018, with 152 applications and 31 offers. 

Of course, small sample sizes create large variations that aren’t necessarily meaningful. However, Scottish representation isn’t showing any signs of significant improvement, unlike the representation of other traditionally disadvantaged groups (according to the University’s report). It is also feared by those students involved in access initiatives that a particularly poor year for Scottish representation might trigger a permanent decline in the numbers applying and therefore succeeding in gaining a place. 

The Cydeside Project, a student-run access organisation for Scottish pupils, is demanding that Oxford do more to attract Scottish pupils.  Founder Michael McGrade stated, “I refuse to believe there were so few capable of making it to Oxford. If Scottish outreach was taken seriously by the University, I am certain we would be looking at triple digits.” 

‘Access’ is one of those things that most of us love to talk about in abstract terms. We might all feel a sense of obligation to help, but few of us are necessarily equipped to talk about access in any great depth and many of us lack a strong personal connection to the ‘issues’ being discussed. 

Puzzled by the decline in applications from both Scotland’s state and independent schools in recent years, I interviewed some current students on their experiences. Why is it that Oxford does not seem to hold the same attraction in Scotland that makes English state and independent students apply in droves? 

It is perhaps important to set these conversations in the wider context of access criticism. Discussions of access in Oxford have been criticised for being too impersonal and numbers focused. This was undoubtedly an issue encountered in the Scottish case. More important than this, it has been suggested, is creating an environment that helps those targeted individuals to thrive.  

From the limited number of people that I have spoken to, it seems that the University environment itself is not the problem. More pertinent in Scotland is a false perception of Oxford as unattainable, alienating and unaffordable. This has gone unchallenged in schools and by the University itself. 

In Scottish schools, Oxford is going unnoticed. Students and teachers don’t commonly see the University as a viable pathway out of school. The general consensus among the interviewees was that the University has no real reputation aside from vague and discouraging stereotypes. 

A lack of familiarity with sending students to Oxbridge lies at the heart of this problem. Gerry, my first interviewee, explained that “when I was applying, certainly in the memory of all the teachers there hadn’t been someone who had successfully applied before, so, for me, my only exposure to Oxbridge came from sweeping generalisations. Going into it I had the perception that it was going to be filled with quite bookish, very academic people who were passionate about their subject, in the way I didn’t necessarily think people were passionate about subjects in the school I went to.” 

One student added that “people at my school thought that Oxbridge was pretty much full of people who were very posh and/or insanely smart. Barely anyone thought about applying because they just didn’t think that they were the sort of people who Oxbridge were looking for.” Zaynab, a law student, also feared that “people are going to be different; people are going to be rich, posh, from private schools. People won’t understand me.”

So far, the University has struggled to make much of an impact even in some of Scotland’s biggest schools. For Peter, who attended the largest state school in Scotland, “there was almost no talk of Oxford at all.” He remembered stumbling across one of the University’s outreach efforts: “there was actually a talk in my school for anybody who wanted to apply to Oxford from Glasgow state schools. I was the only person from my school who was there.” 

Chance encounters such as these would emerge as a dominant theme in these interviews. Without them, those in the state system were unlikely to get a sense of what the University could offer them. Peter explained that “in Scotland, it’s not really pushed the way it is in England. A lot of the big English schools will quantify their success in how many Oxbridge places they have. That happens maybe in the private schools in Scotland, but definitely not in the state schools.” To generalise, “that helping hand just probably won’t be there in state schools in Scotland. There’s no sort of culture where you’re to aim for Oxbridge.” 

Being overlooked by bright students is probably not a problem that the University is familiar with. As Peter’s experience shows, the University’s more traditional approach to selling itself, (i.e. talks in schools and UCAS fairs), does not do enough to seize the attention of students who are otherwise untouched by the allure of Oxbridge. 

Another limiting factor of the number of applications made by Scottish pupils is the reputation of the country’s own prestigious universities. Peter explained, “you’re more pushed towards high tariff courses in Scotland like Medicine, Dentistry and Law, that sort of thing…We wouldn’t consider Oxford and Cambridge ‘our’ two best universities. We’ve got great universities here, why would you apply [to Oxbridge]?” 

So how can Oxford compete with Scotland’s impressive universities? Most important, according to the interviewees, is the “normalisation” of the University and its students. This is where those chance encounters and the personal touch becomes so important. Emerging as somewhat of a folk hero in this investigation was St Hugh’s Scottish Principal, Dame Elish Angiolini. “We have a Scottish principal at Hugh’s who was actually one of the people that I spoke to on the Open Day, which I think certainly was part of the reason that I applied to Hugh’s,” said Gerry. “Having that sort of relatable figure encourages you that it’s a worthwhile thing to pursue.” 

Those students who came from state schools were reliant on distant connections. Peter stated, “the reason I applied to St Hugh’s was because one of my mum’s friend’s son had gone to study PPE there like 15 years ago. Another one of my mum’s friends who had been to Oxford phoned me and we talked through the interviews together.” 

Gerry suggested that this reliance on making connections or lucky encounters was forced by the unpreparedness of teachers: “In terms of their willingness and their enthusiasm for helping they were absolutely brilliant, but I think one of the problems is the application process, as I see it, probably isn’t transparent enough at the moment. The consequence of that is if you have access to other people who have applied to Oxford successfully, I think you gain a reasonably significant advantage throughout the process.” Zaynab also found that “it makes such a difference if you know someone who’s already applied.”

Even independent schools in Scotland can find the idea of applying too daunting. “No one had a great understanding of what the whole process was like or what it would be like to actually go there,” said one interviewee. A significant barrier in this case was the reluctance of the school to damage its own reputation, fearing that an Oxford offer was simply unattainable for too many of its students. “Our school didn’t want to get a reputation of getting lots of people to apply because they knew lots of people were going to get rejected. They didn’t want to be a school that a) pushed it really hard or b) had lots of people fail to get in. So, they almost tried to get people not to apply.” 

Frustrating for all of the interviewees was the contrast between their teachers’ willingness to help and their ability to help. Zaynab recalled “I had a lot of support in the sense of ‘you can do it!’ but I didn’t have a lot of resources. In the last 10 years, our school sent maybe one person to Oxford. So, the only person I was directed to was an English teacher, but it was probably the most useless experience. He was lovely, but I remember telling him about the LNAT and he asked me ‘oh, what’s that?’” 

One interviewee described this as “information asymmetry” between the University’s understanding of its application process and schools’ understanding of it, suggesting that more transparency around the decision-making process might be the solution. “A lot of it boils down to a communication issue and maybe doing more to ensure that it doesn’t actually matter where you’re applying from. I think the uni is taking great steps to, in terms of once you get to interview, to take account of different backgrounds. The tutors tend to do a good job of accounting for those differences in terms of your overall education up to that point, but certainly the info you get before that point varies wildly.”

Poor communication even turned out to be a significant problem when it came to the elephant in the room: tuition fees. Scotland’s commitment to free tuition gives its universities a competitive edge, especially if the English system is poorly explained. Tuition fees have traditionally occupied a central place in conversations about access to higher education. Yet, in our abstract and generalising conversations about access we perhaps forget that the issue of fees remains a highly personal one. It falls upon the shoulders of each individual student to weigh up the costs and the benefits of university education, and, in the Scottish case, the information needed to make these assessments isn’t as widely disseminated as it ought to be. 

Coming to these interviews I had expected fees to be a dominant, even overbearing part of the conversation. The idea that English tuition fees intimidate and discourage the brightest Scottish students now seems overblown (or even snobbish). Founder of the Clydeside Project Michael McGrade is wary of treating fees as a major factor in discouraging pupils. He told Cherwell, “this argument always stings me as a little patronising…It’s a pay as you earn system and prospective applicants, wherever they’re from in the UK, are bright enough to understand that. Likewise, simply because their mum and dad didn’t come here in the 80s does not mean a prospective applicant will not recognise the extraordinary opportunity that being a student here represents.” 

In fact, the English university system as a whole also has some benefits that the Scottish system can’t afford to offer. McGrade stated, “we cannot help the fact that the standard of education at England’s ancient universities far outstrips that of Scotland’s…the zero tuition fee model in Scotland comes at a price. Holyrood will only give a university £1800 per student which means fewer contact hours in larger groups.” 

Similarly, whilst the interviewees had all grappled with the idea of tuition fees to differing degrees, there was a general consensus that fees present the biggest problem when not fully explained or understood. “Unless you’re aware of the very unique benefits that we’re fortunate enough to get as Oxbridge students, then it can just seem a lot easier to stay at home,” said Gerry. “A really common question you get [from people in Scotland] is why are you paying the money, which I think is symptomatic of the lack of knowledge of the system. I can see why if you come from a certain economic background that if that’s not made clear to you, the idea of taking on an extra 30k of debt is not something that’s going to be appealing.” 

For most then, fees present a problem when the system is little understood. If it wants to improve its access record in Scotland, Oxford will not only have to establish itself as a viable pathway out of school, but make sure that pupils fully understand what they would be signing up for. 

The University is by no means ignoring Scotland. Yet, as mentioned above, the more traditional approach that works in England will need to be adapted to suit Scottish needs. In McGrade’s opinion “The University desperately needs to bankroll one of the colleges to act as a link college for Scotland.“ In response to a Freedom of Information request sent this Summer, Oxford informed Cherwell that St John’s College has been tasked with hosting in-bound visits to the university. However, the main access and outreach efforts of the College target specific parts of London. 

In fact, most of the university’s Scottish outreach is managed centrally by the Undergraduate Admissions and Outreach Team (UAO). McGrade claimed “it’s been nearly a year since the University Outreach Office stepped foot in Scotland.” Those (independent) students I spoke to who had experienced outreach events in Scotland found them to be woefully inadequate, exposing the general deficiency faced by Scottish schools when it comes to interacting with the university. 

The few interviewees who had experienced such events found them to be dominated by independent schools and run by well-meaning, but ineffective admin staff. One reflected on “how utterly useless those days were”, complaining “they were run by people who, now you look back on it, didn’t know what they were talking about. There were no Oxford students, there were no Oxford tutors, there were no members of faculty. An actual student’s perspective is so much more helpful than someone from admin.”

Among my interviewees, UNIQ turned out to be similarly disappointing. McGrade commented: “My experience has been that UNIQ does not seem to have made much headway at all in Scotland and this must be from a failure to advertise it. After all, it’s quite a way to come to Oxford from Scotland and often prohibitively expensive to do so.” This sentiment was shared by a number of the interviewees, who claimed they had not been aware of UNIQ or simply found out about it too late to apply. One student expressed that it was also difficult to find information about the University’s extensive options for financial support. 

Information obtained by a Freedom of Information request revealed that in 2019, 9 participants were domiciled in Scotland. This resulted in 4 applications and 3 offers. 

Tutors appear to be an under-used resource when it comes to busting the myths that surround Oxford. For those able to attend, in-person open days provide students and tutors with an opportunity to make this human connection. For Gerry, “the chance to meet tutors and have informal conversations who were there sort of demystified the situation in that you realised quite quickly that these people weren’t that different from your teachers at school. There wasn’t an oppressive or overt intelligence in the conversations as they were showing you around…For me, I think it probably did have a bearing on whether I applied at that stage because I was undecided when I went down.” 

He added, “Making those sorts of events more accessible regardless of geography is probably a good step access-wise.” It is yet to be seen whether the more accessible online open days will have a significant impact on Scottish applications.   

Not all the University’s initiatives are faltering, however. Particularly promising are those that seek to re-inject access and outreach with the much-needed personal touch. Of course, it’s not just the University that has a responsibility to improve representation, and student and alumni initiatives remain absolutely central to “normalising” Oxford. Exeter College recently trialled the East Lothian Project, a summer school for 12 pupils first put forward by a Doctoral student at the college. The costs were split in 2019 between the local authority, who funded travel, and the college, who covered the costs of the stay itself. Whilst forced to go online for the time being, it is hoped that the project will secure permanent funding to ensure annual visits in the future. 

One interviewee also commended Christ Church for hosting Scottish pupils for the open day, with the provision of free accommodation and food. “The college was actually really helpful and friendly as they organised a lot of fun things for us to do in the time that we were there. However, the train journey down was 8 hours and quite expensive so this could be a barrier for many Scottish state school students who would be interested…it is a real shame that many Scottish students are unable to attend the open days.” 

Moreover, the ability of students to make an impact should not be understated. An important first step is talking to students about their options. Gerry told me that “I feel I have an obligation, as someone who benefited from a chance conversation here and a little nudge there, to try and raise awareness in my community and in my own school that this is a viable pathway.” For him, this means overcoming the natural squeamishness that comes from talking about one’s Oxford experience. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing to be careful in terms of your self-congratulation, but there’s a time and a place when it becomes quite important…offering to go back and speak to students that are considering Oxbridge allows you to have those conversations in a way that isn’t self-glorifying or inappropriate.” 

Personalised and friendly communication is certainly a core component of the Clydeside Project. With 100 Scottish pupils now being mentored, it is certainly making a difference. McGrade told Cherwell: “One school in Glasgow we worked with last year had never previously sent a student to Oxbridge. On offers day I got the news that three of their students had received offers from Oxford.” 

Peter’s work for the Project involves targeting the most influential figures in education: headteachers, deputy heads, UCAS coordinators, and others involved in pastoral care. McGrade believes that promoting the University among these “gatekeepers” of education is a crucial part of the Clydeside Project’s mission. 

The criticism of ‘access’ at Oxford is well-founded but importantly, not without practical solutions. The enduring positivity of those involved in access initiatives has proved, I hope, that the future is bright. ‘Access’ is not a vague goal we talk about in abstract terms, an obsessive numbers-fest, or a box-ticking exercise. Rather it is a complex process of trial-and-error, something that pushes whole institutions to reform whilst meeting the personal needs of individuals. The University may be an easy target for frustrated students, and indeed a healthy degree of criticism is sometimes necessary. But it is worth remembering how fruitful the collaborative efforts have been in the Scottish case. Oxford is a place that our interviewees love, a place that they are grateful for, and a place that they want to help other people reach. This passion, enthusiasm, and personal investment must occupy a central position in the University’s efforts going forward. 

Many thanks to those who offered to be interviewed and to the Clydeside Project for their help. 

Please note these figures are close approximations (for example, data is filtered to include those domiciled in Scotland)

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg: Unapologetically Female

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It was September 2018; the RBG documentary had recently been released on Netflix and ‘UCAS’, ‘careers’ and ‘university’ were my sixth form’s favourite words. Influenced by Legally Blonde and Suits, I had decided on a career in law, and this is how I found myself watching RBG. I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know who Ginsburg was before this, (a tad late to the hype I know), so let me tell you now, less then two minutes into the documentary I did not expect to witness a small elderly lady lifting weights with the lyrics of Minneapolis rapper Dessa’s song ‘The Bullpen’ blazing over the top. This impactful introduction turned out to be fitting for Ginsburg, whose steadfast determination and drive for equality for all citizens led her to become a trailblazer for gender equality, in a time when laws enforced outdated gender stereotypes.

Ginsburg paved the way for the law reform in America; her work being critical to the passing of the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, which removed the need for women to have a male co-signer when applying for bank accounts, credit cards and mortgages. This greatly increased the mobility and independence women could have. However, Ginsburg did not solely focussed on gender discrimination involving women. Her first gender discrimination case was that of Charles Moritz, Moritz v Commissioner, which entitled men to the same caregiving and social security rights as women. From her work with Susan Dellar Ross which resulted in the passing of the Pregnancy Discrimination Act, to being instrumental to the requirement of women on juries, it is clear that Ginsburg’s legacy is well deserved. 

Even acknowledging Ginsburg’s vast legal success, what was it that made her gain the attention of the general public? I’m sure it came as a surprise to many that a woman in her eighties became such a huge cultural icon amongst the younger generation. Ginsburg herself admits, jokingly, at the beginning of the RBG documentary that ‘everyone wants to take a picture with her’. Quite honestly, this was true. Named ‘notorious RBG’ on social media for her powerful dissents, Ginsburg’s face can be found on prints and tote bags. Tumblr pages, Instagram posts and even TikToks have been dedicated to her, detailing her vast achievements. What made Ginsburg so special is that she was a strong female voice in what has historically been an extremely male-dominated field. As one of only nine female students in a cohort of 500 at Harvard law school, Ginsburg was asked by the Dean why her place should not be given instead to a man. Even with the odds stacked against her, graduating into a field where females were not favoured, regardless of their credentials, she carried on fighting for what she believed in; equal opportunities for all. As only the second female justice on the American Supreme Court, Ginsburg contributed her worth. She did not sit quietly as a token woman. She stood up for what she believed in, and it was her tactful dissents that were widely publicised, contributing to her internet fame. In an age where our history in schools is full of the well-documented achievements of white men, Ginsburg’s legacy is a refreshing twist. 

Since its release in 2001, Legally Blonde is often referenced as an inspiration for many girls to pursue a legal career, with the fictional protagonist, Elle Woods, receiving a place to Harvard law school despite doubts from her peers. Often termed a ‘legal queen’, what many young women admire in Elle Woods is her determination to make a success of herself academically despite everyone doubting her based on stereotypes of ‘dumb blondes’. In 2018, I found a real life model who embodied all of what is admirable about Elle Woods; successful, firm to her beliefs and unapologetically female. In 2017 in the U.K, 67% of law students were female, with 33% male. Even accounting for the fact every law student does not continue into a legal career, it is clear that despite progressive laws and public opinions, there is growing gender inequality as the higher we look up the career ladder. For example, only two out of twelve judges on the Supreme Court in the UK are female. Ginsburg’s legacy of gender equality is still relevant and important even given the progress made over her lifetime.

The most important lesson I take from Ginsburg is her grit and determination in sticking to her goals and morals, despite odds being against her. Nor was maintaining a happy marriage or raising children incompatible with her career. Ginsburg’s legacy is in her immense contribution to the revolutionary change in the American legal system in gender equality. Many law students, myself included, sign up to the degree with dreams of human rights work, inspired to make positive changes. Once beginning the degree, this can appear to many to be a naïve dream when faced with the financial realities of the corporate world. Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s legacy, I’m sure, will inspire many to attempt to achieve their ambitions.  

Credit: Wake Forest University School of Law
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/

Oxford’s imperial present: ‘postcolonialism’ doesn’t mean it’s over

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It’s a well established fact that a lot of Oxford’s current institutional ‘glory’ can be attributed to colonialism. A large amount of its capital was reaped from colonial enterprise, including from the worst of its kind, slavery (look at St. John’s research, for example). When we hear postcolonialism, however, we’re used to understanding it as a time period beyond the event that was colonialism. Being from India, many would say, for example, that colonialism ended there in 1947, and the ‘postcolonial’ era began after that. But perhaps it’s more accurate to think of postcolonialism as colonialism under national governments rather than the end of the system itself.

There are many aspects to colonialism, at the abstract level of sovereignty to material conditions of life and labour, but its reach is virtually unlimited. History has its way of entrenching institutions – whether it is through law, setting up of incentive structures, or the minds of people, every systemic change often leaves an impact that is hard to get rid of. What does this actually look like in the context of postcolonialism? The clearest example is the import of Westminster-style democracy across the colonies. This also comes with the adoption of the common law system in judiciaries. In a cultural context, this might include the use and spread of English across the world. There are much deeper institutions as well, such as colonial land revenue collection systems, the exploitation of forests (many occupied by indigenous populations), and the entrenchment of colourism.

One common question when we talk about postcolonialism is why nationalist revolutions didn’t ‘completely’ disown their colonial past. The answer is what I suggested at the start of the previous paragraph – that alternative institutions might have developed in their own manner in the colonies through a process of their own indigenous evolution, but when the British intervened with their own system, they inserted their colonial institutions into this process. This insertion was thus met with each colony’s own nationalistic revolution, but following the framework of dialectical and historical materialism, it was clear that a revolution born as an ‘antithesis’ to something, will always give birth to a ‘synthesis’ or a nation that is stuck in between its own ideals and what it fought against. Such a nation cannot be independent of colonialism. 

Practically, we may attribute this to a variety of reasons. The Indian elite, for example, were already trained in British institutions- they became lawyers studying English law, politicians working in the model imposed by the British Parliament, and educationists and reformers influenced by the system of study the British introduced them to. To say they did this out of choice would be highly misleading – the incentives were made highly attractive because the British rewarded loyalty and service, and disincentives of brute force applied to dissenters. So, when we look at the nations born out of colonialism, we continue to see colonial structures that are alive and thriving.

This framework helps us understand Oxford’s present role as a colonial institution, since these structures extend beyond the nations themselves. At a very basic level, it is the impression of prestige that the British left throughout its colonies that continues to carry Oxford’s reputation today. As a student of law, for example, I can see how because of the Indian adoption of common law, Oxford has made itself indispensable to Indian lawyers. It is the pinnacle of the British academic elite, and if we want to understand Indian systems of law, we are still bound to look into British law – not only from the colonial period, but also contemporary law. For example, the reform of sodomy laws and sedition laws requires us to study contemporary British reforms in those fields besides colonial intentions, in order to change such laws within the framework of the legal system and principles the colonists themselves left behind.

After Britain made English indispensable to the Indian elite, and with its vast imperial footprint, the world, it made its own institutions that teach the language and store its deepest history of literature more valuable to postcolonial nations. This also holds true for history, sociology, anthropology and more, since the Western perspective of these subjects have entrenched themselves as the foundational accounts of the Indian narrative – look at Dalrymple, Omvedt, Austin, etc. Without prejudice to the expertise of many of these scholars, consider the case of Dumont for how such Westernised views may go wrong. Similar structures operate at various levels, explaining why Oxford, even today, continues to actively benefit from colonialism, and why the postcolonial populations strive (or struggle) to enter the institution. 

What could this mean for Oxford? It requires a recognition as students and members of the university that we are not the pinnacle of merit, but the pinnacle of privilege. Our existence in this institution can be attributed to the extent by which we are able to derive benefit from, and contribute to, those colonial institutions that make Oxford valuable. This does not serve to negate the struggles of anyone to get into the university, but once we are here, we need to recognise that our individual efforts do not exist in a vacuum, but in the context of our position as people who are located in a colonial system, where elites across the world and British citizens are given an upper hand.

This raises questions on how we may recognise that privilege and work towards ‘decolonising’. This is a question with a range of responses, however, I suggest that with the global entrenchment of these colonial institutions, it is not possible to overthrow them and replace them with novel alternatives (the question of what kind of alternative being an equally difficult one). Instead, we need to be able to let postcolonial populations reclaim key structures and define them in their own terms. 

This can include practices such as questioning any harsh policing of the English language, or even its use to obfuscate knowledge (sometimes phrased as moving towards a ‘global’ English, even in academia). It includes accepting into syllabi postcolonial authors, as well as expanding syllabi to serve a larger population, making Oxford a truly international institution. We should also be willing to share the privilege the institution has acquired and has bequeathed on us, by making active choices about who and what we platform when here, as well as what we chose to do with this accumulation of ‘Oxford privilege’ over the rest of our careers. This includes adopting practices of decolonisation throughout our lives, and making Oxford a space that permits decolonisation as a process. The institution should be admitting people who can benefit from its privilege, at reasonable and comparable costs, not just removing statues that glorify its colonial benefactors. It should continue to expand the ambit of its research focus, substantively and geographically. 

Admittedly, the logistics of these issues are hard to settle, and many steps have already been taken, but I hope the aim of the article to shed light on the postcolonial perspective will increase participation in the suitable discussions towards exorcising colonialism from its haunt at Oxford.

The power of perspective: how the narrative lens can transform a story

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The recent release of Stephanie Meyer’s Midnight Sun has introduced a new perspective on the Twilight story, now told from Edward Cullen’s point of view. Regardless of what we think of the series, they succeed in highlighting one of the most exciting and complex elements of storytelling: the perspective of the narrator. Who is telling the story?

As soon as an author chooses a first-person narrator over an omniscient third-person, the story suddenly gets a lot more interesting. Objective truth and reality fly out the window, and instead we are left with one individual’s version of events. It is then the task of the reader to decide what they believe.

All first-person narrators are unreliable to some extent, and many of the best novels out there utilise them to create depth and intrigue in their stories. Whether it be Nick in The Great Gatsby, or Nelly in Wuthering Heights, the unreliable narrator is a literary staple.

But perspective becomes even more powerful when a new narrator is introduced to a pre-existing tale. This was a device Mary Shelley employed in Frankenstein, which begins with Victor Frankenstein’s tale of the murderous and destructive monster, only to turn to the monster himself, who tells a very different story. Frankenstein’s nameless creation speaks of how his creator abandoned him, and of the loneliness that followed as he discovered the fear and disgust he inspired in others. Once the ‘monster’ has spoken, it is no longer clear who occupies the moral high ground.

Another transformative example is found in the 1966 novel that reworked the beloved Jane Eyre story. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys gives a back-story to the ‘madwoman in the attic’, Bertha Mason. She is re-imagined by Rhys as the Jamaican-born Antoinette, whose life of trauma and neglect leads to a drastic decline in her mental state, and her eventual imprisonment in Mr Rochester’s attic.

The Jane Eyre story casts Mr Rochester’s first wife as a gothic monster and a threat, who is othered and stripped of her humanity. This is epitomised in Jane’s first sighting of Bertha, where she becomes an it: “What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal…”

Rhys transforms Brontë’s “beast” into a human being. Her rewrite provides a biting critique of English colonialism through her depiction of post-Emancipation Jamaica, combined with a feminist reading of the marginalised ‘madwoman’ who has suffered in a world of patriarchal oppression.

Wide Sargasso Sea had a far-reaching legacy within literary criticism as a whole, paving the way for other classic works of literature to be re-examined with a more critical eye. Feminist and post-colonial readings became increasingly popular in the latter half of the 20th century, and are now essential elements of literary study.

The authority of the white and male point of view is undermined when voices that have been silenced for so long are finally given the opportunity to speak out, and to tell the story anew. This process of re-reading applies, perhaps most crucially, to history itself. A long-running story told by the winners, the colonisers and the men in charge – history is perhaps the narrative most in need of a re-write. Tales that tell of the ‘glorious’ British Empire, or of a ‘peaceful’ first Thanksgiving in the New World are just two stories told by biased and unreliable narrators.

As the Hamilton musical reminds us, it all comes down to “who tells your story”. Who controls the narrative, and whose agenda are we being fed? Now more than ever, we should all be reading with a critical eye.

So when Meyer decided to give us Edward’s perspective in Midnight Sun, the narrative is flipped on its head, but this time in a return to the white male’s point of view. Whether this finally allows us to understand Bella’s elusive vampire love-interest, or if it merely serves to highlight the more pathetic and possibly even predatory aspects of Edward’s character, is left for the reader to decide.

Yet what is equally true is that by re-inventing the Twilight story in this way, Stephanie Meyer adds to a long-running conversation on the nature of narrative, and what it means to tell a story. I’m sure for many Twilight fans, it’s really ‘not that deep’, but it is nevertheless a reminder of the power of perspective, and the transformative potential of a new point of view.

Oxford Brookes reports 30 coronavirus cases

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Oxford Brookes University has reported 30 cases of coronavirus among students as of 23rd September. Their semester began on 21st September, with Freshers’ introductions starting from the 14th. In a statement, the Brookes vice-chancellor linked the cases to off-campus parties thrown by students.

A party of over 100 Brookes students was recorded on 16 September, and the university subsequently issued a statement condemning student gatherings. Since then, police have increased patrols with the aim of breaking up gatherings that violate the Rule of Six, particularly in South Park.

The university states that it has issued about 150 fixed penalties to students “for breaches within halls of residences” since 12 September, the BBC reports.

No outbreaks among Oxford University students have been reported ahead of the start of term.

However, concerns have been raised by Oxford residents about the return of students to campus from across the country and world. The City Council estimates that between Oxford Brookes and the University of Oxford, students make up about 28% of the city population, the highest of any UK city.

In response, the City Council has organised a Virtual Town Hall on Monday, 28th September, which will include representatives from both universities’ administrations and student unions, as well as City Council, Thames Valley Police, and public health team representatives. Organisations will discuss their planned safety measures and hold a Q&A session.

From Oxford University, Professor Karen O’Brien, Co-Chair of Michaelmas Coordination Group will be speaking, as well as Ben Farmer from the Student Union.

Susan Brown, leader of the City Council, said: “We know that residents in Oxford are nervous about the return of students, and we want to reassure them that we are all working together to take as many measures as we can to minimise the risk from the virus. The universities and their students are very much part of the city of Oxford. Our businesses are starting to reopen, and many jobs rely on students being here in term time and we want to see the students safely in our midst. This event is an opportunity for residents to hear exactly what preparations are in place, and to ask all of us about the issues they see in their neighbourhoods and work so that we can reassure them. The universities, councils and police have been working with each other, residents’ organisations and businesses over the last few months so that we are all ready to manage the safe return of students.”

The SU, University, and City Council have been contacted for comment.

Image credit: Extua | Wikimedia Commons | Image has been cropped