Tuesday 8th July 2025
Blog Page 437

Hong Kong National Security Law: Safeguard or Subversion?

Cherwell Comment
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Hong Kong National Security Law: Safeguard or Subversion?

2020 has been a pivotal year for the world, not least with a pandemic shaking the foundations upon which communities have built their livelihoods. Though some now see light at the end of the tunnel, the nightmare has yet to completely pass for Hong Kong citizens, who are now staring at the face of a vague, seemingly all-encompassing National Security Law. With values such as autonomy and freedom of speech threatened under this new legislation, the very fabric of Hong Kong society is coming loose. There is valid cause for concern, not only locally but also internationally, as the world is challenged on how to respond to China’s growing brute will, manifest in what was once a regional bastion of freedom.

The National Security Law criminalises secession, subversion, terrorism, and collusion with foreign forces, deploying wide-ranging penalties from disqualification from running in local elections to life imprisonment. A newly established National Security Commission will be responsible for enforcing the legislation, and their work will be overseen by a National Security Office based in mainland China, outside of Hong Kong’s jurisdiction. China has reasoned for the passing of this legislation in light of the violent protests that gripped Hong Kong last year, where citizens demanded the withdrawal of a drafted Extradition Bill which would have allowed mainland China to ask Hong Kong to hand over suspects for trial, de-classification of protesters as ‘rioters’, amnesty for arrested protesters, investigation and accountability for police brutality and greater democracy.

Vocal criticism, from the likes of European Council president Charles Michel, international legislators who have formed an Inter-Parliamentary Alliance on China and various human rights organisations, has amassed against the legislation. The main message that appears to be heralded is that the new security law will spell the death of ‘one country, two systems’, and subsequently Hong Kong as we know it. However, the Chinese Communist Party defends the law by claiming it will restore stability, and argue that the law is compatible with the civil rights and freedoms so dearly cherished by the city’s citizens. China’s human rights track record may prompt concerns over the security law. Will China turn back on its promises to Hong Kong, and spell the end of the city as we know it?’

From a purely legal perspective, the National Security Law does not warrant the alarms that have been sounded since it was passed. It has a basis under Article 23 of the Hong Kong Basic Law, a constitutional legislation that is the embodiment of ‘one country, two systems’ by granting Hong Kong its own legal system separate from the rest of mainland China. Under Article 23, ‘any act of treason, secession, sedition, subversion against the Central People’s Government, or theft of state secrets’ and acts of foreign political interference should be prohibited by law. Therefore, the content of the new National Security Legislation is in line with the existing legal framework. Furthermore, countries that have criticised the National Security Law are arguably imposing a double standard and exercising hypocrisy, as they themselves have their own forms of national security legislation. For example, the definition of terrorism under Section 1 of the UK Terrorism Act 2000 shares similarities to the definition given under Article 24 of the National Security Law, with both criminalising acts of violence against persons or property in pursuance of a political agenda. Every country has a vested interest in protecting their society, and China is no different, especially given the economic importance of Hong Kong.

Furthermore, the implementation of the National Security Law falls within China’s sovereignty, explicitly recognised in the Sino-British Joint Declaration. The Sino-British Joint Declaration is the international treaty signed when Britain handed Hong Kong back to China, and outlines terms of the governance of Hong Kong for at least 50 years until 2047. Under Clause 3(2) of the Sino-British Joint Declaration, it was provided that Hong Kong ‘will be directly under the authority of the Central People’s Government of the People’s Republic of China’. The same clause proceeds to clarify that Hong Kong ‘will enjoy a high degree of autonomy, except in foreign and defence affairs which are the responsibilities of the Central People’s Government’. The National Security Law is indeed aimed at defending Hong Kong society, and so the provisions under it are arguably permitted under the Sino-British Joint Declaration as a safeguard for the citizens who have been affected by the violence of the recent protests.

Whilst the notion of having a national security law in itself is not contentious, what is worrying is how the law will be implemented. Although most countries in the world are invested in protecting the security and stability of their societies, the offences of secession and subversion are not a common offence. A further aspect of worry is that the Hong Kong National Security Law expands the scope of criminalisation to cover any acts ‘whether or not by force or threat of force’, meaning that theoretically, it does not even matter if a citizen has actually done anything. If they so much dare to think in a manner contrary to what mainland China wants, in a manner perceived to be secessionist or subversive, they could find themselves punished. Surely, this cannot be reconciled with the freedom of thought and expression that Hong Kong citizens are accustomed to and were promised?

Yet, this is not even the most menacing effect of the National Security Law – its ability to completely bypass existing Hong Kong constitutional structures and permit mainland Chinese courts to try suspects without any judicial scrutiny is the final chokehold as a free Hong Kong takes its last breaths. Hong Kong’s judicial independence, an institution so essential to its success, is under serious threat if China were permitted to have the last say. There is no guarantee for justice that Hong Kong citizens could previously enjoy given China’s disrespect for human rights, as seen with their treatment of Uighur Muslims in Xinjiang. The National Security Law effectively presumes a suspect guilty until proven otherwise, since bail will not normally be granted because of an assumption that the suspect has committed, and will continue committing acts against national security. The practical implication of the National Security Law is what concerns Hong Kongers, and sparked mass outcry.

Any legal grounds in defence of the National Security Law are uprooted by the breaches in fundamental principles that have long governed life in Hong Kong, by the laws of China where justice and fairness are near non-existent. As China expands its power, dissenters can now easily be silenced by this new piece of legislation. The Hong Kong National Security Law offers security only by name, but subversion by substance. As international allies scramble to find a solution against China’s forceful imposition of its will, Hong Kong citizens find themselves in even less safety than before, and it would come as no surprise if the city has yet to encounter its most tumultuous chapter.

Author wishes to remain anonymous.

Review: Taylor Swift’s ‘Folklore’

Abigail Howe
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Review: Taylor Swift’s ‘Folklore’

Usually, Taylor Swift begins a new album cycle with a blank slate. Instagram is cleared of any record of previous ‘eras’. Easter eggs are laid out for eager fans to hunt down. Previous iterations have included rainbow butterfly graffiti in Nashville, hundreds of Taylors clambering over each other to form a mountain, each dressed in a different memorable outfit (to be catalogued on Twitter or Tumblr later), and hidden messages in album liner notes.

Instead, Taylor began this album with a surprise, tweeting on the 23rd July that “tonight at midnight I’ll be releasing my 8th studio album, folklore; an entire brand new album of songs I’ve poured all of my whims, dreams, fears, and musings into”. In an accompanying statement, she said: “Before this year I probably would’ve overthought when to release this music at the ‘perfect’ time, but the times we’re living in keep reminding me that nothing is guaranteed. My gut is telling me that if you make something you love, you should just put it out into the world. That’s the side of uncertainty I can get on board with.”

Folklore is surprisingly sonically cohesive, built around the gentle cascade of a piano, an acoustic guitar and fractured synth and electronica, familiar to fans of The National or Oh Wonder. A sense of yearning and looking back on the past also comes through, echoing artists such as Sufjan Stevens. She revisits themes from previous albums, including threads from 2012’s Red – in fact, some have even claimed that Folklore is a ‘cottagecore’ album in this vein. It’s certainly a quick departure from the bubbly (some would say saccharine) electropop of ‘You Need to Calm Down’. But Swift still has the same power. ‘Cardigan’, ‘The 1’, ‘My Tears Ricochet’ and ‘Mad Woman’ are standout tracks.

A few of the album’s metaphors – specifically in ‘Mirrorball’ – are a little dusty and tired, including references to glistening shards (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend’s ‘You Stupid Bitch’ sprang to mind – certainly not the intended effect). ‘Mirrorball’ reflects a remaining concern with her public image, asserting that “I can change everything about me to fit in”. But this is a state she’s moving away from, singing “I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere / Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here” on ‘This is Me Trying’. If her “classmates” are her pop peers, she’s taken herself out of the race with this album, deliberately pulling herself out of the chart-driven rat race in an attempt to transcend her 1989 smash hits and aspire towards something greater with a singular vision.

NME dubbed ‘The Last Great American Dynasty’, a biography of 20th-century socialite and art patron Rebekah Harkness, who previously owned Swift’s Rhode Island property, a “contender for the best Taylor Swift song ever written”. Billboard bestowed the same compliment on ‘Invisible String’, calling it “a sensational love story centred on the happy accidents that will get you choked up if you let them”. These accolades highlight Swift’s songwriting prowess. Her intense lyrical specificity – “you wear the same jewels that I gave you / As you bury me” (‘My Tears Ricochet’) or “Someone’s daughter, someone’s mother / Holds your hand through plastic now” (‘Epiphany’) – cultivates intimacy. Swift uses her razor-sharp wit to create exquisite couplets which slice through your heartstrings.

However, Folklore is also Swift’s least autobiographical album. Having previously likened her albums to “reading my diary”, instead, Folklore is, in Swift’s own words, “like a photo album full of imagery, and all the stories behind that imagery”. Whether it’s the love triangle of ‘Cardigan’, ‘August’ and ‘Betty’, the nuance and shame of ‘Illicit Affairs’ (hopefully not suggesting Swift has been breaking lockdown rules), or the depiction of war in ‘Epiphany’ (“keep your helmet, keep your life, son”), it’s certainly a change – one which suggests Swift’s growing maturity. Whether her fans will be able to separate art from the artist is yet to be seen. Fans have already been panicking that ‘Hoax’, the album’s final track, suggests Swift has gone through a recent breakup. If she’s pouring her heart into music to express grief, or if this is simply a hoax in itself, is unclear.

Despite this, Swift does carry autobiographical elements through into Folklore, recognising the impact of her celebrity on her relationships, asking “would it be enough if I could never give you peace?” On ‘Invisible String’, she croons, “isn’t it just so pretty to think / All along there was some / Invisible string / Tying you to me?”, referencing the final line of The Sun Also Rises and the ancient Chinese concept of the red string of fate. Swift’s references are highbrow and varied, but also deliciously funny. Singing “bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to LA”, she gives a dramatic flourish towards her 2014 hit ‘Bad Blood’. Yet while ‘Bad Blood’ was a smash hit, Folklore is certainly Swift’s least radio-friendly work.

Folklore is certainly an album for sitting with uncomfortable feelings after months of self-reflection, and somehow still finding peace. Full of infatuation, quiet power and nostalgia, this is perhaps Swift’s bravest and most poetic album yet.

Friday Favourite: The Death of Ivan Ilyich

David Alexander
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Friday Favourite: The Death of Ivan Ilyich

I feel bad about not reading War and Peace. I want to read it – honestly I do. But it is just so damn long, and if I can’t successfully mount that campaign in an Oxford long vac, then my hopes during my working life are slim.

In the meantime, and to stave off my burning guilt just a bit, I read Leo Tolstoy’s 1886 novella, The Death of Ivan Ilyich. It’s much shorter, and a phenomenal work – deeply humane and yet deeply disturbing. In fact, this is probably the most perverse ‘Friday Favourite’ yet. I can’t think of a better piece of art about death.

The book is about Ivan Ilyich, a prominent official in Tsarist Russia. Throughout his life, Ivan has navigated the labyrinths of judicial bureaucracy so well as to become their gatekeeper. He is smart and likeable, efficient without being cold. A little self-serving, but so are his colleagues; Ivan has no choice but to play them at their own game.

A fall while hanging curtains (no one said this was an action thriller) injures one side of his body, and an unknown pain grows and grows. His family can’t see it, at least not until very late, but Ivan quickly becomes aware that the problem is terminal. The rest of the novella concerns Ivan’s attempt to comprehend this fact, to understand the metaphysical implications of his impending demise, and the meaning it projects back onto his life.

Many interpretations of the book argue that Ivan’s suffering is a product of his life’s superficiality. They point to Tolstoy’s juxtaposition of Ivan’s lacerating mental turmoil with the flippant material concerns of his family. The well-meaning relatives prop up some pillows, pester him with useless medicines and then nip back to the card table – can you take the pain more quietly, please, we’re trying to play here! Only Ivan’s selfless servant Gerassim seems to understand his employer’s agony: “Health, strength and vitality were offensive to [Ivan], but Gerassim’s strength and vitality did not fret but sooth him.”

When I consider this interpretation of the novella – that it’s all about recognising a mis-lived life –Dickens’ A Christmas Carol springs to mind. You know, old miser regretting his misdeeds, understanding that death is round the corner? Think of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, pointing its one revealed hand towards Scrooge’s tombstone as the horrified old businessman cowers. Tolstoy saw Dickens perform A Christmas Carol at St James’s Hall on a visit to London in 1861. We don’t know precisely what the travelling Russian thought of the piece, but its connection to Ivan Ilyich seems strong. After all, at his famous country estate, Tolstoy treasured a portrait of Dickens which moved around the house to wherever he was writing. Scrooge surely helped to forge Ivan, one miser giving rise to another.

Except Tolstoy doesn’t give Ivan’s life the theatrical flesh that Dickens applied to Scrooge’s. The description of Ivan’s ascendancy is crisply eloquent but deliberately functional. The novella’s real focus is the inevitability of death itself, which is so gargantuan, physically and philosophically, that retrospection is crushed into irrelevance. Ivan’s pain, combined with his helplessness, are described with wince-inducing exactitude. Similarities with A Christmas Carol fade away with the intensity of this grimness. Ivan dies after three days of non-stop screaming: if you’re looking for a dancing-through-the-streets kind of redemption, you’re reading the wrong author.

There is a glimmer of spiritual hope at the very end, mind, though to say more would be to spoil it. However, this remains largely gloomy stuff: a study of the kind of experience we barely consider until it creeps up on us at some terrible, unannounced moment. Yet by confronting the idea of death, even through literature, we take a major step towards improved self-understanding. None of us can avoid the reality of death forever, be it ours or someone else’s. The Death of Ivan Ilyich helps us to comprehend its enormity, and maybe, just maybe, to begin to come to terms with it as biological fact and common human destiny.

Hang on a minute, I’ve just realised something. Turns out that the very first ‘Friday Favourite’ was… War and Peace! How did I forget that? (I was Editor of Cherwell when it was published so I really should have remembered – though I doubt my long-suffering ex-section eds are surprised).

As that article – incisive, personal, classy, (do read) – shows, Tolstoy’s most famous epic is both readable and well worth reading. But before you do what I have yet to and consume its stately vastness, carve out a free afternoon for the slimmer The Death of Ivan Ilyich. It will terrify you, I’m sure, but you’ll be better and more human for it.

Illustration by Sasha LaCômbe

Unclichéd and unabashed: LGBTQ+ storytelling at its best

Cherwell Film contributors
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Unclichéd and unabashed: LGBTQ+ storytelling at its best

Many a list of the ‘Top 10 LGBT films’ can be found online. Undoubtedly, another handful of these lists have popped up during pride month this year. At Cherwell, we have decided against adding to the somewhat knackered tradition of ranking the same old favourites in a similar order. Why rank? Why be so rigid when discussing the subversive and expansive world of LGBT+ cinema? Why be so ‘straight’ about queer film?

Instead, we have asked some of our LGBTQ+ identifying contributors to share their very favourite moments of joyous LGBTQ+ non-conformity on screen. From the often-quiet queerness of God’s Own Country to the irreverence and flamboyance of Female Trouble, our list is a testament to the fact that LGBTQ+ cinema has no single aesthetic, or scale, or pitch, or story line. It can look like Divine in cha cha heels and it can sound like the wind carrying the cries of a new-born lamb on an isolated Yorkshire farm.

God’s Own Country (2017) Directed by Francis Lee

Image credit: Salzgeber & Co. media

“And I want you to come back. With me. And I want us to be together. I don’t want to be a fuck-up anymore”

God’s Own Country is not a flashy film. The script is a mere 15 pages long, the interactions between Johnny Saxby (Josh O’Conner) and Gheorghe Ionescu (Alec Secăreanu) as sparse yet sublime as Yorkshire’s landscape around them. It is, however, a beautiful film, a discovery of love and hope in a bleak situation.

Culminating in a desperate attempt by Johnny to win Gheorghe back, Johnny learns the importance of vulnerability, of dropping his I-can-deal-with-it bravado and letting himself be seen and accepted for who he really is. The key moment is Johnny’s confession ‘I don’t want to be a fuck-up anymore’, a declaration of his intentions to change and become a better, more independent person who is capable of loving others. Unlike many LGBTQ+ films, God’s Own Country is not a story about accepting sexuality, but rather about accepting love and having hope for a better future, be it with a handsome Romanian farmer who saves your sheep and steals your heart, or whatever else you’re into.

By Lizzie Harvey

A Fantastic Woman (2017) Directed by Sebastián Lelio

Image via Film Criticism

This Chilean movie was the country’s first Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Film. Its excellence in delicately and sensibly approaching trans issues pertinent to Latin proves just how deserving it was of said title. Daniela Vega’s lead is so mesmerising that one finds it almost impossible to believe it is her debut, and Sebastian Lelio’s direction elevates her without ever being in second plane.

As a cis gay man, I find it extremely important to actively seek out movies made in close collaboration with trans individuals so as to broaden my perspective and strengthen my allyship towards the trans community in this time of increasing socio-political turmoil. The movie’s triumph lies not in educating its viewers, but in depicting trans realities, far removed from many of our lives, in a way that is multifaceted and complex.

Such was the impact of this film that LGBTQ+ activists in Chile used its success as a major, positive point to help pass of one of country’s gender identity bills that would allow citizens to legally change their details. It is a true example of a film that dissolves past the borders of the silver screen and into its realities of its viewers. Such films are now more urgent than ever and I would urge people of all sexual/gender identities to watch it in hopes of having the same connection to it as I, and so many others, did.

By Antonio Gullo

Female Trouble (1974) Directed by John Waters

Life is never easy for the bullied, beaten and often very sad protagonists of queer cinema. If they find love, it is ‘forbidden.’ If they have sex, it hurts. If, in a moment of weakness, they tell someone about their predicament, they are shipped to Utah, to live out their adolescence alongside some sexy but sexless Mormon flagellants until they cave in, and take a wife.

So helpless are the queer characters of cinema that it takes a straight woman, albeit played by a gay man, for us to have some fun. Introducing Dawn Davenport, star of John Waters’ Female Trouble. “Nice girls don’t wear cha-cha heels,” warns her stuffy, boring parents, who dare to love her. She pays them no attention, screaming “I blew Richard Speck,” before hitching a ride to a junkyard, where she has sex with a toothless man on a discarded mattress. 

In Female Trouble, conventional, ‘heterosexual’ morality is inverted. Crime is beauty. Religion is degenerate. Murder is joyous spectacle. If you are successful enough to end your life in the electric chair, then that is an honour, for “the world of the heterosexual is a sick and boring life.”

Female Trouble asked its 1970s audience: why court acceptance when flagrant immorality is so much fun?

By Johnathan Trevelyan

Maurice (1987) Directed by James Ivory

Image via Flickr

The release of 1987 film adaptation of E.M. Forster’s Maurice marked a watershed moment in the history of queer cinema. The production company Merchant Ivory had made themselves known for their period films, many of which were adaptations of E.M. Forster’s novels set in stuffy, strait-laced Edwardian England. Maurice was only published after Forster’s death – it was considered unpublishable due to its depiction of romantic love between two men – and had been eclipsed by other works such as A Room with a View and Howards End and the film adaptations that followed. “Gay films” were few and far between at the time, let alone those with a happy ending. Even now, the vast majority of on-screen gay romances seem to end in death or despair, and so an uplifting love story between two men is a true diamond in the rough.

The film only becomes more poignant when considered alongside the backdrop of the AIDS crisis. In Thatcher’s Britain the LGBTQ+ community were silenced by the government, shunned by the public and dying rapidly from a mysterious new illness. The film’s release could not have been more timely. Initially overlooked by critics, Maurice has achieved iconic status in recent years as a beacon of queer joy – and of hope during one of the darkest periods in history for the LGBTQ+ community.

By Alison Hall

Maccies After Midnight

Cherwell Food contributors
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Maccies After Midnight

Sauce sacrilege – Lucas Jones

Is food subjective? It’s an age-old question that seems to have an obvious answer. Within reason, surely everyone has their own tastes. Nothing can be objectively disgusting, can it? Ever since mum started shovelling broccoli onto my plate I’ve been taught to believe that it’s just a matter of acquiring a taste for something, and I believed her right up until last term. My best mate from home (we’ll call him Barry) managed to change the way I look at food with a single kebab shop order: chips and mint sauce.

In my friend’s frankly undeserved defence, he didn’t choose that out of the blue. Hussain, the proprietor of our lovely local kebab van, was rattling through the available sauces. After listing off the regulars; barbecue, ketchup, mayonnaise and so forth, he gave us a cheeky grin. “Or mint sauce…” It was obviously a joke, but Barry’s eyes lit up. Hussain and I made nervous eye contact. Surely not? “Mint sauce, please!” The reply was a timid “are you sure?”, countered with a heartfelt nod. Hussain set to work with the grim conviction of an undertaker, and when my turn to order came, my appetite was long gone. 

The chips arrived, drenched in a dull white sauce. Barry tucked in, shovelling mint sauce in with each strip of potato. He insisted that I try one, so I conceded as we swung into college and tried to pick out the least sullied chip. 

The experience was refreshing, which is not a good word for a kebab shop order. Mint sauce is great with lamb. It’s lovely with falafel as well, and I’m sure that people enjoy it responsibly every day. But it doesn’t belong on chips. Mint sauce is designed to counter other flavours, so when they aren’t there the experience is like eating toothpaste. The worst, however, was still to come. 

When we woke up the next morning, a bit hungover and very hungry, I absentmindedly reached for the carton of chips on my dresser. Without even opening my eyes I managed to eat the most minty chip in the packet. It was bad enough hot, but in the morning the mint sauce had had time to congeal into clumps. I can’t fathom how that experience could ever be appealing, least of all with a blinding hangover. 

If you’re reading this thinking: “that doesn’t sound too bad,” my friend would love to hear from you. If that’s piqued your interest, order that the next time you’re staggering past your local kebab van. If nothing else, it’ll leave your breath smelling lovely.

Accidentally famous – Anonymous 

My rise to fame in Maccies (or, the night I totally should have asked for free food) happened one night when, on our way back to college after what had no doubt been another wild night at Parky, we made the customary visit to Maccies. While we waited for our order, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the security guard whispering intently to two of the cleaners – and they kept glancing with wide eyes in my direction. I guessed they were just commenting on our no-doubt dishevelled appearances. I mean, no one actually looks presentable after stumbling out of Parky at half two in the morning.

We grabbed our food and were just about to leave when we were suddenly stopped at the door. It was the very same security guard, who turned to me and said: “Excuse me, who is your dad?”

“My…dad?” I replied with raised eyebrows.

“Your dad is Shah Rukh Khan, isn’t he?” he said with a knowing look on his face.

In case you don’t know, Shah Rukh Khan is perhaps the most famous Indian actor in the world. I vaguely knew that he has three children – none of them are me. I just stood there for a moment and stared at him, a box of 19 chicken nuggets in one hand (the one I had already started eating in the other). I think I would have been less shocked if he had told me I was under arrest.

I was about to tell him he was quite mistaken, but my friend had other ideas. She conspiratorially told the security guard that he was absolutely right, and that we were keeping it on the down-low to avoid me getting too much attention. Soon enough, my other friends had joined in, telling the cleaners that they were my bodyguards. The security guard began speaking very intently to me in Hindi, telling me that I shouldn’t try to hide who my dad was and that I should be so proud of him. If I had been the real daughter (who, a later Google search revealed is a year older than me and actually studying at NYU), it would probably have been rather sweet. One of the cleaners asked for my autograph which my ‘bodyguard’ refused, saying I wasn’t doing autographs right now.

My ‘bodyguards’ did not stop laughing the whole way back to college, especially when we discovered I look nothing like his daughter. Safe to say, I avoided Maccies for a while after that – some of us just can’t deal with the spotlight, you see.

Heartbreak at Hassan’s – Mia Sorenti

The end of every night out always follows an almost identical sequence; finally leaving the club after an hour of craving something fried and covered in cheese, queuing (often in sub-zero temperatures) around the block for Hassan’s, before eventually nursing a warm carton of life-saving carbs back to college. However, one particularly bizarre encounter will be ingrained in my mind for a long time. 

After tumbling out of some sweaty, strobe-lighted cesspit, my group of friends practically sprinted down Broad Street towards the familiar light of Hassan’s food truck. Settling in for the wait (always worth it), we clocked a couple dressed as Mario and Luigi ahead of us in the queue. My friend’s face immediately lit up at the sight of fancy dress. 

“I like your outfit!”. Stony silence.

We exchanged bemused looks. My friend tried again, but again no response. Mario stared ahead, eyes fixed on the truck’s glowing interior with an alarming intensity. 

We nervously resumed our conversations, occasionally glancing at the couple, who remained steadfastly silent as they stood half a metre apart. I realised that the girl (Luigi) had been crying, her mascara running into the corners of her fake mustache which had clearly already weathered a serious storm. They stayed like this for the whole 20 minutes of queuing, not speaking a word to each other or anyone else before finally collecting their orders and disappearing into the night.

What had gone down at the fancy dress event? Why were they so determined to queue for chips in excruciating silence? Did they manage to patch things up? Whatever happened, I’ll always have a grudging respect for that commitment to post-night out carbs; he might break your heart, but he’ll still buy you falafel.

The problem with Pornhub: and how they get away with it

Mia Sorenti
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The problem with Pornhub: and how they get away with it

CW: mentions of sexual assault and rape

In many ways, PornHub has become synonymous with porn in the public eye, and with its daily traffic of 100 million users, it is easy to see why. MindGeek, the corporate behemoth which owns companies including PornHub, YouPorn and RedTube, has a significant presence in the commercial porn industry. In providing practically infinite free adult content, such ‘tube’ sites have single-handedly transformed the industry, generating billions in revenue per year. Over the past few months, PornHub has faced public outcry after a campaign exposed a series of cases where exploitative sexual content (videos of underage participants, rape, revenge porn and coercion) was platformed on the website. 

Although demands for repercussions have only recently become widespread, some of these cases date back to 2009 (CW: rape). The fact that such material has been surfacing for decades demands a closer look into the issues deeply rooted in the foundations of PornHub, and ‘tube’ sites in general. Whilst pornography in itself does not have to be inherently exploitative, the unique business model which ensures the corporation’s dominance in the field is the very reason its platforming of abuse content is inevitable.

At the time of writing, the ‘TraffickingHub’ petition, which demands that PornHub is shut down and that its executives are held accountable for “enabling, hosting, and profiting from videos of child rape, sex trafficking, and other forms of non-consensual content exploiting women and minors”, has over 1.5 million signatures. Pornhub has firmly refuted these claims of its complicity, citing its “steadfast commitment to eradicating and fighting any and all illegal content on the internet, including non-consensual content and child sexual abuse material.” On the surface, these defensive statements seem to ring true – PornHub’s strict community guidelines contain policies on child sexual abuse material and non-consensual content, facilitated by a coherent flagging system and enforced by teams of human moderators and automated detection technologies such as Microsoft’s PhotoDNA and Vobile, designed to find, remove and report illegal and inappropriate content.

Yet these post-publication checks ultimately prove inadequate, as abuse content continues to slip through the net. In order to prevent exploitative content of this nature being published and platformed, pre-publication checks are essential. But it is here that the deeply ingrained issues of PornHub come to light, as whilst these measures are integral to ensuring this platform is abuse-free, they are incompatible with the business model upon which PornHub has built its success.

A brief look into the specific legislation for the adult industry proves revealing; 18 U.S.C. 2257 is a law which requires all producers of sexually explicit material to obtain proof of age for every model they shoot, and retain those records. A statement demonstrating compliance with this law can be found in the footnotes of all porn sites. However, along with its sister sites under the MindGeek umbrella, Pornhub is classed as a ‘tube’ site: anyone can upload content, and users can browse and watch anything uploaded for free. This model provides them with a legal loophole to skirt responsibility for the content they publish. They are able to effectively wash their hands of the issue; as a publisher, rather than a producer of adult content, they claim it would be impossible for them to keep records on whether the performers involved in this content are of age and consenting. Here we can see a dangerous grey area: PornHub insists on operating and being regulated as a content publisher similar to YouTube, in spite of its sexually explicit content which ultimately demands compliance to a different legal framework. An analogy by ‘Girl on the Net’ clearly expresses how PornHub can implement all the post-upload checks it wants, but by its very nature as a ‘free porn’ platform which allows user uploads without pre-publishing checks, it will always be open to abuse content. 

It would certainly be possible for tube sites to alter their framework in light of this scandal. New measures, such as only publishing content from verified producers – including amateur ones – would make it far easier for them to comply with the 2257 regulations, thus safeguarding against the publication of abuse content. Yet these changes would significantly impact the amount of the content which can be uploaded to the site – last year 6.83 million new videos were uploaded to PornHub. Currently estimated to be worth $2,747,500,000, the corporation has little incentive to tweak their system in such a way which would impact their revenue and therefore their dominance in the market. The tube model enables maximum content, thus maximum traffic, thus maximum revenue. 

The bottom line is that abuse content is inevitable on a porn site which fails to demand pre-publication checks. But when did this business model become accepted in public consciousness, and popularised to the extent it eclipses all other porn producers who are accountable to the law? In many ways this conversation demands an examination of the broader cultural issue of how we engage with porn as consumers. Tube sites like PornHub have conditioned us to expect that porn should always be free; but as demonstrated above, this convenience has a cost. 

So what can we do on an individual level? A good place to start is to source your porn directly from its producers, instead of via tube sites. This ensures the content you are consuming is produced within the legal framework, as these companies are required to comply with the 2257 regulations and readily keep records attaining to the age and consent of their performers.

Most significantly though, we need to reframe porn as a form of work that deserves to be paid for. The fact that porn is free and readily available via the likes of PornHub means that paying for it is seen as a radical step. However, supporting those creators and businesses committed to ethical practice is key. When you pay for porn from these companies, you pay for production with more professional and legal guidelines, which ensure everyone involved is a consenting adult. No matter what you’re into, there will be people out there making it – you might just have to shop around a little (see here and here to start). The bonus is that these companies often produce porn which is more diverse and ‘authentic’ than the stuff presented by PornHub’s ranking algorithms. PornHub’s dominance in the industry means they are unlikely to change anytime soon, but paying for the practice you want to see off and on camera ensures those porn producers who do prioritise ethical practices aren’t eclipsed by those who cut corners.

This article has been amended to clarify phrasing with regards to MindGeek’s presence in the porn industry

Seven Flowers for Midsummer

Gaia Clark Nevola
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Seven Flowers for Midsummer

There were seven flowers and seven days
And nights, seven too, devoid of armour.
On seventh day while Lords were resting, blinking, looking the other way
I slept in euphemistic sense in bedless bowers
Uncrowned by deflowering daisies
Uncrowned by petals falling to the rhythm of he loves you not
and night skies were dark and mechanical, slick in the grease on chains round bicycles 

From there, dance backwards round the maypole to the beat of
Seven days and seven nights and do it twice
The comfort of the coupling of doubling
the softening of evening an odd.
Dance and find the day that lies there in the middle
The even night, the equinox, where light can wrap a mantle around night
And cradle it till out of kilter 

It is a day, and night, which brims in fairies
and women cults and sprites and mothers.
It is a day where girls not yet deflowered
ought to pick seven wildflowers and weave them into the tapestries of dreams,
Hex themselves to wander what it is to wonder in the dark with the next day’s love,
to wonder what it is to plant deep roots in fertile beds and grow with them
to bower and not cower at the otherness of man

Today, a day of sevens, I do not dance but wander none the less 
Pluck seven flowers from the gaps between my toes 
Find mushrooms in the folds behind my ears 
and hunt in fairy circles of lady’s mantle flowers 
for the quiet boom of an earthy pulse or seven pomegranate seeds to snack on.
The flowers in the bell-jar of my hand don’t know how gears work on a bike 
or what to cycle hell for leather from in dark shadow

I have a yearn for thread under my fingers
To weave a web through bristled legs 
and in it catch each drop of dew from the cold congealed by twilight
To camouflage the opalescence of pearled eggs 
and keep them safe in the inner vortex of my belly 
But threads go threadbare, slip and bristle 
are cut and joined by star filled fates with better tools and flowers which do not bend.

As I pick posies to alight upon tonight, I look with wariness upon the field
Avoid the noxious hemlock or foxgloved finger hiding bee 
and puzzle over names so I am sure that in my spell I skirt the love-in-idleness
That in my waking what I look upon is not pursued with souls and bellyfuls of love
But seen with bright eyes reflecting moonbeams
That dreams stay dreams and teeter from the twilight of the nightmare 

Before I sleep on breathless days I read that I must count to seven 
Inspiring it, then holding it, then pushing it outerwards three times over 
where it is life force, an equinox of vapours noxious and divine.
Tonight my breath is full of the dampness of thunderstorms 
and before I dream I weave my fingers into crosses, textured overlapping ribbons on a maypole 
So that the breaking petals that crush under my head 
might make me dream of sisters also dreaming
and not of greasy loves which grind mechanically through gears of yesterdays or tomorrow. 

Illustration by Anja Segmüller

Reviving my Childhood – Avatar: The Last Airbender

Neil Natarajan
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Reviving my Childhood – Avatar: The Last Airbender

I began watching Avatar: The Last Airbender when I was six years old. The year was 2005 and at the time, it was just another Nickelodeon show I’d force my sister to sit through with me. But it quickly became more than that. I found myself in a weekly cycle of anticipation and satisfaction, with both my investment and enjoyment growing each week. By the end of the first season, I was as hooked as any six-year-old could be.

In the years that followed, I found myself a silent supporter of the show’s cult-like following, a purveyor of video-essays and fan-by-extension of both the sequel and live-action movie. (I cannot, in good faith, recommend the live-action movie to anyone.) But despite my exposure to the internet’s fanatic devotion, I didn’t expect a sixteen-year-old children’s show to top Netflix’s charts, and I certainly didn’t expect to see scenes from the show going viral on TikTok. Avatar: The Last Airbender has managed to transcend both genre and time. Critics have hailed it the fantasy series that succeeded where Game of Thrones failed.

Avatar: The Last Airbender is the story of a world at war. It is about honour, genocide, the consequences of one-hundred years of conflict, and balance. The show’s creators do not shy away from the darker sides of the world they have built, but instead challenge their viewers’ budding moral capacities. They do not hide violence, wrongs, or moral ambiguities in subtext, but instead place them beside the childlike mirth that colours the show.

The entire series is summarised neatly in the introduction to each episode. There are four elements and four nations. For the past hundred years, the Fire Nation has been at war with the other three. But instead of stopping the Fire Nation, the Avatar, master of all four elements, disappeared. One hundred years later, the new Avatar –  Aang – is discovered in an iceberg. The story follows Aang and his travelling companions as he learns to master the four elements, and eventually saves the world.

This setup thrusts the responsibility of the entire world onto the shoulders of a carefree, twelve-year-old Aang, and follows his journey as he awakens the godlike power of the Avatar (which refers in Hinduism to an incarnation of a deity) and seeks to fulfil his destiny. By the end of the second episode, the show has already told its viewers exactly what to expect: Aang will save the world; water-bender Katara and her brother Sokka will travel with Aang and help him mature, facing their own challenges alongside him; Fire-prince Zuko will follow the Avatar and embark upon a quest for his honour, aided by his uncle Iroh. So clear are the show’s aims that when Aang’s earth-bending teacher Toph and Zuko’s sister Azula are both introduced in the second season, their roles in the character developments of Aang and Zuko, respectively, are already clear.

Every character in the series has their own past, motivations, and role to play in the story. Even the world itself is carefully crafted to confound the heroes and viewers with moral quandaries. The third episode of the series forces Aang to reckon with the loss of his people and culture. Later, our heroes encounter vigilantes who would rather destroy towns than see them colonised, armies furious at Aang for his one-hundred-year disappearance, an information-state stronghold that refuses to acknowledge the existence of the war, and citizens of the Fire Nation who prove to be as much victims of the war as they are perpetrators, if not more.

Despite the show’s depth and darkness, Avatar: The Last Airbender provides as good an escape from reality as any story could. The early episodes are jovial, mirthful, and light. They are largely self-contained (as with most 20-minute serials), but each diversion challenges the morals and motivations of both the heroes and the villains.

As the characters grow, so too does the show. While the first season examines residents of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes individually, the second and third confront the brutal realities of war on a broader scale. The story forces its viewers and characters into both the perspective of the oppressed and the oppressor. Aang must reconcile the genocide of his people with the realisation that citizens of the country responsible are not all evil. Zuko has to confront the lies he has been told about the Fire Nation and the true nature of the war. Katara struggles with learning and using responsibly the secret arts of water-bending. Sokka thinks and practises past the inherent disadvantages of being a non-bender. Toph struggles with conflicts between independence and family. However, at no point do intricacy or depth of character overshadow the light-hearted joviality throughout, and even to the end, each episode cannot help but draw smiles and laughs from viewers.

When I sat down to re-watch Avatar: The Last Airbender, I was afraid it wouldn’t stand up. I dreaded the possibility that the judgement of the six-year-old me was in some ways lacking, and that by returning to something I had cherished for so long I would only find myself disappointed and disillusioned. But I found myself neither disappointed nor disillusioned. Upon seeing it again, I realised that Avatar: The Last Airbender had succeeded where so many shows had failed and written a story that stands the test of time – a story that really is as good as I remembered.

Image via Sketchport

Lockdown Eats: Galette Recipe

Isobel Sanders
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Lockdown Eats: Galette Recipe

I’ve been using lockdown to hone my cooking skills. More than once I have had a pot on the hob during a tutorial. Towards the end of term, one bemused classmate demanded, ‘Izzy what’s that awful noise!’ as I was clattering pans and shutting drawers. I thought I was on mute. And while I’ve been baking, cooking, grilling and frying my way through these long lockdown days, there’s one creation that I’ve returned to time and again – the galette. No, not the savoury cousin of the crêpe – though oozing with cheese, wilted spinach, and perhaps some mushrooms, I would highly recommend this Breton speciality – on the table today is a somewhat ersatz, rustic, rough-and-ready tart. With no complex techniques, weird gadgets, or tricksy flan rings, yet sufficiently impressive, this is the perfect party piece for any time of year. 

So, you’re stuck indoors, probably still in pyjamas even though it’s three in the afternoon, and cooking seems like the ideal form of productive procrastination. How to begin? 

For the pastry 

Pastry has a bad reputation for being very difficult to get right, something best left to the professionals. Not true. Here is a foolproof recipe, adapted from Serious Eats – after trying several pastry recipes and many adjustments, I’ve found this to be the tastiest and most reliable version. 

Ingredients

  • 120g all purpose flour 
  • A generous pinch of salt 
  • 120g butter, cut into cm cubes, fridge cold 
  • 60ml water, freezer cold

Method

Combine flour with the salt in a medium mixing bowl. Add the cold butter and toss to combine, so each cube is covered in flour. Smush the butter flat, but do not rub in! This is really important. Stir in the water with a spoon and knead only until the pastry forms a ball. Wrap in cling film and put in the fridge for ten minutes.

Flour a surface and roll out the pastry into a rectangle about 25cm x 40cm. In your imagination, divide the dough into four lengthwise. Fold the two outer quarters over the middle two quarters. Then, as though you were shutting a book, close the two sides together. You should have a long thin rectangle. Fold one third into the middle, then the other third. Into the fridge again!

After another ten minutes, take the pastry out of the fridge and roll it out into a big circle on a well-floured surface. Don’t worry if it’s uneven, that is part of the charm! Transfer onto a baking tray, cover with cling film and put this in the fridge for at least two hours. 

For the filling

And so to the filling! There is no one recipe for this part  – it really depends on what’s in season and what you have in the fridge, making it the perfect lockdown recipe. Some sad-looking onions sitting in a corner, a tonne of tomatoes on the turn, a bunch of asparagus if you’re lucky, and hey presto, you’ve got the makings of a delicious pie filling. Or should that be hey pesto?! More on that later…

Pick two or three vegetables. Of course there are some classic combinations (mushroom and leek, for instance) but really anything goes! Onions are nice caramelised in a big saucepan, tomatoes love a good roasting in the oven, watery vegetables like spinach or mushrooms should be sautéed until the water has been cooked off. Once prepared, allow your filling to cool down. 

Construction

Preheat your oven to 175°C fan, then get ready for some speedy galette construction! To ensure the butter in the pastry doesn’t melt, pre-prepare all your toppings and keep them to hand. If you’re using cheese, grate it (cheddar or gruyere) or slice it (goat or mozzarella). Break an egg into a bowl and whisk, ready with a pastry brush if you have one. 

Once refrigerated for the full two hours, take your pastry circle out of the fridge. This is where the pesto comes in. Spread a thin layer in the middle of the pastry, leaving a two-inch border around the edge. Alternatively, for an onion or tomato filling, mustard would make a good substitute for the pesto. Then, working quickly, layer your filling on top. Again, this doesn’t have to be precise, although I like to have two layers of cheese, one in the middle and one on the very top. When all the filling has been used up, fold the edges of the galette over the filling, brush the pastry with egg (adding a sprinkle of parmesan, if you feel like it!) and put it into the oven. 

Bake for 25 minutes, or until the pastry is golden; place a foil cap over it to prevent burning. After another ten minutes or so, take it out of the oven with a flourish, and marvel that you’ve made something so gorgeous! One galette feeds my family (four of us) and is perfect with a side salad. 

So that’s it! I promised it was simple and I really hope you will give it a go. A galette is also highly adaptable. If you feel like spicing things up a bit, roast some sweet potato, squash, or pumpkin with a bit of cumin, ginger, or even chilli powder. A Provençal take may feature rosemary, thyme, and oregano-roasted tomatoes. If you’re a pie fanatic, why not make double the pastry and fill the second circle with fruit? Strawberries, peaches, plums, blackberries, blueberries and rhubarb would all work wonderfully. A sprinkle of demerara sugar just before the galette goes into the oven creates a glorious golden effect. 

Here are some websites to look at for further inspiration. There are also vegan and gluten-free versions, so keep an eye out for those if you’re interested. Finally, subscribe to #greens_and_grains for more delicious dishes and colourful creations! 

https://food52.com/blog/11538-how-to-make-any-savory-galette-without-a-recipe

https://www.seriouseats.com/2019/05/how-to-make-savory-vegetable-galettes.html

https://tasty.co/article/hannahloewentheil/sweet-and-savory-galette-recipes

https://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/slideshow/galette-recipes

https://www.brit.co/savory-galette-recipes

Images via Isobel Saunders

Oriel College announces details of Independent Commission of Inquiry into Rhodes Statue

David Tritsch
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Oriel College announces details of Independent Commission of Inquiry into Rhodes Statue

Oriel College has announced details of the Independent Commission of Inquiry into the Rhodes statue. Whilst the Oriel College Governing Body has expressed its wish to see the statue removed, the Commission has the license to consider a full range of options for the statue’s future.

Carole Sauter CBE, a former Chief Executive of the National Heritage Memorial Fund and current Master of St. Cross College, will be chairing the Commission. In addition to the Chair, there are eight members of the Commission, including former Conservative Shadow Secretary of State for Culture Peter Ainsworth, Chair of the Royal African Society Zeinab Badawi and Michelle Codrington-Rogers, current President of the NASUWT Teacher’s Union.

Welcoming the Commission, Carole Sauter said: “Each of [the new Commissioners] has already made a significant contribution to the advancement of knowledge, access and diversity within their relevant sphere of expertise, and I look forward to chairing their discussions on how the Rhodes legacy can best inform the future of Oriel College.”

A website set up by the Commission states that between July and September 2020, the Commission “will specifically invite contributions from members of the College (including students, faculty, staff and alumni), from Oxford City Council, from the Rhodes Must Fall movement, from other interested parties in the city, and from individuals with particular expertise in aspects of its terms of reference.”

The Commission has committed to undertaking research relating to the legacy of Cecil Rhodes, including the Oriel College statue, as well as discussing “access, inclusion and diversity with particular reference to BAME undergraduates, graduate students and faculty”. However, the Commission has stated that it will not consider racial discrimination at the College, but instead discuss “the role of the leadership and culture at the College and how it fosters a welcoming environment for students from a BAME background”.

Between the months of October and November, “the commission will invite expert witnesses, with diverse views, to contribute to online public sessions, along the lines of parliamentary select committees. (Online sessions will enable a wider audience to engage than sessions held in Oxford.)” The Commission has stated that it intends to record and upload all public evidence sessions to its website.

Submissions to the Inquiry can be made via the website: www.oriel-rhodes-commission.co.uk/share-your-view or by post to: Commission of Inquiry, c/o Oriel College, Oriel Square, Oxford, OX1 4EW.

The Commission’s final report is set to be published in January 2021. Before this date, the Commission has stated it will not release any interim findings. All final decisions will lie with the Governing Body of Oriel College.

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