Thursday 24th July 2025
Blog Page 439

“Cofiwch Dryweryn”: A Welsh History of Oppression

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I am proud of how so many people in my town in rural West Wales have rallied around the Black Lives Matter protests. Fighting for civil rights brings out the very best in some people. Activism has taken the form of marches, protests in towns, petitions, and a plethora of informative Twitter threads, online videos, and shared educational posts. Many people across Wales have been active in their support, as everyone should be.

However, as with any civil rights movement, there are some humans who display very little humanity as they condemn BLM and everything the movement stands for, even when this is done unwittingly. Entrenched, narrow-minded views permeate the mindsets of so many people in smaller, rural, Welsh communities around where I live and beyond. The fact that people feel compelled to criticise a movement with its foundations in equality makes it very clear that perspectives need to be changed. And it is the Welsh school system that lies at the heart of the problem. A complete overhaul of the curriculum we are taught in schools has never been so necessary; if we don’t know where we’re going wrong in what we’re saying and doing, we can’t bring about the radical change that is needed.


Over the centuries, the British government has consistently neglected and suppressed Welsh identities. In the mid-19th century, Welsh was demoted to the language of the crass and the uneducated by the British government in Wales’ schools. To improve pupils’ knowledge of English (considered the language of the educated middle class), some schools in Wales employed the ‘Welsh Not’ system. The ‘Welsh Not’ was a piece of wood on a string (often etched with W.N. or ‘Welsh Not’) given to a child who spoke Welsh in school to wear around the neck to dissuade children from speaking their native tongue. At the end of the school day or week, the child wearing the ‘Welsh Not’ would be punished, often with a beating. Though not in place in all schools, and not official government policy, its use was prevalent enough to be considered convention in the late Victorian era. To this day, remnants of the idea of the superiority of the English language persist.

The oppression experienced in Wales by the English is not solely confined to the Welsh language, nor is it confined to 19th century schools. Capel Celyn, a small rural community in the Tryweryn valley in North Wales, was flooded in 1965 to provide the city of Liverpool with water for industry. In displacing the residents of Capel Celyn, the flooding displaced an important, traditional, solely Welsh-speaking community. Forcing the residents to relocate undermined the value of the Welsh language and its heritage and subordinated the small community as well to the needs and whims of the larger nearby English city. This happened despite 35 of the 36 Welsh then-MPs voting against it (the 36th did not vote). The fact that Parliament directly opposed and overturned an effectively unanimous Welsh-MP decision not to flood the valley has become a national disgrace, and when it happened back in the tumultuous 1960s, it paved the way for the advancement of the fight for Welsh devolution. Today, there is a mural on a ruined old stone wall in Ceredigion, West Wales, stating ‘Cofiwch Dryweryn’ (Remember Tryweryn). The mural’s overtly political overtones mean that it has been subject to multiple instances of vandalism. In 2008, the words were altered to ‘Angofiwch Dryweryn’ (spelt incorrectly, but meaning ‘Forget Tryweryn’).[2] It was daubed over in black paint and covered by the word ‘Elvis’ in February 2019.[3] In April 2019 it was partly demolished. These are only a few examples of such instances. Each time, it has been repainted and rebuilt to retain its original form and message, to remind those who see and hear of it of the injustice suffered.

However, on the 30th June 2020, the mural was vandalised with a swastika and a white power symbol painted over the motto.

Undeniably a response to the international BLM protests, a vandal saw fit to denounce the ‘Cofiwch Dryweryn’ motto, itself a reminder of historical injustice, with symbols pertaining to racial supremacy and domination. It is an inherently paradoxical act which Elin Jones, Ceredigion’s Member of the Welsh Senedd (the Welsh Parliament), described very well as ‘disgusting’, ‘sinister and dangerous’.[4]

This is not an isolated event concerning race. Prior to the defacing of the mural, a black family living in North Wales suffered racial abuse in the form of a swastika painted on their garage door.[5] Since moving to the area 13 years ago, Margaret Ogunbanwo and her family have been subject to racial hatred in the form of damage to their property – a window in their house has been smashed and their car keyed.

In a similar vein, a café in my town of Cardigan (in Ceredigion, West Wales – south of the mural) came under fire on social media for displaying ‘Black Lives Matter’ and ‘Mae Bywydau Du o Bwys’ (the Welsh translation) posters in their window. The owners have defended their stance against numerous locals who state that they will not visit the café again as a result of its public display of support for BLM. The majority of the social media condemnation of the business is based on the misunderstanding that the ‘Black Lives Matter’ movement undermines the value of all other lives. This is the fundamentally flawed argument behind the trending hashtag ‘All Lives Matter’.

But where humanity has shown its very worst, there have also been positives. Protests and marches have been held in the very same towns and villages that have witnessed racial hatred. Margaret Ogunbanwo’s business was flooded with orders as people showed support following her family’s ordeal. Similarly, in Cardigan, the café has been inundated with positive messages of support. However, instead of positive reactions to incidents of hate, we should be quelling these instances in the first place. Racism is so entrenched in our societies that we don’t realise that acts of racial hatred shouldn’t have to happen in order for the subsequent positives to manifest.

Wales is less ethnically diverse than any area or region in England as per the 2011 census.[6] The smaller population and lower percentage of ethnic minorities as a fraction of the whole population drove the ONS to draft the original 2021 census with no option to tick Welsh & Black or Welsh & Minority Ethnic backgrounds; those identifying as both Welsh and BAME would have had to choose ‘British’ as their nationality because Welsh was only paired with white ethnicity. This has now been changed, but small acts like this, undermining the identities of BAME individuals, contribute to perpetuating systemic and covert racism in Wales.

The education system merely facilitates this erasure as it lacks any depth in matters of racial diversity, past or present. Parts of the Welsh curriculum within individual subjects address racial issues in America, for example, but these are always historic references. Coupled with the low racial diversity, this means that it is very easy for Welsh communities to announce that ‘there is no racism in Wales’ simply because they are not directly faced with it every day. This is not, of course, confined to Wales, but applies to any country or community where there is little racial diversity. In such circumstances, it is easy to proclaim that ‘I am not racist’ when, in reality, that proclamation is rarely tested. It’s a misconception that racism doesn’t exist in these instances, and if we look hard enough through the white veil under which we are taught in school, we must accept that we are complicit in covert and systemic ways.

Cardiff’s bay area, now named ‘Mermaid Quay’ was rebranded from the previous ‘Tiger Bay’ as part of the area’s redevelopment and gentrification at the turn of the millennium. According to a Wales Online article, ‘Tiger Bay was… a symbol of racial, ethnic, religious and ecumenical harmony’[7]. Cardiff is home to nearly half of Wales’ BAME population, but its recent rebranding has stripped the area of its multicultural heritage and history. Its population had been so diverse because Cardiff’s docklands welcomed an influx of immigrants in the 1950s to support the coal-works and the active port. When the docklands became derelict as coal trade diminished, systemic and entrenched racism did not allow for the retraining of Tiger Bay’s ethnic residents into other lucrative job sectors; instead, ethnic minorities were pushed out as part of its rebranding.[8] The gentrification of the entire area attracted mostly white residents and visitors at the expense of its historically diverse communities as house prices rose beyond what the previous communities were able to afford. To this day, this gentrification continues, resulting in a mass scattering of BAME groups in Cardiff from the areas in which they historically settled and made a living. After the coal trade slumped, it’s undeniable that the area was crying out for redevelopment; its old, empty warehouses were ugly, derelict reminders of its former booming industry. But in the redevelopment plans, there was no parallel desire to better the lives of the multicultural population already living there. Instead, a rich and white population was enticed to move in, displacing the previous residents that had kept Tiger Bay booming in its heyday.

We aren’t reminded of this every day because we don’t learn about it in school. White people aren’t reminded of it because they aren’t living its ruthless reality. And so long as predominantly white Welsh communities remain unaware and uninformed of the realities of the past and present, these racial injustices will continue to fly under the radar. This is especially the case if, like in cases of Tiger Bay’s gentrification, the racially charged changes are creeping and covert rather than overt abuse and violence.

The swastika and the white power symbol were swiftly removed from the ‘Cofiwch Dryweryn’ mural, with the repainted motto restored to its original glory, serving as a reminder of the injustice served to the rural community of Capel Celyn. However, it is not so easy to wipe away the racism prevalent in many Welsh communities. Pressure washing painted slurs off a mural is one thing; dismantling years of prejudice and lack of awareness of systemic racism is quite another. Whenever I see the ‘Cofiwch Dryweryn’ mural, it instils in me a nationalistic anger – an anger derived from years of historic injustice served to the Welsh. After its being vandalised with a swastika and a symbol of white power, I will now be doubly enraged whenever I see it. ‘Cofiwch Dryweryn’ will always remind me of injustice done to the Welsh community of Capel Celyn by Liverpool County Council. However, the mural and its message will now also remind me of the innumerable injustices served to black communities. The prejudices and hatred towards black communities and individuals are ones which the systems by which we live can all-too-easily perpetuate and repeat.

Our education system needs to change to reflect the fact that Wales has played its part in being complicit and active in perpetuating racism. When we discuss Patagonia, the Welsh colony in Argentina, it is with wonder and delight at there being another Welsh-speaking area in the world other than Wales itself. Because Welsh is a minority language, this is something to be celebrated. But we often don’t consider why Welsh is spoken by Patagonians. We don’t learn about the Welsh as colonisers, and we actively avoid the word ‘colonialism’; we learn of the ‘settlement’ in Patagonia as peaceful, virtuous and legitimate. We forget that ‘peaceful’ colonialism is still colonialism. What Lucy Taylor calls the ‘myth of friendship’[9] between the Welsh and the Patagonians glosses over the realities of how colonialism limits the livelihoods of those being colonised. Just because the Welsh have been oppressed by the English does not mean that the Welsh cannot actively and indirectly promote oppression over others. In light of current events, in light of current atrocities, and in light of past truths that have resurfaced, we would be wise to remember this.

Plaid Cymru has highlighted in the Senedd that education on Welsh and BAME history should be a compulsory part of the new curriculum being introduced in Wales, rather than subjects that can be taught at the discretion of individual teachers and schools. Teaching future generations about BAME history, and the systemic racism of Wales and Britain, is even more fundamental given the report commissioned by the Welsh Government examining the disproportionate effect of the COVID-19 pandemic on the BAME communities. The report suggested including BAME and Commonwealth history in the new National Curriculum for Wales in 2022 for primary and secondary students to promote anti-racist behaviour and attitudes and encourage cultural understanding.[10] A comprehensive study of the history of BAME communities and the Commonwealth in schools among the younger generations will go a long way in dismantling the structural racism in which white Welsh communities are complicit. Plaid Cymru’s argument is that Welsh and BAME history must be made compulsory because leaving the specifics of the teaching to the discretion of teachers and schools means that not every pupil will be able to learn about matters essential to shaping understanding citizens, essential to the makeup of a fair and equal society.

Welsh history goes beyond Wales being a part of Britain. We should think of Wales as a nation that has been oppressed, and as a nation that has oppressed. In the future, it should be neither of these things. Remembering Tryweryn and remembering Tiger Bay are not mutually exclusive. We shouldn’t make a choice to remember one; rather, we should remember both. Changing the course of history is impossible if we don’t acknowledge what we did wrongly in the past. A push to implement educational inclusivity and diversity in Welsh classrooms is the first step needed to dismantle narrow-minded views within our communities.

(Image rights: https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61744436 by Dafydd Tomos)


[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/history/sites/themes/society/language_education.shtml

[2] (“Anger over memorial wall attack”. BBC. 13 May 2008.),

[3] (“Drowned Tryweryn village slogan replaced by Elvis”. BBC. BBC News. 3 February 2019.)

[4] (https://nation.cymru/news/cofiwch-dryweryn-mural-vandalised-with-swastika-and-white-power-symbol/)

[5] (https://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales-news/swastika-painted-outside-black-familys-18416970)

[6] “ONS, “Ethnicity and National Identity in England and Wales 2011″, 2012, p.8”

[7] https://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales-news/why-tiger-bays-diverse-history-16088764

[8] https://exchangehotelcardiff.co.uk/blog/tiger-bay-history-cardiff-bay/

[9] Lucy Taylor (2019) The Welsh Way of Colonisation in Patagonia: The International Politics of Moral Superiority, The Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, 47:6, 1073-1099

[10] https://www.bbc.co.uk/cymrufyw/53241866

Oxford study declares face masks effective and calls for action

A new Oxford study from the Leverhulme Centre for Demographic Science has concluded that face coverings should be worn by everyone to limit the spread of coronavirus.

The study found that: “Next to hand washing and social distancing, face masks and coverings are one of the most of widely adopted non-pharmaceutical interventions for reducing the transmission of respiratory infections.”

The study investigated the effectiveness of different varieties of face masks coverings, including surgical and handmade types. It also compared policies regarding face masks internationally and studied behaviours surrounding usage.

Professor Melinda Mills, author of the study, said: “The evidence is clear that people should wear masks to reduce virus transmission and protect themselves, with most countries recommending the public to wear them. Yet clear policy recommendations that the public should broadly wear them has been unclear and inconsistent in some countries such as England.

“There is a general assumption that countries such as the UK, which have no culture or history of mask wearing, will not rapidly adopt them. But this just doesn’t hold when we look at the data. As of late April, mask-wearing was up to 84% in Italy, 66% in the US and 64% in Spain, which increased almost immediately after clear policy recommendations and advice was given to the public.”

However, not all face coverings are equal. Coverings which are loosely woven, such as scarves, are the least effective.

Professor Mills explained: “The general public does not need to wear surgical masks or respirators. We find that masks made from high quality material such as high-grade cotton, multiple layers and particularly hybrid constructions are effective. For instance, combining cotton and silk or flannel provide over 95% filtration, so wearing a mask can protect others.”

The study also concluded that clear and consistent policies, along with public messaging, are key to the adoption of face masks and coverings by the public.

Image created by Laura Makaltses for United Nations Global Call Out To Creatives.

Oxford UCU launches face mask drive for University staff

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Oxford University and College Union (Oxford UCU) has launched a drive for volunteers to produce face coverings for University staff, in collaboration with Oxford Mutual Aid and Living Wage Oxford.

The launch of the mask drive for staff followed Oxford University’s announcement that masks will be compulsory for face-to-face teaching from October.

Oxford UCU tweeted: “We are pleased to see our persistence on the use of face coverings for face-to-face teaching and in indoor shared spaces being heard. The University of Oxford has announced that these will be required from October.

“We hope they will also be provided, and don’t understand why they are not required straight away with return to onsite working.”

The Oxford University website states: “From the start of the new academic year, face coverings will be required during face-to-face teaching and in indoor shared spaces, with exceptions for both individuals and settings where they are not appropriate (for example on grounds of disability). Details on how this will operate will be consulted on.”

Oxford Mutual Aid volunteers have been producing masks since April. As of mid-June, they had produced over 700 reusable machine-washing masks. Recipients include NHS workers, care home staff, teachers, refugees, and refugee workers in Calais.

A motion has been proposed at St Anne’s College to donate £100 to Oxford Mutual Aid to support their mask drive.

The motion believes: “1. Workers should be provided with adequate PPE if they are required to come into the workplace. 2. It is important to support community projects which are trying to fill the gaps left by employers and local government. 3. The whole community benefits from workers being protected and feeling safe at work.”

A recent study by the Oxford Leverhulme Centre for Demographic Science concluded that face coverings are effective and should be part of public health recommendations.

Following the debate ignited by these findings, the UK government announced that face coverings will be compulsory in shops from 24th July. People not wearing coverings may face a £100 fine.

Oxford UCU and the University of Oxford have been contacted for comment.

Gastronomy and Gratitude

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We are finally here. After 105 days of lockdown, restaurants in England are reopening, signalling the first major milestone since restrictions began to ease. Of course, inessential shops have been open since 15th June, but clinking glasses over a clothing rail doesn’t quite have the same charm or sense of victory. Living in Wales, this long-awaited ‘cheers’ which symbolises so much hope, patience and struggle, will have to wait a little longer but I’m sure that, despite the twitch in my eye, I can be happy for Englanders and their newly found freedom. 

It will be difficult to predict the public’s reaction to such an easing of restrictions, but if my recent trip to Liverpool is any indicator, people will be overjoyed to return to normality as restaurants were not merely open, but busy. It was surreal and heart-warming to see people wandering un-masked through the streets, passing restaurant after café after pub, each embracing al fresco dining, creating a street brimming with long-awaited pedestrian chatter and cooking aromas. Such scenes, under the July sun, almost made up for the cancelled foreign holidays and reminded me of the joys of British summer.

Saying this, the idea that welsh eateries can reopen from the 13th July on the condition of outside dining is slightly laughable – it is with good reason that al fresco dining still eludes Wales: diners would have the menus wrenched from their hands in the gale-force winds and any starter would be long since saturated with rain before reaching the tables. Nevertheless, be it inside or gallantly in a pub garden, I’m sure the British public will seize the opportunity to drink anywhere but their sofa and eat anything but homemade banana bread. Perhaps the relief of returning to a semblance of normality will breed a new appreciation and gratitude for the service and catering staff who make this possible. 

All media attention so far has documented how consumers will be affected by the changes to restaurant procedure, detailing the 1 metre plus rule, the introduction of disposable menus, as well as the customer trackability system. However, little mention has been given to how these measures, as well as simply the difficulty of returning to full-time work, will affect restaurant staff. Unlike office workers who have been able to pretend to work from home, catering and service staff have been without any form of work since March, so a sudden return to full-time employment must be daunting. The pastry staff in a restaurant where I once had work experience were present for both lunch and dinner service, meaning work started at 9am in preparation for lunch, a three-hour break was allowed after lunch service, and then dinner preparations and service continued until midnight. One young chef lived sufficiently far from the restaurant as to make the journey home during his mid-day break pointless, so his working day was 15 hours. Returning to work after a three-month break would be difficult in any industry, but for the all-consuming nature of the hospitality industry, restaurants reopening and the prospect of returning to work must be additionally alarming. 

As a waitress in sixth form, I would complain endlessly about ungrateful and entitled customers who seemed to find pleasure in complaining about anything, and as their first point of reference, service staff would receive the initial and most enraged grief. However, the really thankless jobs lie in the kitchen: though customers complain, they can often be complimentary and friendly. Kitchen staff see none of this. They do not hear the laughter in the restaurant to know their work is worthwhile, they remain in the same hot environment with the same faces every day. They are sworn at when mistakes are made but are rarely praised when tasks are executed perfectly. They are underpaid and overworked, and maybe in light of our recent restaurant deprivation, this is something that everyone can begin to appreciate as we return to their warm and inviting atmospheres and realise how much we missed them.

Whilst the restaurant scene will look very different for the foreseeable future, this may be a cause for celebration rather than concern; restaurants may finally be rid of the self-appointed critics. Customers might adopt a more appreciative and grateful attitude to those that work in restaurants, and rather than complain at the slightly slower than lighting speed service or the ‘cold’ food that somehow manages to steam, they may simply acknowledge how hard restaurant staff work, how difficult it must be to return to their work, and how much their industry is an important part of our lives.

Image Credit via Narcissa

Oxford startup wins global prize for female entrepreneurship

Oxford’s Intelligent Lab on Fiber, known as the iLoF, has received $1 million through Microsoft’s Female Founders Program after winning a global competition for female-led businesses.

iLoF, an Oxford-based firm, was co-founded by Mehak Mumtaz, Joana Paiva, and Paula Sampaio. iLoF uses artificial intelligence to speed up the development of drugs to treat Alzheimer’s.

It has created a “cloud-based library of disease biomarkers”, which drastically reduces the cost and time of drug discovery.  While iLoF is currently working specifically on Alzheimer’s, the aim of the startup is to “bring the power of this technology to other diseases.”

In response to their win, iLoF said: “We are delighted and honoured to be selected as a winner from such truly outstanding and inspiring women-led deep tech companies from all over the globe.

“We are excited to welcome M12 and Mayfield to the next phase of our journey to enable a new era of personalised treatments for patients. This investment will be used to accelerate our collaboration with industry partners for developing precise treatments for Alzheimer’s disease as well as expanding the platform to additional disease areas including Oncology.”

The Female Founders Program is run by Microsoft, and the prize money comes from its M12, Mayfield and Pivotal Ventures. The aim of the program is to accelerate funding for female entrepreneurs. Each year, four women-led companies receive a total of $6 million in funding, along with access to technology, resources, mentoring and other benefits.

This year, the other three winners were Huue, a firm specialising in “biotechnology to create the world’s most sustainable dyes.” Deployed, which uses AI to spot weaknesses in contract law; and Webee, which uses AI to increase the “efficiency of industrial operations”.

Image provided by iLoF.

The future of bookshops is more uncertain than ever

Blackwells is one of my favourite spots in Oxford: the big Waterstones on the corner is another. Bookshops are the place I go when I feel lost. When I don’t know what to do with myself or what direction I should be heading, walking into a shop filled with books is my therapy of choice.

Part of that might be my inner English Literature geek being thrilled that I’m allowing her to escape, even as an Economics student in the middle of term. Bookshops have always had a calming influence on me and I like to walk out with a newfound book I can take back to college and read for an afternoon.

Roaming along the bookshelves, as they stretch around the shop, forces me to slow down and take a deep breath. Take it from me, booksellers can stare just as well, or better, than a librarian if you go above the average speed. Instead you’re expected to wander around with a wayward, yet determined, purpose as you search for the book you either need, want, or don’t know you need yet.

For me, the cover is important to get a feel for what the book is going to be like or how the marketing team wants you to imagine it. To save me from making an unwelcome choice, I check out the blurb to test if it draws me in. If I’m still unsure about whether to invest or not, I then open the book on a random page and read a couple of sentences. If the style gels with me, I know it’s a winner. One swipe of my phone later and my afternoon plans are made.

Given that Covid-19 has upended most norms of how we go about our lives, it seems a little naïve that I was waiting for the day I could roam free in a bookshop again. Understandably, my local independent bookshop is only taking book requests via Instagram, Facebook and the odd phone call. Unfortunately, there’s only so many times I can bear asking if they have a book when the likelihood they do is low and orders take a few weeks to arrive. Our DMs are a sad and guilt-inducing affair.

As a larger organisation, Waterstones is unsurprisingly re-opening across the country, and is beginning to upend the traditional methods of bookshops. One of the most interesting changes to a booklover is the way they are displaying books, showcasing covers and blurbs side by side! You no longer have to pick it up to consider it’s relative merits, merely match the cover to the blurb on the two corresponding displays.

Whilst there are digital alternatives to browsing books such as the “look inside” and “other customers looked at” features on Amazon, these have not yet developed to the point where they can entirely replicate the experience of browsing. I find I can’t underestimate the value of a fellow booklover’s opinion and recommendations. Either by tags stuck under the books, the carefully-constructed display tables, or simply asking someone who works there, I’ve often found something I never would have picked out online but that I absolutely loved.

In an interview with The Guardian, the chief executive of Waterstones stated that they expect consumer behaviour to change as they reopen and that people will not be “just coming to while away the hours but generally they are going to pick up books”. Whilst I understand the commercial desire for this (more sales equals more money), I fear that they will lose some of their charm, as bookshops make changes to encourage this natural shift in behaviour to stick.

The bookselling industry has evolved greatly over the last few years. Amazon and other online retailers deliver books to your house, or you can download an e-book in seconds.  There are two main responses that most bookshops seem to take: competing on a price basis (Blackwell’s student price-match scheme is an example of this) or relying more upon the experience they give their customers to generate loyalty. In my opinion, browsing is what gives bookshops this key experience.

Personally, I like a classic brick-and-mortar store. I enjoy being amongst books; to be able to figure out whether it’s the book for me in seconds in a way that I often find I can’t through online reviews and summaries. However, in the wake of Covid-19, it remains to be seen whether bookshops will continue to encourage our love of browsing.

Instagram and BLM: Is it better to say the wrong thing or nothing at all?

Tag five people to share a baby photo! Tag five people to draw a carrot! Tag 10 people to do as many toilet roll kick ups as they can! Tag 10 people to share the #blacklivesmatter hashtag! Don’t break the chain!

Global lockdown brought with it a slew of social media challenges, designed to serve as a means of inane distraction from the boredom and solitude of isolation, and helping participants feel relevant and connected. In short, these challenges are, for the most part, self-serving. This is not a bad thing; these little trends, taking up a few minutes of a monotonous day and forming a small link with those we’re currently removed from, can be indispensable, considering the toll the collateral impact of COVID-19 has had on mental wellbeing.

And so, when people jumped on these trends, social media helped to grant a short reprieve from the fact that we were, for the most part, at home, sitting on our sofas and doing nothing. However, when people so easily translated the style of challenges used to draw carrots into the language of social justice, things went wrong. The merging of frivolous challenges with serious issues during the height of the Black Lives Matter movement was not just short-sighted, it was insulting, trivialising the matters at hand by putting the online self before real consideration of the issue. In brief, the oppression of human lives is not a trend, and should not be treated as such.

As a mixed race person, I was quite horrified to see white friends (please do correct me if anyone has seen black participation in this) posting a chain of account names, all of whom simply saw that they were tagged, pressed a button to share it to their own story, and added the hashtag #blacklivesmatter (well, many people actually forgot this latter part). If one were to ignore their tag, they would be ‘breaking the chain’. To think that the BLM movement, for some, was interacted with in the same manner as so many asinine social media trends, hints at quite an upsetting level of detachment, with performative action allowing one to feel involved, while avoiding any genuine examination of the controversy at hand.

This was soon followed by #blackouttuesday, in which people posted black squares in an attempt to create a day devoid of selfies or food pics, compelling the acknowledgement of the movement by all those on social media. This was, by all intents and purposes, meant to do good, and it was certainly nice to see so much mass participation, but, again, the trend circumvented its true purpose. The amount of people tagging their squares #blacklivesmatter despite urges not to do so clogged the search for that hashtag, which had previously been used by organisers to share details of protest dates and locations, police presences, and general information needed to keep people safe and informed (this – the 2nd June – was at the height of police and military action against protests in the U.S.). This begged a question: if someone was able to pick up their phone and share a black square, could they not hold onto their phone for just a little bit longer, and instead share some information that they had read and found useful; or sign and share a protest; or choose and donate to a charity or fund?

However, to have jumped on an unhelpful trend like this in the past, does not make a person racist or wilfully ignorant; the beauty of social media during this movement is its emphasis on self-assessment, allowing us to recognise that prior usage has been performative or lacking, and to rectify that in the future. It is quite mollifying that BLM has, for the most part, risen above ‘cancel culture’, and instead has given the everyday person opportunities for reflection and development, which is far more forgiving and unifying. No one is perfect in their anti-racism or their use of social media, and this movement is granting us all the scope to appraise our own actions in order to better help those around us. This is, I think, where we have seen the best of social media. An emphasis on learning has been helpful for all, with plenty of accounts rising to create educational material, all of which can be easily consumed and shared. This is vital: whether it’s facts about Britain’s oft-underplayed links with slavery; the reality of systemic racism; or even humble lessons on how to admit one’s own flaws, be open to being wrong, and apologise and move forwards. The impact of this has brought a rawness and openness to an often-artificial platform, with people sharing personal experiences, their current journeys, and their future aims to a communicative and responsive audience.

Now, many social media feeds are returning back to normal. This seems inevitable, but it shouldn’t be, and as long as social injustice is prevalent, we all have a duty to make sure that the environment of learning, listening, and advancing remains a reality in our online worlds. If that one influencer shared a black square and then immediately went back to marketing their jewellery, consider following new, informative accounts. If everything you’ve been reading or sharing comes from solely white Instagrammers, consider filling your feed with more black and minority voices. If you personally have felt your interest in the movement wane, remember that it is not over, and actively search out things to learn and do every day; don’t fall silent. In this era of online communication, in which everyone is encouraged to join the conversation, it is easy to say or do something wrong. However, it is also easy to accept that, apologise, and do better in the future. Being anti-racist requires active participation, and so the only real way to fall short is to not speak out at all.

Trinity: A Term out of Touch

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I feel almost as if online Trinity didn’t happen. Eight weeks compressed into one blurry piece of recent history. I can’t get a grip on it; it feels like a distant abstraction, a fever-dream. I couldn’t tell one week from the next. The components of Trinity 2020 were approximately 15 zoom calls and a pervasive sense of disappointment. Not to be dramatic. 

In a normal term, every day is charged with some feeling of significance. Fifth week has a different feel to fourth week. A Tuesday has a definitive texture, an entirely different consistency to a Friday. I can tell it’s a Thursday because for every day that I’m in Oxford, I’m in sync with the elaborate, intricate steps of the term-time routine – albeit a chaotic, manic tarantella of deadlines and events, library days and days most certainly not in the library, ecstatic happiness and existential crises. Trinity this year was just some sad solo dance where I forgot all the steps and ran off stage crying.

Normally so much happens in a week. Time is precious – something to be utilised, raced against, organised. It’s a balancing act, compressing work and then everything else into each week like a game of Tetris. Academia and social life can both (I tell myself) exist in abundance, mutually uncompromised. Knowing I have something exciting happening in a few hours entirely streamlines my focus to completing the task at hand. It’s hardly a revolutionary realisation – we fill the time we have. With seemingly endless time on offer during lockdown, the moments lost their glimmer, their appeal. In that way, time might be compared to the boys I liked in my first year: I’m not interested in it unless it’s uncertain, (emotionally) unavailable, and fleeting. Another way to understand this analogy would simply be to google ‘Parkinson’s Law’. An adrenaline filled day of essay writing feels miles more productive than a week of moping in locked-down Trinity. In a normal term I’m working with constant incentives (distractions, incentives – same thing): these had to be recalibrated during lockdown. Instead of celebrating a completed week of deadlines at Bridge, the reward was watching another episode of Downton Abbey with my parents (the melodrama simply relocated from the cheese-floor to the on-screen Edwardian dinner parties). 

Something about the Oxford environment feeds an insatiable part of me that wants to have her cake and eat it. There is an intoxicating happening-ness about it. Busyness can be a perfect medium for productiveness. During lockdown, all I wanted was another nap and a series to binge watch. I have never felt so unproductive. I was baking a lot of banana bread, but in the metaphorical sense I wasn’t eating much cake.

I felt slow. Detached. Out of touch. I love my tutors – they’re supportive, understanding, positive – but ultimately their existence in Trinity felt like mere pixels on my dell’s glitchy screen. I used to find classes energising and exciting; even if I wasn’t happy with the points I’d made, even if it seemed our entire class had rolled out of bed 20 minutes before and still smelt of regret and nightclub. I was sat amongst my classmates, whom I greatly admired, whose points I bounced off and found inspiring. Virtual classes were different. It was easy to zone out (zoom out?) of a zoom call, to focus on the wall behind my laptop while the shaky audios of the call oscillated in and out of Wi-Fi strength. I wanted to stop this streaming subscription and tune back in when the experience was more in the corporeal, real-life mode. Most things in the country seemed to be on pause but precious, treasured time at university kept ticking past. And it felt so selfish to feel sad about this when others were experiencing greater loss to far more than their social calendar.

In many ways this online Trinity taught me a lot about gratitude; I realised how much I had to be thankful for. Firstly, for a family that tolerated my near constant bad mood and unremitting conversation centring on what I was missing in Oxford. I now realise that missing something is in its own way a privilege; it shows what you had was something you treasured. I was definitely erring on the side of over-romanticising the past, but I’ll forgive myself because it was in the midst of a pandemic and we all had our coping mechanisms. I became an obsessive consumer – not only of the news (I heard if you google ‘when will there be a coronavirus vaccine’ enough times they find one!!), but of my own memories. I felt like an old woman with her stories, recounting for the fifth time some unfunny anecdote to my by-then-worn-out and unsympathetic brother.

A term online made me realise all the tiny things I value about university. How two minute conversations outside the library brighten my day, how speaking to the porters always puts me in a better mood. I miss casual, friendly faces around college – people who I don’t keep in regular contact with, but whose presence always feels uplifting. With everyone at university together there is a strengthening, motivating solidarity; we are all there for the same thing. Other people’s focus intensifies yours – probably why libraries are a great idea (Corpus library, you may be dark and uncomfortable, but you have my heart!). Time off doesn’t feel unproductive and anti-climactic because rather than re-watching ‘The Vampire Diaries’ in the same pyjamas you’ve been in since lockdown began (just a general, non-personalised example), you’re spending it with friends.

Trinity term was based on the premise that ‘university’ is synonymous with ‘learning’. As long as our education remained untouched, we could still call Trinity term a ‘term’. But the education we receive at university is for so many of us so much more than what we learn in our classes and tutorials. Oxford isn’t just its outstanding teaching. Oxford is in other people. It’s in our friends, our community, the faces around the city. It’s in the lessons we learn outside of our books as well. ‘Doing Oxford’ (as my mum called it if she interrupted me working) from within the four walls of my childhood bedroom – unsurprisingly – didn’t feel the same.

I think Trinity was a lonely term. Oxford is fast-paced and hard work, but we’re all doing it together. It was hard to remember that, sat miles apart from friends, staring at a notification from zoom telling me it’s ‘connecting’, feeling more disconnected than ever.

Matriculation ceremony cancelled for Michaelmas 2020

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In-person matriculation has been cancelled for the 2020-21 academic year, Oxford University has confirmed to students. It will be replaced with a ‘Formal Welcome’ from the Vice-Chancellor in a virtual event.

Matriculation is usually compulsory and takes place in the Sheldonian Theatre, involving all undergraduates and post-graduates about to start studying for an Oxford degree. It marks the formal entry of students into the University.

A spokesperson for the University said: “We are committed to ensuring students have an authentic Oxford experience in spite of COVID-19, and are working to ensure that some of the more traditional aspects of University life continue.

“For example, new students usually become members of the University through a formal matriculation ceremony at the Sheldonian Theatre. This year students will instead attend a Formal Welcome to the University by the Vice-Chancellor event online, incorporating many of the traditions of the existing ceremony, but in a virtual form.”

This news follows announcements that Oxford colleges are preparing for “household” accommodation groups and that teaching through Michaelmas Term will have significant virtual elements. The University has also announced virtual elements will supplement social and extra-curricular events as well as teaching.

Prof Martin Williams, Pro-Vice-Chancellor (Education) at Oxford University, said: “The Oxford University experience is unlike any other. We want all our students to enjoy Oxford’s academic and social opportunities as fully as possible, and these plans will help them to do so within the constraints of the ongoing pandemic. Our commitment to supporting our students includes their health and wellbeing and the quality of their experience.

“We are working closely with the colleges and student representatives to achieve this balance. We will take active steps to ensure all students can access Oxford’s enriching opportunities regardless of their background or personal circumstances. For example, Oxford SU is planning a virtual version of its Freshers’ Fair, giving new and returning students the chance to engage in their wider student community, and find out about the wide range of clubs and societies and local organisations that support students.”

History of Ideas: talking politics and escaping science

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I started listening to History of Ideas out of terror – not to be dramatic – that my chemistry degree would turn me into an unworldly hermit. I could recite (most of) the periodic table and rattle off a list of scientific buzzwords, but any debate about the ideas behind modern politics had me stumped. The other motive was to shut my mum up; she was already three episodes in and had a quickly developing intellectual crush on David Runciman. I just wish I could study with him, she’d swoon at the dinner table. Inevitably this made my dad jealous enough to start listening to it too, and soon all three of us were marching across the park on our daily allowed exercise, earphones in ears, demolishing each episode as it was released.

History of Ideas is a spinoff from David Runciman’s main podcast: Talking Politics. In each of its twelve episodes, he hones in on an influential piece of writing and the political theorist behind it. Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan (1650), written in the midst of the English Civil War, marks the start of Runciman’s progression through the centuries. Discussion topics shift from patriarchy to the market, from sexual politics to nonviolence, from colonialism to liberty. He finishes just after the fall of the Berlin Wall, with American philosopher Fukuyama’s The End of History and the Last Man (1992).

This podcast is a godsend. It’s like a crash course in ideology, philosophical chat with a friend and yogic meditation all rolled into one. And it’s accessible – take this from someone who, until very recently, wanted to be swallowed up by the ground as soon as a conversation got political. I’d tried similar podcasts, but found many of them fast-paced, a little self-indulgent and too assuming of prior knowledge. Runciman, though, starts from scratch. His words are digestible, and he constantly returns to and builds on thoughts from previous episodes. Forty-five minutes is the perfect length for that lockdown walk you couldn’t convince another family member to join you on. No pausing or rewinding is needed – you trust him to get you lost in that mesmeric learning trance, just as you trust that he’ll eventually make a link that nudges everything into place. 

Among my favourites was episode 3, in which Runciman uses Benjamin Constant’s The Liberty of Ancients Compared with that of Moderns to discuss different types of freedom: collective versus individualistic, positive versus negative. I also loved episode 9, where Hannah Arendt’s The Human Condition introduces the playoff between labour, work and action. I would have had trouble distinguishing between these words before, but now I understand their crucial differences: labour as the relentless, cyclical pursuit of what we need to stay alive; work as the production of ‘artefacts’ that exist beyond our lifespan; action as the world of narrative and communication, where we seek to make something of ourselves and of humanity. Runciman talks about the interplay of these three domains of activity, their co-dependence, and how important their balance is to politics.

It goes without saying that, when your ‘reading list’ consists of several ten-centimetre-thick textbooks full of hexagons, this is as compelling as it gets. But History of Ideas should appeal to everyone; the veteran just as much as the layperson. Despite starting from scratch, Runciman quickly builds a sophisticated argument that, as I’m told by the reviews, also challenges those familiar with the subject. And there’s something to be said for the intimacy of a podcast; an intimacy unrivalled by the lecture theatre, and even by the tutorial.

Above all, this podcast beautifully encapsulates an ideological journey. It has a clear starting point: 1650, where Hobbes threatened that a state without a sovereign would descend into chaos and confusion. And it has a clear end point: the 1990s, where the triumph of liberal democracy, as Fukuyama said, marked the end of history and the beginning of a modern utopia (of sorts). At risk of sounding clichéd, I would say that History of Ideas was an integral part of my own journey; one towards engaging a bit more with the world. It certainly made those Guardian comment articles slightly less intimidating. So, if you’re also a frustrated scientist, or if you’re not, but are still in need of some podcast escapism, I would urge you to give it a listen. If anything has punctuated my lockdown experience, it has been this.