Thursday 11th September 2025
Blog Page 443

Lockdown Eats: Shakshouka, five ways

Tara Mewawalla
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Lockdown Eats: Shakshouka, five ways

Shakshouka is the ultimate comfort food. It is indulgent, filling and satisfying all in one!

It is uncertain where the dish originated; some food historians argue it was Yemen while others claim it was borne out of the Ottoman Empire.

A hearty, affordable dish it is a family favourite, especially as it only needs one pan.

Shakshouka is traditionally made up of eggs cooked in tomato sauce and peppers, sometimes with herbs, cheese and other flavours, and often with bread meant for dipping.

The dish, with a name meaning ‘all mixed up’ in the Tunisian Arabic dialect, is perfect for experimenting. You really can’t go wrong!

My go-to recipe is at downshiftology.com as it’s super simple, only involves one pan and needs pretty standard ingredients.

In basic terms, you cook a diced onion, a sliced pepper and four garlic cloves until aromatic and soft; then add in the spices (cumin, paprika, chilli powder). Next, pour in a can of crushed tomatoes, season, and bring to a simmer; and finally, making small wells in the sauce, crack six eggs into your mix and cook to your liking.

Here are five ways you can spice up the dish:

  • Cheese! My favourite addition is cubes of feta stirred into the sauce before the eggs and then crumbled on top. Another option is frying up some halloumi in crispy sticks that you can dip into the tomato sauce.
  • Make it vegan… Swap out the eggs and feta for aubergine (add it in with the pepper), tofu and peas; stir in frozen peas and tofu seasoned with salt, pepper and cumin when you would’ve introduced the eggs. Cook until the tofu is heated, and peas have defrosted, then serve with toasted bread.
  • Go green! This puts a healthy spin on the original recipe, packing it with micronutrients. Instead of pepper, add in shaved brussels sprouts and chopped courgette, and then baby spinach after 4-5 minutes. Crack in your eggs and garnish with fresh cilantro and sliced avocado.
  • Hot hot hot! A sure-fire way to make this dish interesting is to increase the spice intake; you can do this with adding more paprika or chilli powder, or if you’re feeling brave add in freshly chopped green or red chillies. Be prepared with some yogurt or rice for this one!
  • Ultimate comfort… for this we’re adding in extra carbs for good measure. Either replace or supplement the pepper with rice or potatoes (or both!) adding them in at the same time as the seasonings. Heat up some garlic bread and you’re ready to go!

Images by Tara Mewawalla

Pandemic Perspectives: Texas

Audrey Black
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Pandemic Perspectives: Texas

When the mayor of Austin declared a “local disaster” on 6th March and cancelled the Texan film festival “South by Southwest”, the rapidly developing COVID-19 crisis still did not seem real to many Texans. It was one of the first major events to be cancelled, and a startling indication that what was happening globally was not going to just pass us by with ease. 

Citizens, particularly in a predominately conservative state like Texas, looked to the President for guidance. Trump was at that point downplaying the virus to the public, making statements like: “Just stay calm. It will go away,” and “It’s going to disappear. One day, it’s like a miracle, it will disappear.”

On 11th March the World Health Organisation declared a global pandemic, and the White House suspended travel from most European countries, not including the United Kingdom. I had been advised the day before to stay in the country for Oxford’s six-week break in order to avoid being unable to return for Trinity term. However, once the travel ban was implemented, I had to make immediate plans to return home to Dallas. 

A friend of mine happened to be on the same flight back. Without thinking, we went to hug each other hello before remembering why we were taking a last-minute flight home and stopped ourselves. While we were in the air, the White House banned travel to the UK. The pilot told us we would have to wait on board for a team of medics. However, after about 40 minutes, they let us disembark without any medics arriving. It was clear that no one knew quite what was going on. 

I quarantined in my childhood bedroom for the next 14 days. At this point, many young Americans were celebrating their spring break with parties and trips to beaches. Some of my friends and acquaintances were confused when I explained that I was self isolating and could not see them for the time being. Given the polarising opinions and advice being presented to Americans at the time from the President and media outlets, it is unsurprising that people were unsure of the gravity of the situation. 

The first Texan citizen died of COVID-19 on 17th March. An outbreak traced to a spring break trip soon followed. At first, American colleges and universities announced that students would return home temporarily. One by one over the next few weeks, universities confirmed that there would be no in-person spring semester and asked students to prepare for online courses and online graduation. 

On 25th March, President Trump declared a state of emergency for Texas. Governor Greg Abbott issued a social distancing order, telling Texans to only leave the house for essentials tasks. Though Governor Abbott refused to term the order a “stay at home” order, he acknowledged that the order was functioning like a shelter in place order. His aversion to this terminology was likely to avoid upsetting his constituents, a good deal of whom are anti-mask and anti-social distancing. Despite his efforts, people gathered in large groups to protest the order. At this point, wearing masks was encouraged but not enforced.

In early April, the CDC began officially encouraging Americans to wear masks when leaving the house. By 4th April, there were over 100 confirmed fatalities due to coronavirus in Texas. 

Governor Abbott began publicly discussing his desire to re-open the state soon after the shut down. On 8th May, hairdressers and nail salons were permitted to open with social distancing regulations. Bars, restaurants, and gyms soon followed. On 3rd June, Texas entered a new phase of reopening. Most businesses were permitted to operate at 50 percent of their maximum occupancy. On 21st June, restaurants were permitted to operate at 75 percent capacity and outdoor sports resumed. In the following week, Texas experienced three days in a row of record high numbers of new cases. Governor Abbott began rolling back some facets of the latest reopening, closing bars and rafting businesses, and requiring government approval for gatherings of 100 or more people. However, numbers continued to rise. It was not until 2nd July that Abbott mandated wearing masks in public through an executive order. Even now, the state’s new cases and daily fatalities continue to increase. 

National leadership has been disorganized and vastly unhelpful. The President has made confusing and out of touch statements to the media about the virus, like promoting untested medications and suggesting people should ingest disinfectant. President Trump refused to be photographed in a mask until 11th July because he did not like the way it looked. His rejection of the mask fuels conspiracy theories and a dangerous culture war. In many conservative areas, people are challenged by others for wearing masks while in public. The mask is seen as a political statement instead of a necessary safety measure. 

Depending on what media a person chooses to consume, a person’s opinion on the validity of masks and the pandemic itself can vary greatly. I know people who refuse to go to the grocery store, even with a mask, and I know of people who have been throwing pool parties every other weekend. Recently, I ran into a maskless neighbor while out on a walk, and she attempted to hug me hello. When I declined and remained six feet away, she seemed genuinely confused. 

We of course have a responsibility to wear masks and follow social distancing protocols. Those who ignore these measures entirely are endangering themselves and others. However, the existence of such a large group of anti-mask protesters is an indication of federal failure rather than simply individual failure. The President has encouraged conspiracy theories from the start, calling the virus the Democrat’s “new hoax” in February. His inability to acknowledge the reality and severity of the virus has culminated in states filled with his followers facing staggering death tolls and overwhelmed medical facilities. The current state of COVID-19 in Texas is ultimately a failure of federal and local leadership. 

Illustration by Francesca Nava

Football’s hyperinflation: Is it robbing us of a generation of players?

Bailey Kavanagh
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Football’s hyperinflation: Is it robbing us of a generation of players?

Gareth Bale makes quite a lot of money. Scratch that – Gareth Bale makes a ridiculous amount of money. His most recent contract is estimated to be costing his employers, Real Madrid, £30 million a year. Since November 2016, Bale has been reportedly been sitting on a gross salary of around £600,000 a week, and will continue to do so until June 2022.

The fact that there’s money to be made at the top levels of football isn’t surprising, and complaining about how much money Gareth Bale is earning isn’t particularly insightful. At the same time, there is an undeniable upwards trend in the values of the contracts mega-star footballers are signing, and this is starting to create a novel problem for players, clubs and fans alike. As pay packets swell, the number of clubs who can afford these superstars is shrinking. Top clubs are getting caught holding long, expensive contracts they don’t want anymore, and they’re struggling to find anyone with the cash to take on their dodgy deals.

The upshot? A set of uber-talented athletes trapped at clubs that don’t want them, while few other clubs have the money to sign them. Some of the flashiest, most talented players of their generation are wasting away on the benches, all because they’ve been put on overly-lucrative contracts that no-one wants to break.

Gareth Bale played 1,209 minutes of football last season. There will be avid college footballers who have played as much Cuppers football in the same time frame. In the 49 weeks it has taken him to rack up his 1,209 minutes, he’ll have earned around 29 million quid. This season, for every minute of football Madrid have gotten out of Bale, they’ve spent somewhere in the region of 24 grand. Gareth Bale could pay off an entire undergraduate’s degree worth of student loans with just two minutes of playing time. It’s worth noting that these figures probably aren’t exact– clubs are understandably reticent to tell us how they compensate their star players. They do however, give us a sense of which ballpark they’re working in.

There is no denying that Bale is talented. He’s a four-time Champions League winner, three-time World Club Cup winner, and has racked up 105 goals and 68 assists in 251 games since his arrival in the Spanish capital. He was a central figure in Madrid’s winning of back-to-back-to-back Champions Leagues, scoring twice in the 2018 final, the first time the trophy has ever been won three times in a row by the same club. When Bale signed on for his bumper new deal, few took issue with him being at the top of the wage bill, nor did many object to putting him on a six-year contract that would take him into the twilight of his career. This contract would serve to ‘protect the value of the asset’ and prevent clubs from poaching one of the most effective and marketable players on the planet.

The issue is that he’s now 31, seemingly on the decline, and has become even more injury-prone than he used to be; a player renowned for his electric pace who seems to tear a muscle every time he reaches his top speed. What’s more, Real Madrid have re-hired Zinedine Zidane as manager, a coach with seemingly so much contempt for Bale that the club’s inability to sell him was reportedly part of the reason he quit the job the first-time round. Bale’s time in Madrid is now more frequently marked by his disputes with his boss and touchline petulance than any eye-catching performances on the pitch. This is a problem not only for the distracting media attention the alienation of a figure as prominent as Bale brings, but also because Gareth Bale simply costs too much money not to use.

In most cases, if a player fell out of favour with their club, they would simply move on. This is where the issue lies. Top contracts have become so inflated that when a superstar falls out of favour, there is nowhere for them to go. The list of clubs who can afford to take Bale on at his current salary is very short, and the few that can afford it won’t particularly want an aging star whom their rivals have deemed to be not fit for the top tiers of European football anymore.

Bale, if he were desperate to play football, could take a hefty pay cut, but he is under no obligation to: he has signed a contract to be paid for six years, and as long as he continues to make himself available for selection, has every right to remain at the club and collect what he is due. Choosing to put football on the backburner is an option he is free to choose, and there is only so much sympathy to be had for a footballer who is given extra time off to enjoy the sight of his fortune swelling by £350,000 every week. There’s a quote from another former Galatico, Claude Makelele, who, when he was having a tough time at Chelsea, would say “I just look at my bank account and smile”. Gareth Bale has apparently chosen this option.

The inflation in the value and length of the contracts top players are being handed has made this an easier choice to make. There is a growing contingent of talented, mercurial stars who have earned contracts so long and lucrative that falling out with their club, teammates, and supporters is simply easier than playing their football elsewhere. The most prominent example of this is Mesut Özil who, since being handed a panic-driven contract the size of Bale’s by Arsenal, has seemingly fallen off the face of the Earth. Whatever happens to his sporting career now, Özil’s bank balance will grow healthier by the week, so long as he commits to sitting through every day of the three-year contract extension, and not a day less.

Alexis Sanchez, one of the most exciting and watchable players English football has seen for years, has a Manchester United contract that borders on the stuff of legend, the figure seeming to get bigger every time it is reported. On the pitch, his time there has been a disaster, and his employers have been keen to get rid of his astronomical wages. He seems to have finally found a club that suits him while on loan to Inter Milan. He is enjoying his football there, Milan want him, and his parent club do not. And yet he probably won’t be staying at the San Siro next season – the gap between what the Italians can pay him and whatever absurd contact United have handed him seems too vast.

A new route out of the dark for players like Özil, Bale and Sanchez has emerged: the contract in China or Qatar. In recent years, transfers to these massively lucrative leagues have become an out for overpaid stars who don’t want to take a pay cut when their contract starts to run out. Some big names have taken that option, notably the Brazilian duo Oscar and Hulk (who easily wins the best footballer name award). Both reportedly came close to quadrupling their salaries. The Bale to China transfer very nearly happened last summer, but never quite came to fruition.

Gareth Bale’s situation at Real Madrid isn’t sad for Gareth Bale – he’ll be fine. The tales of Mesut Özil’s and Alexis Sanchez’s embarrassingly short-sighted long-term contracts aren’t exactly tearjerkers. The swathes of other players on similarly ill-conceived deals, be it Philippe Coutinho, Henrik Mkhitaryan or even Danny Drinkwater, don’t deserve too much of our sympathy. But the big loser in all of this is the football fan. Not being able to watch the best players at the top of their game is a genuine shame, and it is undeniably frustrating to watch your club’s finances be crippled by the contracts of one or two players who everyone knows would be better off elsewhere. A generation of top footballers have, with many productive years left in the careers, worked their way into a position where their sporting performances no longer seem to matter, and the impact is so clearly visible.

I won’t be shedding any tears for Gareth Bale, but I’d dare anyone to watch his YouTube highlight reel and tell me that football isn’t a little worse off for what’s happened to him.

Image Credit: Football.ua / CC BY-SA 3.0 GFDL

An Apology to my Rapist

Cherwell
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An Apology to my Rapist

I’m sorry for having a bottle of wine,
Who knew red with dinner was crossing a line,
And for drinking vodka whilst sat in the bar,
Was it what I drank that made you go too far?

I’m sorry for skipping my way down the street,
I should’ve been sombre and far more discrete,
‘Coz you could see my bra straight through my lace top,
I’m sure that’s why you decided not to stop.

For singing along on the Fever dancefloor,
In that skirt I must have looked just like a whore.
For VKs I’m sorry- they’re only a pound!
But clearly an invite for you to come ‘round.

Did one-night stands give me a reputation?
You must have seen friendship as a flirtation.
And as I was drunk- I couldn’t think clearly,
Words became hard and my head felt all dreary.

Drooping head and yawns as the afters raged on,
I’m sorry it still wasn’t clear I was gone.
I’m sorry it wasn’t enough to be tired,
To explain that sleep was all that I desired.

I already had someone walking me back,
But we all know in the dark strangers attack,
So thank you for joining the walk down the road,
Such heroic sacrifice you clearly showed.

I’m sorry if it made you seek a reward,
Clearly friendship is something I can’t afford,
‘Coz a two-minute walk does not quite deserve,
What you did to me- but I gave you the nerve!

I must have, I blame me, I’m filled with regret,
A nice guy like you could never be a threat!
So when you came back having left with my key,
I’m sorry you felt that you could attack me.

‘Coz that’s what it was, let’s call it by its name,
I’m done always giving myself all the blame.
It wasn’t the drunkest I have ever been,
But sorry for letting you think you were in.

Sorry that I let you climb onto my bed,
Sorry if my silence meant you were misled.
Yes, first I kissed back, I was dazed and confused,
But you never stopped and that can’t be excused.

Even as I went into shock and I froze,
Sorry you still thought this was something I chose,
Confusedly going along with a kiss?
Not once did that give you the right to do this

Don’t think that my silence was ever a yes,
My consent was not something that you should guess.
A drunk girl alone in the dead of the night?
Sorry, quite what made you think this was right?

Sorry that you were once classed as a ‘nice guy’,
But all you have ever done is to deny
The trauma and pain and the tears and the hurt,
From five minutes of you lifting up my skirt.

The blood stains have faded, but none of the pain.
My trauma’s still here so how do I explain:
I hope you read this and feel guilt take its shape,
I hope you feel sorry: it was fucking rape.

Football Commentary Must Address Its Skin Colour Bias

Nick Webster
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Football Commentary Must Address Its Skin Colour Bias

Who do you picture if I ask you to think of a footballer who might be described as ‘athletic’ and ‘strong’? And who do you picture if I ask you to think of a player that might be described as ‘intelligent’? The chances are that you would have thought of players of a darker skin colour for the first question, and players of a lighter skin colour for the second. If you avoided this then you’ve done better than the mass of English-speaking football commentators according to the data of Danish research firm RunRepeat.

Sachin Nakrani’s Guardian article on June 29th published RunRepeat’s data which illustrated that, among many disappointing stats, “63.33% of criticism from commentators in regards to the intelligence of a player is aimed at those with darker skin, while the figure for quality is 67.57%”. The figures clearly show that commentators largely praise darker-skinned players for their power and pace, their lighter-skinned counterparts for intelligence and work-rate. This will come as no surprise to even the casual football watcher. Popular online games, such as Fifa Ultimate Team, serve to reinforce this fetishisation of pace and power – both being essential to success in the match engine. This isn’t to critique a necessarily fast-paced video game, but it exemplifies how difficult it can seem to some to acknowledge that reducing certain players to physical attributes based on their skin colour isn’t in fact a compliment, but at best ignorant, at worst sinister, implying that players with darker skin are less likely to be ‘intelligent’. It has been a long time coming: football commentary needs to be addressed to prevent the harmful effects of skin colour bias.

‘But how can anyone be offended by being praised for their pace or their strength when that’s a fundamental part of the game?’ So goes the common argument defending the use of these stereotypes as ‘compliments’; and the inability to accept these ‘compliments’ as examples of people being ‘obsessed with race’. When I see or hear such arguments my mind always floats back to a quote from The Secret Footballer’s Access All Areas, which homes in on the commonly used description of “Speedboat, no driver” to refer to “young black footballers coming through generally seen as being quick, but seemingly clueless about where to run”. He also tells a ‘dirty secret’ that there is a “fundamental distrust among managers and white players over the ability of black players to dictate the tempo of football matches”. The multitude of mindless attitudes that uncritically refer to the pace and power they see in darker-skinned players, don’t, I trust, understand the ramifications of their comments. But these mask the more insidious notions at play that intelligence is a skill that only lighter-skinned players possess, and which darker-skinned players complement with their athleticism. What a ridiculous line to draw. It is this wild mythology that influences managers to build the ‘brains’ of their team around lighter-skinned players. From a selfish and less important angle: it is hardly surprising that the English national team has been so disappointing if academy setups and the media are filled with dinosaurs perpetuating this old, unproven notion.

This seems to directly lead to one of the biggest eyesores in the English game: the lack of management opportunities for members of the BAME community. PFA equalities executive Jason Lee, when talking to BBC Sport, expands on this point: “I think it’s damaging in the long term because when players leave their playing career and they go into coaching or managing, or want to be seen in a more positive light, people will have already built up this perception because for 10 or 20 years all you’ve heard of is that person is quick, powerful and aggressive, and you’ve not heard they are actually intellectual, articulate and [have] a quite different set of skills.”

Speaking of his findings, the lead researcher in the RunRepeat study, Danny McLoughlin, told Cherwell: “In football, it was an open secret among supporters that black players were talked about in terms of their physical abilities first and foremost. However, whenever it was raised, we were told that it was in our heads or we were being too sensitive. This project will hopefully cause the football community to recognise the issue, accept there is a problem and put steps in place to look at players on their individual merits going forward.”

Now, I’d like to underline that commentating is by no means an easy job and often provides little time to think through what one wants to say. On such occasions poor commentators may fall back upon football clichés. That happens and I know that in teasing friends about their teams in the past I’ve unthinkingly been part of the problem, spouting these inane clichés. But here is where my sympathy ends. The cliché of dark-skinned players being ‘athletic’ and light-skinned players being ‘intelligent’ needs to be driven out of commentary if we wish to see this racial stereotyping eradicated from football parlance and grassroots mindsets.

In a recent high-profile Premier League match between Chelsea and Manchester City, BT Sport’s lead commentator Darren Fletcher devoted a notable segment to Benjamin Mendy being a physical specimen, justifying this on the grounds that the full back is quick and strong. Less than himself being the problem, Fletcher is the product of the issue. Others may disagree, but he is a poor commentator and it’s baffling that him and Steve McManaman are so often on commentary duty together. As a poor commentator regularly inclined to parroting and echoing fatuous points it is hardly surprising that he finds himself voicing the biases which have long been in the culture of the game. It may sound harsh and perhaps besides the point, but a poor commentator obviously has an effect on their listeners. After all, if we actually think critically about Benjamin Mendy and his lengthy injuries, is he really that quick anymore, is he really that strong? I think not. It’s bizarre that a commentator would pick out these attributes over Mendy’s more defining talent in vision and whipping in inviting crosses at an almost unparalleled velocity. The excitement of watching Mendy getting down the wing is less in his ability to outpace a man than in the anticipation of him drilling in a pinpoint delivery – this poor standard of commentary gives airtime to clichés: some of which are harmless, whereas others are clearly more sinister.

The overall point is this. Of course, there are times where no other adjective than ‘athletic’ or ‘intelligent’ will appositely describe a player pithily to the viewing public or amongst friends – but we must be aware now that these stereotypes have been so mined by football parlance as to have very little meaning, and potentially harmful effects because of the skin colour bias behind them. Commentators have a difficult but hugely privileged job: we should expect more from them and their research into the players they are commenting on. Additionally, an increase in the number of people of colour in lead commentary roles would improve diversity of background in a currently largely white-dominated field.

The full details and findings of the RunRepeat study can be found at https://runrepeat.com/racial-bias-study-soccer

Image Credit: Hilton1949 at English Wikipedia / CC BY-SA

Reading the Room

Poppy Atkinson Gibson
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Reading the Room

Plays are meant to be performed; there is no doubt that that is their primary function and fully realised state. To have a play performed means it has been successful, and that the lifeless and static direction has been imagined through someone and transmitted to the stage. Plays are a tool for performers – a detailed guide on how to present a narrative to an audience – and stage directions give the essentials in terms of movement and space. We could consider reading a play as like reading an instruction manual but never getting round to putting the item together.

I’m a fervent supporter of the theatre, but as lockdown deepened live performances had to skulk back into the shadows and out of the limelight. But live theatre taking a back seat does not mean that people’s love of drama has dimmed in any way. Indeed, this pause in proceedings has for many people, myself included, provided a rare moment of breath to explore something new. For me, it was finally deciding to get round to reading all those books that had been on my list but never ticked off. And so, spurred on by my sister’s A Level reading, I picked up her battered and annotated copy of Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire and began to flick through. I thumbed through it, reading it lightly and not getting too enthralled before I suddenly realised I was properly and wholeheartedly reading it, utterly absorbed into the world of Blanche and Elysian Fields.

Reading a play is a shorter time commitment than watching one, taking only an hour or two since they lack the lengthy descriptions more common to novels. Shakespeare, for example, has very few stage directions at all, his most iconic being ‘Exit, pursued by a bear’. Despite the short time commitment, it is nonetheless an intense activity. Without a physical representation of the narrative in front of you, you are left with minimal written direction and dialogue to aid in the construction of another world. It is a greater intellectual process than reading a novel because so much of the imaginative leg work is left to you, the reader. That being said, it stands in the shadow of watching a fully formed, live play.

There is nothing more glorious than settling down in the dim of a theatre on the well-worn seats, next to a perfect stranger who, just like you, has come to share in the spectacle and magic. There is something intensely intimate about a theatre space which is shared between yourself and the actors. There is an unspoken contract between audience and performer, who agree to share with each other the joy and appreciation of the stage, of the story, and to totally inhabit that moment, free from the baggage of the outside world. In seeing a play fleshed out, you are presented with 3D characters; they have voices, accents, identities, and ways of moving that you could not have considered as you read the same play. An individual and private reading of a play, by the very nature of its solitariness and existence only in your mind, is confined to the parameters of your imagination and your experiences. Your imagining of it can only exist within what you already know, whereas seeing a play performed exposes you to the mental gymnastics of another. 

Having read A Streetcar Named Desire quite quickly, I felt a little out of sorts. I had plunged myself headlong into the kitchen sink domestic struggles of Stanley and Stella and then quite quickly came back up to the surface, gasping for air. The shock of the end led me to take full advantage of experiencing the drama again with the National Theatre Live’s screening of the mighty Gillian Anderson performance on YouTube. I was enthralled once more. Seeing the play live, so to speak, and performed by people unconnected to me and my own imagining exposed a new layer of meaning that I was not fully able to grasp before, relying on just the measured text on the page. I wasn’t able to understand the physical nature of Stanley, for example, or the confused and unwanted sexual attraction which was so skilfully communicated through tone and movement. You are static when reading a play and as much as you try, your imagination is relatively static as well.

It is essential to watch a play because reading it simply does not explore all options. Sitting down in the garden with the warmth of the sun and a cold drink (complete with melting ice block) did not allow me to experience the exhilaration of sitting in the theatre as the lights fade, a hush falls, and the curtain rises. Reading drama deprives you both of the pleasure of watching masters at their craft and of the deepest understanding, since plays are most essentially meant to be performed and not simply read. They are tools to be used and not kept in neat condition on our bookshelves. 

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

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