Wednesday, May 14, 2025
Blog Page 481

SATIRE: Balls, Balls, Balls!

Jack Womack
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SATIRE: Balls, Balls, Balls!

A poisonous, horrible atmosphere. A culture of bullying and backstabbing. No sense of direction and no idea who you can trust. No, I’m not talking about my experiences at Catholic School – these are just some of the ways in which insiders have described the current political weather at Whitehall.

The Dominic Cummings era is well and truly upon us, and given his strict no-leakage policy, it’s a wonder that even these murmurs of discontent have managed to make it past his Iron Curtain. Cummings has always been a fan of the ‘trigger-happy’ approach to employment rights, but recently has been sacking special advisers like it’s going out of fashion.

At a recent meeting, it was reported that Cummings ‘humiliated’ young aides to Ministers Theresa Villiers and Andrea Leadsom by asking them deliberately detailed and difficult questions he knew they would struggle to answer – a style of ‘humiliation’ anyone who has ever been in an Oxford tutorial will surely be familiar with. The difference being that if you struggle with a difficult question as an undergraduate, most tutors won’t insist you leave the building and never return. That only happens in Christchurch apparently.

Six days later, the advisers were sacked in the reshuffle, along with Villiers and Leadsom for good measure. Perhaps surprisingly for someone who looks like they are used to people not remembering their name, Cummings really has embraced his inner diva since the election. Maybe all these sackings can simply be attributed to his desire to have less people around who might steal his spotlight. Lord knows I’ve often wanted to ‘sack’ friends from social situations where I feel they are preventing me from occupying my natural position – that position being right in the CENTRE of attention.

Anyway, with all this doom and gloom swirling around Whitehall, you can see why the Tories would be excited for their annual ‘Black and White Ball’. This annual fundraiser is when the glittering lights of the Conservative Party essentially cosplay the Oscars for an evening – lack of diversity included. Dinners and sporting trips with various Cabinet Ministers are available for eye-watering prices, which is completely normal and fine in a modern democracy because how else would anyone enjoy cheese-tasting with Liz Truss?

Amongst last year’s treats was ‘A Night at the Ballet with the Chairman of the Conservative Party’ – a risk at any sit-down dinner. A mental picture of Brandon Lewis in tights would surely be enough to make even the strongest of stomachs bring up their Vichy carrots and braised ribs. By the time you’ve realised that Lewis would be in the audience rather than prancing around onstage it’s too late. Your £15,000 dinner is already looking back at you.

This year though, there was clearly an upgrade in terms of what was on offer. One of the various treasures available was a signed photo of Margaret Thatcher, sold for a very reasonable £4,000. Given the way Tory MPs continue to salivate over Mrs Thatcher long after her passing, Stuart’s reaction to having a child with his lesbian friend in TV’s Queer as Folk – which turned 20 years old this week –seems pertinent all of a sudden: “Most expensive wank I’ve ever had.”

Bizarrely, the evening was hosted by Wynne Evans, better known by his stage name: ‘that opera guy from the Go Compare ads.’ Stormzy must have been otherwise engaged. I know the entertainment industry is hardly brimming with Tory supporters, but Evans might as well have walked out onstage with the words ‘scrape’ and ‘barrel’ tattooed onto his face.

The War Against Coronavirus: Life After the Pandemic

Ben OBrien
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The War Against Coronavirus: Life After the Pandemic

As governments everywhere declare themselves up for the ‘fight’ against COVID-19, the wartime analogies have become inescapable. Long before the pandemic reaches its expected peak in Britain, the events sweeping us now are already being compared to those which swept us eighty years ago during the Second World War. Just as we speak of ‘pre-’ and ‘post-war’ Britain, suggested historian Lord Hennessy, the current era will eventually be seen in terms of BC and AC – before- and after-corona.

Despite obvious problems with the analogy (coronavirus is not fascism) it reminds us of one of history’s more reliable lessons: crises on this scale invariably change the way politics is done. The war effort against fascism fostered a new political consensus. Not least, it showed that an expanded state could be a force for good in citizens’ lives; politics was different for decades thereafter, with both Labour and the Tories more or less committed to a National Health Service, comprehensive welfare state, and government intervention in the economy as a means to ensuring full employment. What sort of political shifts might follow the current crisis, then? Or to put it more optimistically, can we hope for an end to the political and social disunity of pre-corona Britain, and perhaps even for something like a ‘post-corona consensus’?

We might well worry that the political prognosis is bleak. Rather than fostering consensus, in many ways, the pandemic seems ready-made to further divide a country that remains deeply split by Brexit, and in which hostility exists not only towards ethnic minorities and immigrants, but also the BBC, Parliament, and the EU, along with ‘experts’ and anything else conceivably thought of as part of the ‘establishment’. The pandemic could simply fuel these sentiments, the paradox being that whereas adversity usually brings us together – in munitions factories and trenches, in the queue for rations – a successful response to the virus demands the very opposite – isolation and caution of others. Trump’s calculated use of the term ‘Chinese Virus’ is evidence enough of how all this can be used to strengthen populism and entrench division.

Boris Johnson, our very own populist, is yet to blame the spread of the virus in Britain on any minority group. And, in fairness to Johnson, as PM he has seemed unlikely to revert to the kind of divisive language he used so cynically during his campaigns for Brexit, the Tory leadership, and the general election. In light of the recent series of racially motivated coronavirus-related attacks, it might seem that this new-found restraint is not being replicated.

But there are some reasons to be optimistic that the war against the pandemic has the potential to heal some of Britain’s post-Brexit, pre-corona wounds. For one thing, this remains a shared experience despite the fact of physical isolation. As Lord Hennessy pointed out, COVID-19 is no respecter of social status, economic class, or ethnicity; privilege provides no insulation from a virus. As the Queen reminded us, the Royal Family will have to change its ‘normal routines and regular patterns of life for the greater good’ just like everybody else – even if it does get to do so from the confines of Windsor Palace. There is something to be said, then, for the argument that adversity will naturally bring the country together.

This is also the time for our much-maligned institutions to step up and win back some of the trust they have lost in recent years. For example, the crucial role the BBC intends to play in the crisis by disseminating news, providing resources for home-schooling, and helping coordinate care for the elderly and vulnerable, should be a reminder to those on both the left and right that it is above party politics and ideology.

More importantly still, the Government’s economic response to the pandemic is the opportunity to hold Johnson to his pledge that the era of austerity is over. Though the prime minister knows that those who lent their votes will not stand for another decade of spending cuts, the danger has always been that his conversion is more a matter of political expedience than a genuine rejection of Thatcherite small-statism. For the time being he has no choice but to keep his promise, as shown by the remarkable sight of a Tory government committing hundreds of billions to business loans, good old fashioned Keynesian fiscal stimulus, and wages for workers hit by the economic fallout of the pandemic.

Of course, these headline-grabbing measures are welcome. But to ensure that Johnson really does ‘send austerity packing’ along with COVID-19, the smaller numbers are just as crucial. The sort of figure that should stick in our minds is the £2.9 billion magicked up for social care. That money will provide community care that spending cuts have hitherto denied to elderly and vulnerable patients who need it – patients who have thus had to remain in vital NHS hospital beds quite needlessly. After years of austerity, even this modest funding feels like the exception. It should be the norm.

If the wartime analogy has a use, it is to remind us of the inescapable post-war logic of 1945. If everybody was in it together during war, it was asked, then why should things be any different in peacetime? The same logic must be reasserted over the coming months. If the Government can make sure we are all in it together now – if it can fund social care, if it can take the side of employees as well as employers – then it can do so in post-pandemic Britain too.

Restrict, Regulate or Educate? Young People and Online Porn

Mia Sorenti
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Restrict, Regulate or Educate? Young People and Online Porn

Mia Sorenti explores the complexities regarding young people and exposure to online pornography.

It is likely the majority of us have come into contact with online pornography at some point in our youth; unintentional pop-ups, jokes by friends, a curiosity that resulted in a hesitant “boobs” Google search. The premise of young people being exposed to this sort of content causes much discomfort and contention in society; the idea that innocent minds may be corrupted and warped by such unrealistic and unsavoury material prompts nationwide mobilisation against this ‘social evil’. Through looking at historic campaigns against pornography within second-wave feminism and the failed attempts of our government to regulate and restrict exposure to explicit material online, we can see how underlying attitudes towards pornography may fail to tackle the root problems that prompt unhealthy sexual attitudes and behaviour, and why restriction may not be the answer.

Pornography in the past – The ‘Porn Wars’ of the 80s

In her lecture series ‘feminism and philosophy’ in Michaelmas 2019, Professor Amia Srinivasan drew attention to the ways consumption of pornography and its consequences have been viewed in the past. In the 1980s, the feminist movement became deeply polarized over issues of sexuality in the United States. Some, such as radical feminist scholars Catherine MacKinnon saw sexuality in itself as a construct of male power: defined by men, forced on women, and constitutive in the meaning of gender. Pornography, then, was the ‘eroticisation of inequality’ which prompted harmful and violent attitudes towards women; as expressed in the notorious quote by Robin Morgan “pornography is the theory, rape is the practice”. Groups such as Women Against Pornography (or WAP) organised protests against ‘blue’ films and led anti-pornography tours of sex shops and pornographic theatres. Most significantly, MacKinnon and fellow radical feminist Andrea Dworkin strived to combat pornography through civil rights legislation. The Dworkin-MacKinnon Anti-Porn Ordinances of 1983 attempted to define pornography as a civil rights violation against women and would have allowed women who saw themselves as being harmed by pornography to sue the producers and distributors in civil court for damages. Whilst many courts accepted that depictions of subordination tended to perpetuate subordination, the ordinances were blocked by city officials and struck down by courts as pornography came to be seen as ‘speech’ and therefore protected as a constitutional right. 

What is most notable about these debates is the idea that pornography, and the consumption of it, is inherently corrupting and holds legitimate power to perpetrate anti-feminist rhetoric in society. It is possible to draw similarities with attitudes towards pornography today, at least at a governmental level. 

Contemporary combat with porn

So how do these attitudes manifest themselves in legislation? Regulations and restrictions on the production and consumption of pornography in the UK have increased dramatically in the last decade. The Audiovisual Media Services Regulations 2014 displayed how certain sexual acts are perceived as ‘undesirable’ and ‘harmful’, regardless of consent; a ban was placed on the production of pornography that contained acts such as female ejaculation, spanking and facesitting, with the latter deemed ‘potentially life-threatening’. Jokes and censorship of female pleasure aside, this apparent set of subjective moral judgments of what is or isn’t acceptable was one of a culminating series of attempts to regulate and restrict pornography in the UK. The climax of these attempts came into fruition in April 2017. 

In 2016 the NSPCC commissioned a study of children and young people’s interactions with pornography; this study found that 53% of 11-16 year olds had ‘stumbled across’ explicit material online. Regardless of the questionable research methods involved (the majority of information was derived from online discussion forums and online surveys), moral panic and outrage ensued to cries of ‘save the children’. In part a result of this hysteria, the Conservative government produced the 2017 Digital Economy Act, an element of which was the notorious ‘porn block’. The ambition was to prevent young people under the age of 18 accessing pornography online by enforcing the use of age verification software on all websites promoting explicit material. A user would be required to upload a photo of their driver’s license, passport or credit card to the government approved software AgeID (the manufacturers of this software, MindGeek, coincidentally happen to own a number of the ‘big-hitter’ pornography sites, including PornHub, RedTube and YouPorn… draw your own conclusions from that one). Alternatively, you could visit a newsagent to buy a ‘porn pass’! Initially intended to be implemented April 2018, the block became increasingly postponed until finally it was brushed under the rug late 2019.

Concerns with privacy and surveillance aside, there were some serious flaws with the block. In contrast to the 80s, the prevalence of the internet today means that the availability of pornography is unparalleled. Not only would VPNs render to block useless, the internet in itself is never easily tamed by the demands of a government: just look at the proliferation of piracy sites. More significant though, is the disparity between this attempted age regulation and the realities of sexual development in young people. The Brook Sexual Behaviours Traffic Light Tool, a guide to sexual behaviours in children and young people, is linked on the NSPCC website. The tool allows one to distinguish healthy from harmful sexual behaviour. Between the ages of 13-17, an ‘interest in erotica/pornography’ is deemed a ‘green light’ behaviour, essentially considered a healthy part of natural curiosity and sexual development of young people in this bracket. With these factors in tandem it would seem inevitable, or at least a very likely possibility, that young people will encounter or actively search out pornography before they turn 18.

Yet it is not only the government’s inefficient handling of the matter that is cause for concern; the porn block is a symptom of a skewed fundamental understanding of the ‘problem’ of porn. The intention behind the attempted age restriction was to prevent young people accessing online pornography in order to prevent them forming unhealthy ideas surrounding sex and relationships, and thus preventing them from perpertrating harmful acts and attitudes. Yet figures such as Dr Cicely Marston, whose research on porn and anal sex was cited by the government in the lead up to the attempted ‘porn block’, disagree with the governemnt’s conclusions. 

Amid concerns that exposure to pornography was prompting young people to coerce partners (namely in heterosexual couples) into anal sex, debatable assumptions were being drawn from Marston’s work. Firstly, it was assumed that viewing pornography online directly resulted in a rise in heterosexual couples trying anal sex, to which Marston emphasises that there was no clear link between the two. Problems with research finding correlations between pornography and sexual behaviour include the neglecting of other factors that are likely to influence sexual behaviour, such as personal dispositions, and difficulty of measuring potentially problematic and moralistic effects. There is merely a correlation, but nothing overtly conclusive. Secondly, there is the assumption that sexual behaviours such as anal sex are inherently harmful, to be discouraged and ‘unwanted’. This idea distinctly blurs the essential distinction between coercive and consensual sexual practices, and becomes more a subjective judgment on what sexual practices are ‘acceptable’ (as seen in the 2014 Regulations). The harms Marston identified in her studies did not stem from the anal sex itself, but from the elements of coercion that were part of many young people’s experience and expectations. Her findings indicated that young, straight men derived “kudos” from having anal sex with women, and that some placed low value on their partner’s wishes. She expresses how the fundamental problems behind coercion – of women’s desires being ignored, the men pushing/women resisting model of heterosex, and sex acts as goals for men – all long pre-date the era of easy access to online porn, as does sexual coercion itself, and can be found in many forms of media not considered pornographic.

The rhetoric behind the government’s attempts to regulate and restrict online pornography runs along the same strand as those campaigning against pornography in the 80s. Pornography is seen to have a significant ability to negatively shape young people’s ideas of sex and relationships, but as Professor Srinivasan articulated in her lecture, porn in itself does not have authority to perpetuate harmful ideals of sexuality. Pornographers, within this, certainly have ‘informal power’, in dictating the nature of the sex that is presented. 

I will take the opportunity to state that whilst there certainly are legitimate problems within the porn industry. The ethics of the production of the content and the types of content pushed by companies such as MindGeek, who have power in shaping society’s tastes, stands as evidently problematic. But, that is a whole other conversation in itself. More pressingly, in order for porn to have an impact in our society, it requires our participation. As asserted by Nancy Bauer in her book ‘How to Do Things with Pornography’: “the idea that women are essentially sexual objects for men, along with the idea that the happiest and most womanly women embrace this status, is ubiquitously accepted in our culture”. Marston, similarly, points to the idea that it is not exposure to portrayals of sexual acts themselves which cause problems such as sexual coercion; the fundamental causes go far deeper than copying what is on screen, and are tied to broader issues and attitudes within our society. Consequently, it is insufficient to suggest that reducing access to pornography will reduce the problems at hand, when the socio-cultural attitudes that support these problems remain unchallenged. 

The solution? Sufficient sex education

Ironically, the consensus of the young people involved in the contentious NSPCC study was that relevant and engaging sex education is necessary. So how about actually listening to the young people themselves instead of threatening the privacy of the majority of the adult population?

Better education and more frank and open discussion would help young people take a more critical view of pornographic imagery and challenge some of the harmful gender dynamics that promote problematic sexual activities. Essentially, within this, online pornography itself needs to be addressed and discussed. As explored, young people in the age of the internet are highly likely to come into contact with explicit material online, whether intentionally or not. Whilst not condemning pornography or associating it with shame, it is important that porn is identified as something created, directed and acted, and not as a depiction of reality. Not all pornography depicts harmful representations of sexuality, but it is important to make clear to young people that many forms of prevalent explicit material may not depict consent, may only include specific body types and appearances etc. 

Yet most essential is education on things that may otherwise be neglected from depictions of sexuality in online pornography: consent; the importance of communication; trust and openness in healthy relationships and how to identify unhealthy ones; body variation and  positivity; informed information about contraception; lgbtq+ visibility and information regarding sex; that you don’t have to have sex until you’re ready, or even ever at all. In doing so, we effectively remove the authority pornography has in dictating the attitudes and approaches of young people towards sex, and ensure the responsibility for doing so lies in a regulated and approved curriculum. With relationships and sex education becoming statutory in all secondary schools across England from September 2020, there are certainly steps being taken in the right direction, but we have a long way to go to ensuring the sexual and emotional wellbeing of young people and our society as a whole.

If you feel that your sex education was pretty inadequate, or feel like your attitudes to sex and relationships may have been negatively impacted by porn, or just have questions that want legitimate answers that aren’t dodgy search results on google, try sites such as Bish UK or Brook. These websites have really good information and resources for young people about all kinds of topics such as contraception, relationships, gender, sexuality and wellbeing. 

‘Food For Thought’: The Buffa

Lucas Jones
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‘Food For Thought’: The Buffa

What do buffet staff think about as they watch you stuff down your fourth plate of chicken chow-mein? Maybe they’re questioning why anyone drinks cows’ milk when it’s clearly not for humans. Or maybe they’re fantasising about locking the doors and stuffing a grenade into your sundae.

Set against the endless monotony of a high street all-you-can-eat buffet, The Buffa sets out to answer that very question. Harry Berry’s character enters first; an ominous, silent presence who looms to the side of the stage as the audience watches a slideshow of images in the dark. This introduces a series of disconcerting, surreal episodes that occur throughout the two acts of the play, as intermittent bursts of strobe lighting and eerie dancing accentuate the friction between two characters who take a bizarre pleasure in driving the other up the wall.

The sinister undertone of the play is established before the main characters even enter, with discarded plates of uneaten chips and nuggets left to fester before the audience’s eyes. These – coupled with two tables, a washing-up bowl, and a TV – are the only props. You stare at the characters, they stare back. The barrier between the audience and the characters collapses across the two acts of the play, leaving us with an uncomfortable insight into their psyches. The starkness of the performance space seems to leave the characters vulnerable but, by the end, it is the viewer who feels exposed.

While it’s tempting to focus on the disconcerting and surreal aspects of The Buffa, a line of comedy runs through the play which helps to maintain an air of relatability about characters who, however absurd they may seem, are never irretrievably unrealistic. Philomena Will’s waitress was superbly acted and especially well-written, reducing sections of the audience to laughter throughout the piece. Humorous moments give the characters a sense of depth that makes them more than just tools of reflection.

Perhaps it’s accurate to say that The Buffa raises more questions than it answers. Clarity and plot are not at the forefront; instead, the piece is an investigation of minds at work in a mind-numbing environment, and all the contradiction and repetition that entails. Regardless of its disposition for the surreal and the shocking (watch the trailer to get a taste of that), The Buffa’s investigations of human relations are, quite genuinely, food for thought.

University bans society that no-platformed Amber Rudd

Catherine Dema
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University bans society that no-platformed Amber Rudd

In response to the society’s decision to no-platform Amber Rudd, the University of Oxford has deregistered UN Women Oxford UK from its affiliated societies. The society faced backlash after cancelling the International Women’s Day event hosting Rudd just 30 minutes before it was due to begin. They cancelled the event in response to student complaints about Rudd’s history in government and links to the Windrush scandal.

The decision to cancel sparked backlash from proponents of free speech, like the Free Speech Union – which sent an official complaint to the university. Governing proctors have now made the decision to de-register the society. 

According to the Daily Mail, outgoing Proctors Martin Maiden and Sophie Marnette ruled: “We have determined that the cancellation of this event was not carried out in accordance with university procedures, codes of practice and policies, in particular that of the freedom of speech.

“Therefore the society will be de-registered with the proctors. In addition, the proctors have directed the society to issue an apology to Amber Rudd.”

The decision to no-platform was criticised by the University of Oxford. In a statement from a spokesperson, the University expressed support for the proctor’s decision: “The University is strongly committed to freedom of speech and opposes no-platforming. We encourage our students to debate and engage with a range of views, and to treat others with the courtesy and dignity that they would expect themselves. The University strongly disapproved of the decision to disinvite Amber Rudd and the Proctors have taken just and proportionate action according to the policies which underpin the University’s stance on freedom of speech.”

Rudd was set to be interviewed about her role as Minister for Women and Equalities and speak about encouraging more women involved in politics. On Twitter, Rudd criticised the society and their decision as “badly judged” and “rude”.

In response to the controversy, the society halted its affiliation with UN Women UK and changed its name to United Women Oxford Student Society. On their Facebook page, the society defended their decision: 

“We would like to begin by directly apologising for our decision to invite Amber Rudd to talk at our society, in particular to the BAME students of Oxford and other communities affected by her policies. We recognise that we should have addressed this issue upon deciding whether to invite her. We stand by our decision to cancel the event and show solidarity with the BAME community. Holding the event would have been incompatible with our intention to be an inclusive and welcoming society and we cancelled it on this premise.

“We believe that the University of Oxford’s statement shows a lack of regard for the welfare of black students and we understand why students would not want to see celebrated a woman whose policies led to the deportation of members of their community.”

Image Credit to WorldSkills UK / Wikimedia Commons. License: CC-BY-2.0.

Dramatics in Isolation: The Nightly Met Opera Streams Reviewed

Kwan-Ann Tan
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Dramatics in Isolation: The Nightly Met Opera Streams Reviewed

On the 13th of March, the Met Opera’s Twitter announced that they would begin a series of ‘nightly live streams’ of beloved operas for anyone with internet access (and the enduring patience necessary to sit through three hours of singing). Despite really enjoying opera, I had only ever seen one — Eugene Onegin, in its run at the Oxford New Theatre — so it was rather exciting to see that the Met were going to livestream operas I’d never been able to catch in real life.

Opera had been on my mind since I decided to self-isolate at the beginning of 8th week, mostly because I soon discovered after staying at home all day that there were one or perhaps two people who would practise their singing in my building or that across from me (I say one or two because while my flatmate and I agreed that there was a tenor, she couldn’t hear the soprano I often detected). A week of rather more professional renditions awaited.

17th of March — George Bizet’s Carmen

After a mad dash out to gather books from the university libraries before their final closure, I sat at my desk, huddled away from the world in a blanket, to watch Carmen. The wonderful thing about Carmen is that all the songs are so well loved that you don’t really have to concentrate to figure out what’s going on — just sit back and let the music wash over you. Even at the end, as brutal as it is, you can’t help but feel a wave of satisfaction.

18th of March — Giacomo Puccini’s La Bohéme

The work opens with a crew of Bohemians artists struggling to keep warm: in order to do so, the writer of their group volunteers to burn his manuscript, making a lovely, crackling fire. As an English student with similarly bleak job prospects, I found it particularly relatable. For me, the opera peaks at the end of the second act, as Ainhoa Arteta in the role of Musetta sings an absolutely gorgeous rendition of ‘Quando m’en vo’ soletta / Musetta’s Waltz’. Puccini’s strength is in his ensemble pieces, and this one is gloriously performed — at once tender, controlled and seductive, with a touching reunion at the end of it all.

19th of March — Giuseppe Verdi’s Il Trovatore

The plot of this opera was a little too dramatic and far-fetched for my personal tastes, and while Anna Netrebko is always lovely to watch at work, her character, Leonora, was too spineless and irritating for me to truly enjoy her performance. One pleasant surprise was the casting of Yonghoon Li as Manrico, a troubadour with a complicated past involving being vengefully kidnapped as a child by a group of gypsies… honestly, the plot itself has too many twists to explain here. At any rate, in the end Leonora dies from poisoning herself and Manrico is executed. This was probably my least favourite of the week on account of the terribly bleak staging and drab costumes.

20th of March — Giuseppe Verdi’s La Traviata

Here was another beloved oeuvre, and one which I really loved, especially after the bleak greys of Il Trovatore. Verdi has range, that’s for sure. Throughout the opera lies an undercurrent of a waltz-three-step, which buoys the plot from dramatic beginning to tragic ending. I found it particularly interesting that the director chose to bring the end to the beginning, starting off with Violetta’s deathbed, and casting the rest of the events in the shadow of a fever dream.

21st of March — Gaetano Donizetti’s La fille du regiment

The comic opera La fille du regiment was her augmented by the special appearance of Kathleen Turner as the Duchess of Krakenthorp, a non-singing role. This light-hearted romp was a welcome respite from the heavy dramatics of quite literally every other opera so far. It distinguishes itself by some unique tricks and idiosyncrasies, like Javier Camarena hitting nine high Cs in the song ‘Ah! Mes amis … Pour mon âme’…which, I assure you, is quite amazing to listen to and probably quite impossible to recreate.

22nd of March — Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor

Why do people insist on casting Anna Netrebko as ridiculously pathetic female leads? This is based loosely on Sir Walter Scott’s The Bride of Lammermoor (and read: loosely). More traditionally Scottish names have been swapped out for Italian first names, but it is still set in ‘Scotland’. Of all the tragedies so far, this one is the most deliciously gothic, combining ghosts and old castles in a really beautiful setting.

23rd of March — Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin

The last one, and strangely fitting, given this was the first opera I ever saw. I’m slightly biased because I love all of Tchaikovsky’s music, but the plaintive strings and opening scene of Onegin all alone, snow (or torn pieces of letter) raining down overhead, is one of the more lasting images I will take from this production.

I had thought that this week would be it, that I would be free from the daily dramatics of opera for a while yet. I had: that is, until I found out that the Met are doing another week of live streams. This time, they’re doing Wagner, starting with Tristan und Isolde —how could I say no to that?

Comfort Films: Cars

Tara Shutes
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Comfort Films: Cars

Last summer a friend recommended I watch Shaun of The Dead. The idea of walking around London now, surrounded by potentially asymptomatic people, does bring to mind the scene of Shaun going about his morning routine completely oblivious to the fact that everyone wanted to eat his brains. Having spent the week since leaving college watching coronavirus spread, the idea of venturing out of the house at the moment is not particularly appealing. At a time like this, we all have comfort films we turn to that help us ignore the chaos of the world outside. Personally, you could put me in front of any Marvel film and I’d be happy. The Princess Diaries has always been a favourite. But while my friends cite The Lion King or the Studio Ghibli classics as the films that remind them the most of their childhood, mine has always been Cars.

Cars, in my opinion, is a highly underrated film. It might be a product of being an only child, raised by my racing-enthusiast father until the age of 4, but I re-watched it again recently and it genuinely is excellent. Jokes about Fillmore, the hippie VW campervan who likes “organic fuel”, went straight over my head as a child but meant that my parents enjoyed watching it as much as I did. Attention to detail, like flies being represented as tiny cars with wings, is everywhere. It’s also one of the few movies that Michael Schumacher appears in. The soundtrack is, for me, the icing on the cake – Sheryl Crow, Chuck Berry and John Mayer are just some of the names that appear alongside famous film composer Randy Newman. Few things can make me smile as much as watching the residents of Radiator Springs boogie down the road to “Sh-Boom” by The Chords.

I was talking to a male friend about our favourite films last week and he was genuinely surprised when I mentioned Cars. When I asked him what he had expected me to say, he quoted Mean Girls. While I doubt he meant this in a sexist way, it did make me think back on the number of times I’ve had my taste in movies questioned. Beyond this, most of the times when I mention that I follow Formula 1 and football, I’m challenged in a way that my male peers are not. While I know that it’s perhaps relatively unusual for a woman to be genuinely interested in following sports or action movies, the fact that I’m often met with disbelief can get quite frustrating. I’m definitely not suggesting that I’m not like other girls, nor do I want to be separated from icons like Lizzo or Michelle Obama. I’m just quite competitive and like superheroes. Having to regularly provide evidence in a cross examination of which specific Marvel characters I like and why gets annoying. I don’t mind giving my opinions on these topics (and trust me, I have a lot) so long as people are actually interested, not simply because of some convoluted requirement to prove myself as ‘one of the lads’ when I don’t even want to be. 

It’s true that watching it back now, Cars relies on a lot of stereotypes for humour. Mater’s extreme Southern Redneck accent is an obvious example of this. Some easy Googling, however, told me that his accent, name and backwards driving ability are actually based on real residents of towns along Route 66, so are not completely unfounded. The Marvel films, especially the older ones, are notoriously sexist – don’t get me started on the mistreatment of Black Widow as a character throughout – but it looks as though this is hopefully set to improve.

What I don’t understand is why these films can be judged and called out as ‘not feminist enough’ or otherwise problematic when other so-called ‘dick-flicks’ are more acceptable. Everyone resonates differently with different films based on their views, sense of humour and life experience. If I’m not going to judge you for your favourite film being the fairly racist and sexist The Hangover, please let me watch Cars in peace. At the end of the day, the point of a ‘guilty pleasure’ film is that, although it might not be the highest-quality Tarantino on offer, it makes you happy. I’m not saying that no one should watch The Hangover ever again. I’m suggesting that people should be allowed to watch what they want without judgement, as long as they can recognise any problems associated with it. If someone told me their favourite film was The Hangover because it represented ‘ideal male behaviour’, I would be worried. But if someone says that they like The Hangover because, although they know it can be pretty dodgy at times, the rest of it really makes them laugh and is a good release from the stresses of life, then go ahead. 

I remember going to watch Cars in the cinema when it came out in 2006. My little nursery gang rolled out to our local Vue, stocked up on pick-n-mix and my life was changed. I may have been a fairly atypical female toddler by having mini Cars figurines instead of Barbies, but I’m sure we still made up the same kind of stories when we played. Watching Cars reminds me of afternoons spent with my parents and the soundtrack being played at my 6th birthday party. It will always make me feel connected to my childhood. Whether this film for you is The Lion King, Barbie of Swan Lake, or something like Marvel, what it represents to the individual is far more important than the film itself. In times of toilet roll crises like these, we should let the pleasure outweigh the guilt. 

A Nation Under Siege

Darius Parvizi-Wayne
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A Nation Under Siege

The dawn casts its shadow once more upon the front line,

Fear, licking its lips, strangles the unknown. 

Frothing and foaming, it slips under the crack in your door,

Imprints itself upon corrugated steel,

Flashes its grin in a moment of reflection

On a canal that does not sit still.

From Dorsoduro to Giardini

Perhaps six, or seven

All beady-eyed

Inquisitive

Cloaked in suspicion.

Paralysed lies the city,

And I could not, 

Speak, 

At seeing history stopped with a single blow.

Murky silence fogs the land, 

And the clouds now gather overhead,

Leaving desire 

Melted. 

Only the church bells ring now,

Carving up an endless time,

To an empty congregation.

At once a ray urges through the blackness,

A long lost sun

A dot in the void

Refusing to be forgotten.

And just for a moment,

That splash upon agitated waters

Is not the quivering hand,

Or dropping of tears.

At once the starlings,

Teetering on roof tiles

Cast open their streaked wing

And imbue the sky with their soulful song.

At once the wisteria, 

Arm in arm to face the cold,

Bloom above pavements left dead

By a hopeless generation.

They do hope.

The candle flickers alight,

The door creaks ajar

Man shows his face

To a faceless wind.

A miraculous play

Where all the living take part

Until the curtain falls

Upon the final act

So we must fight with heart.

Culture and isolation: the silver linings

Anna Robinson
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Culture and isolation: the silver linings

Isolation and culture at first seem antithetical terms. Culture demands exposure, audience, large spheres of collective experience. Isolation appears to be a retreat into smaller spaces of experience: isolation and limitation seem more synonymous. Yet there are many ways by which culture might thrive under the new conditions we find ourselves in. Isolation allows us a stronger engagement with the culture closer to us – a culture that is often overshadowed by the busyness of normal life. For me, isolation means that time at home is now not always ‘downtime’ spent asleep or scrolling meaninglessly through social media. Staving off boredom means turning to literature, film, family. And through it, I’m reconnecting with old interests and growing new ones. With everyone in the same boat, more and more people are sharing their recommendations, asking for new ones: my list of things to read and watch has never been longer, and at home with more people to fight over the TV I’m watching things I never usually would or turning to activities I’d previously lost interest in. Who would have thought my GCSE Fine Art paints would ever make a reappearance just to avoid watching my brother’s choice of television? Isolation can hopefully be a time of focus and discovery – even if at first I dismissed the notion.

Initially, the pandemic seemed to be one of disappointment and panic rather than disease; watching plans in the following months dissipate in the face of uncertainty and cancellation. To begin with I oscillated between waves of panic and a bitterness over my exam-free summer starting to look a lot quieter than anticipated. 

Of course, I didn’t recognise the absolute privilege in the fact that my initial worries were cancelled 21st birthday parties. As someone who feels excited about their week when it’s busy, going home and restricting social contact for an undefined amount of time was a prospect I dreaded. I hate spending a whole day alone: I’ll leave my room even if it’s just to spend an entire day in the library. Even hangovers are never in solitude, as my flatmates and I all gather in duvets to watch episodes of ‘How I Met Your Mother’. Isolation and I are not friends.

But there are people I love who are vulnerable: aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends with underlying health issues. Of course we all want to protect the people we care for. Our age means we are unlikely to contract a serious case of the virus, but now our actions are imbued with a significance even beyond our immediate sphere of familiarity. Previous generations have made far greater sacrifices in order to protect the wider community. If I have to watch all nine seasons of ‘How I Met Your Mother’ for the third time to limit my time in public spaces, then I have to accept there are worse things I could be doing.

A lot of people are worried about their mental health in the coming months. I certainly share in these concerns. I like being busy. I like my freedom, my independence. But it might be productive to recognise that there is a different kind of freedom and independence to be found closer to home. When have I had the freedom of so much time? When have I had the luxury of really having space to learn the skill of being in my own company? I’ve found myself – an English undergraduate – reading for fun again. I’m re-reading my old favourite books, no longer only focusing on reading-list priorities. With warmer spring weather I can sit in the garden and spend the whole afternoon leafing through books I’ve always wanted to open but never had time for. Before it felt over-indulgent or unwise when I had so many other distractions and impending deadlines.

Self-isolation is definitely encouraging me to engage with things I might usually push to the background or limit because I feel ‘too busy’. I am discovering that the kind of TV my parents watch is not all that bad. These last few days I have spent a lot of time with Netflix (research, of course) – and I would recommend series such as The Stranger, which is as compelling as it is bizarre, or Liar, which airs on ITV every Monday. I’ve been surprised by how much I have loved watching period dramas with my mum – running through BBC adaptations such as Pride and Prejudice and North and South (I never cry at television but I absolutely wept throughout this re-imagining of Elizabeth Gaskell’s bleak but beautiful 19th century novel). I also have to confess plans to watch the entire Twilight Saga. So far we have made it to Breaking Dawn: Part 1 and I have had the terrible realisation that I am now team-Jacob – which thirteen year old me would consider a staunch betrayal. The rest of the family remains firmly in Robert Pattinson’s camp. I’ve even noticed my mum downloading Pattinson’s biography on her kindle. Once I’m finished with The Secret History by Donna Tartt, I might actually re-read the books and re-live my teenage interest in (obsession with) the saga.

We typically feel guilty when our lives are not ‘productive’ – when we spend days indoors without keeping busy. Now staying inside is one of the best things we can do to demonstrate our care for others. We can take it as an opportunity to rest, and to not feel guilty about making a sizable dent in all 236 episodes of Friends. In fact, by doing so you’re helping contain the spread of the virus.

Isolation doesn’t have to equate to loneliness. It can be a time of discovery and re-discovery – whether that be getting to know loved ones even better, allowing yourself time for things that usually seem unnecessary (Self! Care!), or re-igniting your own (and your mother’s) absorption in all matters Edward Cullen.

In the meantime, both China and Northern Italy have recorded significant falls in nitrogen dioxide (a serious air pollutant), most likely due to reduced industrial activity and car travel. Due to reduced boat traffic, which usually brings sediment to the water’s surface, canals in Venice are beautifully clear. We should keep in mind that for many, isolation might mean busier times, caring for relatives or taking responsibility for young children now no longer in school. As much as you can, look after yourself, and remember that this will not last forever and that the world we will reenter may even be more clean and beautiful. 

Self-isolation need not be damaging to our culture. I’ve expanded my interests out of necessity, and although I’m not joining my mother for yoga in the garden quite yet, I have a nascent but powerful interest in Scandinavian crime dramas, more completed books than I have in a long time, and a poor imitation of Monet’s waterlilies in the back of a GCSE art portfolio long left to gather dust. In the weeks ahead, I have decided I can only improve.

Racist or Unfortunate, Johnson’s Language is Harmful

Timea Iliffe
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Racist or Unfortunate, Johnson’s Language is Harmful

Near the beginning of this month, a clip from BBC Politics Live went viral, in which Dawn Butler MP accused Boris Johnson of racism. Butler pointed out multiple instances when the Prime Minister has used unapologetically offensive language, including his oft-cited description of Muslim women in niqabs as “letterboxes” and his use of the word “picanninies” to describe black people. The Prime Minister was defended by the Conservative MP for Sevenoaks Laura Trott, who called Butler’s comments “rude” and “offensive”. Fellow guest and radio presenter Nick Ferrari similarly argued that Johnson’s comments were “robust, unfortunate” but not, crucially, racist.

Is the leader of our country bigoted, then, or simply accident-prone? Does the commander-in-chief simply have a penchant for error in referring to historically marginalised communities? Or does the Prime Minister harbour a deep-rooted belief in the inferiority of Muslim women, black people, or, indeed, anyone who does not fit the publicly-educated, straight, white, male profile of the figures he surrounded himself with during his time and Oxford and who now stock his Cabinet? It’s not a question that we can answer with any absolute certainty. What we can say is that the Prime Minister has a record, past and present, of careless, insensitive, offensive comments, spoken offhand or written in print. Comments that are often aimed at members of the BAME community at home or abroad.

The more interesting question is where this carelessness comes from. Whether Johnson’s comments slip out time and time again on accident, or whether they come from the truth of his convictions, they are evidence of the same defect of British political culture. The Prime Minister is taken from the same insular, cosseted pool of so many of his predecessors; one where boys can enjoy the confidence instilled in them by their elite tutors, revel in the safe spaces of their all-male drinking societies, and go on to comfortably take whatever job in finance, journalism or politics they can network themselves into. It is an environment in which a person never has to watch their step. They are born with an in-built safety net.

If Boris makes mistakes, it is because he has never had to face their consequences. If he is careless, it stems from the experiences of someone who has never had to care. This is not an experience Butler can relate to. Black Britons, in particular black women, don’t have the luxury of their actions being called “unfortunate”.

The composure Butler displayed in the interview has already been commented on as an example of the way black women in politics are forced to conduct themselves, just to be taken as seriously as their white colleagues are. Dawn Butler does not get the option of her words being defended as merely unfortunate in an environment where any potential mistake or misstep will be upheld as evidence of another angry black woman; ignoring the way the words of people like Boris Johnson have followed Butler for her entire life – or the fact that she has every right to be angry.

From the Windrush scandal to the rapid increase of hate crimes under the Tory government’s watch, the Conservative Party has been accused of racism by more members of the BAME community than Butler. Calling the Prime Minister and his party “racist” does not mean that every Conservative MP harbours a silent hatred of every ethnic minority. But it does mean to highlight its history of ignoring, marginalising or indeed, offending the views of groups who do not have the past legacy of being included and protected. And at the end of the day, whether racist or unfortunate, the consequences – and the hurt caused – for the people Butler represents are the same.

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