Wednesday, April 30, 2025
Blog Page 488

‘Years in the Making’ – Arkells

Simone Fraser
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‘Years in the Making’ – Arkells

The name of Arkells’ newest single, ‘Years in the Making’, is somewhat appropriate considering that this is their first new release since 2018’s Rally Cry. Opening with trumpets, the tone is immediately set for what shapes up to be the most ‘hype song’ of Arkells’ songbook so far. With a strong beat and motivational lyrics- “so turn the lights down low/ Rolling up my sleeves/ Right now I’m in my zone/ Put your eyes on me/ I got the scars to show it didn’t come for free/ It’s been years in the making”- the song would be at home on any gym playlist.

Lead singer Max Kerman’s voice is both vulnerable and determined, at times carrying the song with barely any accompaniment as it ramps up to an explosion of sound in the chorus. A celebration of hard work, although the lyrics are fairly simple, it certainly gets the message across. My only criticism is that the lyrics are somewhat repetitive, lacking the honest, narrative style of some of their best works. That said, though, it’s hard to make judgement without knowing the rest of the album; the song has a very clear aim- to be motivational and catchy- which it achieves without a doubt.

The song appears to suggest a continued move away from gentle, more emotional songs such as ‘My Heart’s Always Yours’ in Morning Report (2016) to amplified, blood-pumping hits like ‘Relentless’ and ‘Eyes on the Prize’ in Rally Cry. This is possibly reflective of Arkells’ steady rise to fame: although still playing smaller venues in the UK, they are beginning to regularly fill arenas in their native Canada. With catchy hits (a particular favourite is ‘Leather Jacket’), a fantastic stage presence, and frequent charitable endeavours, it’s not hard to see why the rock band are so popular with fans across the world.

With almost unanimous praise across social media, the band look to be shaping up for (hopefully) another well-loved album. Their social media appears to show big things are coming – and I can’t wait to see what they create.

Review: Matisse Devenir

Leone Van den Schrieck
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Review: Matisse Devenir

Tucked away in the France’s Département Nord, the Musée Matisse might seem rather at odds with its provincial surroundings. Nevertheless, the gallery is a vibrant cultural centre and source of immense pride for the inhabitants of the Le Cateau-Cambrésis, who consider their fellow Catésien to be the greatest artist of the 20th Century. Indeed, Henri Matisse wrote “the North witnessed my birth; on its land I found my path,” and accordingly founded his own museum there at the end of his life. The museum returns this gesture to him by means of a temporary exhibition, Devenir Matisse, which explores the start of the artist’s career to celebrate his 150th birthday.


The exhibit opens on one of Matisse’s many periods of convalescence due to his health problems. The young 20 – year old clerk – who studied Law to satisfy his father – passed his time of illness with a paint box and discovered a strong passion: “Before, I liked nothing. From the moment I held the box of colours in my hands, I knew this was my life.”
This radical redirection of his life path is caught in the exactitude in his very first paintings, two Natures Mortes aux Livres (1890), which depict the books to which he had previously been dedicated.

The exhibition then leads us through a subsequent decade of artistic training, initially at the École Quentin-Latour before Matisse was directed to the Académie Julian in Paris to study beaux-arts. We discover Matisse’s zealous academic and anatomical focus through his various Nus Académiques, yet something of the artist’s later character already shines through, particularly in the series of voluptuously crayoned women, displayed in a smaller, auxiliary room. Leaving his hometown reflected the deviation from the norm that Matisse was already making with his art; he seemed to be finding his true sense of life and likeness in these less polished renderings. Matisse’s application to study beaux-arts in 1891 was refused for exactly this reason: a lack of idealism and a preference for realism in his depiction of the human body. He kept the study he had submitted for the rest of his life. An inscription in the bottom-left corner reads “This drawing was the object of a rejection on behalf of the Beaux-Arts.”

Matisse began to develop further his artistic duality as an élève libre in the classes of one of the Académie’s more open-minded professors, Gustave Moreau, who encouraged his students to explore the Louvre and copy its works in combination with practice out on the streets. Matisse painted the Parisian vie quotidienne with the same brush he used for studies of artistic masterpieces under his mentor. The exhibition, accordingly, juxtaposes lively sketch-like ink drawings of Parisian daily life with exercises in the copying of famous antique sculptures, including kouroi and the Venus de Medici.

Devenir Matisse subsequently examines his dialogue with the Old Masters – arguably the most telling element of the display. In a small room, de Heem’s la Desserte and a close to exact copy of it by Matisse, made in 1893, visually lead our gaze to the painting crowning the room: Matisse’s still life after Jan Davidsz de Heem’s “La Desserte,” (1915). The piece epitomises a shift from copying to creating: the axes organising de Heem’s original are still rendered, but Matisse gives new prominence to its contours. In this way, he obtains the liberty to render the objects of the picture in a more experiential fashion. This is Matisse at his most forward-looking.


The masterpiece, however, is a synthesis and culmination point of Henri Matisse’s experience with other artists that is anachronistically displayed in the exhibit; he started developing such a permeable yet re-interpretative attitude earlier than 1915. During the first years of the 20th century already, the artist seeks to confront himself with other painters and to develop his artistic personality through such contact, as he writes: “I never avoided the influence of others. I would have considered it to be cowardice, and a lack of sincerity towards myself. I believe the artist’s personality only develops and asserts itself through the struggles which it must suffer against other personalities.”

He thus went painting on Belle-Île, an island off the coast of Bretagne, seeking to experience first-hand Monet’s work previously realised there. Matisse also visited St-Tropez with his friend Signac, a key player in the pointillist movement, and moved closer to divisionist technique in his Luxe, Calme et Volupté of 1904. This piece is Matisse’s first explicit look beyond his formal artistic training.


The last room of the display represents the climax of Matisse’s interaction with other creators in his search for a tangible artistic nucleus, allowing the visitor a glimpse of what a Parisian avant-garde salon might have looked like: Gauguin, Manguin and Picasso, amongst others, are set side by side with Matisse, most notably two self-portraits of Picasso and Matisse, the comparison of which reveals a similar, revolutionary determination despite their obvious differences. We almost rediscover Henri Matisse in this last note of the exhibition, now in his full vigour and brilliance, announcing his work to come, be it his domestic sceneries ornate with motifs, his collages or feminine drawings.


Devenir Matisse, all in all, successfully traces Henri Matisse’s early evolution, casting light upon his artistic genius, open mind, polyvalence and deeply-anchored integrity. It also coordinates perfectly with the permanent collections, which highlight the latter part of his life and work and finish the story, in a sense. There was no better place than his hometown to unite such a rich and personal narrative from 31 museums worldwide, which substantiates the town’s claim to have given rise to the most brilliant artistic star of the 20th century.

Tories and Culture

Emma Weitzman
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Tories and Culture

The election of a new conservative government begs the question of how British culture and the Arts will be affected. Close to a decade of Tory rule caused a sharp decline in the funding and support of art and culture throughout the nation, and it seems like it’s not getting any better.

In the past years there have been cuts amounting to nearly £400 million of local authority spending on culture and the arts since 2010, according to the County Councils Network. Almost 130 public libraries closed in the year 2017-2018 alone, and so did 64 museums between 2010 and 2017. Importantly, the government promoted a shift to an “American philanthropic-style” system: encouraging private endowment in return for advantages to cultural organisations, and pushed for privatisation of key services, which led to strikes at the National Gallery in 2015. Although councils received a large windfall in the budget preceding the election, the Conservative Manifesto only referred to ‘essential local services’ and did not specify their cultural responsibilities.

Perhaps a sign of worse to come is the erupting row over the funding of the BBC. The world’s oldest national broadcasting organisation relies on license fee payments which the government is seeking to undermine. Their most extreme proposal, decriminalising non-payment of the fee, would result in £200 million less spent on programmes. But it is unlikely this will occur, with the key battle being the negotiations over the cost of the fee beginning in 2022. Even a small change in the license fee could have drastic implications. The BBC already had to scrap free licences for all over-75s as non-payment would have put multiple TV channels and Radio 5 live at risk.

It is fairly clear the recent attacks on the BBC have had a political edge. No 10 has accused the organization of bias, making a case of Andrew Neil’s attack on Johnson for refusing to be interviewed. Worryingly, the absolute victory of Conservatives compounds the problem as they claim to have popular legitimacy to further undermine British cultural institutions.

Some point to Johnson’s legacy as Mayor of London to suggest otherwise. He presided over the 2012 Olympics, perhaps the most significant cultural event of the decade in the UK. Beyond getting stuck on zip-wires and rugby fouls against young children, Johnson has good form when it comes to sport as a keen tennis player. He seeks to convert this to policy, promising £550 million for a grassroots campaign to bring the 2030 World Cup to Britain. The image of sport as a force for national unity is hardly novel, but it is revealing. Unlike the arts, sport entails winners and losers as does politics. Hence, the vision of Johnson as the unbeatable popular politician (and less convincingly the ‘underdog’) being translated into a national sporting narrative. Much as the success of the 2012 Olympics fed into the myth of Johnson’s mayoralty (it was Ken Livingstone who launched the bid), footballing success could boost the image of Conservative governments to come. It is worth stressing that this path is well-trodden with little signs of success. In 2010, Cameron travelled to Zurich to launch a pitiful bid for the 2018 World Cup. Out-bribed by everyone else, the UK. was the first country knocked out. The move costed £21 million, minute compared to the billions the Qataris spent just to buy France’s vote. Despite the changes to Fifa’s corrupt set-up, it’s likely another bid would suffer the same fate. Perhaps the lesson for Johnson is that a zero-sum game is fun as long as you’re winning but torturous humiliation when this isn’t the case.

Perhaps a Conservative government’s stance on culture and the arts can be better gleaned through examining the writings of one of its most central figures, Dominic Cummings. He has attacked the tendency to elect leaders from ‘a subset of Oxbridge egomaniacs with Arts degrees’, and appeals to a vision of a technocratic state unleashed by recreating the environment of tech companies. Hence, in a government which seeks hyper-productivity, what is the role to play of art and culture? There remains an irony to Cummings’ assessment: he is a History graduate, Johnson is a Classics graduate, and there are only a handful of science graduates in the Cabinet. It is also worth noting that the education reforms he attempted to shoehorn in while an advisor to Michael Gove were more traditional than innovatory. Focusing on drumming in classic texts and increasing assessments. Most of the reforms were eventually dropped or diluted due to public outcry, they were condemned by Simon Schama, Carol Ann Duffy, Michael Rosen and academics from Oxford, among others.

Although there has been a constant subordination of cultural institutions under Conservative rule, some comfort can be found in politicians’ foibles and contradictions. The election of a figure so antithetical to cultural progress has already ignited a backlash. The number of volunteers in libraries and galleries has gone up and groups supporting artists from minority backgrounds have multiplied. Perhaps some hope can be found in the words of Brecht, a German who sought refuge from fascist ideology, who said: ‘In the dark times will there also be singing? Yes there will also be singing. About the dark times’.

The hidden hurt of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome

Abigail Howe
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The hidden hurt of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome

There’s a bizarre feud brewing this week. Jameela Jamil – Tahani on The Good Place – has been accused of having Munchausen Syndrome (a disorder where someone deliberately acts as if they have an illness when they are not sick) by Tracie Egan Morrissey and a Twitter firefight ensued. You probably haven’t heard of her but Morrissey is a prolific journalist. She’s written for Entertainment Weekly, The New York Times, Vice and Jezebel. You would assume, then, that she’s done her research – and it certainly seems that she has. Checking her Instagram reveals a massive pile of ‘evidence’. She’s pointed out contradictory stories and claimed Jamil is lying. Jamil’s claims do seem extreme – she’s had cancer twice, been involved in two car accidents while running away from bees and was deaf as a child. It seems unrealistic, perhaps.

One condition that Morrissey referred to as a ‘red flag’ for Munchausen’s is Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which Jamil confirmed she had last year. This is when the story started to become more than celebrity gossip. It got personal – I was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome in 2016. In short (and very simple terms), my collagen and protective tissue won’t do its job properly. Chaos ensues.

The impact upon me certainly sounds unrealistic; I dislocate about five to ten joints a day (and put them back in myself – yes, it hurts, no, I don’t do it as a party trick). I’ve dislocated joints while on stage (every night, in fact, in Present Laughter), in exams and while sleeping. Fatigue means that I often zone out in conversations. I’m a lot easier to injure than most people (which perhaps explains the severity of Jamil’s injuries after her car accidents).

Linked conditions are common, including Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (long name – essentially means my blood vessels don’t contract properly when I stand up – fainting and dizziness follows) and a tumour in my pituitary gland. Together though, it all sounds very unrealistic. Like I could maybe have Munchausen’s.

But it’s true. I can tell you about it because I have been fortunate enough to have some very good doctors who ignored the stereotype that I was a hysterical teenage girl and instead cared for me properly and with respect. I can tell you about it because my family and friends have been wonderfully supportive and never made me doubt the reality of my experiences. But should I have to justify my diagnoses to anyone who shows curiosity? Is it fair to expect me to expose my worst moments – chronic pain and exhaustion – to prevent people from calling me a liar?

What we owe to each other, to borrow from The Good Place, is trust in the honesty of others’ experiences. That seems to fall apart when looking at those with ‘invisible’ chronic illnesses. The number of times I’ve faced suspicion (or even outright dismissal) where my health is concerned are too many to count. Colds and coughs make sense within our discourses of illness; chronic illnesses are outliers and therefore do not match our cultural perceptions of sickness. Perhaps doubt is natural, then, when people have long-term conditions. But the proper medicine for doubt is research not attacks. Presumably, none of those attacking Jamil are doctors with a specialism in Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (or, for that matter, Munchausen’s) or have treated Jamil as a patient.

There’s a larger issue here too, beyond simplistic doubt. I’ve been refused basic accommodations – a seat on the bus, to use the most basic example – due to Ehlers-Danlos not being obviously visible or seeming too young to be disabled. On one hand, it does mean I can write a very good passive-aggressive complaint email. On the other, it’s incredibly inconvenient and dehumanising to have my life limited when compared to my peers due to preconceived notions of what disability is. Jamil, as a young queer Asian woman, does not fulfil those notions and is therefore punished with scrutiny, denying her the validity or dignity of pain.

On a basic level, what is Jamil doing? She’s not trying to achieve accolades due to her medical history. She’s not attempting to monetise it either. Instead, she’s speaking about her perceived experience. Whether you believe she’s a virtue-signalling fraud or an incredible advocate for those with chronic illnesses, it’s not our job to assess the medical needs of others or to invalidate their experience. We aren’t experts and we shouldn’t pretend to be – in the case of chronic illnesses, even the experts can get it wrong. At best, such claims betray our ignorance. At worst, they’re reckless, cruel and potentially dangerous. If you don’t trust Jamil, then don’t engage with her. But don’t join a bullying tirade on social media in an attempt to prove her wrong. You never know who is listening and living the same experiences, being shunned into silence. This week in particular, we’ve seen the impact that scepticism and scrutiny online can have upon the mental and physical health of others. Be open to learning more about others’ experiences and be kind.

Torpids: Rowing Competition Cancelled

Simone Fraser
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Torpids: Rowing Competition Cancelled

College rowers across Oxford have today received the news that Torpids will be cancelled due to bad weather.

The high volume of water in the Isis means that the river is not safe to race on due to the speed of water flow. The streams are so strong that even Environmental Agency boats are unable to patrol.

With many crews already lacking in experience due to prolonged periods of red flag, Oxford University Rowing Clubs (OURCs), who run the competition, have made the decision to call off all four days of racing, despite previous hopes that some limited racing would occur.

OURCs secretary Joe Lord told Cherwell: “It’s a shame but not an easy or an unexpected decision. I look forward hopefully to making use of our 8th week contingency if the river allows.”

Several Captains’ Meetings this term have been dedicated to forming contingency plans in case of this occurrence. Although numerous ideas were put forward, including moving racing to Dorney Lake, this was deemed logistically impossible. Consequently, Torpids is likely to be moved to 8th week with racing between Thursday and Saturday.  

With the first men’s crews racing in 1838, the Hilary bumps competition has a long-standing history, and many crews train several times a week from the start of Michaelmas.

The decision to cancel racing is not taken lightly. In 2018, when the “Beast from the East” brought blizzards to the UK, this only led to a two-day cancellation and reduced divisions on the final day. 

Disappointed rowers will, however, have an outlet for their competitive spirit – Pembroke’s ‘Tug of Warpids’, taking place on Saturday afternoon.

With teams of eight, crews are already eagerly anticipating the chance for old rivalries to take a fresh new form.

Pembroke Boat Club told Cherwell: “We are understandably disappointed that there will be no racing this week but realise that this is a safe and sensible decision. We look forward to challenging for headship both at Summer 8s and Torpids next year. Tug of Warpids promises to be a great event and we hope to see as many people there as possible for a fun day of Pimms, snacks and competition.”

Consensus across boat clubs seems to be that the right decision has been made. Many clubs are happy that novices will get a chance to compete, as racing in Torpids would only have been possible for the most experienced crews.

Somerville women’s captain, Keiran Storer, told Cherwell: “while disappointing, planned racing was excluding many of the lower boats/novices. Not to say Torpids/bumps is fair year to year, but now through events like Tug of Warpids the hard work put in across experiences and abilities won’t be ignored, whilst honouring safety concerns”.

Walter Raleigh, Percy Shelley, and Me: Reflections on a First Term at Oxford

Ben Jureidini
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Walter Raleigh, Percy Shelley, and Me: Reflections on a First Term at Oxford

“So, how’s uni going?”

I imagine this question evokes the same kind of intense existential anguish as being asked how you’re dealing with the inevitability of ageing and the long parade to the graveyard. Being asked how you’re feeling during what are, according to some ominous jury of teachers, older siblings, and some random man on the tube, the best three years of your life, triggers a fair amount of self-reflection in the space of a ‘Fresh Prince’ record scratch.

So, you’re probably wondering how I got myself into this situation: one personal statement, two admissions tests, three a-levels, and four interviews later, you’re finally allowed into the most prestigious university in the world. “Isn’t that where [Percy Shelley/John Locke/Nigella Lawson] went?” they ask; “you’re going to meet the next prime minister!”, they say. So you spend your summer re-reading ‘Brideshead Revisited’, just to, you know, brush up on your picnic etiquette. This time next year, you say to yourself, I’ll be lounging under the shade of a weeping willow and reading Walt Whitman wondering if it’s repressed sexual tension in the air or just the smell of strawberries.

This time next year you are doing nothing of the sort. Your essay on Walt Whitman was ‘poorly researched’, ‘naïve’, and ‘quite frankly, Ben, unacceptable’, and the closest you’ve gotten to ‘Howard’s End’ is falling over onto the cheese floor on Park End Wednesday. Unspoken sexual tension has been replaced with very much expressed PDAs outside Fever, and the smell you get walking outside Tescos after Thursday night Bridge is most definitely not strawberries. Far from Nigella’s midnight croissants, you’re faced with the Sophie’s Choice of Hassan’s or Solomon’s at 3AM on a Monday night.

With the effects past eight weeks of your life slowly spreading across your eyes like a mumps epidemic, you desperately try to think of something – anything – you’ve actually done with your first term in the city of dreaming spires. “Oh, I’ve just been trying to settle in, you know, such a big change,” you say, like a liar: as if the only thing you’ve spent time settling into isn’t chips and gravy and a single bed. There was, of course, that one time you signed up for auditions in first week of Michaelmas term, only to find you actually have to learn a monologue, and the less said about your foray into college rowing, the better. There’s a definite anxiety of originality considering people like Rosamund Pike and Sir Matthew Pinsent were also kind of up for extra-curriculars, too. This can, of course, be hugely motivating (they had to start somewhere, right?) but the pressure to carve a path of that magnitude, to start a fledgling career that will lead you, if not literally to the stars, pretty damn close – looking at you, Edwin Hubble – can often feel suffocating.

We all got here because we’re ambitious people, but it’s easy for that ambition to become unfocused in such a jungle of opportunity: who knows, you could start up volleyball and become a gold medallist, or start student journalism and mingle with a future Pulitzer winner, but there’s an immense amount of pressure to commit and do something, and something big – surely someone made friends with Theresa May whilst she was at St. Hughs? With so many opportunities for networking, acting, debating, and so many examples of achievement across the centuries the sense of “why not me” can easily mutate into “why me at all”, and next thing you know you’ve unsubscribed from all the mailing lists you joined at the Fresher’s Fair, and you’re unable to tell an inquisitive Uber driver literally one interesting thing you’ve achieved at the single most interesting place on the planet.

This all raises the, perfectly logical, question of: why not just do something? Why not just do something indeed. Lots has been said about the odd phenomenon of “Oxford Time”, where a day feels like a week, a week feels like a day, and a term feels like you’ve been at university since shortly after its foundation in 1096. Oxford Time can also leave you feeling suspended in a limbo of opportunities, where you’re so saturated with things that you could be doing that your limbs seem to stop functioning, and you just sit in bed for what Oxford Mean Time tells you was half an hour, but what your watch tells you was half a day. The anxiety of influence coming to somewhere like Oxford – and, I imagine, the other one – is as well-known as the different time zone. There is, however, definitely something to be said for gazing up at the ceiling of the Rad Cam knowing it’s the same ceiling Lewis Carrol looked at as he dreamed up Wonderland (with, perhaps, the addition of opium) or Hugh Grant stared at, pushing back what I can only imagine to be a perfectly permed quaff, then looking back down at your essay on the historical variation of the Coventry dialect and feeling like they were at an Oxford that was decidedly different to yours, yet worryingly the same. Did Tolkien ever have to deal with a college-wide gonorrhoea outbreak? Did Rachel Riley ever compulsively check Oxlove looking for RR @ O? Did Margaret Thatcher ever wish she’d joined the Oxford University Paintballing Society instead of the union?

Existential anguish aside, I’ve been having really quite a lovely time. But under the deep psychoanalysis that occurs anytime literally anyone asks me how it’s going, I can’t help but wonder if ‘really quite a lovely time’ can be reconciled with the ‘best three years of my life.’ Starting Oxford is like being one of those tourists that mill about outside the Rad Cam (you know the ones that walk on the grass when there are signs up in literally eight languages saying not to) suddenly being allowed in, then looking up at the ceiling, taking a few pictures, and being told you’re only here for another seven terms, make the most of it. Knowing what kind of student you’re going to be is like the moment before your matriculation photo, where you’re not sure whether you should smile, smoulder, or go for the dignified, stone-faced stare down the camera lens, but you know that, whatever you do, this photo is supposed to capture an important milestone in your life, and the pressure of deciding which face to pull means the next thing you know, the flash has gone off and you end up looking like a mildly constipated hyena. Perhaps this very article is a product of that exact feeling…

Safe to say, this is all rather a lot to process under the socially acceptable time constraints of human conversation. So when you’re aunt/friend/Uber driver asks you the dreaded “how’s uni?” your brain automatically chucks out a “Oh yeah, it’s really nice! Having a great time!” which, of course, you are – aren’t you? Sure, you may not have been invited to Brideshead yet, but you managed to make it through last Bop without passing out for once, so who’s the real winner here?

I’m Still Standing: Why Final Year is the Best

Rachel Cordery
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I’m Still Standing: Why Final Year is the Best

At the end of Trinity last year, I honestly thought that second year was as good as it got. I had a good second year, but I didn’t do anything particularly memorable. I did my degree, and a few bits and bobs when I felt like it. I was also under the impression that once you reach final year, you have to crack down and properly work, to get a proper degree.

Haaaaa – what absolute bullshit! This year has been FANTASTIC. Sure, I’m super stressed because I still have to get that proper degree, but I am living my best life.

Finally, 6 months before I graduate, I have ventured out of college walls to join a society. Cherwell has been a God send – very much needed breath of fresh air. While you may hear horror stories about spending hours on end in an office without heating (all true), I have made friends OUTSIDE of college and I actually LOVE it.

My biggest regret from my first two years – not getting involved in anything. Honestly, first year is a bit of a blur. Looking back, I wasn’t in a very good place which I definitely didn’t realise at the time. But, that meant I literally only did my degree. I didn’t do any extracurricular aside from a singular netball match each week. This was a big contrast from school where I stayed late every day for various things.

Don’t get me wrong, I did have a very good first year and I’ve made some friends for life (which is the most important thing, in my humble and correct opinion), so I’m not going to waste your time recalling my inner emotions from two years ago. But, when looking at the huge difference between my first and final year (so far) I can see why I’m having such a better time.

Firstly, at the risk of sounding unbelievably cheesy, I am so much more confident in myself. I cannot quite decide whether I’ve simply adopted a “fuck-it” attitude because I just don’t have time to care about a lot of things, or whether I’ve actually grown as a person. I’d like to think it’s the latter, but I reckon it’s a mixture of the two.

At the risk of sounding like an absolute nerd, even for this place, I am also loving my work. A thesis is a scary thing, but I now understand why it’s considered the most rewarding part of the degree. Also, after two terms of relentless classes, tutes, coursework, and now while I’m knee deep in my thesis, I really can’t wait to start revising. I currently have very limited memory of the last year and a half’s work, so I can’t wait for it all to make sense again. Plus, the library-hermit life is really quite enjoyable.

While I’m definitely going out less than first year, the main reason why this year has been quite so good is the social. I’ve never been a keen clubber, in fact – if I actually make it to a club – I usually sneak off at about 1am, to the despair of my friends. But there are two key differences between first (and second) year and third year. Number one, I have stopped going out for the sake of it. For the past two years, I would go out to Bridge or Park End because I thought I probably should, and I’d bend to peer pressure (what a bitch). Now, I go out because I genuinely want to, which has been revolutionary. Secondly, me and my friends are doing so many more cute things, like late night G&Ds, spontaneous trips to Spoons, and early morning breakfasts. It also helps that by this point I know who my friends are, and who I really want to hang out with.

It is 5th week of Hilary of my final year at Oxford, and I just feel so much more comfortable than I did when I arrived. I’m comfortable in my own skin, comfortable with my ability, my views, and with my friends. I am finally in the right place, and I feel good.

Understandably, therefore, my impending graduation is slightly upsetting. I keep thinking how much better my whole university experience would have been if I had simply changed a few things earlier. But, then again, I was a different person two years ago, and who knows what she would have done under the amount of work and lack of sleep I have now. She could barely do an essay and a half a week. No, I try to keep those thoughts out of brain and just be thankful with what I have.

Don’t get me started about jobs or further education. It’s slightly terrifying that a good proportion of my friends have jobs lined up for after graduation. Sometimes I question why on earth I didn’t just bite the bullet and do law or banking. Then off to the city I would go in September to earn lots and lots of money. Others are straight onto the master’s track, something I am definitely considering. People do masters to either bolster their CV for a certain field, e.g. international development, or they want to be an academic. You can rule the latter out straight away, and as for the former… surely you have to work out what you want to do first before applying for one?

All the indecision and cluelessness surrounding my future has left me with one option: GAP YEAR! Of course, this was not actually my only option. I could very well get a job, but I also just want a break. I have been in education for 19 years now, and I think it’s time to stop for a bit.

For this final reason, I am not scared about leaving university. It has been the best, and worst, time of my life, but I am ready to move onto the next phase. I have a million thoughts – journalist, diplomat, barrister, baker. I reckon if I had a job lined up, while it would be very reassuring, I would also probably be less excited about the next year. In fact, the endless fountain of opportunities keeps me going.

Opinion | Nevada Caucuses: Lessons Learned

Spencer Cohen
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Opinion | Nevada Caucuses: Lessons Learned

RESULTS (87,55% of precincts reporting): Sanders 47,1%; Biden 20,1%; Buttigieg 13,6%; Warren 9,7%; Steyer 4,7%; Klobuchar 3,9%. 

Mr. Sanders won a decisive victory in the first diverse state to vote in the 2020 Democratic Primary, showing great improvement from his 2016 performance, and dominating the field across nearly every demographic. His win came as a muddled field failed to produce a challenger to Mr. Sanders. While Mr. Biden carried the African-American vote, his performance was nevertheless disappointing for a former Vice-President in a state that saw him lead in polls for months before the caucuses. Mr. Buttigieg, in a state he has invested heavily in, struggled with minority voters and garnered just enough votes to expect delegates. Despite a widely-praised debate performance, Ms. Warren underperformed, while Ms. Klobuchar, despite momentum from her strong New Hampshire finish, and Mr. Steyer, despite his investments in the state, both did poorly. 

Here’s what we took away from the results of the Nevada Caucus:

  1. All Welcome to the Political Revolution

In 2016, Nevada was the state that cemented the narrative that Mr. Sanders was a candidate unable to marshal the minority support necessary to win the Democratic Nomination. Ms. Clinton’s victory was largely fueled by older and minority voters, while Mr. Sanders won mostly younger, whiter, and more liberal voters. However, in 2020, Mr. Sanders has turned this trend around entirely: “Tio Bernie”, as he has affectionately been baptized by his star surrogate Ms. Ocasio-Cortez, has made Latino outreach a cornerstone of his campaign. In Nevada alone, the Sanders campaign has hired 66 Latino campaign staffers, held events called “Tamales with Tio Bernie”, and stressed the word “multiracial” in his campaign’s mainstay explanation of the “multi-generational, multi-racial, working class political revolution” he hopes to stage. Mr. Sanders’ ability to attract minority support (which will soon again be tested by South Carolina’s large African-American population on February 29th) is fixing the key weakness of his 2016 challenge to Ms. Clinton, and sets him on a clear path to the nomination. 

What makes Mr. Sanders’ win even more impressive was his support that transcended other demographic lines: he won a plurality of women, voters between 17 and 29 years old, voters between 20 and 44 years old, and voters between 45 and 64 years old. He was able to win voters with a college degree, and those without. He also carried union and nonunion households – and he even was able to win moderate and conservative Democrats. Most impressively, despite the powerful Culinary Union’s attacks on Mr. Sanders and his Medicare-for-All proposal, he won a majority of union households and did very well in caucus sites on the Vegas Strip, where service workers dominate the population. Mr. Sanders effectively won nearly every category of voter in Nevada, proving that he has widespread appeal and the ability to galvanize and earn the support of nearly every segment of the Democratic base. 

This growing broad support is behind his good poll numbers and might carry him in South Carolina, California, and Texas – three delegate-heavy states voting before March 3rdin which Mr. Sanders has been gaining ground thanks to his increasing share of minority support. Crucially, this also neutralizes Mr. Biden’s main path to the nomination: if Mr. Sanders can also attract African-American and Latino support, then Mr. Biden’s path to the nomination, which runs through the diverse states in which Mr. Sanders is picking up more and more support, seems increasingly unlikely. If Mr. Sanders is able to continue to command widespread and broad support as he has in Nevada, Mr. Sanders will not simply be the front-runner – he will be a convincing nominee. 

  • The (Failing) Search for the Anti-Bernie

While Mr. Sanders seems closer and closer to building a commanding lead that could win him a plurality of delegates before the convention, he lacks an immediate challenger, or an “anti-Bernie”.  This is not for lack of trying: three candidates have increasingly sought to paint contrasts between themselves and Mr. Sanders in the hope of creating a two-way race: Mr. Buttigieg, Mr. Biden, and Mr. Bloomberg. 

All three of them have attacked Mr. Sanders on similar grounds. Mr. Buttigieg has ramped up his criticism of Mr. Sanders recently, decrying his “inflexible ideological revolution that leaves out most Democrats, not to mention most Americans”. Mr. Biden also used his concession speech in Nevada to paint a contrast between himself and Mr. Sanders, stating:“I ain’t a socialist. I’m not a plutocrat. I’m a Democrat,” – taking a swipe at Mr. Sanders’ registration as an Independent, and his seemingly divisive “democratic socialist” tag. And Mr. Sanders was the target of Mr. Bloomberg’s few successful attack lines in the Nevada debate, arguing the Democratic Party “shouldn’t throw out capitalism”, and attacking Mr. Sanders’ millionaire status.  

These attacks have gained in intensity recently, but they have not enabled any of the three most likely moderate challengers to Mr. Sanders to place themselves as his primary opponent. Arguably, this is the main story that emerged from Nevada: while Mr. Sanders’ is emerging as a frontrunner, he lacks a clear challenger, with all 3 of his potential challengers unable to overcome their weaknesses. Mr. Buttigieg has made little to no headway with minority voters, Mr. Bloomberg’s debate performance was so underwhelming that it dented his rise in polls, and Mr. Biden lost Latino voters to Mr. Sanders and only $ 7M left in the bank (Mr. Sanders has around $ 17M). 

This multi-candidate field is undoubtedly to Mr. Sanders’ advantage, and makes his path to the nomination more straightforward: he could emerge from a divided field consistently winning delegates from most primary states, while the rest of the candidates could cannibalize each other’s chances to compete with Mr. Sanders and consistently reach the 15% viability threshold statewide and in congressional districts in order to clinch delegates.   

  • Caucuses Don’t Work

Harry Reid, an influential baron of the Nevada Democratic Party and former Senate Majority Leader, suggested after the caucuses: “All caucuses should be a thing of the past. They don’t work for a multitude of reasons”. He joined a growing chorus of voices in the Democratic Party calling for an end to the caucus system after technical glitches and democratic critiques have clouded both the Iowa and Nevada caucuses. 

This comes after Mr. Buttigieg’s campaign has appealed the results in Nevada, citing “material irregularities”. There have been some reports that the incorporation of early voting to the caucus system in Nevada created confusion, and may cloud the results in some precincts. And, in addition to these issues, as of Monday (and the time of writing of this article), the Nevada Democratic Party has only been able to report 87% of precincts (the caucus took place on Friday, and 60% of the results were known on Sunday). These failures come after the debacle in Iowa, which has still not been called, and where a recount will begin on Tuesday. Nevada is the second caucus in a row to experience technical difficulties, and to be contested. The arcane caucus process, with its quirks and specificities, has proven itself unable to deliver results without technical glitches.  

In addition to the fact they are unreliable, caucuses are by their nature undemocratic: they require voters to be physically present and standing at a caucus site for hours for their vote to count, and as a result of this commitment, they usually only garner small voter turnout (Iowa caucus turnout was 12% of the eligible population). This burden on the voter has historically excluded people of color, people with disabilities, working people who are unable to commit the time at night, and people who don’t speak English. Moreover, the lack of anonymity in a caucus often adds a layer of social pressure and control that distorts the democratic process.  

The conclusion? The caucus system is a flawed system. The Democratic and Republican Parties need to replace all caucuses with primaries to fully engage as many voters as possible in primaries and restore faith in the democratic process.

  • The Great Winnowing That Never Came: Towards a Contested Convention?

After Nevada, it has also become clear that candidates like Tom Steyer, Amy Klobuchar, and Elizabeth Warren have no path to the nomination: FiveThirtyEight’s model gives them 0,1%, 0,1%, and 2% chances of winning a plurality of pledged delegates. Their results in Nevada were all disappointing, especially for Ms. Warren after her sizzling debate performance. While Mr. Steyer has the ability to self-fund, Ms. Warren and Ms. Klobuchar have nearly exhausted their campaign funds ahead of the most expensive stretch of the campaign: Super Tuesday. Ms. Warren has $ 2,3M left in her campaign account, and Ms. Klobuchar has an equally paltry $ 2,9M left. While the field remains historically large, it is beginning to become unsustainably so. The expensive and sprawling task of campaigning and competing in Super Tuesday states will likely have the long-awaiting winnowing effect on the field. 

Even if this is the case, it remains unclear whether the size of the field will allow any candidate to win a majority of pledged delegates to clinch the nomination. That same FiveThirtyEight model predicts a 40% chance of no single candidate able to win a majority of pledged delegates – the second most after Mr. Sanders. Every candidate except for Mr. Sanders indicated that they would not want to give the nomination to a candidate with a plurality of pledged delegates (this would likely be Mr. Sanders) but without the required majority. 

This could lead to a contested convention – a scenario for which multiple candidates, including Mr. Bloomberg have been strategizing already according to reports. This would give super delegates, party elites, a role in determining who the candidate should be at the convention on the second ballot of voting. If the race is unsettled and undecided by July, with the field still large and divided, the convention in Milwaukee could play a real role in choosing, and not just formalizing, the identity of the nominee. 

Cherpse! Joe and Ed

Cherwell Life
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Cherpse! Joe and Ed

Joe Drakeley, Oriel, Physics, 2nd Year

We met at the steps of the Ashmolean which is surprisingly ominous at night, despite it only being 7.30pm. I hadn’t anticipated how cold it would be so almost froze waiting for him to arrive. When he showed up we said our hellos and agreed to walk to Freud in Jericho. On the walk we properly introduced ourselves with all the usual boring questions so it was nice to get those out of the way and it turned out we had a mutual friend which was interesting. We arrived at Freud and found it was closed so decided to enter a pub across the road which for the life of me I cannot remember the name of. We sat down, ordered a drink and talked about our respective lives, all in all a very standard first date. We only stayed for one drink, then walked back to central Oxford together and said our goodbyes.

First impressions:
He seemed really smiley and friendly, though not my usual type.

Did it meet your expectations:
I know it’s very cliche to say for this but I didn’t really have any expectations for this date as it was very last minute.

What was the highlight:
I wouldn’t say there was a particular highlight, maybe it was the fact that he was so friendly.

Most embarrassing moment:
When I walked into the pub and the barman didn’t hear me say hello back to him and called me out for being rude.

Describe the date in three words:
Short, quiet, chill.

Is a second date on the cards:
Probably not as we are very different people.

Ed Buxton, Jesus, German and Linguistics, 4th Year

I—unsurprisingly, as my friends would say—was the one running slightly late, so was spared the fearful pacing up and down the Ashmolean steps wondering whether I would be stood up. I went for the handshake, immediately asking myself: y tho? Hey ho. He suggested Freud so we had a decent walk for the start of a date, making classic small talk such as commenting on how cold it was (we were both in thin jackets, and it was, in fact, cold), complaining about the mountains of work awaiting us on our desks, and desperately trying to think of mutual friends (or acquaintances: anyone really) we might have. Freud was shut, so a few paces on and it was Jude the Obscure, Jericho which rescued us from the cold and provided a roof over our heads for the date. Nice G&T, decent chat, but I’m not sure if the spark was there for me.

First impressions:
Cool sense of style – rocking a black turtle neck, denim jacket, ripped jeans and shiny black Chelsea boots.

Did it meet up to expectations?
My only fear was being stood up, so yes!

What was the highlight?
Sitting opposite such a stylishly dressed guy for like 40 minutes plus, tbh.

What was the most embarrassing moment? Asking what his surname was for the inevitable Facebook stalk (yes I waited till the end at least…) and him responding that I wouldn’t need it for the Cherwell write-up.

Describe the date in three words:
Chill, chill, chill.

Is a second date on the cards?
Probably not, but I wouldn’t mind seeing that outfit again…

Matty Bovan AW20 LFW Show Review

Marc Fakobs
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Matty Bovan AW20 LFW Show Review

In a fashion week which is churning out Victoria Beckham’s bland, half-heartedly tailored black coats and Richard Quinn’s line-overstepping spiked gimp masks, Matty Bovan is exactly what we needed. This London Fashion Week brought us York-based designer, Matty Bovan’s, first solo show for AW20. As a self-declared ‘huge non-fan’ of Brexit he wanted to create a new vision for the future; one marked by hope, sustainability and an utter disregard for any fashion conventions or conglomerates. 

His show was defined by his sense of fun. Backstage, it was cramped and hot, but the atmosphere was one of creativity, collaboration and excitement. Unlike most designers who rarely see the make-up or hair-dressing stage of the show preparation, Matty was in the mix from the very beginning, greeting all the models and hugging everyone. Despite the huge pressure he was under to create a smooth, successful first show, his genial and appreciative attitude never faltered. He showed genuine gratitude to every model, every dresser and every hair or make up artist for coming to his show. 

The clothes themselves showed a playful interaction with most of the high fashion conglomerate brands around him. He pokes fun at ‘feminine’ silhouettes, creating some looks underpinned with long pannier sticks that threatened to knock out members of the audience at points. As a graduate in Fashion Knitwear at Central Saint Martins, it seems only fitting that one of the looks was an almost sail-like asymmetrical pannier stick lined across the model’s shoulders, draped with bright yellow knitwear with the slogan ‘enter’. When talking to Vogue before the show, he laughed at his own creations: ‘I think it’s important to challenge the silhouette of the body. Have you ever seen knitwear in that shape?’. No Matty, we haven’t.

In a recent interview with Matty Bovan, the Guardian talked to him about his living and working arrangements. Most of the high fashion world is centred around London, Paris and Milan and yet Matty has rejected these epicentres for his family home in York. He creates his brilliant works in a garage at the bottom of his garden, as he has since he was 16. The handicraft aspect of his work is important: he makes almost all of his own clothes, helped occasionally by other Central Saint Martins graduates, and with jewellery crafted by his mum. His ethos is one of sustainability (much of the recent show was created with reject denim donated by Fiorucci or recycled fabrics) and each look is uniquely created. Despite being offered the prestigious LVMH Graduate Prize and the accompanying year-long job at Louis Vuitton, he decided that the company did not share his same approach to design and left halfway through. Louis Vuitton’s mass-production lines and multiple deadlines did not fit into Matty’s world-vision, hence his return to York and hand-dyed fabrics.

Matty tells the Guardian, ‘I always say I’m not a political designer, but I am very interested in politics – how can you not be?’. But rather than paying seamstresses to stitch hypocritical political slogans onto mass-produced t-shirts, as many big brands do, Matty weaves his ethos into the very clothes he creates by hand. His concern is one for waning creativity; a concern he developed ever since there were subject cuts in the art department at his old school in Leeds when he taught there. He is deeply concerned with impending problems such as Climate Change in a way that many fashion brands only pretend to despite investing in mass-produced and big-budgeted shows. Matty offers us genuine hope for the future of fashion and a vision of clothes which are ethically and creatively designed, and brilliantly optimistic.

Correction: A previous version of this article incorrectly claimed that designer Richard Quinn’s show featured underage models. This was unfounded and we are happy to make clear that it is not the case.

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