Saturday 28th June 2025
Blog Page 488

How Life in Lockdown is Preparing us for Smart Cities

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Empty London buses follow the usual circuits on clear roads, like Scalextric cars. Churches take to streaming Sunday service. Students, uncertain about their foreseeable academic futures, cling to supermarket cans, as they replace pubs with digital gatherings. Tough laws, enforced to combat the spread of COVID-19, have prompted mass engagement with technology. Our adaptation to these unprecedented social distancing regulations has cemented a cultural shift. The new decade will be defined by the innovative communication tools of the last.

We are left to decipher vague instructions from the isolated heads of unwell politicians. Monitors are assembled within a room, alongside healthier colleagues and journalists. The spectacle, resembling a conceptual performance, is complete. Our faith is consequently placed in Zoom, a remote conferencing app employed by government officials. Decisions being made are based on questionable statistics, detailing cases and deaths. These can be best reviewed on recommended websites. The public have been catapulted into, what feels like, a dystopian production.

Despite the surrealistic nature of the pandemic, it has already had a damaging impact on the economy and will continue to do so. The political input of citizens has been diminished and the expression of their viewpoints is limited to posts on social networking sites. Individuals have quickly learned the importance of complying with regulations to avoid infection. After being presented with polls, even the typically control-averse realise these changes are necessary, temporary measures, and have conformed.

However, a shared passive attitude towards decision making has arguably already been encouraged and enabled by the rise of Smart technology. Opting for a social structure based on findings and algorithms, over one of deliberation, has long been on the horizon. In popular entertainment, data-collecting applications, such as Spotify, have quickly been adopted by both experts and consumers alike, in search of new music. Unfortunately, as the algorithms in place, function by grouping users and distributing identical suggestions, the element of discovery and individuality is removed. Tourists unwittingly allow Google to dictate and manipulate their view of surroundings, as they rely on map services to navigate. Due to the promises of accuracy and technological advancement, users believe the results they receive are unbiased. However, Google Home, the firm’s directory assistant product, is programmed to only recommend companies they have financial ties to.

The lack of diversity in music suggestions is unlikely to pose a direct threat to the running of the country. Nevertheless, the same type of code is often applied to modify behaviour and homogenise audiences. Unlike Spotify, visitors to Facebook expect an identical view, but are presented with material based on their own activity. Social media corporations have a tendency to favour political parties in their advertising space, to influence their visitors voting habits. Advertisers can use Facebook’s audience insights tool to make minor alterations to campaigns that suit each potential viewer. With such a sophisticated system and wide scale presence, a political party can be hugely impactful and competitive. In order for capitalism to prevail, all potential conflict must be eradicated. It is best achieved by making people more alike. Fortunately for these conglomerates, the act of manually exploring is now regarded as laborious, to the detriment of individual taste and democracy.

Multinational tech organisations, in a bid to encroach further on public space, are moving towards the formation of cities and urban planning. Like their existing virtual worlds, these built environments will seem authentic and advanced enough to self-regulate. They will also appear to remove human error and differing ideas. This would mean a decreased level of input from residents, which could appeal to those disenchanted with democracy. Perhaps Generation Z, a demographic who feel underserved by authority and are highly active within a culture influenced by Silicon Valley entrepreneurs.

The symbiosis of digital platforms and physical space could be used by the reigning corporation to push a single capitalist ideology. The parameters of the city would therefore represent a political constituency, all subscribing to one doctrine. When the zeitgeist is analysed, the current lockdown appears to be a precursor to an inevitable future. One where residents’ faith in data and disinterest could be exploited to further support the selfish, capitalist goals of its rulers.

Sidewalk Labs is a subsidiary of Alphabet Inc, a company created by Google in 2015 to parent all of their existing ventures, including Google itself. Quickly following this, the organisation began developing a proposal for a smart city on the Toronto eastern waterfront. A large majority of the public aren’t aware of the organisation’s restructuring and don’t recognise the name. This allows Google to branch into new territory without immediate connections being drawn to their international reputation. All components of the city’s infrastructure will have attached sensors, delivering real-time measurements. For example, the design and efficiency of transportation is said to be improved by constant updates on energy usage and traffic statistics.

The environmental improvements of the operation are in keeping with the aims of what has been dubbed, ‘The Collaborative Commons’. The Collaborative Commons is a shared post-capitalist vision whereby emerging smart technology will be used in homes to improve the conservation of energy and in turn reduce running costs. In this utopia, people will become liberated prosumers, capable of self-producing products, with 3D printers. The willingness to share free material online also will play a crucial role. By employing green appliances, all parts of the process will be brought to a ‘near-zero’ cost.

Sidewalk Labs include similar methods to maximise the usage of appliances but differ in wishing to take power away from residents and increase their own profits. In a smart home, mechanisms automatically adjust in accordance with recorded figures, of which, the homeowner can see. In a city, a governing body can decide on the visibility of results. Both goals towards sustainability and the public’s faith in data will arguably be exploited in the smart city model to conceal genuine self-interest.

By implementing detectors within all parts of the infrastructure, Google can use data to justify any future developments within the city, but there is no guarantee it won’t be falsified. To avoid being overturned, capitalism must take advantage of new industries or global issues. The anxiety felt by the public and their efforts to follow pandemic guidelines will be exploited in a similar way to how the Collaborative Commons has been.

A primary concern in the current crisis is our distance from the figures presented. The death toll put forward by countries, such as China, is probably unreliable. It is also alleged that Chinese authorities prevented the media coverage of the early outbreak as they believed the negativity would damage the party’s reputation. This highlights the extent to which dissemination and censorship plays a role in reinforcing a hierarchical structure.

Social distancing is unquestionably a logical step in slowing down the virus, but it inadvertently removes the voice of communities. The separation of citizens to specific regions and the removal of public space as a place for discussion, means news can be more precisely targeted. If the virus didn’t prevent people from working, the division would completely fulfil capitalist dreams.

In these circumstances Facebook and Twitter appear as emancipatory tools of expression, however this is mostly an illusion. Officials of many countries have allegedly infiltrated such sites to spread disinformation and to create conflict with other nations. A wide range of personal details, including location, can be extracted from profiles and used to improve the impact of fabricated stories. Vague media coverage is strategically put out to allow economic stability to be prioritised, without public intervention. Once again platforms are being misused to subtly alter perception and their success is due to how we’ve become acclimatised.

The longevity of the Toronto Waterfront, or ‘city-within-a-city’, project will strongly rely on the transmission of news. Torontonians, convinced by the perks of the plans, will move to the space and gradually follow the corporation’s mission statement. From there, networks within the space can be tampered with to block out or slow down the circulation of external news. Conflicting views will be removed from media coverage to ensure the continual submission of residents, a technique the Chinese government have recently adopted to prevent resistance. Individuals will be given agency over common areas, but it will no longer be a place for political discussion. The autonomy over parts of the land will work as an illusion of democracy within an anti-democratic system.

In some ways the limitations are comparable to present lockdown conditions. Recently, surveillance, tracking our movements in such areas, has increased, or at least has been made more transparent. We have become inactive spectators. We are informed that these measures are for our own benefit and are only taken to ensure social distancing is being carried out. Once the capitalist slogan, ‘there is no alternative’, is instilled and believed, the power of the corporation is boundless.

A news broadcast could inform us of additional pandemic restrictions tomorrow, without consultation. The laws aren’t fixed, and deception can still come into play at a later date. Equally, the transition back to typical policing, following the lifting of the lockdown, could be timely or, if we are not careful, non-existent.

The Art of the Runway

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The art of the fashion show

For a long time, fashion shows were exclusive, closed-off events, yet things are changing. As shows are increasingly live-streamed, extensively photographed and uploaded online, the fashion industry’s veil of mystique is gradually disappearing. The Belgian designer, Martin Margiela was among the first to break fashion’s fourth wall with his SS 1990 Paris show. Margiela turned his back on the Carrousel du Louvre in favor of a popular neighborhood in the 20th arrondissement of Paris.  At the front row, Anna Wintour had been replaced by neighborhood children. Models stumbled down an uneven, dusty runway, in clothes crafted from carrier bags, with jackets slung round their waists, in a derelict playground packed full with anyone who could squeeze their way in. A child was gleefully carried along on a model’s shoulders. Margiela continued to break runway conventions, New York Magazine describing his early shows as “perhaps more like art happenings than the thematic and operatic productions 80s Paris fashion is known for.” In the 1990s fashion shows morphed into an art form of its own right, designers presenting more of a personal, holistic message.

Alexander McQueen was central in the process. The Saville-trained designer created anarchistic shows; making of runways truly sensorial experiences. From making model stand in a ring of fire to the hologram of Kate Moss, every show became iconic.

For his SS 2001 show ‘VOSS’, the standard black catwalk was replaced by a padded cell with two-way mirrored walls, the press and public facing their own reflections. Once the show started the models were confronted by their own image, the catwalk like an enclosure acted as a trap. The pièce de résistance was unveiled at the end; when a glass box on the walk shattered to reveal naked Michelle Olley modelled as Joel-Peter Witkin’s Incubus, hauntingly clad with a mask and breathing tubes. McQueen’s shows have always spark both shock and controversy, and so has always been his intention. As he puts it frankly, “I don’t want to do a cocktail party, I’d rather people left my shows vomiting.” Ian Bonhôte’s documentary McQueen, available on Netflix, provides a striking insight into many of these revolutionary shows and the mastery of McQueen’s work.

McQueen was counter-current, but what happens then, when those who usually set traditions also start defying them? Karl Lagerfeld was renowned for his extravagant runway sets, taking his shows to the Great Wall of China and The Met’s Temple of Dendur, transforming the Grand Palais into an iceberg and a Chanel supermarket.

McQueen and Lagerfeld created clashing universes, and runways are mere expression of their differences. Whilst Chanel’s catwalks offer a sense of extravagance, luxury and frivolity, McQueen’s were gritty, illicit, raw, driven by defiance rather than opulence. The former’s ingenuity came to light in the infamous finale to his SS 1999 show. The collection was pulled together at the last moment with a bundle of toile and a belt which were showered in paint by two robotic arms. Destruction became creation.


Alexander McQueen SS 1999 show

In 2019, Rihanna was another to disrupt conventions. Her Savage X Fenty Show was a celebration of unrivalled diversity, casting models of all ethnicities, genders and body types, fostering a sense of what beauty and empowerment means in the 21st century. The show, available to stream on Amazon Prime, broke the fashion media into the mainstream, fusing fashion with dance and live rap music. Every detail became a symbol of power.

Although Rihanna’s, Margiela’s and McQueen’s creations all hold differences, their shows work symbiotically to heighten the designer’s message. By showcasing more than just collections of clothes, they represent emotion, vulnerability, power. Other forms of artistic expression come to complete the meaning of clothes.

Home Workouts: A Guide

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With term looming and a reading list down to our feet, we’re all getting our fair share of mental exercise. But with thinking comes frustration, and sometimes we need a bit of a break. This can come in many different forms. For me, a self-confessed gym lad, I was afraid I would miss the range of different gym equipment. But I was wrong! Granted, if you’re particularly advanced it is more difficult to recreate the weight you might need for a progressive overload programme (or, in other words, for getting ‘dem gains’), but having only a yoga matt, a pair of adjustable dumbbells and some resistance bands has not only sufficed to get me a next-day burn, but made my training even more efficient! Now I’m no Joe Wicks, but quarantine has forced me to get creative with my workouts, and I have gathered a few ideas and tips which might be of interest to people feeling a little stuck or unmotivated. So, without further ado, here is a breakdown of my top tips and approaches to complete resistance training at home: 

Finding a Spot 

Consider what you are training and plan accordingly. For things like yoga, on the spot circuit training and workouts using just body weight, you’ll probably only need enough room for a matt. There are plenty of videos online of workouts designed for a small space which are worth checking out if space is limited. If you’re training legs you will probably need a bit more room for things like walking lunges, crab walks etc. Whatever the case is, think ahead when planning your workout so you don’t have to interrupt it half way through to find more space or equipment you might need, such as chairs.  

Another thing you might want to consider is ventilation: will you overheat in said room? Since the weather has been so nice recently I’ve really enjoyed working out outside; fresh air does wonders for motivation! Just be aware of direct exposure to the sun, and where possible try to stay in the shade. If you don’t have access to an outside space, you can ventilate a room by opening all the windows. If you are the kind of person that likes to divide up their work and chill space, it might be an idea to choose a room you don’t spend so much time in. 

Motivation

The prospect of a workout can seem daunting, especially in a location you’re not used to. When you’re at the gym, it’s all set up for you; at home, you might have to shuffle a few things around. Fast, fun, loud music naturally encourages movement, so is a great way to get started. Just stick some headphones in and put on some lit tunes. 

Once you’re up, you’re basically half way there. Start your session easy: walking lunges, stretches, even popping some funky dance moves are great ways of getting in the zone and warming up. Even a session of easy movement can be a nice break from sedentary work. 

For the actual workout, make sure you’ve planned a routine beforehand. That way all you have to do is bash out each exercise like a to-do list, and not waste time and energy trying to come up with your next move. If you don’t have time to plan, look one up; there are plenty online, especially if you follow fitness inspos of instagram. You can also find workout videos on YouTube in live time, which are great for holding you accountable in your rest periods and mean the only thing you have to do is follow the trainer!

Free/inexpensive equipment 

If you are looking to push yourself in terms of resistance training, I would definitely suggest investing in adjustable dumbbells. These come with screw on ends and you can put on or take off small weight plates according to the exercise you are doing. This means that a) you don’t have to spend money on several different sets of dumbells with different weights, and b) convenient storage if you are limited for space. Other important investments are resistance bands: these range in price, but most are super cheap. I would recommend getting a set of different resistance levels; I use quite a high resistance one for legs, and have a long band which is great for upper body training: from assisted pull ups, to shoulder pulls, lat pulls etc (just hook it around a door handle).  

A chair is a great tool for lots of workouts. You can use it as a substitute for a bench, especially for lower body moves: stepping up and down holding some weight, as a platform for one leg when doing split squats, a place to rest your back when doing hip thrusts. You can even use the chair as a weight and squat with it! 

Whatever your location, whatever your level of motivation, working out from home can be for you. That being said, exercising on its own is not the ultimate cure for feeling down at this time. Manage your tasks and hobbies around what gives you fulfillment and happiness. It sounds cheesy, but is important to reiterate. Take care of yourselves, and if you’re inspired by this article do try a home workout! 

Oxford SU Assessment Consultation results show little agreement between students

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The Oxford Student Union has released the results of the Teaching and Assessment Student Consultation (TASC) which received a total of 5462 submissions. This consultation has been and will be used to aid university planning for remote teaching and assessment in response to the coronavirus crisis.

However, the results from the TASC show a divided student body, with little consensus over a university-wide assessment option for Trinity 2020.  

The aim of the consultation is “to ensure that the University was aware of the effects its various potential policies would have on students”, states Ray Williams, the SU Vice-President for Access & Academic Affairs.

Williams asserts he has used the consultation as the “basis” of his arguments “in conversations with top University officials and stakeholders across the collegiate University”, stating that the TASC’s “findings have informed policymaking around teaching and assessment in Trinity 2020.”

Indeed, the ‘safety net policy’ set to be released in the upcoming week and a suspension policy allowing for optional deferment of examinations to Trinity 2021 to specific students have been directly influenced by TASC results.

The student demographic partaking in the consultation was overwhelmingly composed of undergraduates, making up 84.6% of respondents. Over 2600 finalists and a further 2800 non-finalists were surveyed.

Overall Summary

The consultation was divided between optional full, written responses and scalar responses to different scenarios and solutions, with 1 indicating an “overall negative effect” and 5 indicating “an overall positive effect”. These were graphically represented in the report. The written responses reflecting specific, detailed comments were grouped to show key areas of concern with regards to each option.  

The study presented students with 10 different “assessment solutions”: an open-book timed exam (3hr); an open-book prolonged timed exam (5hr); online Vivas; portfolios of work; coursework submission; exam postponement; suspension; alternative on-course performance grading; classification based on grades achieved throughout degree; and, graduating with an unclassified degree.

The options viewed most positively were assessment via Portfolios of Tutorial-Style Work, with 3,020 students ranking it either 4 or 5 in the negative to positive scale.

The options viewed most negatively were remote ‘open-book’ exams, with 3,213 students ranking it 1 or 2, 2000 of which stating it would have a very negative effect. The option of an Online Viva was also widely rejected, with 3,015 students claiming it would have a negative impact.

The most divided options were those offering alternative grading methods such as grades based on previous on-course performance or on previous grades already achieved in other on-course examinations and assessments.

The option to postpone exams was also generally rejected, however the proposals for an optional suspension of studies until Trinity 2021 or awarding an unclassified degree were positively viewed if chosen at the student’s own discretion.

Detailed breakdown of results.

Regarding remote exams, an overwhelming majority of students felt that open-book exams following a similar format to conventional exams would have a negative impact, with only 6% of students thinking it would be a very positive solution. Many students emphasised their concerns about home conditions, including technical issues such as WiFi connection. Others showed concerns about the suitability of specific subjects for adaptation into online formats.

The suggestion of an open-book prolonged 5-hour exam was also viewed negatively overall. However, this was seen less negatively than the 3-hour option. Similar concerns were raised.

Online Vivas that would replace exams with live assessment through videoconference were widely seen to have as negative an effect as the 3hr remote exam option, with many students raising concerns regarding unfamiliarity with the format and the stress this would cause. However, of those who viewed it more positively, they asserted this method was fairer than online exams, particularly with regards to cheating or collusion.  

Assessment via Portfolios of tutorial-style work or Coursework submissions were largely viewed more positively. Those who viewed it most positively emphasised this as a good solution to the issue of differing home conditions.

Nevertheless, students voiced concerns about the unequal access to libraries and resources and the possibility of cheating. Moreover, many expressed concerns over an increase in difficulty and expectations inherent in the format which they would be unprepared for. Many on the negative end stressed this method was inapplicable to their specific degree course.

The proposition to postpone exams to the end of the summer vacation was rejected by many students, with over 1800 stating it would have a very negative impact on them. This was primarily because of concerns about other commitments both in summer and beyond their degrees, many stating this would simply prolong stress. The University agreed with these claims emphasizing the need for students to complete their degree in “a timely fashion.” Nevertheless, many STEM exams with integrated masters have been postponed to October.

On the possibility of suspension of studies until Trinity 2021, many students agreed it should be an option, albeit only opted for by a minority of the student body. The University has directly responded to this and announced they will offer a “second sitting of Trinity 2020 exams in Trinity 2021” which students can pursue “with the blessing of their college”.

The option to award grades based on on-course performance was divisive among students. Paradoxically, students both stated it would be an accurate representation of performance whilst others asserted the direct opposite. Many postgraduate students who are tutors themselves expressed “deep concern” over this option.

The use of grades already achieved in summative assessments throughout the degree was also a divisive option. Many students asserted this was inapplicable to their course because of a lack of assessment until final year. Nevertheless, the University has confirmed they will use previous grades as the foundation for their safety net policy, to be released in the upcoming week.

The final option to award unclassified degrees was largely rejected if implemented universally, however many suggested this should a least be an option for students, particularly those struggling most because of the pandemic. In light of this, the University has decided to make a DDH (‘Declared to have Deserved Honours) degree an option for all students, which would be accompanied with “an enhanced reference letter” to aid in future prospects.

The University affirms its collaboration with the Student’s Union in the development of policies for the upcoming term.

The University told Cherwell: “The SU has been very closely involved in the development of all our policies – and sit on all of the education workstreams supporting our approach to teaching and assessment during Trinity term. The feedback from the student consultation has directly influenced this work and our plans to minimise any potential negative impact from the move to online teaching and assessment.”

Oxford students set up COVID-19 support website for Zimbabwe

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Five Oxford students are part of a global group of Zimbabwean students and young professionals who have founded the Zimbabwe Covid-19 Support Hub. The website pools data, advice, and support information to amplify the Zimbabwean government and civil society’s responses to coronavirus.

About 30 Zimbabwean volunteers use their expertise in programming, communication, economics, law, and other fields to run the website. The Oxford students are postgraduates originally from Zimbabwe: Terrens Muradzikwa from Keble College, Prince Abudu and Itai Muzhingi from Balliol College, and Jason Brickhill and Ngoni Mugwisi from Trinity College.

They collect and share information from authoritative sources, including accurate health advice, government information on the spread of the virus in Zimbabwe, and government measures. The website also collates details about how to access and support community-based projects, and the organisations to contact for assistance.

Muradzikwa explained to Cherwell how the website will support Zimbabwe’s response to coronavirus: “One, through busting fake news by sharing verified and accessible COVID-19 information in local languages such as Shona, Ndebele and Kalanga. We have translated expert-reviewed information from various sources such as the Ministry of Health, WHO, and COVID-19 Health Literacy Project. We have been distributing this information over our website and social media channels reaching over 100,000 people.

“Two, through amplifying the efforts of others in Government and civil society in Zimbabwe, including by encouraging Zimbabweans in the diaspora to help wherever they can. This includes information on GoFundMe campaigns and innovations by local universities.”

Abudu told Cherwell: “It was really the first COVID-19 death that was the wake-up call, because the case was of a young rising media star we all knew: Zororo Makamba. Motivated and deeply saddened by this, we had to act in such uncertain times and provide a platform to use our talents to contribute to the fight against COVID-19 in Zimbabwe.”

The website states: “We are a group of Zimbabwean professionals and researchers in the diaspora. We all have family and friends in the country. We are living through COVID-19 in other countries, but are deeply concerned about the threat of the virus to Zimbabweans. Zimbabwe faces challenges of poverty, a weakened public health system, high rates of HIV-AIDS and other underlying medical conditions, food insecurity, unemployment and fiscal instability that make the COVID-19 threat to Zimbabwe particularly severe.”

Zimbabwe Covid-19 Support Hub shares information on its website, and can also be found on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.

For whom the Tik Toks speak

“Tick tock… Tick tock… It’s a clock! The arena is a clock”, screamed the preteen memory of Katniss Everdeen as my Uni friends introduce me to “TikTok” on a random term night. I smiled to myself. How bizarre it seemed to me that they’d give such an ominous name to an entertainment app. That was my sole reaction to it, though. I brushed it off as just another one of those modern-day social media platforms that bombard people with unnecessary information and provides them with a virtual sense of “being in touch”. It would become, I was sure, something I’d actively try to avoid engaging with. You see, the thought of getting a notification from my phone, displaying a percentage increase in time spent on the device is a haunting one, and I couldn’t help but think an app named after the passing of time would undoubtedly bring that fear to life. And so, I proceeded to ignore it. Nod along to my friends’ references. Kept the onomatopoeic ticking of clocks as background music to the structuring of my everyday life.

A couple of weeks later, the news app on my phone updated me on the appropriate way of defining the situation we were all under. A pandemic, it called it. Everyone was to remain inside. Outings were to be limited, exclusively for the purchase of goods and/or some form of exercise. As uncertainty towards the future and term-time rose, the ticking of clocks grew fainter every day. It became harder to conceive a tomorrow and a yesterday when every day felt roughly the same. It was as if Plutarch Heavensbee had decided to alter the settings in the arena and disorientate us, seemingly making ticking clocks redundant.

That same night, messenger alerted that someone had shared a link with me. It was one to a TikTok, from what I presumed was a Timothée Chalamet fan, commenting on the swell of emotions that hit them every time Visions of Gideon came on, emotions undoubtedly associated with the heart-breaking ending to Call Me by Your Name. It made me laugh. In those mere 45 seconds, someone had managed to conceptualise their reaction to a movie in bittersweet terms, spurring, in true Gen Z spirit, a comedic reaction to one’s own suffering. And I had enjoyed it. Maybe I’d dismissed TikTok too fast. Maybe there was more to it than yet another way of wasting my time.

My pleasant reaction to the TikTok lent itself to a great conversation with said friend. A conversation, might I add, which featured further links to other videos, each and every one of them expressing, in a matter of seconds, an array of emotions shared by two individuals, miles apart. The ticking of the clocks had always been a language I’d associated with order and structure, with things to do and places to be as part of human life. Now, dropping the c’s along the way, it was becoming, in my eyes, at a moment when those old structures seemed pointless, another sort of language, better suited to the needs of our time. Jokingly, I texted saying that looking through the chat seemed like we’d been “speaking in tik tok”. My phone autocorrected it to “tick tocks”. And never had autocorrect been more wrong.

You see, there was more to the dropping of those c’s than a marketing decision made when the company took over Musical.ly. The former, that is, tick tock, speaks of a time when structuring your day in a specific manner marks your exits and entrances, the places you ought to be at for the realisation of a series of activities. The latter symbolises a virtual form of communication, better suited to social distancing and limited exits to the outdoors. It speaks of a reality in need of reconceptualization. And so, what would have previously been defined as 45 seconds of wasted productivity time, became a vessel for a catching up session with a friend.  

When people learn a language, often they’re taught a set of roles that go with it. Structures they ought to follow. A (relative) logic to the way letters are pronounced. A process of association by which words acquire meaning and the contexts in which it’d be most appropriate to use them. That’s all fair enough. Indeed, it’ll get you through most box-standard language exams, and possibly even allow you to flex in front of your family and friends as you order something at a restaurant on holiday. But often people forget to mention what I find to be the most crucial part: its organic, ever-changing nature. People forget to mention that those rules are, and ought to be, revised. That they didn’t give birth to language but were rather a result of it as people attempted to homogenise different strands of what seemed to be a single being. Language is very much a living entity, something subject to context just as much as our identities are. Subject to time in the same manner as we are. It will take up different forms, engage with the arts and society in an array of creative ways, creating all sorts of symbols and adding layers to meaning.

And Tik Tok is a strand of this modern language. One based on creative attempts to disseminate clear cut, often intentionally comedic, ideas about people’s common interests. One designed to keep conversations going with friends, to share a beacon of random surrealism and get that friend of yours to crack a smile every now and then. One entirely based on embracing ridicule as an element of life, and, above all, providing the world with the necessary tools and space to develop an inherent ability to make fun of ourselves. A creative ability, might I add, which becomes most poignant, it seems, when the outside world has been infected with overwhelming destruction, and it is up to us to keep watering the creative (now house) plant.

Don’t get me wrong. TikTok remains in my mind something to be understood, largely, as banal and superficial. There for short term entertainment, in all its glorious superficiality. And there’s definitely value to that. No real need to have profound thoughts on it or see it in any different light. But for those of you out there who, like me, will turn your nose at anything that seems too “trendy” and unproductive, this article encourages you to revaluate its worth within the broader framework of twenty-first-century popular culture and communication. And for future historians, who will attempt to reconstruct our experience of the COVID-19 induced lockdown as part of their histories from below, may they be encouraged to come to terms with how the ticking of clocks became a communication tool far beyond the structuring of dystopian days.

Uniquely comforting consolation: a look at Netflix’s Tiger King

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A desire for escapism is one of the most common reasons people seek media. The circumstances in which we are currently living, and the fact that there is literally no excuse not to be watching Netflix right now, means that regular reality TV or standard binge-worthy true crime just aren’t cutting it anymore.

Enter Tiger King, helpfully and aptly subtitled Murder, Mayhem, and Madness. Other nouns you could add include Bleached Mullets, Ex-Drug Lords and Country Songs About Brutally Murdering Your Spouse. The show blazes in all its absurdity, smoking like a motorway car crash, while thirty-four million people slow down to take a better look.

Emotionally, the show is the polar opposite of stuff like Queer Eye or Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, but it fulfils the same need. While the latter can make you feel better about the chaos of your own life by pointing your gaze upwards to an aspirational vision of colour-coded cabinets and Tan France’s immaculate fashion sense, the lure of true crime is that it can do the same while making you look downwards and outwards into the gutter and fringes of society.

That’s what has made it so incredibly popular. There’s something deeply comforting in knowing that, as much as your life might be slipping off balance in self-isolation, you’ll never end up as a white-blonde, gun-toting, mulleted polygamist facing two decades in prison for hired murder and nine violations of animal protection laws. Probably.

The show also does so well because of the absence of truly sympathetic victims. In more grounded true crime series, like Making a Murderer or Abducted in Plain Sight, significantly more attention is paid to the victims’ pain. It’s difficult to fully lose yourself in the story because you are rightly reminded, often by their testimony, that actual, innocent people died or suffered violence at the heart of the story the producers are telling.

In Tiger King, the primary victims are – depending on who you believe – Carol Baskin’s late husband, the workers, and the animals themselves, whose stories the documentary was never truly interested in telling. You get, in short, the release and the disgust and the adrenaline of true crime, without being weighed down by the realities of the people and animals who are hurt by it.

And on the topic of sympathy, Tiger King also does well because of the type of person it chooses to mock. You couldn’t really have a show like Tiger King featuring a traditionally marginalised minority – not without facing an intense social media backlash. But younger and more liberal viewers are willing to uncritically accept the caricature the series offers, of the lower-class, redneck, hillbilly, gun-toting white American, garlanded in leopard print and covered in spray-tan. Which is why it works. A show perfectly designed to offer release has to do that without troubling itself with the burdens of social responsibility.

That isn’t to say that culture critical media analysis is a bad thing; for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial, and a deeply necessary project in the ongoing task of making the art we consume conform to the values we hold. But it does take effort. The liberation of watching something like Tiger King is that it demands nothing from you but your instincts.

In a time when everything is anxiety-inducing and exhausting, Netflix has created something that can wrench your attention away from the twenty-four-hour news cycle without making you do anything more than keep looking at the screen. And, for better or for worse, that’s what most people need right now.

NHS staff and rough sleepers offered college accommodation

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Several Oxford colleges have made rooms available for homeless people and health workers to combat the impact of the COVID-19 crisis.

University College and Pembroke College are part of a council-run scheme which has given 121 rooms to vulnerable people. University College has made twelve rooms in its Banbury Road annexe available to rough sleepers. The annexe will be run by St Mungo’s, a homeless charity, and is available free of charge. The College has offered a further six rooms to people displaying symptoms of coronavirus.

In addition to providing accommodation, Pembroke is contributing to the Council’s food delivery scheme which provides 100 homeless people with three meals a day. Drivers deliver two hot meals and a cold breakfast to people housed in temporary shelters in Oxford. “Everyone in college is immensely proud of our catering team who are once again putting in extra effort to show the meaning of being a caring community,” says Dame Lynne Brindley, the College’s master.

The Saïd Business School, the YHA, and commercial hotels are also part of the scheme which the Council initiated after government advice said it was “imperative that rough sleepers and other vulnerable homeless are supported into appropriate accommodation.”

“Our housing team and partners old and new have worked incredibly hard to protect homeless people from coronavirus”, said Councillor Linda Smith. “We’re exploring options to provide a wider range of accommodation that will help ensure nobody should have to sleep rough in Oxford during these unprecedented times.”

The Dean of the Saïd Business School said the School was “glad to offer support to our wider community at this time of crisis. Once the emergency is over, we look forward to opening our doors to our students and colleagues once again.”

Other colleges are facing pressure to make unoccupied rooms available. 149 people have signed an open letter calling on more colleges to offer “whatever housing facilities they can”. The letter says: “The University of Oxford and its Colleges, with their stock of currently unoccupied housing for staff and students, are in a unique position to be of service at this time.

“More self-contained rooms are needed, though, and we urge other colleges to get in touch with the Council. We must—as a community—find ways to cope with the present need, supporting the most vulnerable amongst us.”

Several colleges have also offered accommodation to NHS workers who need to self-isolate. Wadham has offered 30 rooms in its Merifield site in Summertown. A spokesperson told Cherwell: “We have organised contract cleaners and a laundry service and a team of Wadham students and staff have volunteered to welcome and guide newcomers to their rooms while maintaining social distancing.

“We are waiting to hear from NHS representatives if and when the accommodation will be required.” The college has also donated surplus gloves and aprons to the NHS to help deal with shortages.

St Anne’s and Exeter have confirmed that their accommodation is available to NHS workers. St Anne’s has offered rooms in north Oxford, whilst lodge manager Peter Burden used the College van to deliver 40,000 items of personal protective equipment to local health services.

A St Anne’s spokesperson told Cherwell: “As an outward looking and collaborative College we are keen to play our part supporting the City of Oxford, particularly key workers, at this challenging and uncertain time.”

An Afternoon in Late Autumn

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Dormant warrens thronged and gasped in the clay;
Trees groped empty space, hung with wilting flesh;
A pond sat stagnant, scummed, long rid of joy –.
Autumn’s slow coil had caught me in its crush.

Yet, for all the shapes of decay and grief,
No wails or groans gave sound to the pain,
Not even a twitch told the slightest strife,
All writhings were locked in an ugly mien.

They were locked – diseased limbs and drawn faces –
Near their sad drop’s end, on the verge of lull.
Withheld was death’s allaying catharsis.
Preserved was agony, silent and still.

And I was all the warmth and life around
To breathe and beat against the frozen air,
Except for a rabbit with matted eyes
That fumbled and fell in the mud.

* * *

Above, the ailing sun had drooped and spewed
Its sickly amber on the sky; a cold,
Quiet blast of waned might, gathered and heaved,
Before its final fall below the world.

And I was all the warmth and life on earth.
Bright cities of gardens and art, crowds thrilled
On their victory march, my homely hearth –
All dropped before the sun and left that mould.

Pushing into my ears, the grim coil closed,
And I was all the warmth and life that was;
Childhood games, old flames, cooed words memorised
Did their colour, voice and likeliness lose.

So, I stood alone on that lonely plain,
That scrap set to sink with the sun’s last moan,
That waste that was all that ever had been,
Expecting the end and wanting it soon.

* * *

Then all illusions, high and low, were cracked
When, from a hedge-hid road, a yob’s car hacked,
Enforcing plain old truth, neutral and slacked,
And my next meal tapped at my brain.

Image Credit: Francesca Nava

Comfort Films: What We Do in the Shadows

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Niche is one way to describe a dark comedy about a group of vampires muddling through day-to-day life in Wellington suburbia. However, Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement’s 2014 horror mockumentary secured its place as a familiar favourite, if one with a bit of a cult status, through its bizarre and banal satire. Both gag-fuelled and gory, it’s a film that will keep you smiling throughout its entire 97 minute run – frankly a better way of using your quarantine time than messing around with a sour-dough starter.

Filmed by a small group of camera men provided with crucifixes and full immunity from their subjects (of course), the mockumentary depicts the nightly activities and bickering of four centuries-old vampires. Dandyish Viago (Waititi) laments the state of the sink whilst Deacon, the 183 year old “rock star” of the group, maintains “vampires don’t do dishes”. Meanwhile Vladislav (Clement) explains his tardy appearance at flat meetings citing mass demonic orgies as an excuse and 8000 year old Peter is left in the basement with his chicken carcass.

The film is ostensibly about a group of “man-children” and their immature gags and petty feuds. There is a well meaning idiocy to the hypnotic tricks they play on their victims that can also be found in their rigorous traditions. The characters relentless pandering to their documenters is reminiscent of a host of mockumentary sitcoms. Waititi and Clement have painstakingly fleshed out their characters, and the friendship and tensions that exist in the household feel comfortably and humorously familiar. 

Yet trouble arises when one of the coven turns Nick, an intended food source, into a vampire, and suddenly the house dynamics must deal with an excitable and egotistical addition. As the youngest member of the house, Nick brings an even greater level of ridiculousness to the group, but also a self awareness regarding the contemporary cultural associations of vampires; the others must confront him over his keenness to tell every club-er in Wellington “I am Twilight”.

When Nick invites his friend Stu (a human) into the house, the group begins to form a bizarrely touching attachment to him, despite their admitted desire to eat him. He becomes an additional house member and the resident technology guru, teaching the archaic vampires some new skills such as Skype, web surfing and DJing. Despite the lack of action, the film maintains a sharp and fast paced humour, which makes up for the occasional feeling that the plot is somewhat sparse.

It truly is the script and performances that stand out in this film, and for the most part, these features are left to speak for themselves. In line with the mockumentary style, the cinematography and the role of the camera are fairly simple. On the rare occasions when special effects are used, such as in examples of the film’s gore based humour, they end up leaving the intended comedy slightly flat. You wouldn’t define What We Do In The Shadows as “uproarious comedy” by any stretch of the imagination. However, it is a delightful blend of utter ridiculousness, sharp puns and continuous gags, and it’s cheerful enough to make for perfect quarantine viewing. There is definitely solace to be found in watching a group of people muddle through their own endless boredom with a level of remarkable idiocy and genuine enjoyment of each other’s company.