Saturday, May 17, 2025
Blog Page 52

Holding down the Fort(ress)

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This week, Cherwell reached out to a titan of St John’s, and indeed, Oxford sport: Ian Madden. Madden has been a groundsman at the St John’s ground for 17 years, and a groundsman for 40. He had much to say about how Oxford sport has transformed in that time.

Cherwell: What is your name? 

Ian Madden: Ian Madden. 

Cherwell: What is your role at St. John’s and elsewhere? 

Ian Madden: Head Groundsman at the Fortress (the St John’s Ground). 

Cherwell: What does being Head Groundsman involve? 

Ian Madden: Being Head Groundsman involves getting pitches ready for students: football, rugby, tennis in the summer, cricket in the winter and looking after the hard tennis courts. It also involves general maintenance of the pavilion, changing rooms and making sure everyone is happy on the day of a match! 

Cherwell: How and when did you come to be in this role? 

Ian Madden: I’ve been at St. John’s now for 17 years, but I’ve been a groundsman since I was 18, so that’s 40 years. I started working with my father down on Exeter and Hertford pitches, and we also had St. Catherine’s grounds, so we had 3 colleges with x amount of teams, so that’s loads. My father was there as Head Groundsman for 50 years and my brother is also Head Groundsman at Trinity, so that’s how I fell into the role; as a sort of family trait. 

Cherwell: Your dad was a groundskeeper; how did he get into groundskeeping? 

Ian Madden: To tell you the truth, it’s one of those situations where he knew the groundsman down there and he used to work as a mechanic in one of the garages in Oxford. He decided to leave there and decided to work for a chap, I believe his name was Art Inwood, and he took on the job and worked there from then on. 

Cherwell: What is your favourite memory as groundskeeper at the Fortress?

Ian Madden: For me, it has to be 2014 Rugby Cuppers Victory at Iffley Road, sticks in my mind all the time – we’ve made the finals 3 or 4 times since then, but the victory stands out as a highlight. But everytime we get to a final, it’s always a highlight! 

Cherwell: What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen happen at the Fortress? 

Ian Madden: We used to have welcome drinks here many, many years ago. And it was a situation we had won a big rugby match and the boys had a couple of drinks and got a bit merry! I looked out the pavilion and they were doing naked wheelbarrow races up and down the field, it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.  

Cherwell: How did that come to happen? 

Ian Madden: Well you know, when people have a few drinks, these silly things happen. Someone comes up with a bright idea and these things just crack on! It was very entertaining and one or two of the locals spotted it and were highly amused, not disappointed at all, they were highly amused. 

Cherwell: What’s the best part of your job? 

Ian Madden: The best part of my job is seeing that at the end of the day, everyone’s leaving the ground happy. With the pitches being presented in top-quality condition and providing that we play, doesn’t matter whether we win or lose. Ensuring that everyone has had a great day – that’s all we are interested in here.  

Cherwell: What’s the worst part of the job? 

Ian Madden: Obviously losing in the Cuppers Final, in either sport, rugby or football. 

Cherwell: You run the current cricket T20 league, right? How did that come to be and what system existed beforehand? 

Ian Madden: Going back 10 or 12 years ago, there was a league which was held on Wednesday afternoons. That always tied up students and if it was raining, the game was just called off. So when the groundsman who was running the league decided to call it a day, I set up what we call the Fortress T20 League. It’s a flexible league, both captains agree on when to play, it’s all T20s in the evening and it just runs smoothly. It’s the 8th year coming up, we’ve produced quality wickets, medals and trophies – so there is something to win at the end of the day; unlike the University Cup, where you win nothing. 

Going back 30 years ago, there was no real league structure for cricket whatsoever. Mainly, cricket was played in friendlies: touring teams and colleges against each other. A chap called Graham [Sabin] decided to set up the cricket league. This ran most afternoons, Monday to Friday, with a 40 over format. But with work commitments these days, people just do not have time to play a 40 over format, which a real shame. That’s what we really should be aiming it, if people are looking to make it into the Blues, then they need to be playing a longer game of cricket as opposed to T20. 

Cherwell: How do you find changing the grounds during the seasons? 

Ian Madden: It can be trying, depending on the weather conditions. If we had a summer like a couple of years ago with the drought, then you would look at the field and it would just be a desert, everything was brown. You would be praying for some rain to get the grass growing again. But you have to carry on as normal and try and prep them and hopefully the rain comes along. Yet it comes every year: it’s England!

Cherwell: How much has changed since you first became groundskeeper? 

Ian Madden: The job has changed completely. Years ago, the groundsman was in charge of everything on the sports ground. St. John’s is very liberal with me, and they allow us to do what we really want to do. Back in the day, your wife would help set the tea for the cricket matches, and we used to have bars in the pavilion. These days people have moved on, and most grounds have lost their drinking licenses. It’s been a big change from the heyday to now. It is still good, but the social side after matches is gone, which is a real shame. I believe you do lose part of the Oxford experience by not having a social get together after a match, revolving around a pint or two. 

Cherwell: Anything else you would like to tell us? 

Ian Madden: When I first came to St. John’s 17 years ago, it was the prestigious job to get out of all of the colleges. It’s always been rated as the best ground; the rugby pitch is superb and we’re very fortunate as it is one of the flattest pitches in Oxford. We’ve won awards from the groundsmen at Twickenham [Rugby Stadium] a few years ago on the ground’s presentation and won two tickets for England v Australia at Twickenham with free pizzas and champagne. Didn’t see much of the game, must admit! Yeah, St. John’s has been pretty good to me over the years, and can’t really fault them! 

The little things

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CW: Depression

I sit at my new desk, having just returned from the annual Freshers’ Fair, and begin to unload my tote bag. Examining the loot, I remember that I managed to snag a free pen from the Jenner Vaccine Trials group – it is shaped like a needle and creates the illusion of liquid being pushed out when tilted. Oh my God, I think to myself, I am so glad to be alive. Such an intense reaction to the design of a pen, however genius it may be, will seem strange to some. But in that moment, it signified something very special; I had returned to myself.

In a recent Vogue article, writer Shon Faye likened emerging from depression to being in “a marriage after infidelity”. You carry a fear that the worst days might not be truly behind you, your sense of security is forever fractured, and nothing ever really feels the same as it did before. This is an experience I can relate to. There is something so pernicious about depression that I simply would not be capable of communicating to my past self who had never experienced it. “I can rationally think myself out of this”, you tell yourself, until it has you by the throat and you have lost all sense of who you are.

My experience with depression was so fundamentally distinct from sadness that I grimace at any association people attempt to make between the two states of mind. Pure formlessness, hollow emptiness, or quietly terrifying insubstantiality seem slightly more accurate. I could not feel sadness, because I could not feel anything. In fact, there were times I would desperately wish to feel sad, just so I could feel something. When all feeling has been stripped from life, meaninglessness takes over very quickly. What is the point of going to a concert you had been looking forward to if you are no longer capable of experiencing even a tiny amount of pleasure from music? What is the point of looking at the sunset from your window if it leaves you feeling just as empty as before?

I had always considered myself someone who feels a strong passion for nearly every aspect of life. I wanted to do every degree, every hobby, every experience the world had to offer. I was the kind of person who would call friends up in the middle of the night and ask if they wanted to go on a 15-mile walk for fun. Depression robbed me of the excitement I felt was an integral part of me, leaving behind a robotic haze of a human being. Thus, you can see how the realisation that I was once again capable of experiencing true appreciation and excitement, even over a pen, was like realising I had won the lottery.

As the days passed by, I noticed other little things. I had the mental energy to wash my dishes without crying. When sat with friends, I could laugh authentically rather than having to mimic every basic social expectation. I am not exaggerating when I say that food began to taste better and colours began to look brighter. The reason I wanted to write this article was to stress the beauty of excitement, curiosity, and gratitude. I don’t care that it’s cliché. Getting a cool free pen made my day. If you are feeling low, I can guarantee there will come a day when you get your pen too.

Interdisciplinary is the future

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The University is waking up to the environmental, social, and geopolitical crises of our times – in one sense at least. The British higher education system pigeonholes us into one or two subjects of study for three or four years, an exception being the liberal arts format of some ancient Scottish universities. Oxford is rightly beginning to understand that the graduates of today and tomorrow need so much more. A new emphasis on training students to be well-rounded critical thinkers who can reason beyond their discipline is absolutely pivotal. STEM students need the tools to interrogate sources and communicate knowledge to policymakers and the public. Humanities specialists and social scientists can benefit from a contextual understanding of future challenges in order to apply their critical abilities. 

This can take all kinds of forms, not least through the ability for some students to take outside options – such as the Physicists who can study a language for one paper. It is essential that this be expanded to allow – or even require – one Finals paper to be taken from a different subject altogether, technical abilities allowing. While as a Philosophy and French student I would obviously struggle to take 4th year Medicine, there is no reason why I should not be able to take an introductory statistics course or some Geography. 


Those ambitions may be for the longer term, but the University is already taking action. The Vice Chancellor’s Colloquium was a great success, and I was delighted that my group’s presentation on reducing emissions from college travel grants reached the final. The new series on free speech, if it grasps the nettle of addressing the University’s own controversies and debates rather than ironically lapsing into didacticism, will succeed. Oxford Ministry for the Future is another bold new interdisciplinary programme. These initiatives are a great start, so let’s build on their momentum.

Pensioner fuel cuts shouldn’t warm students’ hearts

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Shortly after the 2024 election, the newly-elected government announced plans to means-test the Winter Fuel Allowance, a benefit previously given only to pensioners. Reactions amongst young people were mixed. Some celebrated the move as a step toward intergenerational equality, while others saw it as a harsh welfare cut. The reality, however, is more complex.

Whilst Starmer has failed so far to court young voters, several recent policies suggest they’re trying to address our concerns. These include means-testing pensioner benefits, setting national planning targets to lower housing costs for first-time buyers and renters, and exploring the reintroduction maintenance grants for poorer students. Policies such as these suggest a rebalancing of intergenerational inequality, which had tipped heavily in favour of pensioners under the previous government due to their reliance on older voters.

But there’s a deeper question here: why do the interests of different generations diverge so sharply?

On issues like housing, the reasons are clear. Younger people form ‘Generation Rent’, facing high-cost rentals, while pensioners enjoy high rates of home ownership. Home owners instinctively seek to preserve their property value, often opposing new reforms that could make housing more affordable for younger generations. On fiscal issues, however, this generational antagonism makes less sense. The erosion of the state pension (as well as repeated private pension tax raids since the Brown government) have left many pensioners more financially vulnerable, with pensioner poverty looking to increase rapidly. Young people have similar concerns in this regard. There is a growing fear we may never be able to retire – let alone comfortably.

Moreover, the ‘tighten your bootstraps and suffer’ attitude, common among members of the older generations, correlates with a failure of government to implement policies that expand education, welfare, and infrastructure investment. This lack of investment keeps incomes and therefore tax receipts down, which in turn erodes the safety net for pensioners. We are caught in a frustrating catch-22: a weakened social contract that harms both ends of the age spectrum.

What about the cuts to Winter Fuel Allowance? There should be no cause for celebration amongst younger voters. The aforementioned challenge of the weakened social contract will continue to lead to a crumbling social security net for those of all ages – and we too may one day need the state as pensioners. Crucially, we need to stop viewing intergenerational equality as an either-or situation. Both pensioners and young people are being shortchanged. Fighting for a better social security net together, rather than against one another, is the only way to secure better outcomes for all.

Increasing tuition fees, increasing inequality

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When writing this article, I logged in out of curiosity to see my student loan balance. I saw a pretty number: £44,644.18, with £1,463.44 in interest. The fact that two years of my household income would only just about cover my university loans thus far, and that I had spent the time missing lectures after ridiculous nights out, was humbling. 

However, fear not! Labour has a plan for more accountability, easing the burden on students, and making the university more accessible – a plan which somehow involves raising the undergraduate fee cap to £10,500. As a PPEist, I had learned not to derive hope from a politician’s promise: Bridget Phillipson’s insistence that she was not upping tuition fees was drowned out by many’s concerns that they needed to be increased. It seems like an easy choice, given that in the 2023-2024 academic year, 40% of British universities ran deficits, and we haven’t seen an increase in the cap since 2017. However, the implications of this increase in the tuition fee cap have a broader impact on social mobility, and the economic implications on students have not been discussed sufficiently to warrant such a drastic increase.

The rationale behind the proposed rise in tuition fees, as put forward by some policymakers, is cloaked in the language of necessity. The argument goes that universities are struggling to keep up with rising operational costs, from staff salaries to campus maintenance and, of course, funding world-class research. They point to their rankings, research output, and attractiveness to international students as reasons for every-bigger budgets. I understand their plight in needing to balance the books, and maintain quality and status. But is this hike truly necessary, or is it simply the most convenient option for those in power? Alternative funding models should be considered. For example, a return to increased public funding through per-student grants, which has fallen back by 18% in real terms since 2012, could relieve students of bearing the brunt of financial strain. Taxing corporations or high-net-worth individuals who directly benefit from an educated workforce is also viable. Instead, the government seems to prefer to fall back on the familiar narrative that students must pay more to secure the same, or even diminishing, educational experience.

However, tuition fee hikes only offer a short-term fix. It’s not as if universities will see a windfall from this and immediately solve all their financial problems. Instead, the more fees increase, students and their families are forced to take on unsustainable debt levels. Meanwhile, the underlying issues remain government cuts to education funding, the underfunding of research, and a dependence on tuition fees that leaves institutions vulnerable to fluctuations in student numbers. This solution doesn’t address the root cause: the model of financing higher education is fundamentally broken.

At the heart of this brokenness is the question of whether this reliance on ever-rising student loans and tuition fees is sustainable in the long term. Our system has normalised the idea that an 18-year-old, fresh out of sixth form, unschooled in financial planning, is responsible enough to pay off a £27,500 student loan – many graduates struggle to pay off their debts, with some barely making a dent before the remainder is written off decades later. These figures are fiscally ridiculous. The government forecasts that around 65% of full-time undergraduates starting in 2023/24 would repay them in full. This is more than double the forecast for the 2022/23 cohort – for whom the expectation was 27%. Increasing the fee cap feels like a temporary patch on a gaping wound in the system, a wound that needs more than just another layer of financial gauze to heal.

The broader implications of raising the tuition fee cap on working-class and underprivileged students are also far-reaching and under-considered. It’s not just about the immediate financial burden; it’s about the message this sends. The more fees increase, the more university becomes an elitist institution that does not help democratise access to information. For those from low-income backgrounds, attending university may now feel like a financial gamble rather than an investment in their future. The idea that a degree is a ticket to a better life begins to lose its shine when the price tag feels insurmountable. Students already weighing up whether they can even afford to apply are inevitably put off by the thought of taking on tens of thousands of pounds in debt. Among families who have used a foodbank in the last year, 39% of those not planning to apply to universities cited high costs as the main barrier. We hear time and time again that education is meant to be the ‘great equaliser’, levelling the playing field for those who might not have the same social or economic advantages. But how can that be true if, with every fee increase, the university doors inch further out of reach for those who need it most to advance socially?

For families already grappling with the cost-of-living crisis, the prospect of higher tuition fees adds another layer of financial stress. It’s not just about paying for university; it’s about choosing between investing in education and covering necessities. Middle and low-income families often rely on loans to send their children to university and will feel the pinch the hardest. With the price of everything from rent to food spiralling, the idea of finding even more money for higher education can feel overwhelming. Coming to university has meant my maintenance loan has often been used to help with household bills or the needs of a house I do not live in for most of the year. This is the reality of many students. 

Ultimately, the conversation around raising the tuition fee cap is about much more than just numbers. It’s about the shifting perception of higher education, what it stands for, who it benefits, and who it leaves behind. The government’s justification for this increase feels flimsy and negligent at worst. Yes, universities need funding, but we must alleviate this pressure without forcing students and their families into even deeper financial hardship. The reality is that raising tuition fees is a short-term fix for a long-term problem, and it only papers over the cracks in an already broken system. As we move forward, we must ask ourselves: what kind of higher education system do we want? One that widens the gap between rich and poor or serves as a ladder of opportunity? If we continue down this path, the doors to that ladder are slowly closing, locking out the very people it was built to help.

A month in Berlin: Embracing solitude in the big city

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There’s something distinctly Berlin about the setting I am writing in. Inside the jazz café, elegantly dressed business people sit next to a table of young men getting ready to head outside for a cigarette. Miles Davis hums in the background, while loud emergency sirens thunder past every now and then (a true Berlin staple). I check the time once more and confirm that I’ve been here for three hours and written as many lines. There’s a comforting quality to the casual cacophony that appears to be an omnipresent aspect of life in a busy metropolis. It’s impossible to miss: you feel it on nights out in the city when you see throngs of people whatever the hour, and you feel it in the everyday, the mundane, as you get to the supermarket on a Tuesday afternoon and it’s as busy as Magdalen Street Tesco at 6pm.

The similarities with our small university city do end there, though. With all its colleges, clubs and societies, sports teams, and more, Oxford is an excellent place to meet new people and make new friends. The lack of these spaces, even for students, has been perhaps the greatest culture shock that has arisen after moving to Europe. Student-club-culture just isn’t as big here. As a result, social occasions are fewer and farther between, indeed the concept of a ‘social’, just for the sake of it, here feels distant and foreign. And as much I’d like to pretend my German is fluent, a language barrier does still exist too (the time I blanked on the word for ‘weight’ in the gym comes to mind). This, combined with the relatively fleeting character of social events, has meant it is more difficult to form meaningful relationships with people than what many of us are used to after two years at Oxford. 

As my café grows gradually busier, I can’t help but notice that a significant proportion of the people slowly trickling in are by themselves. Certainly, there is something to be said for the culture of voluntary solitude that is to be found in so many European hubs today. In the era of remote-working, recorded lectures, and Instagram reels, it comes as no surprise that so many people seem  to go it alone. One friend, who grew up and completed his undergraduate in Berlin, told me that most of his friends here today are those he went to school with. Platforms like BumbleForFriends and Meetup also lack the popularity they enjoy in places like London.

I hope I have not soured your impression of Berlin too much thus far. Of course, I would be completely remiss to portray the city as some sort of unwelcoming wilderness, populated by lonely creatures bent on ceaseless, solitary social confinement. In fact, after a little over a month living here, I’ve come to appreciate the desire to enjoy one’s own company. There’s a distinctly freeing quality about being beholden only to one’s own interests and ideas. To be able to make plans that suit only you, and that can be broken on a whim with no hurt feelings. And there is a unique sense of excitement and discovery that accompanies trying out things you have done a thousand times with others, alone. My first museum trip in Berlin saw me taking the time to really engage and enjoy the 80 years of recent German art history on display before me, strolling through the exhibition slower than a tourist on Broad Street – I spent three hours at the Neue Nationalgalerie that afternoon.

Feelings of isolation are almost inevitable at the start of a year abroad. Rather than viewing this as a setback though, the best approach can be to embrace the unfamiliar social landscape as an opportunity for growth. Stepping outside your comfort zone can be a positive, enriching experience. Simple things, like reading at a café, can be opportunities to explore the diversity of one’s local area and to discover something new about yourself. In some ways, doing it alone can be the most rewarding, most organic way to meet new and interesting people. Last week I connected with a pair of literature students in a coffee shop I’d decided to try over my copy of Fitzgerald’s ‘Tender Is The Night’.

As the honeyed tenor of Davis’ trumpet begins to grow louder, and the lights dim to a soft, mellow gold, I can’t help but think that going it alone isn’t so bad.

Margaret Casely-Hayford: Why I should be Chancellor

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Dr Margaret Casely-Hayford is a lawyer and businesswoman who previously served as Chancellor of Coventry University. She is a Board member of the Co-op Group and was previously Chair of Shakespeare’s Globe

I want to be a Chancellor that everyone in Oxford can look up to as an emblem of the unity of the University as a community and seat of learning. The Chancellor is not only the bedrock of advice and guidance for the Vice Chancellor and the governing body of the University, but has developed into much more in the modern era. If elected, I would be an envoy for Oxford on the international stage and, as part of that role, crucially recognise and respect the diversity and individuality of each college, as they succeed together with the university as the unifying institution, whilst also being available to the Vice Chancellor and governing body as a support. 

After 900 years, it’s time for difference in leadership and I want to be elected emphatically not because I would be the first woman or person hailing from an ethnic minority background to hold the position (although election of a woman would clearly be an overdue change), but because of recognition of my achievements as such – and the symbolism of that recognition to change the limits of what may be possible for those who graduate from Oxford today. Also, because I am consensual in style and collegiate in approach, I believe that a learning environment should foster respectful, confident debate and establish a confidence that builds the resilience that makes future leaders, and people capable of co-operating for success.

Post Brexit, external relation-building is an important part of driving the country’s economic growth. The reach of Oxford’s soft power as a world class institution extends more widely than ever and the role therefore demands diplomatic and ambassadorial skills of its Chancellor and someone who is outward facing without driving any particular political agenda. 

I’m a proud graduate and an Honorary Fellow of Somerville College and have a huge love for the College and the University. I would consider it the most enormous honour not only to use the role to champion Oxford’s learning and research opportunity, its ambitions and excellence, but also to use the alumni networks to help establish partnerships globally and encourage funding.

The recent focus on the industrial strategy brought into sharp focus the importance of cooperation between public and private partnerships, the power of information sharing and most crucially, the investment in our future. I share the bright and ambitious outlook of the current Government, but recognise the importance of nurturing and supporting our youth, and their wider support systems to set them up for the best chance of success; and then for the nation more widely to recognise the value of our higher education sector. When our youth succeeds, our nation can prosper. Oxford University demonstrated during Covid the way that the excellence of our research is not only a massive economic contributor but can also literally be a lifesaver. Let’s continue to champion that confidence and brilliance.

Dominic Grieve: Why I should be Chancellor

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Rt Hon Dominic Grieve KC has served as Shadow Home Secretary and Attorney General for England and Wales.

Being Chancellor of the University of Oxford is a great honour for whoever holds the office. There are ceremonial functions to be fulfilled. But there is also the work of the University to be encouraged and its ethos as a place of learning to be sustained. It carries with it responsibilities to support the University and to act, as and when needed, as its advocate and representative. This includes championing academic freedom; being a channel to government over education policy and state funding; and helping the University’s development and fundraising to increase its independence. The Chancellor must also be able, if called upon, to act as the Visitor to five colleges within the University.  A Chancellor will have ideas as to how the University might best progress, but it is the Vice-Chancellor and Council who make most of the policy decisions. 

My ties to Oxford began with my undergraduate years at Magdalen, which were among the most positive experiences of my life and I am forever grateful for them. In recent times I have been a frequent visitor to the University, taking part in some of its academic activities and, when conducting the review of the governance of Christ Church, spending several days a week in Oxford. That review required me to have a good understanding of the governance issues currently facing the University more generally and to meet with a wide group of its senior members and officers. These contacts have increased my respect and affection both for the University and for its potential for good. 

Oxford, along with other universities, is navigating its way through a period of change and opportunity. It faces challenges over its funding support from government and in maintaining and enhancing its place as one of the world’s great centres of learning. Supporting its continuing development as a centre of excellence, embracing diversity in all its forms, and advocating for the University are all roles that would be a great privilege for me to do. I believe that I can put the experience I have gained through my past career to good use on the University’s behalf. As Attorney General I was at the heart of ensuring that the rule of law and ethical standards in government were upheld. I am now independent of any political party and active outside of my profession as a trustee of charities. Some of these, such as the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies and the British-Irish Association, which I chair, are about bringing people together to share ideas and experience for the common good. I have time to perform the duties required of the Chancellor and to participate more generally in the life of the University. I am deeply committed to the principles underpinning human rights, equality and the right to freedom of expression under law and with civility, essential to academic freedom in a place of learning, and I would like to make a contribution to the University’s well being and success. This is why I am standing.

Peter Mandelson: Why I should be Chancellor

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Lord Peter Mandelson has held positions including Director of Communications for the Labour Party, Secretary of State for Trade, Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, and European Commissioner.

I think all the main people bidding to be Chancellor have in common their love of the University and desire to see it flourish. But after a lifetime in British and European politics, I think I can bring a wider-angle lens to the role, something to the University from my experience outside it. This means projecting the university globally, but it also means attracting the best talent – students and academic faculty – and the most generous benefactors who want to back the university, both its people and its physical fabric.

Students do not have a vote in the election, but they should have a voice and this is what I have said on issues important to them. 

Oxford must never be a place where talent is constrained by background. Widening access means widening the talent pool, ensuring that we are attracting and supporting the very best candidates from every corner of society. I will prioritise fundraising efforts to expand both financial aid and support systems, ensuring that every student, regardless of circumstance, has the resources they need to thrive while at Oxford.

Addressing the disparities between Oxford’s colleges is not just a matter of fairness, it is crucial for the University’s long-term success and global competitiveness. Unequal distribution of resources among colleges impacts students, faculty, and, more widely, Oxford’s ability to maintain its position as a world leader in education and research. The recently published College Disparities Report marks a positive step in the right direction. I wholeheartedly support this effort and believe it provides a strong foundation for further action.

Mental health is a growing concern across universities globally and Oxford is no exception. The pressures students face today, from academic demands to financial stresses, are immense. The University must ensure that every student feels supported, valued, and capable of succeeding during their time here.  As Chancellor, I would champion efforts to expand the University’s welfare services, ensuring mental health is treated with the same seriousness alongside academic performance. 

Oxford has a responsibility not only to its students but also to the wider world. The commitment to achieving net-zero carbon emissions and biodiversity net gain by 2035 is ambitious, and rightly so. But ambition must be matched by decisive action and that action must be grounded in ethical decision-making. Sustainability cannot be treated as an afterthought—it must be a central pillar in shaping Oxford’s future.

Oxford’s diversity—of thought, background, and experience—is what makes it so special. Therefore, we have a responsibility to ensure that every individual feels they belong and are valued. Achieving equality goes beyond formal legal rights. It’s about how we treat one another, the respect we show, and the examples we set.  As a married gay man myself, I understand personally how important the changes made by the last Labour government were and the profound difference they have made to the happiness and dignity of so many.

In my first term in 1973, I joined a demonstration at the Examination Schools to get the university authorities to respond to the demand for accommodation of the students’ union. This was at the beginning of OUSU’s life and since then the union has given a powerful voice to students in the university. If elected Chancellor I will listen to this voice and ensure it is heard in the university.

Re-understanding my Nan

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“So, you study Geography? Did you bring your colouring pencils to university with you?”

During my time at Oxford, I’ve heard this joke more times than I can count. I take it in my stride, but it’s become clear that, beyond oxbow lakes, most people have little idea what studying Geography at university actually entails. The simple answer is: anything. Geography is a discipline defined by its unapologetic breadth, using this diversity to apply an interdisciplinary lens to the world. This diversity became particularly evident when we began planning our dissertation research, as we were told there were “no limits” on topic or focus. I knew this was my chance to study something meaningful to me beyond academics—something that affected my everyday life.

Like many, my grandparents have been incredibly important in my life. More than this, though, they are like a second set of parents, caring for me throughout my childhood—from picking me up from school each day to teaching me how to tie my shoelaces, often stepping into a parental role when challenges arose. As I grew older, however, so did they – leaving us to confront the everyday realities of my Nan’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis. Just as she had stepped up for me, I, in turn, stepped up for her, taking on the role of one of her primary carers whilst balancing the demands of studying and paid work. This continued until I began my studies at Oxford, when we made the decision to move her into a residential care home. Since then, every day as a family has felt like an emotional battle—between guilt, comfort in knowing she’s safe, and ongoing worry. Not a week goes by at Oxford without a FaceTime call existential crisis as we discuss what’s truly best for her while hearing about her increasing anxieties.

After learning about the flexibility I’d have in choosing my dissertation topic, I knew I had to do something for my Nan—to create a project for her and for myself as part of my Geography degree. Seeing her challenges in the care home, while my peers took on internships or travelled the world, I decided to take a position as a healthcare assistant to support my dissertation research. In this role, I aimed to observe the everyday lives of care home residents, examining their agency, power, and resistance within a space that is both caring and necessarily controlling. While completing my caregiving tasks, I also got to know the residents on a personal level—hearing their stories, listening to their experiences, laughing with them, and comforting them in moments of distress. Connecting with people who have had such incredible lives is an experience I’ll never forget. In many of these residents, I also saw glimpses of my Nan, realising she wasn’t alone in her inner conflicts between feeling cared for and feeling controlled. I also connected with the residents’ family members, relating to their struggles as I shared their sentiments.

As I completed my role, each visit to my Nan felt completely different. Each difficulty I witnessed reminded me that she is not alone in her experiences. My research has shown me that care homes are spaces of deep contradictions: they are places of care and protection, yet they impose isolating limitations to achieve this. Many residents, like my Nan, quietly struggle with the loss of autonomy in ways that aren’t always visible; it’s an emotional adjustment to live in an environment where even the smallest decisions are often made by others. And while dedicated staff work hard to provide the best possible care, the structure of the environment can create a sense of isolation for residents who remember the freedoms they once had. Studying these experiences through Geography and my research has been essential in helping me come to terms with my Nan’s everyday reality, because now I truly understand it. This doesn’t change her experience, but it has given me a more informed perspective, helping me to recognise that, despite her challenges, she is in the safest place possible.

So, the next time you think about making an innocent joke about colouring pencils, I hope my story reminds you of what Geography can encompass. My Nan is always on my mind while I’m in Oxford, and I’m deeply grateful that Geography has allowed me to bring her experiences to light.