Monday, May 12, 2025
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Gluten free – need or nonsense?

Katie Schutte
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Gluten free – need or nonsense?

“Make a wish!”

As I blow the thirteen candles out, an alarming ring from the kitchen phone pierces all illusions of birthday magic. I’m startled. Can that be David Attenborough inviting me to join him on a trek to Amazon Rainforest already? As I start dividing the cake, my mum cautiously enters the room, hesitating before she announces that the hospital called with the biopsy results. I reach out to a slice of soft, springy sponge. It looks little like Mary Berry’s, but it’s close enough.

“Stop! They came back positive, you can’t eat that!”

Big mistake: I should have used that wish more carefully. Looks like my dreams of broadcasting the next Blue Planet will have to wait whilst I try to understand a disease I can’t even spell. And what is gluten anyway, asides from something Mary Berry uses in her recipes?

Gluten, so I learnt a week later, is a protein found in wheat, barley and rye. For the 1% of the population with coeliac disease, this rules out anything from bread, biscuits and pasta to soy sauce. Even those foods labelled ‘may contain’ are off the menu, which sadly includes Jazzles, my childhood obsession. This hereditary disease causes a heightened immunological response to gluten which flattens the villi (finger-like projections lining the small intestine), decreasing their surface area so fewer nutrients like iron are absorbed. This is why studies show that up to 84% of coeliacs have iron-deficient anaemia. Whilst short-term reactions like intense fatigue, bloating and abdominal pain impaired my daily activities, the consultant warned me of more serious long term consequences like increased risk of osteoporosis and rare cancers if I didn’t change to a strict gluten-free diet. In practical terms, this translates to separate chopping boards, separate spreads, even toaster bags to avoid cross contamination of crumbs, and of course a supply of Sainsbury’s free-from ‘equivalent’ of Jaffa Cakes. Not only are these free from gluten, but flavour and moisture too!

But with influential figures like Miley Cyrus, Victoria Beckham, Kim Kardashian and Novak Djokovic following gluten-free diets, the term has become (misguidedly) synonymous with ‘healthy’, sparking a fashionable trend to adopt the gluten-free ‘lifestyle’. Now whilst I wouldn’t agree with one article in the New York Times which claims that “Eating gluten-free is dismissed outright as a trend for the rich, the white and the political left”, it is interesting to reflect on how waiters have noted my blonde hair and pale complexion as I ask them for the gluten-free menu. People seem divided into two categories: those devoted to gluten-free products, and those who cast it off as a complete and utter fad.

True, my brothers like to joke that the free-from isle in Tesco’s will one day take over the whole store, but in serious terms ‘free-from’ sales in the UK increased by 40% between 2016-2017 and are projected to continue growing. In America, the gluten-free market was worth $8.8bn in 2014, and through the internet the gluten-free community has grown to about 40 million consumers, of whom only 4 million suffer from coeliac disease and 20 million from gluten intolerance.

For us coeliacs, this is a wish come true! Back in 2014, thirteen-year-old me was spending £3.90 on a shrivelled-up, rock-like substance labelled as ‘bread’, more often than not opting to have (for the fourth time that week) another jacket potato with beans. Today, I can buy a multi-grain loaf from Tesco Metro for £1.80 – still about double the price of the ‘normal’ bread, but nevertheless good news for both my sandwiches and student loan. As demand increases, companies are pressurised to supply higher quality products. Gone are the days where Genius dominated the free from shelves. Now supermarkets are developing own-label lines to meet demands for greater variety and lower prices. And apart from supermarkets, the letters ‘GF’ have become a natural part of restaurant menus.

But surely Miley Cyrus can’t be the sole reason for this drastic development in the food industry? Since it was first cultivated some 10,000 years ago, why is it that people suddenly can’t eat wheat?

10,000 years ago there were no industrial bakeries with huge, automated machines required for producing the amount of loaves needed for the billions of people living today. Traditional methods included a long, slow fermentation process, but modern manufacturers have omitted this, drastically reducing the time taken to produce one loaf. However, this prevents lactic acid bacteria from breaking down fully or partially the gluten proteins, making the bread more difficult to digest. Warburton’s may claim to be passionate about baking bread for families, but at the end of the day commercial bakeries, like any company, want high profits, and this means making bread as cheaply and quickly as possible. Further still, the bread eaten today contains more gluten than ever. In today’s society where bigger means better, manufacturers are adding more gluten to create larger, lighter and fluffier loaves to look like ‘good value for money’. The irony is, this has a greater cost. Studies suggest that our bodies have not adapted quickly enough to respond to this increased intake of gluten, and thus gluten intolerance may actually be increasing proportionally, not just because of greater awareness and diagnosis. And as countries like India and China adopt a Western diet high in gluten rather than a rice-based one, the genes coding for gluten intolerance and coeliac disease are now interacting with the environment and revealing that this is a problem that impacts all ethnicities.

This is not to say gluten-free food is healthier – far from it. In an attempt to deal with the fundamental issue that gluten-free food lacks the protein literally responsible for keep a piece of bread from falling apart (ask any coeliac – gluten free bread has the miraculous ability to disintegrate in your hand), companies add more fat, sugar and additives like binding agents to make the products edible. Gluten gets its name from the Latin for ‘glue’, and replacing this in bread is like trying to build a brick house without cement: you have to think creatively.

Noticing that consumers perceive gluten free food to be ‘healthier’, manufacturers focus on designing effective packaging that creates a strong brand image and attracts the consumer’s eye. The language often highlights it as ‘plant-based’ with ‘no artificial colours’, and the companies name themselves to convey the impression of a natural, healthy diet, such as ‘Nature’s Store’, ‘Eat Natural’, ‘Eat Real’, ‘Ancient Harvest’ and ‘Nature’s Path’. Yet more often than not their products have the dreaded red warning signs for high sugar content, and not the ‘naturally occurring’ kind.

As someone who has probably cooked potato in every conceivable way possible, I welcome the innovation taking place in the free-from market as a result of more gluten-free consumers, regardless of their reason. And if you’ve read this with the knowledge that you experience mouth ulcers, fatigue, bloating, nausea or any other symptoms as listed on the NHS website under coeliac disease following gluten consumption, make sure you see your GP to check for coeliac disease. It could change your life, and might even save it.

As for me, I’ll be baking a gluten-free birthday cake this year – sorry Mary, but your Victoria Sponge just doesn’t make the cut.

Conserving Culture : Not on the Tory Agenda

Emma Weitzman
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Conserving Culture : Not on the Tory Agenda

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, and it doesn’t look like it’s getting any better.

In the past years there have been cuts amounting to nearly £400 millions 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 5live 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’.

Review: Troy: Myth and Reality

Clementine Scott
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Review: Troy: Myth and Reality

It would be hard to think of another set of myths that are so present in contemporary culture as those surrounding the fall of Troy and its aftermath, immortalised most notably by Homer and Virgil. Stories such as the judgment of Paris, which sets the war in motion, the deception of the ‘Trojan Horse’ and Odysseus’ encounter with the Cyclops during his decade-long journey home are many people’s first introduction to the classical past as children, and the past few years have seen a resurgence of the Trojan cycle in popular culture. Novels such as Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles and Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls have reconsidered the war and its characters from different angles, and the BBC’s Troy: Fall of a City adaptation brought the saga to a generation raised on Game of Thrones. Therefore, the British Museum chose an opportune time for this year’s BP exhibition, Troy: myth and reality, which aims ambitiously to exhibit artistic depictions of the well-known myths and their various post-classical reinterpretations alongside the archaeological evidence that Troy and the war actually existed.

The exhibition began promisingly, with the three clear strands of myth, reinterpretation and reality laid out in the entranceway, with one of the most famous Troy-related classical works of art, the Athenian black-figure vase depicting Achilles killing Penthesilea, exhibited alongside pottery found at Hisarlik (the modern name for the site thought to be the location of the real Troy) and two contemporary works by Cy Twombly and Anthony Caro. The latter was particularly effectively placed, since it uses sculptures of salvaged wood and steel to represent the ruined remains of the battlefield itself, revealing an interesting relationship between archaeological reality and artistic interpretation. However, this interplay between fact, fiction and retelling was not entirely followed through in the main gallery.

After a brief yet fascinating display of artistic and papyrus evidence of Homer and Virgil’s popular significance in the ancient world (not least in the ancient schoolroom, where the epics were used to teach literacy just as the stories contained within them are fixtures of modern children’s books), what followed was a rather simplistic unloading of the Museum’s holdings of Greek, Etruscan and Roman pottery and sarcophagi depicting the Trojan myths, in an unimaginative chronological order from the judgment of Paris to Odysseus’ return to Ithaca. Given the relatively high level of familiarity the general public has with these myths (even if one is not, like this reviewer, a classics student), this part of the exhibition put too much emphasis on explaining well-known stories and not enough on discussing key themes and controversies within them. Some interesting points of discussion were touched upon in the labels, such as Helen’s agency (or lack of it) in her affair with Paris, the level of involvement and culpability of the gods during the war, the habit of later Greeks to use the Homeric epics to contextualise their own wars. Yet, the exhibition’s overly ambitious scope and desire to move swiftly through every story associated with Troy, in a rigid chronology, meant that these more complex ideas could never be fully expounded upon.

With this being said, there were details to be admired in the display, such as the neat division of the Trojan saga into four Ancient Greek concepts: eris (strife), polemos (war), halōsis (downfall) and nostos (homecoming). As well as this, the inventive use of technology was effective, particularly a revolving light-up display which magnified the wine-mixing bowl depicting Peleus and Thetis’ hectic wedding procession and identified the various figures, a concept previously put to good use in the British Museum’s Ashurbanipal exhibition.

The remainder of the exhibition ostensibly linked the original mythology to the exhibition’s two other strands, the archaeological reality of Troy and the post-classical interpretations of the myths. The archaeological section illuminated via recent findings and analysis of the various ancient settlements the mistakes made by the Victorian pioneer Heinrich Schliemann – chiefly that he set out with the intention of ‘finding Troy’ and thus made wild assumptions along the way, rather than excavating systematically. However, with the entire archaeological portion of the exhibition sectioned off into an annex at the far end of the gallery, it was difficult not to feel as though the archaeological findings comprised a separate exhibition, not fully integrated with the previous mythology-focused exhibit.

A similar problem followed in the exhibition’s final section, wherein various post-classical artistic and literary responses to the Trojan cycle were organised thematically, through themes such as ‘journeys’, ‘conflict’, and the depiction of women, a curatorial approach one wishes had been taken in the earlier classical galleries. It is worth saying that the content of this gallery was the most varied and interesting part of the exhibition. The artefacts on display ranged from medieval manuscripts claiming that London was founded by a descendant of Aeneas, to Max Slevogt’s prints depicting the brutal rage of Achilles on the eve of the First World War, to Hans Eworth’s intriguing gender reversal depicting Elizabeth I playing the role of Paris in the famous judgment scene. It was also a powerful choice to have some artworks accompanied by commentary from charities linking the myths to their own work, indicating that the relevance of the ancient epics extends beyond art and culture to politics and psychology. The veterans’ charity Waterloo Uncovered found psychological resonance in Odysseus’ emotional turmoil, while Crisis saw similarities between Aeneas’ journey and that of the modern refugee. 

However, not only did it seem a shame that the classical galleries did not share the curatorial ingenuity of the later galleries, it also seemed to contradict the concept of the whole exhibition to have classical and post-classical art displayed separately. A dual display of a classical and a modern interpretation of a particular myth, alongside evidence of the real city of Troy, would have more effectively shown the contrast between classical and more modern worldviews as well as the continued relevance of the Trojan cycle, and would have formed the exhibition into a cohesive whole. In reality, with the strict delineation of myth, reality and modern interpretation, Troy: myth and reality felt like three separate exhibitions which, while intriguing and rich in content, felt entirely unintegrated with one another. 

Ten Politically Inspired Books to Read in 2020

Tilly Walters
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Ten Politically Inspired Books to Read in 2020

The last three years of politics are enough to make a person want to do some Malcolm Tucker-esque screaming into the void. You can’t move for “exciting” commentary on the state of the Tory party or post-referendum analysis of the voter breakdown of Brexit. This is not to say politics is never absorbing, exciting, or hopeful; but right now the state of affairs it could be quite accurately described as a “f***ing omnishambles”. Political literature can still provide a way out through and maybe reading about chaos can help us briefly escape what’s going on around us–with the US 2020 election and the Brexit deadline fast approaching, escaping the 24-hour news cycle seems like an increasingly attractive option.

So, if the thought of another year of relentless news updates makes you feel like applying for an Irish passport, here are ten escapist books to deal with the present state of political fiction:

1.  House of Cards by Michael Dobbs (1989)

The original Westminster-based political trickery that went on to provide the two shows of the same name is the ultimate guide in spin, secrecy and skeletons in the closet. It follows Francis Urquhart (who Netflix would make Frank Underwood), Chief Whip of the Conservative Party, and his criminal path to Number 10. 

2.  Shame by Salman Rushdie (1983)

A beautiful example of Rushdie’s magical realism, and written five years prior to the controversy of The Satanic Verses, Shame explores the status of Pakistan in the decades after Partition. The story examines the issues of heritage, family, political identity, and morality. 

3.  Decline and Fall by Evelyn Waugh (1928) 

Waugh wrote in the preface to the novel: “Please bear in mind throughout that IT IS MEANT TO BE FUNNY.” Set in the 1920s, the novel caricatures various elements of British society at the time: Oxford and its ‘Bollinger’ Club (no prizes for guessing that one), the public school system, the aristocracy – Waugh manages to satirically critique the society he grew up in, with little moralistic superiority. 

4.  The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen (2001)

Franzen’s depiction of Midwestern, middle-class life is filled with anxiety about the future. It follows the Lambert family from the birth of their children to adulthood and tensely captures an American family plagued by anxiety and crisis. It ends just prior to the new millennium, capturing what Franzen describes as “the alarm bell of anxiety” surrounding societal change.

5.  All The President’s Men by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward (1974)

Woodward and Bernstein’s account of the Watergate scandal is synonymous with political deceit, and while it’s not fictional, it’s a masterful account of investigative journalism and reporting that won the pair a Pulitzer. It recounts the detailed reporting of the Washington Post in one of the most significant political conspiracies in history. It is perhaps one of the most influential non-fiction works of all time.

6.   Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail ‘72 by Hunter S. Thompson (1983)

This collection of Thompson’s coverage of the 1972 election details the minutiae of the McGovern-Nixon race for the White House from primaries to polling day. Read for an amusing display of political vitriol towards Nixon, a figure Thompson directs much criticism towards, and beautifully quotable lines such as: “McGovern made some stupid mistakes, but in context they seem almost frivolous compared to the things Richard Nixon does every day of his life, on purpose, as a matter of policy and a perfect expression of everything he stands for.”

7. Libra by Don DiLillo (1988) 

One of the most significant moments of twentieth-century US political history–the assassination of John F. Kennedy–is given its due attention through the eyes of Lee Harvey Oswald. The novel builds up to the shooting with conspiratorial threads of the story so beautifully composed that it becomes hard to distinguishing fiction from reality.

8. Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Woolf (1987)

Woolf’s satirical debut was initially published, to huge commercial success, as a serial in Rolling Stone. It focuses on self-titled “Master of The Universe” Sherman McCoy, a Wall Street trader in 1980s New York, as well as assistant DA Larry Kramer and British journalist Peter Fallow. When McCoy is involved in a hit and run, the three are messily thrown together in a powerful depiction of public image and corruption.

9. Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche (2013)

Its title puns on the idea of ‘Americana,’ namely symbols of American culture that have come to represent the USA’s cultural heritage. It is set initially in Lagos, Nigeria and then moves to the USA where Ifemelu, the story’s protagonist, has gone to attend university. As the title suggests, the idea of Americanization and the lionization of American culture is one of the primary preoccupations of the novel.

10. This House by James Graham (2012)

It may be a cheat to include a play as the final item on this list, but Graham’s script features the political machinations of Westminster as well as any novel. Political theatre finds its home in the Chief Whips’ offices during the Labour minority governments of the 1970s, so desperate for votes that bedbound MPs are brought into the House from hospital.

Photo Credit: Pete Souza, used under Creative Commons Licence.

Boat Race Ready?

Simone Fraser
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Boat Race Ready?

The past week saw some highly important races in the world of university rowing – Trial Eights. Each of the four clubs: OUBC (male heavyweights) OUWBC (female heavyweights), OULRC (male lightweights) and OUWLRC (female lightweights) fields two, theoretically matched boats, which race against each other. Although the crews of the boats are usually not exactly what the first and second boats will later be for the Boat Races, they do give a good indication of who’s likely to be involved. 

Oxford University Boat Club’s matched eights raced on Wednesday 11th December down the full Boat Race course from Putney to Mortlake. Naming their boats Hurley and Burley after the RNLI Tower lifeboat, it was a comfortable win for Hurley in the end. The club are looking strong, with each boat comprised of several members of last year’s first boat and Isis, as well as a handful of new members. For these men it can be their only chance to row the full course before the boat race, and so it’s vital practice. 

For Oxford University Women’s Boat Club, the names of the boats were inspired by the crew of the 75th Anniversary of the women’s boat race. Brown, named after the stroke of the boat that raced in 1927 came out on top, beating Morley, who had been at bow, by over three boat lengths: roughly 6.25 seconds. After an intense term of training, it gave the women (and man) a chance to put all they’d learnt into practice, and gain some great racing experience. 

Two days later, Oxford University Women’s Lightweight Rowing Club made history by racing down the Tideway Championship Course in their matched eights – Puppets and Parrots. Up until this year, the lightweight women have raced at Henley stretch, so the race was valuable experience for the whole team. Puppets reigned victorious on this occasion, but both boats are looking good ahead of their first London race against Cambridge. 

Finally, Oxford University Lightweight Rowing Club raced Brains against Brawn in their matched eights. Somewhat appropriately for Oxford, Brains won out, despite challenging conditions, and the team is now counting down until their own Tideway Boat Race – a tradition that started for them last year. 

After a difficult term with an unrowable Wallingford stretch for a few weeks, all boats put in a great performance down the tideway. Although both lightweight clubs are coming into the races as champions, after defeat at the 2019 boat races, both OUBC and OUWBC have a lot to prove. Hopefully dedication and hard-work will win out, and I look forward to seeing how all the crews will do in the spring races.

Review: Vampire Weekend

Hope Hopkinson
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Review: Vampire Weekend

Nine years after they last took Muswell Hill by storm, indie giants Vampire Weekend played a two-night engagement at London’s Alexandra Palace as part of the hotly anticipated touring circuit of their LP released in May of this year, Father of the Bride; and it was certainly worth the wait.

     Having a self-described ‘spring-time’ feel, FOTB was the band’s first release since 2014’s Modern Vampires of the City and the early 2016 departure of founding member and co-songwriter Rostam Batmanglij. Whilst the latest release boasts an 18 song tracklist, citing Kacey Musgraves and flamenco as key inspirations, the two-plus-hour setlist did not neglect their extensive Ivy League back catalogue, pleasing fans both new and old.  

    Frontman Ezra Koenig seemed to command the Palace from the get-go, opening with the punchy and melodic Bambina. For a band that alternates their opener night-by-night, it was a pleasant surprise and setting the energetic tone for the rest of the set. They ploughed through a seamless selection of new songs alongside the classics of yesteryear, such as the worldbeat-meets-baroque Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa and timeless A-Punk, Koenig barely stopping between tracks to address the crowd. However, the music seemed to do enough talking as for a 10,000 capacity venue, the tone felt strangely familiar and intimate.

      The consistently youthful energy was only halted once or twice throughout the setlist. My Mistake, a poetic yet melancholy number, felt like more of an opportunity for the seven-piece to catch their breath between the high-octane tracks before and after than anything else. However, following it up with fan favourites such as Step and Koenig’s collaboration with British house producer SBTRKT, New Dorp New York, they never seemed to drop the ball completely. This is in part thanks to the magnetism of guitarist and backup singer Brian Robert Jones, whose tie dye, Britney Spears-stickered guitar, and infectious energy meant that it was hard to resist the charms. Long time fans have argued that it is only with the addition of such new band members, and in such large quantities (going from a four piece to a seven piece from 2018), that Rostam’s absence from the outfit is made up for, but it feels as if the Vampire Weekend before and after his departure are incomparable, both possessing unique and equally endearing attributes.        The night came to a close with a five-song encore which included two crowd requests, another way in which the band fosters an undeniable sense of closeness to their fans. Closing with the timeless Ya Hey from their third album, inflatable globes matching the ever-spinning one up on stage being passed around the palace through the crowd, the mood was as ecstatic and joyous as ever. After a twenty-six song setlist, it is a testament to their strength and cohesiveness that they fostered such a consistent vibe, and hopefully means that their velocity is showing no signs of stopping any time soon.

The paradoxical toxicity of the ‘January detox’

Clare Tierney
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The paradoxical toxicity of the ‘January detox’

Everyone, even those who don’t formally celebrate Christmas, will most likely find themselves snaffling a bargain box of best-before mince pies or having a few extra drinks during the festive period. You’ve reached the end of another year – have one more slice of pie! You have a fortnight off work and the whole family round – so crack open the Quality Street! Evolutionarily, we crave high-sugar and high-fat foods, hence why the Christmas dinner table, Boxing Day buffet and days of free-flowing mulled wine keep us coming back for more than we ‘need’ for fuel alone. The absolute worst-case scenario is that we overeat and feel a bit bloated for a week or so, but that is where the story ends. 

Yet influencers, diet product peddlers and gyms present us with an entirely different narrative and we, the vulnerably hungover and overfed, lap it up like brandy cream dregs from Grandma’s best china jug.

Discounted gym memberships, supplements and fitness accessories abound once January is upon us, tapping into the tradition of New Year’s resolutions. We jump at the chance for self-betterment, an excuse to start afresh and leave behind old habits. For many of us, an unhealthy lifestyle is that old habit. Enthusiasm to eat more healthily and to take up a new physical activity is both life-affirming and life-preserving. Surely, this is an overwhelmingly positive thing. 

What is not positive, however, is the insidious marketing that manipulates our attitudes to our bodies by means of post-Christmas guilt. The rhetoric of self-blame, linked to a little over-indulgence at what should be a joyous time of the year, is much more toxic than ‘detox.’ And although Veganuary is motivated by the wellbeing of animals and our planet, rather than the money-making opportunity of thousands of people being desperate to shred, shed pounds and slim down, I am sure I am not the only one who has considered making it a Trojan horse for my weight-loss attempts.

I have watched enough myth-debunking YouTube videos, read enough blogs and articles that deign to counteract diet culture, to understand at a rational level that we can and should trust our bodies to recalibrate itself after Christmas. We each have an optimum weight at which our bodies fight to stay – our set point – and a few weeks of the pigs in blankets diet will not succeed in throwing this mechanism off course. All that is required is of us is a return to normal, balanced eating once the holidays are over. 

Gymshark, PureGym and Weight Watchers fail to explain this to us, as to do so would undermine their business models, constructed around the message that we, as we are, are inadequate. In the words of Britney (more or less): they’re toxic, we’re slipping under. And we will continue to fall for their guilt-tripping slogans, because flourishing corporations with a fortune behind them have more clout than a few body-positive Instagrammers, unfortunately. After all, they would not have made their money if it weren’t for successful seduction tactics: we truly believe it when they tell us that we need to shape up, tone up, shrink ourselves down.

And by anticipating the advent of this toxic message come January we run the risk of falling foul of our subconscious. Again, I will state the obvious: evolutionary biology is omnipotent. If you know a period of penury is approaching, you will, even if not deliberately, find yourself ‘stocking up’ on the nutrients of which you soon intend to deprive yourself. The psychological and physiological strain of fasting, regardless of the degree to which you enforce it, outweighs whatever you stand to gain (or, more appropriately, here, lose) from denying your body and mind the nutrition it requires. 

From experience, I know that the mere thought of not being able to eat what I want once the decorations are down is enough to drive me to extreme binges while I have the self-bestowed permission to indulge. Such is the reality of yo-yo dieting. I know that it is far better to eat little and often, indulge without bingeing and stave off the extreme New Year regimes. 

Yet the unrepentant guilt-mongering of the post-Christmas period hits me particularly hard. I am a weight-restored, physiologically-sound eating disorder sufferer, but one whose relationship with the gym, diet products and food restriction is far from healthy. 

Absolving oneself of responsibility to obey the orders of internet culture is, therefore, a gargantuan task. I have, nevertheless, learned – the hard way – that detox teas and fat-burning coffees are useless, not eating for 24 hours at a time is pointless (because it will always backfire) and excessive cardio is nothing short of ridiculous. Refuge in online recovery communities can seem appealing, but it is increasingly hard to escape a society where special diets and resistance bands reign supreme – even among those who were once eating disorder sufferers themselves. Recovery journeys morph into fitness journeys, obsessive cross-training evolves into dedicated muscle-building and devoted butt-sculpting and my hope that self-acceptance is to be found outside of the gym begins to waiver. I question the legitimacy of my recovery because I am trying to resist, rather than submit to, the allure of the watt bike.Let’s all eat up and chill out this Christmas and New Year, only working out and cutting down if the decisions to do so are made free from external or self-imposed pressure.

Is the Christmas vac actually the worst holiday of the year?

Jenna Colaco
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Is the Christmas vac actually the worst holiday of the year?

In very simple terms, yes: the Christmas vacation is arguably the worst of the year. It is usually the shortest— 39 days this year. It may seem very long and to our friends at other universities or in employment, very generous, but is actually a period of great stress for many students. It comes after a very draining term, Michaelmas— always a hit to the system after a long summer. For freshers, this is probably the hardest term in general, trying to navigate the complexities and rigour of Oxford for the whole term only to pack up and go back home after spending eight weeks trying to settle in. However, now they are going back with the added burden of probably an overdraft, a heap of academic work, a temporary loss of all their new friends and newfound freedom and the impending pressure of collections. To top it all off, everyone wants to ask how university is going, how the course is, or how much you must love it all, when in reality sometimes you just want a mental break from it all.

The Christmas vacation is also expensive; whilst many may not have to pay for accommodation during these periods by moving out of college, the money spent trying to have a social life and visit all the friends and family members you haven’t seen in a while can quickly add up. Not to mention that a term at Oxford can be very expensive, probably using up most, if not all, of your student loan, especially if your family or partner has not been able to help financially support you. With this in mind, and the fact the next student loan installment won’t be until the start of next term, you might be taking on part-time work to try and build up your bank balance before next term. The stress of finances and academic work are hard enough without having to work shifts, a time consuming activity which some tutors do not understand is a necessity for some students. Not to mention that this takes so much out of the time you could spend relaxing with those dearest to you, or just having some uninterrupted time to yourself. With all of these pressures combined, the idea of gift-giving can feel more like a burden than a happy exchange, especially when the budget is tight.

The Christmas period in general, without all the revision and assignments, is one of the most isolating for people who do not have a consistent home life. We are constantly attacked by images of people huddled under a tree with an abundance of presents sitting underneath it. We are inundated with songs and films which depict happy families, lovers and magical white Christmasses. Unfortunately, the commercials sell dreams and not everyone has such a wonderful home to go to, or people to care for them. For some students, returning home may not be an option at Christmas, so while everyone else leaves Oxford, they remain in city devoid of so many of the people who make it home, all while being bombarded by images of the magical Christmas ideal that ignores the fact that it is a day that can feel very isolating. It is a day where transport stops and public buildings are closed so people are forced to accept that this is a time where society expects them to have someone, it can be lonely. Additionally, Oxford, like many other cities in the UK, has a massive homelessness problem, and though there are many organisations who work to bring warmth and festive joy to those in need, winter is the toughest time for those on the street, or those whose families struggle to afford heating or food over the holidays.

In many ways, Christmas is the most beautiful time of year, but for those of us lucky enough to have somewhere to go and people to share it with, let’s count our blessings whilst remembering and doing our best to help those we know who don’t have the same privilege.

Please note:

The Oxford Homelessness Project is running a Christmas meal and need donations and volunteers (they will be having a three course dinner, handing out gifts, playing music and board games!).

For students who are finding university difficult to afford the university has a fund which you can access regardless of household income, you should really consider applying, you deserve to have time to put into your education and wellbeing without the constant pressure of worrying you won’t have enough: https://www.ox.ac.uk/students/fees-funding/assistance/hardship/alf?wssl=1

Pantomime: does it still deserve a place on the modern theatrical scene? (Oh, yes it does!)

Joanne McNulty
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Pantomime: does it still deserve a place on the modern theatrical scene? (Oh, yes it does!)

When asked what the most culturally and/or socially relevant genre of theatre is, few people would think to respond with ‘pantomime’ – but this Christmas staple is by far the most successful and ubiquitous form of theatre in the United Kingdom, and it’s only growing more popular. The 2019 season has seen the genre’s highest turnover so far at over £60m, and the season isn’t even over yet.  To the theatre critic, pantomime might come across as cheap and amateurish, but that’s hardly a reason to imply that it’s irrelevant. It’s pantomime’s very accessibility that makes it a fascinating opportunity to involve kids in theatre and engage wider audiences in an experience that might otherwise be unacceptably subversive.

It’s crucial to remember that pantomime, for many children, is their first ever experience of theatre – indeed, for many people, going to the pantomime as a child is their only experience of theatre. And kids love it! What makes pantomime so exciting for kids is its combination of the familiar (pop songs, familiar fairy tales, celebrities) and the ‘strange’ (men playing women and vice versa, incomprehensible jokes that the adults all seem to find funny for some reason, an actual live theatre performance!) The audience participation aspect of pantomime encourages children to engage with the show and effectively demonstrates to them the potential of live performance. Here you can interact with the story very differently to the way in which you engage with a TV show or film – if you’re very lucky, you might even be invited up on stage at the end. If you’re a child, the concept of screaming ‘It’s behind you!’ to the oblivious old dame is the height of comedy. It’s not high art, but there’s no reason why it should be – its primary audience is children, and if it doesn’t prioritize their entertainment, then something has gone wrong. Sending a child to (what they perceive as) a boring, overlong and pretentious production is a sure-fire way to put them off theatre for a long time. Of course, we shouldn’t settle for a situation where many children never have the opportunity to experience theatre beyond pantomime – but that’s the fault of chronic underfunding in the arts. And the experience of attending an exciting and engaging pantomime at Christmas time can potentially encourage a much deeper interest in the world of theatre and live performance.

Pantomime’s near-ubiquitous popularity also renders it a crucial source of income for many smaller theatres. In some cases, the ticket sales from the yearly pantomime alone can fund its entire repertoire for the following year – allowing them to take risks and put on important but less commercially-friendly shows, supporting local creatives and bringing more artistic theatre to people who would otherwise have to travel to big cities. The pantomime itself is also often a great opportunity to give local actors and creatives experience in working on a big show. This includes the children’s chorus, many of whom will be performing on stage for the first time in their lives. Pantomime’s enduring popularity arguably allows it to help sustain the entire British theatre industry, both by providing an economic bedrock and by introducing theatre to the audiences of tomorrow.

That said, pantomime is important as a genre in and of itself; it doesn’t just exist simply to support ‘real’, high theatre. It’s important to remember that pantomime has its roots in a subversive tradition. Gender-swapped casting is all but prescribed for many characters, allowing audiences to enjoy subversive and disruptive presentations whilst still being couched in the safety of ‘family-friendly Christmas entertainment’. This was even more revolutionary in Victorian times, the birthplace of the modern pantomime. The concept of the principal boy being played by a woman was not simply a case of gender subversion – it also allowed Victorian audiences to get a cheeky glimpse of the actresses’ shapely legs in breeches rather than covered by a long skirt.

Of course, pantomime has existed for over two centuries now, and has evolved little for most of them. What was once subversive can in some cases become positively conservative. Often this is highly dependent on the quality of the individual pantomime. The old dame, in the hands of a talented actor and writer, can become a delightful opportunity to relish in the aesthetics and comedy of high camp – or, in less capable hands, she can become a disappointing transphobic archetype. The ‘comedy’ becomes the old dame’s body – hilarious because it is that of a man – rather than her physical comedy and wordplay. Even the best-quality pantomimes rarely stray from tradition despite the interesting gender dynamics of the actors in pantomime; the panto ‘canon’ is limited to a stock selection of traditional fairy tales almost always revolving around a heterosexual love story.

However, the rules of pantomime, though generally upheld, are not set in stone. This year’s production of Cinderella at the Lyric Hammersmith, for example, saw Cinderella’s ‘ugly’ stepsister fall in love with a female Buttons, and the show has received rave reviews. The nature of pantomime’s gleeful subversiveness means that radical rule changes are more likely to be accepted than anyone trying to pull the genre towards a more conservative status quo – particularly because pantomime as a genre has a long tradition of poking fun at the status quo. Every year, right back to its origins in Victorian times, pantos have been updated with topical, often politically-charged jokes. While Bobby Davro cracking jokes at Prince Andrew’s expense in Woking is hardly going to set the world on fire, it’s still an example of speaking truth to power. Good pantomime revels in taking shots at the establishment. It’s no coincidence that many of the classic pantomime tales – Cinderella, Aladdin, Dick Whittington, and so on – are stories of plucky, Picaresque heroes making their way in the world pitted against authoritarian baddies. They reach the upper echelons of society in the end, but do so through their morality and pluck, whilst the villains are deservedly toppled from their position of power.

Some pantomimes, of course, still rely on lazy and reactionary humour; characters insulting other characters or the audience by implying that they’re from the ‘scummy’ neighbourhood of wherever the show is being performed is a particularly common trope. But not all pantomimes are created equal, and to denounce the entire genre because of the laziness of a few writers is nonsensical. When pantomime gets it right, it really gets it right, and it’s a genuine celebration of the subversive and radical that nevertheless still manages to successfully engage wide audiences. It’s a genre that we should feel deeply privileged to have.

Opinion – Authentically Insincere: the conflict between sincerity and authenticity in British Politics

Christian Edwards
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Opinion – Authentically Insincere: the conflict between sincerity and authenticity in British Politics

After nine years of Tory rule, voters have looked at our country and said ‘yeah, this is good, more of the same.’

How did this happen? How could Labour not force the Conservatives, in all their mess and disgrace, out of government? The inquest into the collapse of the Labour Party will be long, conducted mainly on Twitter, and unhelpful. Momentum will blame anyone but Corbyn and the dream will live on. But now we must be honest: whatever Corbyn was selling, the British people did not want it. This is the first time in a century that an opposition has lost seats after being out of government for nine years. The fault must lie, above all else, within the opposition.

But there may be a deeper reason than all this for the Tory victory. This election confirmed one thing: the problem is not that politicians lied, the problem is that people don’t mind being lied to. Andrew Neil said if Boris Johnson had come on his show to be interviewed, he would have centred his questions on ‘trust’ – why ‘critics and even those close to him deem him untrustworthy’. But we may be thinking about trust in the wrong way. Johnson has made it clear throughout his career that he reneges on promises, argues for whatever betters himself, cannot be trusted. And yet people still place their trust in him with their votes.

Why? We might look to the South African writer J.M. Coetzee for an answer. Coetzee lived in England for a number of years, he knows the English well. In a 2015 book called The Good Story, a series of exchanges between Coetzee and the clinical psychologist Arabella Kurtz, Coetzee made a striking observation about the difference between authenticity and sincerity:

“I suspect that the word authentic came into wider usage precisely to capture what the word sincere fails to… If so, this in turn suggests that the phenomenon of the person who holds a belief in all sincerity yet is not committed heart and soul to that belief is of quite recent birth…

“Being authentic includes being able to lie and steal and cheat as long as you don’t pretend to yourself that you are not a liar and a thief and a cheat. As a society we cut a great deal of slack for ‘authentic’ characters of this kind. I have never seen why. The classic English novelists (Fielding, Dickens, for example) are often prepared to forgive immorality yet are dead set against hypocrisy, the pretence to virtue.”

Authenticity, for Coetzee, is about being ‘true to yourself’. Sincerity is simpler: it is more about telling the truth than acting in a way that is true to oneself. We could say ‘I am sincerely sorry for what I did’, meaning that we are really, truthfully sorry. But we wouldn’t say ‘I am authentically sorry for what I did’. Authenticity is not about telling the truth; it is about being one’s own truth, being the truth of one’s self.

This matters in modern British politics because politicians often lie, and so, we should think about what sort of lie we are being told. Is this politician lying about the facts (are they being insincere), or are they lying about themselves (are they being inauthentic)? Coetzee is right: in Britain we tolerate insincerity if it is authentic. What we can’t tolerate is inauthenticity. So, Dickens’ villain Fagin can lie and thieve and cheat and that’s okay – it’s authentic. But when a good guy does something bad, their goodness is shown to be inauthentic, and we begin to doubt their whole character.

Think back to the Conservative leadership campaign. Michael Gove was never going to win that election. But his campaign was utterly crushed by the allegations that he used to sit at home in his Chelsea flat after long days on Fleet Street and take cocaine. Any momentum he had was gone overnight. Why was this allegation so damaging?

Perhaps because Michael Gove presented himself as sincere. He styled himself – before the EU Referendum at least – as someone who cared, someone who would try to make a difference, someone conscientious. In short, he was not a Boris Johnson.

Maybe it was the bug-eyed incredulity, the slight over-pronouncement of the ever-trembling lower lip, the overarching sense of unease and even nervousness that made us believe him sincere. He never had the Johnsonian wink or Cameron’s smug grin. He always seemed like he was trying and falling short. And so, when the cocaine story broke, his sincerity was exposed as inauthentic. Gove wasn’t a good guy: he was getting coked up throughout his twenties. He was insincere – and, worse, inauthentically sincere. Any chance of his becoming party leader disappeared.

So why did the same not happen to Johnson? After Gove, every leadership candidate was asked what they had taken and when. How did Johnson deflect these questions? Quite simply, he lied – and, what’s more, people just didn’t care. When asked, Johnson denied taking the drug. But this was untrue. He previously admitted to taking the drug on numerous occasions: he told Piers Morgan in 2007 that he remembered taking cocaine ‘vividly’. And, really, of course he can. I find it absolutely inconceivable that Johnson has not taken cocaine at least once, and impressive that his septum has emerged unscathed.

It was only in 2015, perhaps with his premiership in sight, that Johnson started to retreat from his earlier confessions. On Have I Got News for You? he said: ‘I think I was once given cocaine but I sneezed and so it did not go up my nose’ – the most ridiculous line since Clinton’s ‘I didn’t inhale’. Johnson absurdly claimed a scene of Annie Hall for his own and somehow got away with it. The evidence was there, staring at voters in the face: Boris Johnson, by his own admission, had taken cocaine, just like his fellow candidate Michael Gove. So why did this bare-faced, unflinching, shameless lying not derail his campaign too?

Because Johnson’s deceit, his cynicism, his all-round bad guy-ness, is authentic. We know he lies, we know he cheats. This is who he, in a dramatic sense, is. This is his character, his persona, and he has spent most of his life perfecting it to the point that it is authentic.

Three details from Andrew Gimson’s 2006 biography of Johnson tell us more about this ‘character’. First, his school reports, which have long been doing the rounds: “Boris really has adopted a disgracefully cavalier attitude to his classical studies… I think he honestly believes that it is churlish of us not to regard him as an exception, one who should be free of the network of obligation which binds everyone else.”

Second, an anecdote from a school play: Johnson didn’t bother to learn his lines, so he pinned them up around the stage, dashing between them as he tried to catch his next cue, much to the audience’s hilarity and the anger of his fellow actors. Everyone could see what he was doing, but nonetheless, they found the performance funny.

And third, his post in an Eton yearbook: a picture of himself with two scarves and a machine gun and a vow to make ‘more notches on my phallocratic phallus’. And there we have our prime minister: lover of self, lover of audience, lover of sex. It’s blatantly there for us to see, and this authenticity works in his favour.

How could the allegations that this man had merely taken cocaine have hurt someone like this? It could hurt Gove, who was meant to be sincere. It couldn’t hurt Johnson, who everyone knows to be insincere – authentically insincere. This is the problem: we know Johnson is a bad guy, but because he doesn’t pretend not to be, we simply don’t care. In fact, it is a huge source of his appeal.

Journalists of late have picked up on this trend. Matthew Parris’s column in last Saturday’s Times picks up on the authenticity phenomenon: “Everywhere I go among fellow voters I meet the same response. They know he’s a scoundrel, know he’s a cheat, know he’s a selfish careerist, and there’s no point in reminding them. But something about his rascality appeals.”

Parris continues: “He’s your virtual mate. Boris is Boris but he’s our Boris. ‘Ooh you are awful, but we like you.’ In the southern Africa of my youth there was a human type widely admired in Bantu culture and the admiration helps to explain some of Africa’s political problems. He’s called a tsotsi and he’s basically a petty thief, an Artful Dodger, but he’s flashy, he’s fun and he’s a winger. Johnson is a blond tsotsi.” Like Dickens’ Artful Dodger, he is authentic, it is all there in his persona. This is the thing that makes voters dismiss each successive scandal with a tut and a frown, but with a stifled giggle and an ‘Oh, Boris!’.

Think about what Johnson was up against. (Not much.) We can see how the authenticity problem might have affected his opponents. Swinson is meant to be young and progressive, yet voted for a number of austerity policies. Corbyn is meant to be against racism in all its forms, yet had a blind spot to antisemitism. It seems as though one could not shake the idea that these sincere beliefs held by Johnson’s opponents may have been inauthentic.

But isn’t there a sense of authenticity I’m missing? Surely Corbyn’s politics are authentic? Yes, absolutely. Corbyn is authentically old left in a way that Johnson will never be a politically authentic anything. There is much talk of how Johnson may now return to how he was as London Mayor, a One Nation Conservative, whatever that soupy term still means. But he may equally continue in his current vein of populist nationalism. Who can say? As Chris Patten warns us: “His principles are so flexible he could do almost anything.” Authenticity is a matter of character, which goes deeper than politics. Johnson’s authenticity comes from his commitment to himself, stronger than his commitment to any political idea.

If we think about the language used to describe leaders like Johnson and Trump, we see the importance of authenticity. Throughout the populist movements around the globe we recognise the same distrust of irony, the same desire for there to be no gap between appearance and reality. People like Johnson and Trump, who supposedly embody a ‘what you see is what you get’ persona. It’s all there in Coetzee: ‘Being authentic includes being able to lie and steal and cheat as long as you don’t pretend to yourself that you are not a liar and a thief and a cheat.’ Johnson and Trump don’t pretend to be otherwise and are being rewarded by voters.

So what do we do with a man who seems to have accessed this special place in the British consciousness, coinciding with the pockets of populism around the globe, who we have just given five more years of power? People say the media failed to hold Johnson accountable. This is undoubtedly true, but even those who do hold him to account find their efforts rather impotent. Peter Oborne, a Conservative voter all his life until recently, has created a dossier (boris-johnson-lies.com) in which he adds a new Johnson untruth every day.

And for what? How can this possibly hurt Johnson or persuade voters? People do not care about Johnson’s lies, perhaps because Johnson himself does not. It’s the shamelessness that the media don’t know how to confront. Andrew Neil’s call on Johnson to be interviewed on the theme of trust was masterful, but ultimately of no effect. Johnson simply said no, and faced no consequences because he showed no shame.

We may be about to learn the hard way. A former ally of his said: “The British people are going to have the same experience with Boris that everyone who has known him have understood. They will feel hugely let down.” Johnson may leave Britain looking like the pain-stricken face of Jennifer Arcuri – incredulous, stunned, betrayed.

Except it won’t be like that. There’ll be nothing personal in it, no sense of tragedy, no communal sense of being ‘had’. Enough people, for whatever reason, just don’t seem to care about being lied to anymore. ‘That was just Boris,’ they’ll say. The truth will not be like a smack across the face, as Arcuri must have felt when her calls were declined and she was left to howl into the wind. It will be slower, less painful than that. Like a dull ache, constant, not overpowering. There will be no national sense of outrage when it turns out this emperor was in fact naked all the time, for, as Johnson’s former editor Max Hastings said: “We can scarcely strip the emperor’s new clothes from a man who has built a career, or at least a lurid love life, out of strutting without them.” Johnson has been nakedly himself for his whole career. While his commitment to ideas, to policies, to people has wavered erratically, his commitment to himself has pertained authentically.

So the feeling won’t be shock, it won’t even be pain. Those who voted for Johnson know, at some level, what they have signed up for. He has been telling us who he is all along. The feeling will be more of having our tails forever between our legs, a sense of shame and embarrassment, as if we must apologise for what we let happen – a sense, at the root of all, that now we are no longer ruled by a serious person, it may be a while before we can once more call ourselves a serious country.

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