Oxford's oldest student newspaper

Independent since 1920

Blog Page 54

Oxford Union believes the UK is failing immigrants

By
Oliver Adelson and Emily Henson
-
Image Credit: Kaihsu via Wikimedia Commons

On Thursday night, the Oxford Union voted in favour of the motion “This House Believes the UK is Failing Immigrants.” The final count had 224 members voting for the motion and 46 members voting against. 

Speaking in favour of the motion were British-Punjabi immigration solicitor Harjap Bhangal and Peredur Owen Griffiths, a Plaid Cymru politician serving in the Senedd who has previously described the government’s immigration plans as “cruel and callous.”  Union Librarian and third-year law student Ebrahim Osman Mowafy also spoke for the motion. 

Richard Tice, leader of the political party Reform UK, spoke in opposition to the motion. His past comments on immigration have been the subject of much controversy – in November, he came under fire for stating on a BBC programme: “These huge mass immigration numbers are changing the nature of our country, it’s making us poorer financially and it’s making us poorer culturally.” Also opposing the motion were Union Graduate Officer Sarah Rana and New College student Prajwal Pandey.

Osman Mowafy opened the case for the proposition by detailing his own immigration journey from Egypt to England and stating “perhaps we are all immigrants.” He told the audience that the UK has a responsibility toward immigrants arising not only from common humanity, but also from British policies abroad. He cited the cases of Iraq and Afghanistan, where American and British military action displaced millions of refugees. 

During Osman Mowafy’s introduction of the opposition speakers, he revealed private messages from Sarah Rana that referred to members of her own opposition side as “far-right nutters.” He also commented on what he perceived as the irony of Tice’s sitting on the bench beside two immigrants in light of his previous comments.

Graduate Officer Sarah Rana opened the case for opposition, declaring that the essential error of the proposition was its assumption that “The entire government is the UK people.” She drew a distinction between the policy of the UK government, which she considered a failure, and the treatment of immigrants by the UK public. Speaking of her own family’s experience immigrating to Manchester from Pakistan, she said that her family was welcomed by the people of the UK, who “helped them find their footing.”

She also emphasised the important role immigrants have played in the development of the UK, arguing it was the “blood, sweat, and tears of immigrants that has brought us here.”

Continuing the case for the proposition, Plaid Cymru politician Peredur Owen Griffiths reflected on the history of immigrants in Wales and their contribution to the development of Cardiff. He promoted his party’s attempts to “strive for inclusivity,” which he claimed are currently being stifled in Westminster. 

Griffiths placed Welsh policy in contrast with the national government’s treatment of immigrants, which he classed as “hostile, brutal, and ineffective.” He accused the government of losing its humanity, citing the removal of cartoon decorated walls in children’s immigration centres and the abuse uncovered at Brook House by Panorama. Toward the end of his speech, he joked that James Cleverly was on a mission to prove not everyone lives up to their name.

PPE student Prajwal Pandey began his speech for the opposition by informing the audience that, having come to the UK when he was two years old, he was “grateful for the immigration system that has allowed [him] to do [so].” He drew a distinction similar to that drawn by the first opposition speaker, arguing that despite government scandals, the judicial system, the press, and the public are able to secure the rights of immigrants. 

To conclude his speech, he cited poll numbers that showed the progress made in reducing discrimination against immigrants and discussed his grandfather’s imprisonment for his role in the Indian Independence Movement. The position he himself currently occupied as a student of Oxford, he argued, clearly demonstrated that progress had been made by the UK on the issue of immigration.

Closing the case for the proposition, Harjap Bhangal criticised government policy concerning international students studying in the UK. He argued that the government was not sufficiently welcoming of international students applying for visas after they obtained their degrees from English universities.

Highlighting the “euphoria of anti-immigration” present in media and politics, Bhangal concluded that Britain has been “sold a narrative and it hasn’t worked.” Bhangal told those scared of illegal immigrants – who arrive “with nothing but the clothes on their back and a mobile phone” – to “up their game” and remember that the levels of immigration in the UK pale in comparison to those in Colombia, Pakistan, and Iran.

Richard Tice closed the case for the opposition. He began his speech by declaring: “The whole premise of the proponents of this motion, they’ve completely and utterly missed the basic point. If a product is failing… you stop buying it.” He clarified that the “product” in question was entry into the UK – given the record 1.2 million people who legally immigrated to the UK in 2022, he argued, the UK was not failing its immigrants. “So clearly, far from failing, the product of the United Kingdom is actually appealing.”

This line, along with “the data speaks for itself,” was a common refrain throughout his address. In response to a point of information that accused Tice of ignoring the experiences of immigrants to make his arguments, he stated: “I’m not ignoring it, but the facts speak for themselves.” Similarly, he responded to a point of information that criticised the validity of his “product” analogy by declaring: “We are not failing, we are appealing.” His repetition of this stock phrase elicited a great deal of laughter from the audience throughout his speech.

Breaking the Ice on Seasonal Depression

By
Nina Naidu
-
Artwork by Amelia Dovell

January creeps in, bringing a chilly breeze that hints at the grasp of winter. The temperature steadily drops, barren trees shiver, and the landscape transforms with misery as leaves surrender to muted tones of grey and frosty whites. The iconic Oxford puffer remains a seasonal staple, sunglasses and sandals hibernate as darkness encroaches after 4pm lectures, courtesy of our faithful companion – daylight savings. Though the days may be getting longer, winter has arrived without warning, disrupting the warm, sun-soaked optimism of summer. 

Despite endeavours to romanticise the grey January skies with caramel-waffle oat lattes and charming cat-eared crochet hats, the reality often falls short as damp jeans cling to your legs in the drizzle, and sunlight becomes a rarity. The dream of idyllic scenes in cafes on rainy days, adorned with fairy lights and hot chocolate, seems just that. A dream. While the allure of becoming an academic weapon in the Radcam is tempting, the thought of battling through lethargy and lugging a heavy blanket to every study spot is too daunting. Venturing beyond the comfort of your room simply does not feel worth the energy, especially when confronted with near-freezing temperatures.

In this environment, it’s hardly surprising that motivation dwindles, leading to a reluctance to go outside. The struggle is felt by many, reflected in the statistics – approximately 2 million people in the UK experience Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) during winter. The challenge lies not only in the miserable weather itself but in maintaining a sense of well-being amid the doom and gloom.

Could you be dealing with SAD?

Seasonal Affective Disorder, cleverly abbreviated as SAD, is a type of depression with symptoms often present in seasonal cycles. The NHS website lists some of the following symptoms related to SAD: a persistent low mood, a loss of pleasure or interest in normal everyday activities, feelings of despair, guilt, and worthlessness, lethargy and difficulties sleeping, and unexplained weight gains. While not an exhaustive list, people with SAD will often experience a combination of these symptoms over the winter months. 

The key distinction between SAD and general clinical depression lies in the timing of symptom onset, indicating different causative factors. If an individual predominantly experiences depressive symptoms during the autumn and winter months, with a noticeable improvement or remission in the summer, then it is likely categorised as SAD. It’s important to note that this doesn’t imply that seasonal depression should be regarded as less severe or that individuals cannot experience SAD during the summer, and understanding these nuances is crucial, as SAD, often nicknamed “winter blues”, SAD is unrelated to the stresses associated with certain times of year (such as Christmas), but rather due to the shift in daylight hours.

While SAD is more common in people who have pre-existing mood disorders such as depression or bipolar disorder, and diagnoses are more common in women than men, these symptoms can affect anyone Given the UK’s distance from the equator, Oxford students are particularly susceptible to the negative effects of seasonal transitions. Combined with the constant stresses of university work, it is inevitable that at one point or another, most students’ mental health and well-being will be impacted.

The science behind SAD

While the causes of seasonal depression are not entirely known, it is thought to be due to daylight savings causing shorter, gloomier days. When the clock goes back, reduced exposure to natural sunlight disrupts the body’s circadian rhythm. Sunlight aids the levels of molecules that maintain normal serotonin levels, so the reduction in sunlight hours significantly decreases serotonin (responsible for affecting mood). Furthermore, the change of season can disrupt the balance of melatonin (responsible for sleep) in the body, leading to sleeping difficulties such as insomnia, fatigue, and difficulties waking up in the mornings. These shifts, alongside an overall decrease in vitamin D, drain energy and motivation, and impact concentration, mood, and overall well-being – certainly not ideal for a student.

Seasonal depression and The Student

The onset of seasonal depression is a familiar experience for me, as I find my mood waning when the days grow shorter. The shift from summer to winter feels particularly abrupt, contrasting with the gradual return to warmth in the summer months. The prospect of venturing out and putting effort into one’s appearance diminishes as layers of Uniqlo heattech become a necessity to combat the biting cold. Even the glamour of ancient Oxford libraries loses its appeal given their notorious chilliness – a deterrent especially when trudging all the way from St. Hugh’s College.

While cafes exude a cosy ambiance, they too present challenges. Rainy days attract huge crowds seeking refuge, making it a struggle to secure a quiet corner for focused work without further distractions. There’s an innate comfort in gazing outside and witnessing the radiant sunlight, a stark contrast to the dreary grey of fog. The carefree nature of summer feels like a distant memory, making it harder to embrace the challenges that come with the new season.

Interestingly, my experience of the seasons has undergone a significant shift since moving to Italy for my year abroad. Despite the cold weather in Milan, the enjoyment of summer-like temperatures ranging from 20 to 30°C throughout September and October extended the sense of summer. Even during lectures, the lingering warmth and the absence of the need to bundle up like a snowman mitigated the impact of the weather on my mood compared to when I was in Oxford. This remains the case until later in Hilary as the days lengthen. Even when temperatures drop, the most distinct difference lies in the frequency of sunlight. Oxford often grapples with persistent grey days shrouded in clouds, whereas even a cold day in Milan tends to invite at least a bit of sun, making the chill more bearable.

Don’t just take my word for it. Leo Brnicanin, PPL finalist, shares similar challenges and understands the added difficulty of accomplishing tasks during the winter months. He attributes this struggle to the early onset of darkness and the pervasive cold weather, strengthening his desire for warmth and comfort under the covers rather than to study. Reflecting on the weather in England, he noted that the cold often translates to rain, creating a dreary and muddy environment that further contributes to a sense of confinement. Interestingly, he also draws a connection between work and seasonal depression; when he’s back home in London, the opportunity to engage in winter activities in the city is more enjoyable when unburdened by work commitments, whereas in Oxford he associates the demands of work with the cold weather, only intensifying these feelings of hopelessness.

Now, what can we do?

Despite these winter woes, there remains a glimmer of hope, especially while navigating the unique circumstances of Oxford. While conventional treatments for SAD like light therapy, wherein an individual sits in front of a light box emitting 10,000 lux every day, or taking vitamin D supplements are widely known, their accessibility to students can be a barrier. The repetition of advice to indulge in comforting activities, such as sipping chamomile tea or going for a walk, might seem cliché, but there is undeniable truth is the potential mood-enhancing effects of such simple actions, for it doesn’t hurt to at least try.

Fortunately, collective work stress sometimes means that there is a collaborative aspect of combating seasonal depression. Last year, my friends and I often committed to early morning study sessions at Pret, underscoring the significance of mutual accountability as I didn’t want to disappoint my friends (or myself). In the midst of academic pressures, the support of friends not only aids in overcoming morning lethargy, but also the sense of isolation exacerbated by the constraints of inclement weather.

Drawing from Leo’s experience, the strategy of rising earlier to confront responsibilities emerges as a shared approach. This proactive stance towards the day not only enhances personal motivation but also resonates with taking back control amid seasonal challenges.

So, it is undeniable that the pervasive impact of seasonal depression may not solely stem from the changing weather; rather, it unfolds within a complex interplay of atmospheric conditions, diminishing daylight, and the overwhelming academic demands placed on students. By acknowledging both the individual and collective dimensions of seasonal struggles, there emerges a pathway toward fostering a more supportive and resilient student community in the face of winter woes.

False Prophets: Prophet Song Review

By
David Evans
-
Image credit: ActualLitte / CC BY SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Science-fiction is a confused genre. The strangeness of fantastical alternatives to our world can be both apposite and conducive to commentary on contemporary times. Fantasy can readily promote allegory. Yet, imagination may invent for the sake of the invention, to capture something wholly unorthodox and distinct from the period in which it is written. It might be said there are two kinds of science-fiction writers, the columnists and the hermits. The former twist their presents into futures to envisage trajectories of their times; they are in the business of prediction, anticipation, and conditions. The latter detach themselves from their worlds entirely to become immersed in separate realities, which echo for all times, more philosophy than fantasy. The columnists and the hermits, these are the Orwells and the Phillip K. Dicks of the literary field. Paul Lynch’s book Prophet Song, on the other hand, strays between the two, at times self-engrossed in the complexities of an invented world, at others, an explicit replication of the modern refugee crisis. 

As an oracle, Lynch aims to feasibly envisage the breakdown of civil society, to write, as he reflected, “the book as a long equation of truth.” The book’s political thread is not invention but appropriation, for the rise to power of the Nazi party is duplicated. From the Enabling Act which secures Garda Síochána’s control over the Irish state, the creation of the National Services Bureau, a faintly disguised SS, to the internecine paranoia of citizens turning against one another, Lynch offers no original ideas about how the unique configuration of contemporary democracies could collapse. The hallmarks of great science-fiction, of Orwell’s ministries of truth, of Huxley’s procreative playgrounds, were potent because they projected the potentialities of specifically contemporary issues, borne from the experiences of wartime media and a new technological-sexual culture. The traumas of the World Wars, American standardisation, Soviet imperialism, Communism, and the rebuilding of Europe were where their fantasies were historically located. Lynch falters because his politics is fictionalised history, inappropriately applying a threadbare model of political dissolution to a world vastly different to the mid-20th century. 

Herman Hesse’s 1927 novel Steppenwolf, written in anticipation of Germany’s turn to fascism, was an influence on Prophet Song, in which case, the novel conflates prophecy with history. Fascism was an historically contingent development, the product of specific combinations of factors in early 20th century Western Europe including socialism, nationalism, the First World War, and secularisation. In 21st century Europe, there are few marked similarities within the liberal democracies of our time, in a part of the world which has not experienced war for over 70 years, or indications of illiberal regression. It takes an uncreative and insincere leap to reach Lynch’s claim that Europe is heading towards a repetition of popular authoritarianism. Wherever the politics of Europe is going will be new, which is to suppose it is going there at all. For the problems of Prophet Song’s Irish state are internal, but the 1920s was an era in which an international order broke down, a situation unrecognisable from a Europe largely incorporated into the European Union and NATO. Lynch described his novel as an attempt to “see into the modern chaos… the unrest in Western democracies,” but instead, the book dwells on an imagined past. Prophet Song is not so much a liberal warning against totalitarianism as it is a repetition of that which it stands against: the overzealous hyperbole of the immoderate. Lynch evokes authors of pre-war Britain, particularly Buchan, with a tone of scaremongering and millenarianism.

Such loquacious irrationality is easy to dismiss. The stupidity of a book might hopefully be assumed to negate its impact on the reading public. Yet Prophet Song represents a pattern of literature, like Margaret Atwood’s dystopian works, which suggest a broader interest in discussing the despotic. In the early 20th century, vast collections of literature were written exacerbating and intoxicating the English reading public with Germanophobic plots and schemes. Britain nonetheless remained one of the most Germanophile nations in Europe among the Edward Greys of Britain, but a rampant fear of the German was nonetheless significant among many who were enraptured by tales like A. C. Curtis’ A New Trafalgar. The power of books to drive a split between the world as perceived and as it is which becomes self-substantiated, has been great in history. Lynch stands within the tradition set down by Childers’ The Riddle of the Sands, Downey’s London’s Peril, through Martin’s Berlin-Baghdad in 1907. It is imperative that the Charles Lowes of our time, a critic who lampooned Le Queux’s Spies of the Kaiser, mock the literary gunpowder with which authors like Lynch play. 

The sections articulating the fear of the refugee are by far the most compelling aspects of the book. If the author had wished to make a moral case about the plight of refugees or the apparent absence of sympathy of the western world, a dystopian melodrama which reshapes the dimensions of those experiences to bizarre proportions imposed by the genre was unwise. The novel engages in prolonged investigations into Lynch’s fantasy Ireland to the detriment of its political subject. One cannot reconcile a concern of present issues with the repeated returns to reverie. The tension between inventing and representing is continual. The problem is perhaps one of genre. Lynch wrote, “I sought to deepen the dystopian by bringing to it a high degree of realism.” Yet the dystopian is defined by its abstraction. Realism reshapes the dystopian by denying its capacity for allegory while simultaneously investing the invented with the weight of the contemporary. As such, to have a ‘realistic’ dystopian novel is to choose the detached approach of the genre, and minimise the novel’s capacity to commentate.

The focus on refugees through the lens of Ireland is, more importantly, conceptually misplaced. Lynch’s attempt at ‘Radical Empathy’ is the ambition to fully understand another’s predicament by relocating their experiences into translatable circumstances. There is nothing radical about this type of empathy, for it would be more powerful to ask the reader to attempt to place themselves in the mind of another, in an alternative situation. Moreover, it is self-contradicting, for to empathise is to understand the feelings of an individual separate from yourself. Lynch’s ‘radical empathy’ assumes the opposite, by using a subjectivist approach so that we can only understand others through approximate surrogates.  

Prophet Song is neither prescient nor melodious; it is a self-proclaimed seer’s message which reads as an exhausting description of current events, warped by piety, drunk on righteousness. The arrogant sacrality of the book’s mission, Lynch’s unsanctioned venture to save the world through unparagraphed complaints, is outrageously self-serving, for this work is submerged in its own significance. Receiving the Booker prize, Lynch pretentiously remarked:

“I had to write the book… we do not have a choice. To quote the apocryphal gospels, ‘if you use what is within you, what is within you will save you. If you do not use what is within you, what is within you will destroy you.’”

What piety! What self-importance. The assumption that Lynch can subject the reading public to the literary medicine he must take to save his soul, that his internal turmoil had the necessary profundity for expression and publication. Perhaps Paul Lynch is a prophet, in the pejorative, secular sense; a comical visionary, every breath filled with conceit. Even in his moment of earnestness, pressing hard into the podium, was an act of supreme vanity. 

“I believe that literary style should be a way of knowing how the world is met in its unfolding. Sentences should press into the unknown moment, into the most obscure, hidden aspects of life. That which is barely known but asking to be revealed.”

An indecipherable barrage of words describing the obvious through the convoluted. In other words, authors should use words to describe how people feel in different situations. The second line dramatically asserts that sentences should be used to express things not usually expressed. Lynch writes in the tone of a revolutionary, but without a revolution. 

Ironically, Lynch’s egocentric, mock-humble attitude is the very image that he fears in his political villains. An absence of deprecation, an assumption of profundity, a projection of chaos, makes Prophet Song dismal reading on reflection. As Lynch himself noted in his acceptance speech, “the rational part of me believed I was dooming my career my writing this novel.” One can only hope that he was right. This is a book of whim. As quickly as it rose to fame, it will disappear. Yet its popularity and award success suggest a reading public more eager to complain than consider. For all of Lynch’s protestations – “this was not an easy book to write” – its character, as an observational, historical reproduction suggest that this book was unconsidered. 

My views on Prophet Song may seem vitriolic. Its elements are tedious. The narrative structure, confused between parable and description; the political commentary, indiscreetly replicating history to the cost of contemporary struggles; the project of ‘Radical Empathy’; even the pretence of Lynch himself. It is fitting that a novel about the breakdown of empathy and reason exhibits both traits superbly, by Europeanising a real plight, and lackadaisically forecasting a future from the past. This book nonetheless represents other forces greater than itself: the constraints of the science-fiction genre in making political commentary, and one concerning avenue of popular literature: the overstated dystopian novel. 

To all the pubs we’ve loved before

By
Susanna Elliott and Reka Sztaray
-
Illustration of the Lamb and Flag
Artwork by Taya Neilson

We are Réka and Suzy, two law finalists on a mission to find the best pubs in Oxford. We will begin our journey by reviewing our clear favourite so far, our home away from home, the Lamb and Flag. It was the preferred pub of legends such as CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien and has been selling pints since the 16th century with its profits historically funding DPhil scholarships at St. John’s College. Ever the philanthropists eager to give to a good cause, we often come here to forget our latest medical negligence case by drinking our favourite pint, the Prospect. A delicious, sweet pint with a low ABV that only costs £4.50, it’s the perfect drink to relax and wash away your essays without acquiring a hangover. We would encourage everyone to try it, even those who have not acquired the taste for beer. Even if the Prospect isn’t your thing, the pints pulled at L&F are constantly changing, so you will never be stuck for something new to try – like the chai cider from last term. This pub isn’t the destination for a 4-course meal, but the bar snacks are perfectly satisfactory. Due to its fame and location the L&F fills up quickly after 8pm so best come early if you expect a large group! Overall, you can’t beat the lively atmosphere of the place, and there’s no better place to celebrate meeting a deadline or numb the pain of many more to come. Until next week!

Introducing 2023’s Standout Reads

By
Nina Naidu
-
Image Credit: Lorenzo G / CC BY 2.0 via Flickr

In spite of many trials and tribulations, I have once again triumphed over my annual 100-book challenge, surpassing it in 2023 by reading a staggering 114 books spanning various genres and authors. Pinpointing favourites is challenging, so instead after some contemplation I have opted to curate a short list of some of the most popular books of the last year. 

We kick off with the much-anticipated memoir Spare (January 2023) by Prince Harry, the first book I read last year. Marketed as a tell-all account of a real prince exploring the inner workings of the Royal Family, and his eventual estrangement from the institution, Spare promised a riveting journey. Prince Harry reflects on coping with the public loss of his mother, Princess Diana, his struggles as the ‘spare’ heir, his military service, and his battles with substance addiction. 

While I commend Harry’s candour and sympathise with his struggles, I found the structural organisation of Spare somewhat overwhelming. There are definitely some endearing moments, such as his meeting Meghan, but at points, the memoir veers into oversharing. Some of his personal anecdotes, including the infamous ‘oscillating penis’ scene, felt uncomfortably detailed, while others were simply mundane, like how he hallucinated that a bin was talking to him while on psychedelics. I had hoped for more insights into his experiences as a royal figure, rather than the predominant focus on his military service, which personally didn’t captivate me as much. Despite these criticisms, it’s a unique glimpse into an extraordinary life, and I hope Prince Harry found solace in sharing his story in Spare.

Onto the realm of fiction, we have Yellowface (May 2023) by Oxford alumnus R.F Kuang. This literary gem unfolds after the untimely death of Athena Liu, a prominent Chinese-American author. June Hayward, former classmate of Athena’s, cleverly seizes the opportunity presented by her frenemy’s demise, appropriating Liu’s original manuscript that delved into the lives of Chi

nese labourers during World War I. In a bold move, June resorts to the controversial use of ‘yellowface’ to pass the book off as her own, and her overnight stardom is coupled with an escalating sense of paranoia. As an Asian woman, I was eager to delve into the buzz surrounding Yellowface, a satirical take on racial diversity in the publishing industry.

Yellowface lived up to my expectations of a riveting literary thriller. The novel boasts great pacing, immersing readers in June’s gradual descent into madness. Beyond being a critique of the publishing industry, Kuang skillfully weaves her personal experiences into the narrative. The novel serves as a platform for discourse on societal attitudes, particularly on Twitter, towards successful women of colour. The incorporation of ‘yellowface’ as a narrative device certainly adds depth to the exploration of cultural appropriation, making it a thought-provoking read. While I found the Twitter discourse a tad repetitive and distractive, Kuang’s storytelling prowess shines through, blending elements of satire, suspense, and social commentary. As a formidable contender in 2023’s fiction releases, Yellowface is a must-read for those seeking both entertainment and introspection.

Last, but certainly not least, is the 2023 Booker Prize Winner: Prophet Song (August 2023) by Paul Lynch. The Booker Prize last year had some incredibly strong contenders, with three out of the six shortlisted being written by people named Paul, but this dystopian novel from Lynch is certainly deserving of its top spot. As a dystopian Ireland slides into totalitarian rule, scientist and mother-of-four Eilish Stack is shocked to hear her trade unionist husband is being interrogated by the police. When her husband vanishes, Eilish is left having to hold up the fort on her own while caught within this treacherous, unpredictable nightmare. Lynch’s descriptions are reminiscent of totalitarian governments all around the world, exposing the lived reality of many. 

Although this is an unconventional read for me – I don’t tend to read much political fiction – I was swept into the harrowing psyche of Eilish and her utter desperation to save her family, no matter what. It took some getting used to Lynch’s writing style, which at times felt a little too intellectual for me, but overall I am glad to have read a book that platforms such an important narrative, making Prophet Song one of 2023’s best reads. 

2023 was truly a year of amazing writing, and I am so grateful to have explored such a wide variety of literature and non-fiction. It only makes me more thrilled to discover what 2024 has to offer!

The Queer Pop Perfection of Chappell Roan 

By
Joseph Lomax
-
Image credit: Jason Martin / CC BY-SA 2.0

Chappell Roan is the newest pop star who is quickly rising through the ranks, and charts. I’ve had her debut album: “The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess” on repeat for months now. I simply cannot get enough. She is confident, queer, and bold: her voice has the power and range of Renneé Rapp, Alicia Keys, while her lyrics are sexually charged and intensely catchy, reminiscent of Charli XCX and Kim Petras. Her pop songs make you feel like you’ve just seen off a bottle of wine and you’re about to go and see a drag show. Her ballads, however, make you want to curl up and reminisce on your string of failed situationships (this is an entirely objective characterisation of course). 

But to what can this emotional intelligence, lyrical playfulness, and distinct identity as an artist be attributed to? Chappell Roan is the over-the-top alter-ego of Kayleigh Rose Amstutz. She is hyper-confident, hyper-sexual, and hyper-active. Kayleigh Rose Amstutz was born and raised in the immensely conservative Willard, Missouri. At 17, she was signed to Atlantic Records. She began her music career writing and producing in Los Angeles with Dan Nigro, most well-known for producing Olivia Rodrigo’s chart-topping, debut album ‘Guts’. Chappell Roan felt on top of the world, signed before even finishing high school. Her single, ‘Pink Pony Club’, is a show-tune-inspired pop ballad, written after Roan visited a gay club in West Hollywood for the first time. The song brilliantly encapsulates the feeling of a small-town girl in the big city: “And mama, every Saturday/I can hear your southern drawl a/thousand miles away…saying/God, what have you done”. After its release in April 2020, Chappell was dropped by Atlantic after it underperformed. She felt her dream had been killed moving back to Willard, working to save up and move back out west. She gave herself a year to try and make it. Once back in LA, she continued to work with Dan Nigro, and was signed to Amusement, his imprint at Island Records. 

Her debut album is both a romanticisation and lamentation of a young person’s discovery of sex, queer culture, freedom, and love. In an interview with Vulture, Roan described her music as being born out of a commitment to “stop trying to impress the music industry and start trying to impress gay people.” She is unapologetically queer, and being dropped has not deterred her from solidifying this as integral to her brand. The album feels like a reclamation of her teenage years: she is now able to celebrate herself and also be celebrated by others. 

Her album cover pulls inspiration from the world of burlesque and drag, but also reminds us of homecoming, of high school. It is reminiscent of the days of VEVO, and when the VMAs were iconic. The tracks do the same thing: “Red Wine Supernova” explores the thrilling novelty of a queer hookup from a drunken, carefree perspective. She takes us through a land of make-believe: ‘Well, back at my house/I got a California king/okay, maybe it’s a twin bed/And some roommates, don’t/worry we’re cool”. In the “supernova” of this song nothing matters, and she allows her audience to imagine, or reminisce, the best parts of falling in love for the first time. That is certainly impressive. Yet, on Causal, she laments over the modern nature of relationships: “Knee deep in the passenger seat/and you’re eating me out/Is it casual now?” The song entirely reverses what Roan achieves in “Red Wine Supernova”: despite both songs being overtly sexual, “Casual” makes it jarringly unromantic and visceral. In “Casual” she is begging for the strings to be attached, while in “Red Wine Supernova”, the fun is in the fact that they are not. 

“Red Wine Supernova” has all the shiny pop allure of Katy Perry’s “I kissed a girl” but from a genuine queer perspective, not one of fetishization. She told Vulture, “The only Grammy I want to win is album packaging.” Perhaps in wanting to win this Grammy, she wants recognition for her tenacity as an artist. She knows who she is, and “The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess” is testament to this. She is creating near-perfect pop music, with herself at the centre: the rejection made her stronger, and this album is one major comeback. 

Oxford launches new Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium programme

By
Alice Robey-Cave
-
Eugene Birchall via Wikimedia Commons

Oxford’s Department for Continuing Education launched a new interdisciplinary extra-curricular programme, “The Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium,” this term. The programme was first announced at Vice-Chancellor Irene Tracey’s 2023 Oration speech last October, and aims to bridge the gaps between humanities and STEM subjects through “an experiment in helping students learn from each other across the divide.”

The Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium is offered to all undergraduates currently studying at the University and comprises keynote lectures and talks, interdisciplinary projects, and a panel which comes at the end of the term. The programme’s primary focus is to promote critical approaches to complex global issues, with climate change taking centre stage as its inaugural theme.

Participants will work on group projects guided by DPhil students in teams that are representative across the broad scope of humanities and mathematical, physical, life, social, and medical sciences. The programme also offers summer internship opportunities to support “the University’s goals for local and global engagement.”

The Vice-Chancellor’s oration centred on progress, and her introduction of the program notes the changing world the University is working to keep up with. Interdisciplinarity has been emerging across other universities across the UK: Oxford follows in the footsteps of other Russell Group institutions such as University College London (UCL) and the recently formed London Interdisciplinary School (LIS), which provides undergraduates with the opportunity to study a Bachelors of Art and Science (BASc).

“Don’t be in such a hurry. Enjoy the world.”

By
Sophie Magalhaes
-
Image of Kate Ewart-Biggs
Image credit: Kate Ewart-Biggs

Kate Ewart-Biggs’ mission with the British Council is to build lasting connections between the UK and other countries through arts and language. Coming from a diplomatic family that represented Britain abroad, from a young age Kate recognised the influence an individual has on building positive relationships between places and peoples. 

Kate’s father, Christopher Ewart-Biggs, was UK ambassador to Ireland before being assassinated by an IRA landmine. After his death, her mother, Baroness Ewart-Biggs continued to advocate for peace in Ireland, ultimately gaining a place in the House of Lords. “Though our diplomatic life came to an end very suddenly, my mother continued to use her global public platform to advocate strongly for better connections between people.” As Kate tells me, mutual respect is crucial to form these connections.

Having spent her childhood in France, this early international experience, as Kate says, “shaped my view that the world is a wide place.” Having learned to read and write in French before English, Kate considers herself a ‘global citizen’, someone whose identity transcends geographical borders. Her work with the British Council has taken her all over the world, including Indonesia, Uganda, Tanzania. I ask how she adapts to the cultural landscapes of each country to carry out her work. She stresses the importance of language: “even if you don’t speak the language very well, trying and making the effort is a really important aspect of integrating yourself into the community.” Before working with the British Council, Kate worked for a feminist organisation helping street girls in the North of Brazil. She describes the exhilarating challenge of hearing new words and looking them up in a dictionary – “the days before google translate” – discovering how words shed light on cultural values. The word which kept cropping up was the Portuguese ‘gente’, meaning the collective ‘us’ as opposed to referring to people in general. Kate tells me how the collective community atmosphere is far stronger abroad than in the UK.  “I have always been fascinated by what makes different cultures operate, the norms and things which glue communities together and the customs which really matter.” In Tanzania, Kate tells me, there is “the whole greeting process of how are you, how is your family, etc. Though this seems slightly protracted to reserved Brits, without it people won’t want to engage with you because they think you are being really rude.” These small cultural factors can make or break the positive relationships you attempt to form with other countries.

Some contributions from the British Council that Kate has overseen include the fantastic work done for women and girls in areas where their educational opportunities have been cut off. Kate tells me about an education programme in Pakistan called EDGE (English and Digital for Girls’ Education) which gives digital and English skills to thousands of girls inside and outside of the education system. The programme has been extended to Afghan refugees who have been cut off from education as well as women and girls facing educational barriers in Bangladesh and Nepal. EDGE ensures that girls from marginalised communities can make educated decisions in order to better contribute to the betterment of their society. Kate enthusiastically tells me that as a woman and the mother of a daughter, these opportunities for women and girls is one of the most important contributions the British Council can make to developing countries.

Yet challenges facing the British Council’s work are paramount in today’s turbulent climate of war and prejudice. The safety and security of staff in warzones, Kate tells me, is the British Council’s primary concern. Once people are protected, culture must be preserved as well. ‘When a country’s people are being destroyed, their culture is being destroyed too.’ Kate is proud to have overseen the profiling of Ukrainian arts and culture in the UK, and tells me that through the British Council’s management of the UK’s Cultural Protection Fund,  a similar agenda is underway to protect Palestinian cultural assets once the brunt of conflict is over. “People want a sense of optimism and opportunity. We have to think of ways in which the British Council can support the rebuilding of countries and enable staff to continue working so they can feel that they are making a contribution to what is happening around them.”

I was curious how the expansive communities created by the British Council counter the racial prejudice that still exists in our societies. Kate is adamant that liberal middle-class bubbles often don’t want to acknowledge that racial prejudice still exists. Her solution is to ask questions. Learning to listen and acknowledge instead of placing people in judgemental binaries helps spread progressive ideas. She says this becomes more difficult as now “there’s nothing in the middle. There’s no nuance, only binary choices. My experience is that you have to ask questions.” Simple questions such as “what do you mean by that?” Or “what’s underneath that statement you’ve just made” allow people to challenge assumptions without creating hostile binaries. Simple acknowledgements make a world of difference. 

My final question to Kate is what advice she has for students who seek to expand their communities within the constraints of a ‘conventional’ working life. She says to seize any opportunities you have to learn a language. “Having a language under your belt makes you stand out from other people. I’m also a great advocate for travel, earning money wherever you can and exploring the world.” Even though the divide between those with and without parental resources is increasingly larger, find ways to travel cheaply. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Explore before settling down. Enjoy the world.”

The Saltburn We Should Have Had

By
Comfort Tanie Maseko
-
Image Credit: John Sutton via Wikimedia Commons /CC BY-SA 2.0

This review contains major spoilers for Emerald Fennell’s ‘Saltburn’ (2023)

There are few films that are able to generate as much buzz among Oxford students as Saltburn (2023), a sophomore project directed by Greyfriars alumna Emerald Fennell. It is easy to see why: glittering performances from the towering 6’5”, Euphoria up-and-comer Jacob Elordi and Oscar underdog Barry Keoghan, who promised audiences as disturbing a performance as he delivered in Yorgos Lanthimos’ Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017); confectionery-sweet visuals from cinematographer Linus Sandgren (La La Land); and, of course, the Rad Cam in its full, sunlit splendour. In those aspects, Saltburn certainly delivered – even if the Rad Cam was only on-screen for about 30 seconds… So why does Saltburn, full of promise, fall so flat for its naysayers?

Saltburn begins with Keoghan’s Oliver Quick on his first day of school, heading towards the fictional Webbe College (which we know to be Brasenose). Oliver, meticulously attired in his college scarf, is reticent and takes everything in. Elordi’s Felix Catton, on the other hand, has all the makings of a college BNOC – except that he is a little bit more charming and a lot more generous (as we come to know). Oliver and Felix, through a series of plot contrivances, become unlikely friends. Then we are treated to a beautiful montage of fresher shenanigans, with shots in flashing neon lights from the club floor; and images drenched in sunset hues which paint the skies of the rooftop scenes. It’s nostalgic. It’s ephemeral. The honeymoon of their new friendship ends once Oliver tells Felix that his dad has just died. The prospect of going up ‘North(?)’ to Prescot to return to the broken home that awaits him once term ends is so undesirable that Oliver doesn’t think he’ll ‘ever go home again.’ So, Felix invites him to stay at Saltburn.

A ham-handed reference to Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited (‘a lot of Waugh’s characters are based on my family, actually’), and plot points liberally borrowed from The Talented Mr. Ripley, are early hints at the flaws in Fennell’s screenwriting. Once the Saltburn Manor chapter of the film commences, it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore just how much rot there is in this film’s woodwork. 

There is a level of Skins-type cringe here that is forgivable. Saltburn is bookended with Oliver’s ‘Was I in love with him?’ (I don’t know, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me) monologue. It also features one of the most guffaw-inducing lines of dialogue, which comes (again) from Oliver before having oral period sex with Alison Oliver’s Venetia, Felix’s sister (‘It’s lucky for you, I’m a vampire’). We can laugh or roll our eyes at these moments while also seeing what Fennell was trying to achieve, even if she goes about this with painfully little subtlety. Similarly, the most shocking scenes designed to get everyone talking and tweeting were handled with a Lars Von Trier level of pretension and bravado. These scenes were every bit as subtle as a melancholic woman faced with the threat of death by a rogue planet named ‘Melancholia.’ But Fennell’s most egregious sin is the bait-and-switch that occurs just over halfway through the film, when we find out that Oliver’s broken home is in fact…a red-brick detached house? More than that, his dead dad is very much alive, and his mother seems more likely to watch the dog-show Crufts for recreation than to take any drug stronger than Yorkshire Tea. At this point in the film, the viewer is violently removed from what seemed to be Oliver’s perspective, and is forced instead into the third-person. Any motivation that we may have discerned from Oliver’s backstory is stripped away, making us dependent on what Oliver tells us his motivation is. It leaves us at the mercy of Emerald Fennell’s writing. 

Some critics of Saltburn suggest that the film’s ending was its biggest let-down. One could argue instead that the film falls flat after Oliver’s lies are revealed, because, from that point on, it must find a more nebulous reason for Oliver’s interloping. The Saltburn we get is one in which Felix and the rest of the Cattons generally come out morally unscathed, while Oliver himself is cartoonishly villainised by the end. All nuance is gone. Any chance for meaningful class commentary instantly vanishes. I don’t believe Fennell’s Saltburn has anything meaningful to say about desire. The Saltburn we could have had is one in which Felix is not rewarded for his presumptuous optimism in meddling with his friend’s family affairs. That Saltburn would have been one in which Felix could have been forced to confront the rough from which his brilliant friend came from. If Felix – after learning too much, and realising he knew so little – had pulled away from Oliver, some of the film’s better moments could still have been kept. Oliver still might have apologised for not being good enough for Felix anymore; but, in the end, when Oliver finally says that he loved him but hated him all the same, we would understand why.

Oxford releases new guidance on AI use for students

By
Joseph Rodgers
-
Yelena Odintsova

The University of Oxford has released new guidance on the use of artificial intelligence (AI) tools for students. The guidance, published 8 January 2024, comes following significant interest in the promises and dangers of AI, including the 2021 launch of the Oxford Institute for Ethics in AI and the continued advertisement of the Saïd Business School’s Oxford Artificial Intelligence Programme.

The guidance permits students to “make use of generative AI tools […] in developing [their] academic skills and to support [their] studies.” They are warned, however, that “AI tools cannot replace human critical thinking or the development of scholarly evidence-based arguments and subject knowledge that forms the basis of [their] university education.” This advice is particularly stern toward students who might pass off AI-generated text as their own: “Unauthorised use of AI falls under the plagiarism regulations and would be subject to academic penalties in summative assessments.”

The guidance does provide examples of where use of AI is both helpful and permissible, such as in producing a summary of an academic paper, providing feedback on writing style, or listing key concepts likely to appear in a forthcoming lecture. 

In all cases, however, it is stressed that use of AI should not be seen as a substitute for developing an individual’s capacity to learn and that any facts given by AI should be cross-referenced with traditional scholarly sources. Even if students follow these guidelines, the policy maintains that students “should give clear acknowledgements of how [AI] has been used when preparing work for examination.” 

This is consistent with the University’s guidance on plagiarism, which states that students “must clearly acknowledge all assistance which has contributed to the production of [their] work.” This same guidance states that “AI can only be used within assessments where specific authorisation has been given, or when technology that uses AI has been agreed as reasonable adjustment for a student’s disability.” 

It is not clear in which cases such specific authorisation has been given; of the five most studied undergraduate courses (Medicine, Law, History, PPE and Chemistry), only the Faculty of History includes reference to specific authorisation of AI use in its Undergraduate Handbooks, and this is simply to restate the same conditions from the University’s overall guidance on plagiarism.

The use of AI in education is sure to be an ongoing point of discussion among all universities as the technology develops, and there are clearly points of controversy among Oxford faculty which the guidance seems to obscure. While some faculty members signed an open letter calling for a six month pause in AI development (as reported by Cherwell), the Department of Computer Science understandably has “Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning” as a key research focus. 

In response to these disputes over the role of AI, the Russell Group published a joint statement on 4 July 2023, stating five principles for the use of AI in Education:

  1. Universities will support students and staff to become AI-literate.
  2. Staff should be equipped to support students to use generative AI tools effectively and appropriately in their learning experience.
  3. Universities will adapt teaching and assessment to incorporate the ethical use of generative AI and support equal access.
  4. Universities will ensure academic rigour and integrity is upheld.
  5. Universities will work collaboratively to share best practice as the technology and its application in education evolves.

These principles are very clearly mirrored in Oxford’s advice. They are reworked into the newly published guidance as questions for students under the heading “Five things to think about when using generative AI tools,” although the guidance does not include any acknowledgement of the joint statement or its five principles.

1...535455...2,438Page 54 of 2,438

Explore

Follow us

Oxford Student Publications Limited © 2024 - All Rights Reserved | Privacy Policy