Monday 9th June 2025
Blog Page 564

Review: Me, as a Penguin – ‘bound to put a smile on your face’

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There are many examples, both in the wild and captivity, of same-sex pairs of penguins trying to raise a chick together. Some of them even attempt to hatch bits of rock and fish, and in aquariums such penguin partners have been given fertilised eggs, going on to successfully hatch and raise them. So far, so heartwarming. That is until a recent news item about such a pair raising a “gender-neutral” chick (no, I’m not exactly sure what this means in the penguin world either) led to the ever-present and unwantedly opinionated Piers Morgan declaring that he is now “identifying as a penguin”. Isn’t the modern news cycle fun?

Me, as a Penguin, the 2009 offbeat comedy by Tom Wells on this week at the Burton Taylor Studio, somewhat predates this particular controversy—although gay penguins, of the kind that sparked Morgan’s tirade, do come up. We are introduced to sensitive, knitting-obsessed Stitch (geddit?) who is living in Hull with his pregnant sister Liz and her husband Mark. He has upped sticks from his seaside hometown, where he spent his days working in his parents’ wool shop and advising the local grannies on tricky crochet projects, in order to dip his toe halfway into the big-city gay scene.

Set entirely in Liz’s front room, this is a kitchen sink comedy-drama with everything but the kitchen sink itself. Stitch feels he doesn’t fit in anywhere and is painfully aware of it, spending most of the play doing what can only be described as moping about. Then again, who hasn’t spent an evening drinking vodka, sobbing, and listening to Kate Bush?

There is, however, a serious side to all the farcical behaviour, and our exploration of his unfulfilling life through the eyes of his sister and brother-in-law is tragically endearing. It does also occasionally veer towards the pathetic, bringing to mind a pretty boring counselling session with far too much crying.

Anyway, this gripe can be planted firmly at the door of the playwright. The question is, how was this particular performance? The small cast worked well together, charmingly and believably portraying their everyman characters. Peter Todd as Stitch is hesitant, shy, and emotionally constipated: perfectly in character. Martin Parker and Jennifer Crompton get the most laughs as the husband and wife who love to hate each other, while Charlie Wade, as Stitch’s laddish misplaced love interest Dave, is dynamic and cruel, livening up the play no-end.

The production manages to steer refreshingly clear of thespy tropes that often plague student theatre. That is, except for the interpretive dance scene transitions: funny, but probably not meant to be. There was a bewildering range of Northern-ish accents on display, ranging from generic Yorkshire pretty much all the way down to North London. In all seriousness, for a play about a close-knit family where the plot revolves around the fact that these characters have never moved far from Hull, the accent choices were just confusing. Pacing also suffered in places, with some particularly painful pregnant pauses.

There were however plenty of laughs, and I spent much of the evening grinning at the likeable characters, the farcical positions they found themselves in, and their wry observations on everything from IKEA furniture to ice lollies (you’ll never see a Mini Milk in quite the same way again…). This is a nicely put-together production of a play that is heartwarming, verging on the overly sentimental—a bit like the news coverage of those gay penguins, come to think of it—and is bound to put a smile on your face.

A.R. Penck: I think in Pictures

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I Think in Pictures is a veritable treasure chest of hidden colour and symbolism, displaying an oeuvre that defied East-Germany’s standards of Socialist Realism whilst also offering up a commentary on the modern man for those wishing to read it. The presentation of A. R. Penck’s work is deliberately codified, down to the artist’s true name, in a way that defies our regular expectations of an exhibition.

Prefacing the exhibition is a short biography of the artist, but beyond that the set-up is very minimalistic. The room’s white walls allow the powerful colours of Penck’s paintings to pop. It was a small yet very organised special set-up which I found was interestingly claustrophobic yet practical. The entrapped nature of this exhibition space is significantly seen in the way that his largest piece, Edinburgh (Northern Darkness III), 1987, stretches fully from floor to ceiling like a great wall. A brief explanation of the piece describes it as a history painting commenting of Gorbachev’s reform programmes and conflict in Northern Ireland, but also suggests it to be a work more generally about control structures in social systems. The gallery contends to this idea: a deliberately placed bench persuades you to sit and consider the piece; the wall and ceiling boxing in the piece create a sense of constriction; overall the viewer finds themselves not only looking at the paintings but also possibly sympathising with Penck’s own feelings of restriction.

A lack of adjoining commentary pushes you to create your own readings of the works in a symbolically non-restricted way too. By being allowed to reach your own conclusions about Penck’s work, you are thrown in the deep end without much context – I do think, however, that this was a very smart and poetic decision on behalf of the Museum.

I Think in Pictures plays with the notion of art as a conveyor of many messages – even without the presence of the written word. One might find themselves drawn to the mysticism on the Standart figure of his Nine Works: Untitled (1982) or N-Komplex (1976) for instance as a symbol of fear and surrender as instigated by conflict. We as the viewer face him, but it is unsure if we are in the shoes of the assailant or are bystanders of an act of suppression. The symbol is a contemporary response to the spirit of fear of the Nazi regime and yet also could make one think of examples modern political suppression as well.

Penck’s alias (his true name being Ralf Winkler) gave his identity a sense of mysticism with which he used to shroud himself and give him the freedom to create under less scrutiny. In a same way, we are not given much of an intellectual framework to go from, and therefore are at liberty to interpret his work as we like. His work is unlike any other Symbolist work I have seen before. He creates his own universal artistic language that addresses the viewer that was rejected during his time because it was “unacademic”. Supposedly, the exhibition defies modern art historical categorization, with his works treading the lines of Expressionism, Primitivism and in some forms Surrealism. His sculptures remind me of Giacometti’s elongated, stick-like forms and made me consider a more Existentialist quality to his work.

Ultimately, the exhibition pulls you in with some contextual starting point, but ultimately leaves you to do your own ‘research.’ We are given a dichotomy of the mystery that is Penck-the-person and an oeuvre which aims to create a language that can be understood. It was a gem of an exhibition to visit and is one that I highly recommend people should visit. Take the time to sit before Edinburgh, to consider the oeuvre, and think in pictures as Penck once did.

Everyone’s a Critic

Phoebe:

Imposter syndrome weaves its way into so many aspects of life, and notoriously so at Oxford. From shattering our confidence in our own essays to deterring us from applying in the first place, it’s a hurdle to leap over our shadows. It becomes a barrier to escaping our comfort zones and diving into new rock pools — rock pools holding a wealth of undiscovered seashells and starfish. Especially at the world’s top university, overflowing with some of the most accomplished and brilliant minds of our generation, it feels like there will always be someone who can do a better job. Someone more experienced, more gifted, more dedicated. The par excellence of their niche. And in the context of breaking into the arts and culture review world as nothing more than an amateur — a dilettante — it can be intimidating.

As Oscar Wilde opens the preface of The Picture of Dorian Gray:

The artist is the creator of beautiful things.
To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim.
The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

Reviewing newly released music albums; live indie gigs at The Bullingdon; sculpture exhibitions at the Ashmolean Museum; and experimental student theatre at the intimate Burton Taylor Studio. Without a background even half as impressive as the artists themselves, how can I be expected to critique their work? I certainly could never have written the lyrics myself, nor could I have produced any of these plays. How can I have the audacity to highlight faults in skills that I myself am deficit in? What weight does my opinion carry? And who even cares?

All these questions ran through my head when I successfully applied to become a critic for the English National Opera. The ‘ENO Response’ scheme is designed to nurture upcoming talent and help aspiring journalists to build a profile. In return for free tickets to ten operas, I have committed to writing a review of each within 48 hours, which they publish on their website and social media streams. It’s a fantastic opportunity, but nonetheless intimidating.

For starters, I don’t play any musical instruments — the closest I came was being driven by my mum, kicking and screaming, to piano lessons up until the age of ten, until I’d stamped my feet enough to be allowed to quit. I haven’t so much as glanced at a treble clef since. My attempts at singing are an embarrassment, and probably deserving of a ‘public disturbance’ sentence. Surely my music student friend, with all the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas she has fabulously starred in, would be more apt to write reviews than a Philosophy and Modern languages student?

Yet here I was, grabbing what I thought was a complimentary glass of prosecco (which rather embarrassingly turned out to be for a private party, but luckily only once I had already drunk it), I made my way to the stalls of the London Coliseum. Three-quarters of an hour early. It was easy to identify the professional critics. They carried both a “press release” information pamphlet and an air of nonchalance; far from an occasional and much-anticipated bougie treat, they frequent countless opening-night performances per month; it’s just another day at the office for them. Barely arriving on time, one of these professionals plonked himself down next to me. “Who do you write for?”, he asked. Errr. No one, really. Happy to introduce myself, I expressed my anxieties about the whole thing. In the interval, he directed me to the “press room” full of charismatically dressed journalists and free wine. Thanks to the conversations I had there, my worries evaporated.

Readers don’t want to read an essay. If they did, they would be scouring SOLO instead of flicking through a newspaper. In any given audience, only a tiny proportion are experts. The overwhelming majority simply want to know if buying a ticket translates into a fun evening out. They don’t know or care about the technical semantics or critical analysis. Reviews exist to make art accessible to the layman in quotidian language. They describe the mood and atmosphere by capturing the emotional responses. In fact, not being a specialist enables a more liberal use of language, with vocabulary not bogged down in technicality and permitted a bit of floridity.

Levi:

Of course, opera should be made more accessible for a wider audience. And ENO is certainly on the front line where it comes to opening the ‘prestigious’ arts to a new crowd. Between their ENO Response scheme and BAME fellowships, they are, at least, attempting to democratize and reinvigorate the hellishly expensive art form of opera with new ideas and a younger demographic. However, the Response scheme, which encourages review-writing on a largely “emotional response” basis, has caused an outcry from the ranks of professional and specialist reviewers, which has been largely mocked and satirized by news outlets.

The reason? While the scheme provides free tickets to the 10 successful applicants, ENO has banished the right for professional writers to see an opera for a second time while writing their review. The news has generally presented this in the terms of a group of privileged culture-prats stomping their feet, despite the fact that reviewers like Rupert Christiansen have made candid and measured criticisms of the Chief Executive of the English National Opera Stuart Murphy’s decisions. The problem lies not so much in the action itself (though it’s easy to imagine why a second viewing might be helpful for a reviewer) but in the message it sends – one that was clearly picked up in the media response: Specialists are out of fashion.

“Nobody fears critics any more,” says Director Samuel Keller; the days of the critic making or breaking an artist’s career are behind us. Curators and social media have replaced more traditional channels of determining who is who in the sink-or-swim arts world. Marc Spiegler, journalist for the American business magazine Forbes, sees the danger in this. “The art world, like any organism, requires a certain amount of pruning to stay healthy. So the disempowerment of critics–our putative pruners–should cause concern.” And this is the clincher. Programs like Response are necessary, and by no means opposed to established reviewing; if anything, they’re only ensuring the next generation of reviewers. The problems start with the weighting of emotional responses over well-researched and backgrounded engagements with the arts. While it might be refreshing, occasionally, to hear a (generally) overly positive emotion-based response to a cultural event, these are often characterized by the novelty felt about the experience over the actual quality of the exhibition or performance.

The critical evaluation of creative developments, founded in a history of criticism and recorded artistic movements, is really important for the arts. And while it’s important we do challenge the pretentious terminology and air of snobbishness surrounding the nature of reviews, where it persists, this is more often a stereotype of reviewing than it is a reality. Good reviewers are both receptive to the emotional or sentimental impact of pieces, and still maintain a sense of distance; they tell us stories, give us comparisons, frame new developments in a way that fits them into the historical landscape of the arts – and only writers with specialist knowledge are able to do this successfully. Besides – so much of art is ‘a reaction to’. And it’s a whole lot harder to rebel against standards when there’s no one present to enforce those standards in the first place.
In short: Yes to ENO’s Response scheme, but no to the trend of anti-specialist reviews. We need both reactions as a lens through which to understand art; to shape it; to limit it; to give it a clear trajectory of change.

Chemical Contrast

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There is no greater dichotomy in education than that of the arts and the sciences. This starts with the diametrically opposed tropes of the artist and scientist. Of course, the phenomenon of the polymath presents an exception to the rule, and whilst rare, it’s not too uncommon to come across someone well versed in both disciplines – often as a result of education privilege.

However, it is effectively government policy that the science student is fundamentally more socially valuable than the artist. Resistance to this mode of thinking is a well-trodden argument in artistic circles – and in rather ironic ways, arguments for access to arts are not all together too dissimilar for those about access in STEM. The argument of STEM-related careers being of higher economic and social value falls flat in the face of creative industry worth over 100 Billion in the UK alone, and the requisite ‘lateral thinking’ lacking in STEM education stands in opposition to its natural occurrence in the arts. Nonetheless, the rather obvious yet false hierarchy of social utility remains deeply ingrained.

How did we get here? Does this educational divide that manifests itself in the popular conception of both disciplines actually have any grounding in reality?

The narrative of the scientist as an unbiased, empirical researcher originates from the 17th century Baconian method. Not that empiricism did not exist before then, even taking into account the religious and social structures that influenced science from its conception, but there is no denying that this narrative is fundamentally a modern invention.

Compare the artist: often manifested as a free spirit or reclusive creative genius, they are often the butt of the joke both within and outside the artistic community. See, for instance, Paul McCarthy’s satirical deconstruction of the ultra-egoist artist from the abstract expressionist movement. Ego, of course, wasn’t new to modernism, it has been a necessary component of the artistic practice of hundreds of years; what changed is the perceived lack of empiricism in the operation of the artist.

Before modernism the role of artist was more akin to that of empirical observer. Like the scientist, the empiricism of the artist was born of measuring and conceptualising the natural world. Take Ruskin and his naturalist work documenting geology, botany and even the demise of medieval Venice, or the portraiture traditions of renaissance art. This self-interest of the artist as an empirical observer are also found in the works of Joseph Wright of Derby, with two seminal works both interrogating the mythos of the scientist but also as a neutral observer on the social response to the Enlightenment period.

Of course the artist’s perspective has a significant impact on the outcome of the work, but this is as true for the artist as it is for the scientist. It’s a naïve assumption that the scientific project is wholeheartedly devoid of any social interference. Whilst it was more important in the early development of science, in modern times the conviction of a scientific lens imparted by institution as well as by personal experience, according to Kuhn, plays an important part in both the operation of normal science as well as resistance and inevitable change to scientific thinking.

This shared blood between artist and scientist is nowhere more apparent than the archetype of the Renaissance Man, most famously, of course, embodied in Da Vinci. Whilst the arts and sciences seem to have always been distinct crafts, the disciplines were actually less delineated during the Reanissance. Man is seen through both, due in part to the polymathematical lens of the medieval university but also the relative accessibility to both discipline up until the 19th century. It is the hyper-specialization of both artistic and scientific practice that has underpinned and led in part to the division of subjects in education, as well as contributing to the divergence in apparent appearance and practice of artist and scientist.

Here, I touch upon the deep irony of this whole division – that scientific practice for most of its history has not always been dissimilar to artistic practice, and further still, science has fundamentally affected (and to a degree vice versa, Buckminster Fuller being an example) artistic practice. Take for instance the importance of chemistry in pigmentation; in historical painting, with the combination to sulphur and mercury in an alchemical process to create vermillion, and more recently in the synthetic paints such as polymer-based acrylics or cadmium-based pigments that have revolutionised painting.

Yet no scientific discovery has had quite the effect on the artistic community than photography. The development of an empirical tool to record reality, that in its maturity became reproducible, resulted in the development of both the early modernist movement via the early impressionists, but also was integral to the initial origins of conceptual art in the 20th century. This typical rejection of photography in the told narrative of artistic practice in the first half of last century (although this is not entirely true – when photography was embraced in a fine art practice it was subverting the orthodox use of the medium) cemented the view that has persisted to this day, that fundamentally art and artists are unconcerned with objective truth.

Science, on the other hand, embraced the opportunities of photography in the form of high powered microscopes that enabled the probing of cellular structure in detail, leading to the development of microbiology, along with tools such as radiography, x-ray diffraction and advanced telescopy . Photography gave science the increased accuracy of measurement to firm its conviction of its empirical approach, but also has obscured the necessity of creativity in the role of scientist.

Yet I would argue that this divide to some degree no longer stands – both in an approach to practice but also the rejection of scientific engagement by the artistic community. The great scientific changes of our time (relativity, quantum mechanics e.t.c.) fundamentally operate outside the bounds of normal science – and artistic changes, both personal and collective, similarly operate outside the bounds of normal artistic practice.

Further still, it’s hard to deny the scientific-esque methodology in both contemporary artistic training and practice; that of research, conceptualisation, experimentation, reflection. Yes of course artistic discovery often happens differently, but it is a necessary and important part of the process in the same way that accidental scientific discovery is. Artistic practice is a spectrum of approaches from the more rigorous to the impulsive, but these elements, or adoption of in part are still an integral part of any such practice.

When modern and contemporary artists have attempted to take direct influence from science, it too often uses a purely aesthetic language of science without engaging in any deeper conceptual ideas. With the advent of mass communication and hence the ease of access to both scientific information and scientists themselves, however, art finally found a means of engaging in an entirely artistic front with specialised scientific ideas.

This can be seen in BioArt for example. Ignoring the ethical considerations of genetic engineering as an art, Eduardo Kac’s ‘GFP Bunny’ is perhaps the most infamous example of ‘transgenic’ art. Whilst also quite a significant piece of also scientific work , it is Kac among others this century such as John Walter who have set the stage of artistic practice moving towards a more interdisciplinary approach of scientific and artistic collaboration. In truth, the subject division exists because of the innate differences between the two disciplines. But structural issues in education and both fields have gradually broadened the divide and reinforced stereotypes that have hindered necessary interdisciplinary work which would both advance scientific achievement and broaden the conceptual basis of artistic practice.

Image: Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate, Chicago Photo Credit: Vincent Desjardins

Isaac Hempstead Wright Visits Oxford

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Acting from a very young age has never been a rare thing in the show business, but very few child stars were introduced to the film industry by being chucked out of a window on their first day on set. On Friday October 18th, the Game of Thrones star Isaac Hempstead Wright made his debut at the Oxford Union. Playing the role of Brandon Stark in the multi-Emmy-winning HBO fantasy drama series, the way our young guest took the stage in the Union hall was not at all like the King of the Andals and the First Men we saw at the end of season 8 — the unmistakable southern accent and the casual demeanour belong to a science student who has just started his first year at university. When asked about his attitude towards sudden fame, the 19-year-old said it was more about enjoying the experience to the fullest while keeping “a sense of normality”, admitting that “even the glamorous premieres didn’t change much at the start”. Although not quite as otherworldly, Isaac does bring to mind some of Bran’s “still and calm character”, for he seems to have a very clear perspective on being a celebrity, sharing his view that acting is too precarious a career for anyone to “get your hopes up”. Talking about his future plans, the young actor thinks he will miss being Bran, but has decided to make use of the luxury of time for his studies, saying he finds it a nice parallel to have played Bran until 18, and now it is “a good time to leave it behind”. Either way, we wish him every success, under the spotlight or not!

England vs New Zealand Semi-Final

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England have reached the Rugby World Cup Final following a dominant 19-7 victory over the two-time defending champions New Zealand. The All Blacks came into the match as marginal favourites, but were unable to overcome an England side who were almost flawless in defence. From the moment the Haka was greeted with a defiant English reaction, epitomised by Owen Farrell’s smirk, the men in white controlled proceedings.
A sublime passage of play, littered with offloads, ended with Manu Tuilagi, the man who inspired England to their last victory over the All Blacks in 2012, crossing over within two minutes. Although England only managed to add three points to their score for a 10-0 lead at half time, it didn’t do justice to their dominance, enjoying 62% of the possession and 69% of territory in the first 40 minutes. However, there wouldn’t have been a single relaxed England fan around the country, especially with Farrell seemingly injured and the All Black’s reputation for a comeback, notably the 15-point deficit overcome the last time these two sides met.
Yet the nerves were unheralded, as England continued to command the match, extending their lead to 13 points. Although the imperious Ardie Savea pulled the reigning champions back within a score following an overthrown English line out, that was the only time the English try line was seriously threatened all game. Two further George Ford penalties extended England’s lead to 19-7, and out of their opponent’s reach.
It was a truly remarkable game, and one which has left the rugby world in shock. Not just from the fact that England won, but the dominant nature in which they did so. Especially when put in perspective, with New Zealand having won their 18 previous world cup matches, and utterly dispatched Ireland in last week’s quarter final, this England performance was outstanding. Arguably the final score line flattered the All Blacks, with two England tries disallowed following marginal calls by the TMO.
That said, the subdued English reaction at the full-time whistle was telling. Following the most complete English rugby performance in living memory, there was only one focus. Next week. The World Cup Final. Wales or South Africa await. And if this week is anything to go by. We are in for a treat.

Extinction Rebellion: One Year On

Just over one year ago, on 31stOctober 2018, 1,000 activists gathered in Parliament Square in London to declare a rebellion against climate breakdown. Their aims were clear; occupying the road in front of the Houses of Parliament, it was obvious that they intended to relentlessly pressure the government into institutional change. Their three central demands were simple and universally comprehensible: ‘Tell the Truth’ by declaring a climate emergency, ‘Act Now’ by drastically cutting our greenhouse gas emissions, and go ‘Beyond Politics’ by creating a Citizens’ Assembly on climate justice.

Next week will see the one-year anniversary of Extinction Rebellion. Over the past two weeks, the rebel group’s international protests have seen heightened media coverage – which should have acted as a force for good, highlighting the issues that activists are going to extreme lengths to draw attention to. Yet, alongside Boris and his disengaged government, the media no longer appear to be supporting the continued efforts of Extinction Rebellion. So, after a year of scrambled protests, thousands of arrests, and a notable feature at Glastonbury Festival, what has this international rebel group truly achieved?

Last year, I sincerely hoped that by this point Extinction Rebellion would have brought about revolutionary, global change, and that they would have passed extensive legislation through parliament on the back of the incredible upsurge of activist energy being generated. As a zealous climate optimist, I couldn’t help but revel at the thought of an awareness group taking climate change so seriously that their members would risk incarceration. I signed up to Oxford’s XR. 

However, I have been somewhat dismayed. Whilst their hourglass logo declares the immediacy of the climate issue, it would be a challenge to argue that, after a year of protests, they have achieved anything at all.

Following the Declaration of Rebellion outside of Parliament and a mock funeral for the planet in the same location, the rebellion spread across the UK, as protests begun in Manchester, Sheffield and Edinburgh. At this point, only the most vehement environmentalists were involved, and it seemed to the public that only those willing to end up in a police cell could possibly take part.

After a fairly unproductive Christmas, XR took to the streets once again in January 2019. The most notable protest took place in Edinburgh, at the Scottish Parliament’s debating chamber in Holyrood, in which hundreds of new rebels appeared and the Scottish cohort rapidly expanded. Following this success, XR forcibly brought new topics into the climate conversation; their roadblocks during London Fashion Week conveyed a new emphasis on the environmental impacts of ‘fast fashion’, and the British Fashion Council were called to declare a climate emergency. Since then, the fashion industry has played a key role in the climate conversation, with retailers such as H&M and Guess getting involved in significant garment regeneration schemes.

Having faced a barren winter of little achievement, I anticipated that spring might bring Extinction Rebellion a breath of fresh air. Sadly, T.S. Eliot was not wrong in saying that April is the cruellest month; XR were to bitterly witness their first notable defeat. Their first demand, ‘Tell the Truth’, was to be entirely ignored in the House of Commons. When the urgent question of whether to declare a climate emergency was offered up by Labour, energy minister Claire Perry profusely rejected this notion, commenting that she “did not know what it would entail.” Such ignorance of the climate crisis appears to have plagued the Tory government, and those in a position of understanding consistently refuse to advertise any possible resolutions.

A week later, the hotly anticipated meeting of the Committee on Climate Change took place. XR hoped the Committee would agree to their second demand: zero emissions by 2025. Yet, once again, the activists’ voices were not heard. The committee made very few alterations to the agreement made in 2008, which legislated that the UK must meet net-zero emissions by 2050. Whilst Diane Abbott took to a megaphone to declare her support for the 2025 target, this incident made it very clear that Extinction Rebellion were not being taken as seriously as they’d hoped. Their third demand, that the government should create a citizen’s assembly, seemed entirely out of the question.

Fast-forward to July 2019, and sweltering temperatures of around 38 degrees Celsius were making the climate crisis a more tangible catastrophe for the British public. During an unprecedented heatwave, hundreds died of dehydration and hyperventilation across Europe, hinting at the horrifying nature of summers to come. It appeared as though, for many, seeing was indeed the only route to believing, as thousands of new XR protesters appeared across cities from Leeds to Bristol. This all followed a momentous march at Glastonbury, during which XR joined forces with Greenpeace and thousands of festival-goers to re-create the iconic XR hourglass symbol.

Whilst Glastonbury, the ‘David Attenborough Effect’, and school strikes across the globe brought the climate conversation back to the forefront of British politics momentarily, such positive discourse was not to last. September brought the country back to the ‘business as usual’ approach, and the majority of XR protesters would be found back in the workplace, struggling to determine what action to take next. 

Bad decisions followed. This October, the protests were once more turned up a notch, when 1800 litres of fake blood were sprayed on the front of the Treasury in London, and activists held banners that read ‘STOP FUNDING CLIMATE DEATH.’ Those activists holding the fire hose completely misjudged its pressure, with the hose leaping out of their control and covering the activists and the street in refulgent red liquid, rather than the intended target. This farcical event began to show the cracks in Extinction Rebellion’s so-called unified plan.

As the anniversary of this controversial rebel group fast approaches, I struggle with the fact that, as a member myself, I now seem to be viewing XR through an increasingly negative lens. Yet, the events of the last two weeks have divulged the reality of Extinction Rebellion. 

After the incident at Canning Town station in East London, in which two campaigners sat themselves on top of a Jubilee Line train and caused havoc for innocent commuters, Extinction Rebellion are running the risk of losing public support. This was not a rebellion directed against the government; this was a rebellion which appeared to attack ordinary people, carrying out their everyday lives. One commuter shouted, “I need to get to work – I have to feed my kids.” For me, this quote says it all. Extinction Rebellion is a middle-class movement, and only those who are fortunate enough to have the time on their hands to protest are able to do so. For the rest of us, regardless of whether we support XR’s demands or not, we have bills to pay. 

During this event, it appeared XR had forgotten the nature of their cause. All three of their central demands are directed against the government, beginning with the statement “the government must.” During their initial protests last October, XR made it very clear that their focus would be on institutional as opposed to individual action. So why did the Canning Town station incident occur?

It seems the answer lies in the growth of the rebel group over the last year. During the most recent international protests, which finished just last weekend, around 30,000 rebels attended to show their support. The original rebel group, however, consisted of only 100 members. These original founders were exclusively academics, unified in their cause and in concurrence of opinion regarding the most effective way forward. A year on, Extinction Rebellion’s demographic is of a much broader spectrum, to the point that complete unification is no longer possible.

I was shocked by the embarrassed tone of an email sent to all members after the Canning Town Station event, outlining the fact that Extinction Rebellion did not endorse these particular protests. This email appeared to me a weak plea to prevent any more bad press, and for a minute I was ashamed to be a part of a group so disunified. If XR do not understand and cohere to their demands themselves, how can the government possibly take them seriously? It seems the rebel group are out of their own control.

In climate discourse, it is noticeable that the so-called ‘Greta effect’ is having a much more meaningful impact on the global approach to the climate crisis. Putting aside the bullish criticisms of Piers Morgan, Greta Thunberg’s emotive speech at the UN Climate Action Summit in New York received more publicity than any single XR protest, and its bravery demonstrated a young leader much more capable to deliver action than either of the Extinction Rebellion founders.

Whilst Greta bases her argument on proven science, Roger Hallam, the co-founder of XR alongside Gail Bradbrook, has been regularly criticised for exaggerating the apocalyptic narrative of climate change. Alex Randall, of the charitable Climate and Migration Coalition, stated that he “doesn’t think that its Hallam’s inaccurate doom-mongering that has brought people out onto the streets for XR…rather, XR has provided a platform for people who are worried.” 

It seems probable that it is Greta, a fresh, youthful face within the climate conversation, who is the driving force behind Extinction Rebellion’s recent expansion, alongside the growth of other organisations such as YouthStrike4Climate. As a single figurehead, rather than a broad movement, Greta’s messaging is arguably more consistent than Extinction Rebellion’s.

Indeed, it seems that the faces representing XR currently do not support its true cause. Earlier this month, Stanley Johnson announced that he would be joining Extinction Rebellion at an event in Trafalgar Square. This occurred days after Stanley’s son, Prime Minister Boris Johnson, described XR protesters as “uncooperative crusties.” Stanley Johnson should not be the face of Extinction Rebellion; during his time as a Tory MP in Parliament, Johnson had years to encourage serious institutional change, and failed to do so. Furthermore, it seems like Stanley is using Extinction Rebellion as another political playground on which the Johnson family feud can be played out.When addressed by journalists, Johnson even laughed at the dispute between him and his son. Yet, if they are to be unified in their demands, Extinction Rebellion should be no laughing matter.

Not all of Boris Johnson’s criticisms of XR are entirely unjustified. Johnson encouraged the protesters to give up their “hemp-smelling bivouacs,” in agreement with recent criticisms that a number of XR rebels are attempting to relive the Summer of Love. After joining XR rebels at a festival over the summer, I know exactly what Johnson is getting at. If XR protesters aren’t middle to upper class zealots, they are youthful, fun-loving teenagers, who often don’t quite understand what their role within Extinction Rebellion entails. Another significant aspect of criticism against XR is their lack of ethnic diversity, which has led to numerous recent anti-XR protests across the UK. To move forward, the rebel group must seriously consider these issues.

Yet, Extinction Rebellion remains a force for good and will do so until the global climate emergency is miraculously resolved. XR have managed to keep the issue of the climate crisis within the media spotlight, which has previously been unachievable for climate activists, as the issue is not technically ‘breaking news.’ This in itself is an invaluable achievement, as the climate crisis is now mentioned in everyday politics just as much as Brexit and Boris.

The XR activists’ most substantial success is that they have completely revolutionised the language surrounding climate change; words such as ‘extinction’, ‘crisis’, ‘emergency’ and ‘breakdown’ are now an integral part of environmental discourse. The world now appears to truly understand the existential threat posed to humanity, and more people than ever before are actively changing their lifestyle choices on account of climate change. Whilst Extinction Rebellion may have scored numerous own-goals, as admitted by spokesperson Fergal McEntee, I believe it is imperative that their controversial work continues. The question now is whether global authorities are prepared to act and whether Extinction Rebellion can regain public trust, in order to force them to do so. 

Rhodes must not fall – head of scholarship programme rules out name change

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Elizabeth Kiss, head of the Rhodes scholarship programme, has refused to change its name on the grounds that it would be “running away” from the legacy of colonialism.

Professor Kiss said she would resist all pressure from campaigners to remove the name of Cecil Rhodes from the prestigious programme that awards scholarships for international graduates to study at Oxford University.

Campaigners of “Rhodes Must Fall” argue that Cecil Rhodes, the man who precipitated apartheid in South Africa, should not be celebrated.

As well as renaming the 117-year-old scholarship, the campaign unsuccessfully called for his statue to be removed from Oriel College.

Rhodes Must Fall in Oxford (RMFO) is a strand of the South African-born movement determined to “decolonise the institutional structures and physical space in Oxford and beyond.”

The RMFO seek to address Oxford’s colonial legacy on three levels: challenge colonial iconography that seeks to whitewash and distort history, reform the Eurocentric curriculum to improve the selective nature of traditional academia, and address the underrepresentation and lack of welfare provision for BME staff and students.

Professor Kiss became the first female warden of Rhodes House in Oxford last August, philosophy, Professor taking responsibility for the scholarships. A former Rhodes Scholar herself and a specialist in moral and political Kiss joins the likes of Bill Clinton and former Australian PM Tony Abbott.

Professor Kiss said: “If we change the name, what do we gain? The legacy is still there. You are just running away from it.

“All of us, not just Rhodes scholars, are products and beneficiaries of very morally complex legacies. However, in bearing the name, Rhodes scholars are challenged continually to confront that and engage with it.”

Established to promote unity between English-speaking nations and instil a sense of civic-minded leadership and moral fortitude in future leaders, the programme has faced adversity because of Rhodes’ white supremacist belief and legacy of colonialism.

The Rhodes Trust has been moving away from Rhodes’ original vision for the scholarship. While Cecil Rhodes wanted to develop a cadre of scholarly Anglo-Saxons, women and ethnic minorities are now included.

In this year’s cohort, not only do women outnumber men, but although the majority of Rhodes scholars are American, there are now scholars from China, the Gulf states, the Middle East, and Africa.

According to their website, the Rhodes Trust “brings together and develops exceptional people from all over the world, and in all fields of study, who are impatient with the way things are and have the courage to act.”

This defence of the Rhodes legacy follows three years of relative silence on the subject.

Oxford students attempted to expunge Cecil Rhodes from history in 2016 following the successful campaign to remove his statue at the University of Cape Town.

Students sought to pressure Oriel College to remove his statute from college grounds. In January 2016, a debate at the Oxford Union, students voted 245 to 212 in favour of removing the statue.

Oriel agreed to seek permission to remove a plaque paying tribute to Rhodes, but ultimately the statue continued its hundred-year stint, having been displayed since 1906.

The campaign received similar criticism at the time. Lord Willetts, the minister for universities and science from 2010 to 2014, said it would be odd for Oxford to bow to the protesters’ demands.

According to Lord Willetts, former MP of Havant, Oxford’s academics and administrators would do better to introduce forward-looking reforms to admit more black and ethnic minority students and offer more opportunities to researchers from Africa and the developing world.

Cecil Rhodes, mining magnate and politician, founded De Beers in 1888 and served as Prime Minister of the Cape Colony from 1890 to 1896.

An ardent believer in British imperialism, Rhodes and his British South Africa Company founded the southern African territory of Rhodesia.

An alumnus of Oriel College, Rhodes left the college £100,000 in his will.

A large proportion of this, £40,000, was to finance the construction of a new building on the High Street completed in 1911, which is where his statue can be found.

Rhodes is widely regarded by historians as a chief architect of apartheid, having been at the centre of actions to marginalise the black population in South Africa.

Radcliffe Science Library set to close until summer 2021

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The Radcliffe Science Library (RSL) is set to close from January 2020 until summer 2021, as revealed by Bodleian Libraries in new plans.

The RSL is the main teaching and research science library at the university, and the library holds the Legal Deposit material for all MPLS and medical disciplines.

The 26,000 books in the RSL collection that have been borrowed in the last two years will be temporarily relocated to the Vere Harmsworth Library during the Christmas vacation, from which all science library services will be delivered until May/June 2021.

The Vere Harmsworth Library is located on the upper floors of the Rothermere American Institute on South Parks Road, and is Oxford University’s principal research library for American Studies.

Books that have not been borrowed in the last two years will be held in the Bodleian book storage facility offsite, but students and researchers will be able to request them for delivery via SOLO to be put back on open shelves.

Bodleian Libraries has revealed that these books were moved offsite during the recent summer vacation.

The refurbishments are part of the planned Parks College Development, which will establish a new graduate college on the Parks Road site, in the heart of the University Science Area. Plans to use the Science Library as the site for Parks College were announced in December 2018.

The college will share its building with the Radcliffe Science Library, and from its reopening in 2021, the library shelves will also include Parks College collections. The redevelopment of the site will also include the western wing of the Organic Chemistry Laboratory and Abbot’s Kitchen.

The historic RSL will remain in the building on the second floor, but the first floor will be instead dedicated to Parks College administration and social spaces, including a function room, dining hall and lounge.

The Radcliffe Science Library was first established in 1861. The current building was opened in 1901, and the Library was integrated into the Bodleian Library in 1927.

It gains its name from John Radcliffe, a major benefactor of the University.

One part of the library, the Jackson Wing, is Grade II listed.

Bodleian Libraries have been contacted for comment.

Balliol seeks to improve accessibility with ramp installation

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Balliol College will have increased accessibility for disabled people, if proposed plans are approved by the Oxford City Council.

The proposal, currently awaiting permission, planning intends to install a stone ramp with railing on the Broad Street site by early next year and will provide step-free access to the college’s quad and porters lodge. The modification will make the entrance to the college compliant with the Equality Act 2010.

The Act stipulates that there is a duty to make an adjustment when a feature arising from the design or construction of a building, or a feature of the approach to, exit from or access to a building unfairly disadvantages disabled persons.

The Domestic Bursar of Balliol College, Fran Wright, has stated the college always seeks to “increase our disability access in projects where we feasibly can’’. The main issue that complicates the efforts to make Balliol, and the University of Oxford more broadly, a more accessible place is the age and value of many of the buildings.

The Broad Street site consists of old, listed buildings, some of which date back to the 15th century, which poses obvious obstacles to improving disabled access: the buildings were not constructed to accommodate for disabled persons and any adjustments made may fail to preserve and maintain the history of the buildings. However, the Domestic Bursar also commented that the college is aware that “we need to do more to help all disabled students” in spite of these logistical difficulties.

These necessary changes are made more urgent due to a growing number of disabled students at Oxford. Admissions statistics from the University website show that in 2018, 9.2% of admitted students had declared a disability on application, against 6.0% in 2014. The number of applicants with a disability equally increased over the same period with 1,201 applications in 2018 compared to 775 in 2014. Of the 2016-2018 UK intake, just under 2.5% of applicants cited wheelchair/mobility as their disability. The requirement for equal accessibility across the university and colleges for all students is there- fore very pressing.

At present, Balliol College owns several rooms across its undergraduate and graduate accommodation sites that are specially adapted for disabled students, with disabled showers. The Master Field project, the college’s building development in the area between the Master’s Field, Jowett Walk and St Cross Road, will additionally provide more accessible student rooms once it is completed in 2021. There is accessible teaching space on the main site and access to the Hall via a lift yet, as the disability map available on the Balliol College website shows, there is limited access to many of the staircases on the main site.

If the proposal to improve dis- ability access is approved by Oxford City Council, it may encourage the possibility of further projects in Balliol College. “The staff at Balliol work very hard to accommodate all students,” said the Domestic Bursar, “and to make the college as accessible as possible to everyone.”