Sunday 8th June 2025
Blog Page 58

Abolish the high table

Madelina Gordon
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Abolish the high table

This is an article about class. About the class system. And Oxford.

Recently, my mum came to visit Oxford. Predictably so, I took her to a formal dinner. We ate our meal in a cavernous, candlelit hall, and she was amazed by the pomp and performance of it all. I, equally, felt enlightened by her presence. Watching someone foreign to Oxford experience this paradigm of the university’s culture spurred my own self-reflexivity.

The high table walked in, forming a long, straggly line and taking their mighty fine time getting up the two steps to the stage. Most of the heads sitting down at the table were balding, grey, and white. We jovially ate our meal, occasionally looking up at the backs of those sitting ‘above’ us. Despite being elevated to an impressive vantage point over the hall, most high-table-ers were far more concentrated on their pheasant than us plebs below them.

There was a man with Down Syndrome on the high table; he was the only one of them who actually did engage with the rest of us. He not only stepped down to the lower level, actually leaving the high table to speak with others, but he also disarmed all he chatted to, table hopping and striking conversations.

Towards the end of the dinner, whilst people not on the high table were still busily eating their desserts, the gavel was banged, chairs were scraped back, and the high table tottered out of the hall as unceremoniously as they walked in. The lights went on, and staff immediately started imploring the rest of us to leave. A visiting student next to me, mid ice cream scoop to the mouth, asked why it’s always the case that formal dinners ended so abruptly (and admittedly, long before the majority had finished eating). I explained woefully that alas, it was because the high table received their meals first, ate first, were finished first, and therefore were ready to get up and go first. And of course, they were the only diners of relevance in the hall; when they’re done, everyone is done.

As the line of high table diners shuffled out of the hall, they talked amongst themselves, not once looking down to clock our faces staring up at them. The same man who had been so friendly during the meal was the only one of the high table diners who took the time to engage with the room. He smiled and waved at everyone standing to watch, and got many waves and smiles in return. 

It is interesting that a single neurodivergent attitude – one of friendliness and positivity – was enough to truly shine a light on the absurdity of the high table tradition.

The high table has its origins in the 13th century, a time where class was the formidable front-runner of social stratification systems. In the Middle Ages, the table was designated for fellows, faculty, and ‘distinguished’ guests, with students at the tables below them. Back then, the dining arrangement reflected the academic hierarchy in colleges. Indeed, the elevated high table represented a reverence for educators. This, I think, is understandable.

Today, however, using physical hierarchy to command respect for those who teach us seems slightly out-moded. Why? Maybe it’s because the esteem in which academics are held, as custodians of knowledge, has slowly worn down as knowledge has become more accessible in the era of the internet. For the most part, most of us now couldn’t tell one academic on the high table from the other, and only know a handful of them. But maybe there’s something more that makes the high table feel a bit off. Maybe it’s because the hierarchy of academia it represents hits a bit too close to home. A bit too close to the bitter sentiment in British society towards class domination.

The class system in England is still deep and entrenched. Yet, this entrenchment exists alongside an awareness of, and increasing commitment to, eliminating class barriers. For the amount of emphasis placed on increasing access and opportunity at Oxford, the continuation of the high table tradition sits in striking contrast. This paradox implies that Oxford has embraced the most limited of revisions: we’ll admit a few more people who we once wouldn’t have, but once you’re in, hierarchy and privilege remain as operational as ever.

I think the contradictions at play are what I am seeking to point out. Can Oxford seek to improve access, diversity, and equality whilst it retains traditions that are both symbolic microcosms and physical reconstructions of hierarchy? Barriers into Oxford receive a lot of attention. I don’t think the same can be said of the many exclusive institutions you become accustomed to once you’re in. As access improves, albeit slowly, we might be coming closer and closer to the time where what’s going on behind college walls is reassessed. The relics of an oppressive class system that still stand alarmingly tall in Oxford would be first in line for the chopping block.

A high table, raised above a mass of diners, translates privilege differentials into a literal, physical, and visible hierarchical relationship. All there is to lose from removing high tables is a legacy of exclusion. 

A case for the EDI training I forgot about

Ellen Roper
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A case for the EDI training I forgot about

With everything Freshers’ week has to offer, the University’s Equality, Diversity and Inclusion (EDI) trainings risk being overwhelmed. Even so, they should be welcomed.

The session itself was fairly simple. There were a few slides on why EDI matters and what forms it takes at the University, while most of the training was focused on a handful of hypothetical case studies. In small groups, students were encouraged to consider what to do about a sexist tutor, or fellow students making antisemitic comments at lunch. Everyone seemed engaged in friendly, if slightly awkward discussion. Uneventful, but enjoyable, as far as these kinds of sessions go.

And yet, when I first saw this commission, I had forgotten that this training ever even happened. I suspect the experience also got lost in the whirlwind of freshers’ week for those less forgetful than me. 

Whatever the context, an hour-long briefing will hardly change one’s habits. Those who are used to being proactive in these situations won’t learn much, while those who would benefit from the content can easily tune out. 

Is there any point to these sessions, then, besides making the University look better on paper? The true impact seems almost impossible to quantify. Still, in a word, I would say yes.

First, the problem of discrimination is made explicit, harder to brush off as simply ‘the way things are’. Even those who are not personally affected might be more likely to take notice of problematic behaviour. 

Second, the sessions might just spark empathy in unique ways. One of the scenarios featured two imaginary countries in need of aid: one (seemingly) Western, the other a Muslim-majority country. Highlighting human experiences is better than nothing amidst relentless polarisation. 

My own key takeaway was to react with more empathy towards ‘offenders’. With students from radically diverse personal contexts, not all missteps are ill-intended, and an open question might be much more constructive than an angry confrontation.

Most importantly, the training legitimises action – seeking third party help or speaking out in a problematic situation is clearly condoned, even if the specifics of what to say or who to approach are lost in the general haze of Freshers’ week. 

At present, EDI trainings are a mere nod in the right direction. Even this is much better than looking the other way.

The Oxford Union: How to break the rules

Anon
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The Oxford Union: How to break the rules

How does one successfully get away with breaking the rules? The Oxford Union’s recent antics provide an elegant solution: sack everybody who could get in the way.

If you’ve recently stepped foot into the Union, you undoubtedly will have noticed a consistent air of discontent: from freshers to speakers, hundreds of visitors have expressed dissatisfaction at debates being derailed by student politics, and internal officials are being removed every few days. The early weeks of Michaelmas are usually the debating society’s most profitable, yet this term’s membership drive has been comparably underwhelming. Clearly, the institution’s recent record is rife with widespread incompetence, symptomatic of its ineffective and oppressive leadership.

President Ebrahim Osman-Mowafy seemingly could not have asked for a more united house near the start of term. As the candidate who inspired a walkout after being disqualified in Trinity, he detailed his disappointment in the Union’s Returning Officer and other electoral workers (colloquially referred to as ‘RO world’) in a speech before the term’s first debate. Proposing a list of rule changes that would reduce the power of ‘RO world’ and make the Union “more democratic,” President Osman-Mowafy passed the reforms through the house via a voice vote (the debating chamber yelled ‘aye’ louder than ‘no’).

A series of intense procedural disputes ensued, with Committee members trading claims of rule-breaking and invalidation. For one, the debacle took place during the Union’s open week, thus many of the voters were not even members of the society. Moreover, President Osman-Mowafy refused to hear selected objections against the reforms – for a society treasuring free speech, this displayed a great lack of self-awareness. Despite his claims that he has acted procedurally throughout, the rules change was recently reversed after a decision by the Oxford Literary and Debating Union Charity Trust (OLDUT), which owns much of the Union buildings and manages donations; this decision by OLDUT was directly acknowledged by Standing Committee. It is painfully clear that this was not some attempt to validly pass constitutional reform, but rather a planned exploitation of non-members in order to illegitimately force through overarching rules.

With the illusion of a new constitution in place, our President made no attempt to heed the Returning Officer’s warnings that his actions largely consisted of constitutional breaches and abuses of power. This was most blatantly exhibited the following week, when the appointment of electoral officials grew increasingly sour. Procedurally, applications for Deputy Returning Officer may only be struck if concerns are raised regarding their capability: this was not the case for three applicants who were struck without justifiable explanation, after not being allowed to defend themselves. That same week, three Deputy Returning Officers were later sacked on grounds of being “unfit, unwilling, or unable” to perform their duties, also without justification.

One might argue that perhaps this institutional reshuffling is rooted in good intentions, but this belief crumbles after a brief look at our new electoral team. Of the 12 Deputy Returning Officers appointed by Standing Committee, only three have worked in Union elections before, with five terms of experience between them; the six officials who were removed had a total of 18 such terms. Our new Returning Officer is a newcomer who matriculated mere weeks ago. The integrity of our elections and disciplinary proceedings now depend on Standing Committee’s handpicked appointees, largely selected out of friendship, rather than merit.

A culture of fear has festered across Union committees, following the removal or resignation of numerous officers: the Chair of Consultative Committee (a senior logistical role) recently resigned, citing a “depressingly toxic and hostile” atmosphere within the Union. Last week, the Librarian (among the officers, second in seniority only to the President) also announced his resignation, before engaging in a heated discussion against the President regarding the rules change. 

It was Harold Macmillan who deemed the Oxford Union “the last bastion of free speech”. He’d be direly disappointed to learn that critics and electoral workers are being removed without explanation or pressured into resignation.

All three debates this term have now been delayed by Private Business, wherein the President has been challenged on his new rules. He accuses his questioners of attempting to delay debates, but things are not so insultingly simple. With committee members being quietly removed, it is only in the debating chamber that the President can be held to accountability. Amid this week’s questions, a division was called; this required the entire house to leave the chamber, including the speakers, in order to conduct a vote. The last time a debate was delayed by a division was two years ago, under a President who soon resigned.

President Osman-Mowafy attempted to change the rules in order to ensure that he no longer had to attend Access Committee meetings, which operate solely to help the Union meet the physical, financial, and personal needs of all members. Due to the poor distribution of the rule changes, most members are conveniently unaware that the President has shifted his own responsibilities. To believe that the Union’s leadership is entirely honest requires naïveté beyond measure.

In his manifesto, President Osman-Mowafy pledged to make the Union more ‘transparent’, yet he refused to recognise that his reforms were invalid. He promised that the society would be more ‘accountable’, yet he has had numerous critics sacked. He vowed to ensure that the Union was more ‘engaging’, yet his tenure has produced disappointing membership numbers. His term as President has been marred by what is at best continued incompetence, and at worst, a knowing disregard for the society’s rules, history and members. Osman-Mowafy has taken advantage of votes by non-members, illegitimately removed opponents from roles, refused to publicly answer questions, contradicted the judgement of the trustees, and surrounded himself with personal appointees. He is a man who has fostered an environment of hostility to keep his critics silenced. It is thus the unwavering belief of this writer that President Ebrahim Osman-Mowafy must resign.

The myth of woke universities

Maya Heuer-Evans
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The myth of woke universities

In June 2023, the Conservatives created a new director of freedom of speech at the Office for Students. This innovation spoke to the success of a particularly widespread idea: that universities were hotbeds of ‘wokeism’ (defined, tiresomely, in vague gestures towards Marxism and identity politics) where controversial opinions were subject to censure. Since then, the notion of ‘woke universities’ biased against conservatism has been undermined by the legal and police action used against the encampments which were established across the country last summer in solidarity with the Palestinian cause. In a climate where students and administration are increasingly at odds, does the idea of ‘woke universities’ still hold? And, indeed, did it ever, or was it largely the construction of the right-wing press and politicians as a convenient enemy for the waging of their culture wars?

A cursory Google of ‘woke university’ will yield results mainly from 2020 to 2022. In the wake of the Black Lives Matter protests which followed George Floyd’s murder, universities initiated various inquests, programmes and research projects to uncover their colonial inheritances. The University of Bristol, for example, embarked on an inquiry which culminated last year in the reparative pledging of £10 million to address current inequalities. At the same moment, the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge held an exhibition detailing the institutions’ links to enslavement. These developments, echoed to varying degrees across the country, spoke to an increase in public awareness of Britain’s history of exploitation.

It was not, though, only these advances which gained universities their ‘woke’ status from the conservative crowd. Originally from African-American Vernacular English, ‘woke’ is literally a synonym for awake, used specifically in the context of being alert to social injustices. ‘Woke universities’, by this definition, should refer to any that are actively seeking to rectify their institutional wrongs and imbue a new generation of scholars with emphasis upon respect, equality and active allyship.

However, by 2022 a study by King’s College London found that more people understood the term as an insult than compliment. It was this derogatory sense invoked by conservatives like Braverman, who kept ‘woke’ ill-defined and ubiquitous enough to be a convenient descriptor for any and all potential scapegoats. The ‘woke universities’ of the press became 1984-esque caricatures of censorship, where academic freedom was suppressed and the brave individuals who dared speak out were ‘de-platformed’. In fact, university administrations continued to profess their commitment to open discourse, one that was clearly felt by students, given that 86% of those surveyed by the Office for Students in August 2023 said they felt free to express their opinion. To give a recent domestic example, Oxford’s Vice Chancellor Irene Tracey just announced a new ‘colloquium’ designed to foster conversation between polarised opinions.

There may have existed a broad consensus within students themselves and between undergraduates and executive bodies on this principle of open conversation, but a division in attitude towards action is observable. Take de-platforming, for example. Boycotts have typically been student-led decisions, not to censor hateful speech, but to prevent its promotion.These were rarely the life-altering acts of censorship they were made out to be, for this would have required administrative interference. The 2020 rejection of Selina Todd from the National Women’s Liberation Conference on the grounds of transphobia had no effect on her ongoing professorship at St Hilda’s, for example. These deplatformings were not a ‘left-wing’ only phenomenon, either. Conservative Science Minister Michelle Donelan, for instance, called for the cessation of all ties between UK Research and Innovation and Professor Kate Sang of Heriot Watt University in 2023 after Sang reposted a Guardian article Donelan took to be pro-Hamas. Examples like this involve far more tenuous evidence, and far more career-altering repercussions, than the action taken by progressive students above—precisely because they are made by administrative figures.

The gulf between administrative opinion and student activism evident in the two groups’ approach to no-platforming, so often ignored by the commentators who reduce universities to a monolith of opinion, was significantly widened by the war on Gaza. At the peak of encampment activity in May, there were 36 bases modelled off those in US Colleges, against which university administrations took increasingly antagonistic measures, including High Court appeals for permits to clear out those involved. The barriers adorning the outer Radcliffe Camera, and the pre-arrival mass emails which stressed the need to ‘express ourselves through civil debate, regardless of our views on events that are taking place’ clearly articulate this new tension within the university structure.

Does the last year mark the death of the university as a protector and outlet for calls against social injustice? There is room for optimism here. Administrative action is not always indicative of ideology; financial and practical pressures are ever-increasing, with consequences particularly for humanities degrees in which working class and BAME students are over-represented. And it is important here to remember that universities are not solely represented by their administration. The divide between executive bodies and students hampers any attempt to categorise whole institutions into woke or non-woke.

Given these complexities, it’s safe to say that the idea of ‘woke universities’ is largely a reactionist creation of the right wing. Problematised beyond easy deployment by the controversies surrounding Palestinian action, the label has largely faded from the current toolkit of commentators, and deserves to be relegated to the past entirely. Focus has instead shifted to specific university courses – particularly those ‘Mickey Mouse’ degrees – as if in tacit acknowledgement that it is now difficult to see universities as united bodies monopolised by a particular group and ideology. The potential for universities to be progressive sites, alive to social injustice and actively schooling staff and students towards its elimination remains. That hope, though, will require re-negotiation of the relationship between mainstream student opinion and university government.

The Breakfast Club: Bringing the mid to midday

Amanda Li
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The Breakfast Club: Bringing the mid to midday

Brunch is a particular love of mine. Between the poached eggs at Brasenose brunch, the coconut pancakes at The Handle Bar Cafe, and huevos rancheros at the Oxford Brunch Bar, there is no shortage of weekend brunch options in Oxford. So when my boyfriend and I decided to have a quick brunch date at the Westgate, we decided to try The Breakfast Club. The place is a UK-wide chain, based on American breakfast and brunch food. Though we came for breakfast, there was a lunch menu that seemed to be decent as well. 

The place was packed, and we were sat at a table with another couple; it wasn’t a bad environment. The peppy music was bright and breakfast-y, though the HP sauce and full English breakfast served as a reminder of what country we were in. I debated getting the avocado toast, but we eventually decided on eggs royale, blueberry and bacon pancakes, with some French toast sticks to share.  Their raspberry maple syrup lemonade was intriguing, and I enjoyed the tanginess of the raspberry and lemon, though you couldn’t really taste the maple as much besides just sweetening the drink. The food took a while – about twenty-five to thirty minutes for it to arrive. I admit that they were busy, so it was just a little bit annoying. The food arrived all together, and it certainly looked good. The taste and texture was something different. 

It is so easy to make pancakes too dry, and this place was no exception. The portions were fine, but there was not enough syrup to cover how dry and floury they were. The bacon was perfectly crunchy, and the blueberries helped add some flavor and add some moisture, but the bits without blueberries just tasted like I was eating flour even with butter and syrup added. The French toast (eggy bread for the Brits) was fine, but could do with a bit more even distribution of the egg and maybe some cinnamon and nutmeg to add some flavor besides sweetness. I found that £5.75 for a thick piece of toast cut into strips was definitely not worth it. The eggs royale, though a whopping £16.95, was not bad. The sourdough was high quality and perfectly toasted, and the egg was runny and seasoned well. The ratios of each ingredient were great, and they didn’t skimp out on the salmon. The hollandaise still was a bit lacking in something acidic.

Our biggest issue, though, was the price. Including the surprise 12.5% service charge, our breakfast was £50. I’m not kidding. My bank account will not recover. I wouldn’t spend that amount of money on a dinner, let alone a brunch, when BNC brunch is £5. Besides the eggs royale, which could theoretically be justified, the quality of the dish did not match the prices. Most independent brunch places are cheaper if not better tasting – the eggs royale at the Art Cafe are £3 less than here, and the bacon pancakes at the Oxford Brunch Bar a whopping £5 less. Skip this place and try them instead.

Red flags or human flaws: Has university dating culture forgotten what it means to love someone warts and all?

Ciara Beale
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Red flags or human flaws: Has university dating culture forgotten what it means to love someone warts and all?

Anyone who knows me even a little bit knows that I am chronically on the Channel 4 website watching reality TV dating shows. Celebs Go Dating, Married at First Sight, First Dates (my favourite, and my last resort if I’m still single by 30): you name it, I’ve watched it. By their very nature, they require a certain amount of box-ticking. First Dates asks singles to list their preferences, which are then magically materialised into someone to snog at the end of the show. It’s almost uncanny how well they are matched every time: if ever a ‘dislike’ sneaks in among the ‘likes’, chaos ensues – these are the moments inevitably segmented into YouTube videos later on. No one has ever told me that I should base my dating expectations on the ‘reality’ TV that I obsessively watch, but these shows all broadcast something interesting about the way we view dating now, on and off the screen. Because we can fine tune our dating preferences on all manner of apps, which do Fred Sirieix’s job for us, we are able to exclude anyone who doesn’t quite fit the bill. Had I met certain Tinder dates in an organic environment, perhaps I’d overlook the fact that they’d chosen to list wrestling as an interest in their bio, or only have group profile pictures. But because there are always more profiles to see, more faces to scrutinise, I keep swiping – looking for an embodiment of perfection that I now fear doesn’t exist.

As a result of the tangle of influences from both dating apps and shows, telling me I should really watch out for certain (objectively benign) characteristics, I end up finding it reasonable when a contestant on Married at First Sight inexplicably calls her spouse a liar because he didn’t tell her about his acting career (AKA dabbles in am-dram), or when a suggestion of splitting the bill is enough for a first date to end on a sour note. Modern daters have become so merciless. Although I’d never watch Naked Attraction unless caught unawares while watching Gogglebox with my parents (eek), there’s something, somehow, more forgiving about it: your bits look a bit like mine, you’re wobbly in places that human bodies tend to wobble, let’s give it a go.  

Dating shows and other forms of box-ticking dating have existed for decades, and I fear I might be a special case in my guilty pleasure of watching them all the time. Yet the encroaching force that is The Internet has only made romantic matters worse. TikTok and Instagram reels (my chosen poison) are crammed full of red flags, green flags, ghosting, breadcrumbing, soft launching, and love bombing (sprinkle sprinkle). I had to Google ‘online dating slang’ to get a sense of how extensive the list has become and encountered many I’d never even heard of. Can someone please tell me what makes a flag beige? When did we all start waving flags around anyway? While some might like this shorthand as a tool to prevent wasting time, I feel this new dictionary of love languages has only muddied the waters. It’s now possible to designate a character trait as a red flag and rule someone out completely. What happened to second chances?

As you grow older, the kinds of debates you have with family members tend to change. At the ages of 6, 8 and 10, my brothers and I argued over which football team was worthy of support; 4 years on, who was robbed in the final of X Factor; give it another few years and we’re engaging in our own kind of mock politics (as my brother developed a never-explained obsession with Nick Clegg). Although last Christmas when I was reunited with my siblings, I was surprised when my light-hearted reference to someone having given me the ‘ick’, a term that had come into popularity in between occasions of us seeing each other, sent sparks flying. My eldest brother insisted the concept was demeaning and set unachievable standards for men. While I stumbled trying to defend it as a tool for women to redress the balance while faced with sky-high expectations set for us by men, I realised he had a point. All it takes is for me to catch a glimpse of a boy on a VOI and I’m out. I thought recently about how I’d never be able to go on holiday with a romantic partner unless I averted my eyes when they walked through the street with a suitcase. I did some sociological research for more icks and dug up: chasing a table tennis ball (how often does that even happen?), running for the bus (a reasonable necessity in modern life), tripping while running up the stairs (come on now). I think it’s high time we lower our expectations. In the words of Jessie J, Nobody’s Perfect. Maybe we just need another reminder.

A lacklustre budget for the young

Faye Chang
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A lacklustre budget for the young

For a budget involving tax rises worth £40bn, it’s pretty damning that Labour’s Autumn Budget can still be branded a ‘non-event’. However, this label may be apt in some ways: the pattern of increased spending and taxation continues from the previous government, with a lack of the large-scale tax reform that some might hope for from the first Labour government in 14 years. This budget might feel additionally inconsequential for young people, with its light touch on concerns surrounding climate and costs of education. 

How might the budget actually impact young people? The most pressing way will likely be through employment: for those aged 18-20 already working, a 16.3% increase raising the hourly minimum wage from £8.60 to £10 will boost earnings. Those above 21 will experience a 6.7% increase to £12.21/hour. Given that even an undergrad degree at Oxford likely leaves little time to be working a job during term time, students at Oxford are more likely to be impacted by the increase to National Insurance (NI) contributions. This tax increase alone makes up more than 60% of the anticipated £40bn, as employers will now have to contribute 15% of worker’s earnings above £175 – effectively, employers will have to start paying NI for workers earning £5000 per year, instead of £9000 as previously. Despite Reeves’ suggestion that businesses could ‘absorb’ the costs of these tax increases through accepting reduced profits, it’s an unlikely choice for business-owners. The far more likely scenario is that employees will face lower pay rises, and greater difficulty entering the job market.

The choice for tax increases to finance spending was always between the big three: VAT tax, income tax, and NI contributions. However, hopes for tax reform have been stymied, with thresholds for income tax frozen and no notable increases through income itself. There have been long-overdue increases to Capital Gains Tax (CGT), which taxes profits made from selling assets which have increased in value. While much needed, the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) points out that higher CGT is an insufficient change: higher CGT could encourage people to leave the UK before selling their assets to avoid the tax, and reforms to the tax base and current structure of CGT itself would be far more effective.

If Labour makes smart fiscal choices over the next few years, we have the potential to see the growth they’ve promised in the long-term. But, in the meantime, at least there’s a penny off on pints to stave off despair.

Student support just isn’t good enough

Siena Jackson-Wolfe
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Student support just isn’t good enough

As the air cools and college puffers become essential the darker days seem to match the mood. Week 5 of the Oxford cycle looms, threatening many with the notorious ‘5th week blues’. This point in the term isn’t just the halfway mark; it’s often the tipping point where academic rigour, mental fatigue, and the relentless pace of Oxford’s term collide. For many, the pressure to excel, maintain momentum, and “do it all” becomes overwhelming. 

Oxford’s eight-week terms are rigorous, creating a demanding atmosphere that exhausts and burns out many Oxford students. The university counselling service has seen a massive increase in students asking for help in recent years. The student body is struggling and when it all gets too much rustication appears to be the only option. 

High achievers are bad at giving themselves a break. The drive that is a core trait of many at Oxford is a blessing and a curse, creating high-level results but also causing extreme pressure. Recently, there have been more calls for a reading week to be implemented to break up the term. Students feel like it would reduce pressure, but I am unsure whether it could drastically change the 5th-week blues. A reading week could become another week where students take on more, work harder, and continue to put in the hours. The University needs to look at how to support morale drops throughout the term, whenever students are asking for help. It is essential that student welfare is prioritised, especially when students often forgo their own mental well-being in order to excel. Being gentle is neither nurtured at Oxford nor innate to the personality types at this uni. But it is important. Now more than ever, check in with your friends, give yourself some downtime and celebrate small wins.

From classrooms to code: Education in Britain’s misinformation fight

Ujval Sidhu-Brar
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From classrooms to code: Education in Britain’s misinformation fight

Taking to Facebook in early August 2024, a 28-year old man encouraged “[e]very man and their dog [to] be smashing [the] fuck out” of a hotel housing asylum-seekers in eastern Leeds. The Crown Prosecution Service found no evidence that he participated directly in the riots. He was instead jailed for “intending to stir up racial hatred”.  

The incident that sparked this summer’s unrest – the false claim that a Muslim asylum-seeker committed the Southport stabbings of 29th July 2024 – is unlikely to have originated with this man. It did, however, spread rapidly across social media platforms and instant messaging apps. By the end of July, the rumour had been viewed nearly 20 million times on X alone. In the wake of the man’s conviction, National Police Chiefs’ Council Chair Gavin Stephens warned in The Telegraph that “left unchecked, misinformation and harmful posts can undermine all our safety.”

An overblown issue?

Yet, despite widespread concern over the role of social media platforms in amplifying disinformation (intentionally-shared misleading information) and misinformation (unintentionally-shared misleading information), some have argued that the issue is overblown. Professor Ciaran Martin of Oxford’s Blavatnik School of Government has cautioned against overstating the outcome of misinformation, at least in relation to national security. “There is a tendency sometimes…to confuse intent and activity with impact,” Martin explained. Similarly, of the 289 peer-reviewed researchers who responded to the 2023 Expert Survey on the Global Information Environment, only a third viewed social media platforms as “the most threatening actors to the information environment”.

One of the reasons for this scepticism may be the surprisingly low prevalence of misinformation on these platforms. For instance, a recent analysis by Aarhus University of 2.7 million tweets found that a mere 0.001% linked to an untrustworthy source. Historical data further supports this view. In their study of 120,000 letters sent to editors of The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune over a 120-year period, Joseph Uscinski and Joseph Parent found that the frequency of conspiracy theories has remained steady. The specifics and targets may change, but the appetite for misinformation has not increased.

Additionally, engagement statistics alone can be misleading. Just because a piece of misinformation is shared widely does not imply that its entire audience believes or endorses it. A study examining 9,345 Danish tweets during the COVID-19 pandemic, for example, found that about half of the tweets referencing misinformation were ridiculing it.

Biased algorithms and biased humans

Social science research also challenges another prevailing notion: that algorithms are to blame for shielding users from information sources outside their bubble. “I think this is widely exaggerated…that Google or other search engines would hide information from you, and you see only what you like,” said Professor William Dutton of the Oxford Internet Institute (OII). Indeed, a 2017 study tracking the news consumption habits of over 3,000 British users revealed that most people access content from a broad range of both partisan and nonpartisan outlets.

Algorithms certainly play a role in shaping the information we encounter online, but they may not be the root cause of the problems of dis- and misinformation. For Dutton, “[i]t is not a problem of the technology. The problem is that we are the algorithm that decides that we are going to look only at what we believe is the case.”

This points to a deeper phenomenon that predates social media algorithms: human psychology. For decades, research in social and personality psychology has demonstrated that people are inherently biased towards information that reinforces their existing views. More recently, a study of 879 Americans discovered that participants were more likely to believe false headlines that were aligned with their pre-existing beliefs and actively sought fact-checks for headlines that portrayed their political party negatively.

The problem with government      

Still, even if news quality has less of an effect on beliefs than we might expect, the spread of mis- and disinformation remains an issue. At best, it acts as a distraction, diverting resources from legitimate political, media, and governmental efforts. At worst, it facilitates chaos, deepens pre-existing divides, and undermines trust in institutions.

Perhaps legislation could be tightened. Under the UK’s Online Safety Act 2023 (OSA), social media companies must promptly remove “illegal content,” with penalties reaching up to £18 million or 10% of their global annual revenue. However, the Act does not explicitly designate “disinformation” or “misinformation” as illegal content. False communication is considered an offence only if the person spreading it intended to cause harm and knew it was untrue. While “disinformation” is therefore captured by the offence, Ofcom notes that it automatically rules out “misinformation” as illegal since it is, by definition, unintentional. 

Filling that gap in the legal framework would require redefining misinformation, a change that appears unlikely. To define misinformation, a formal definition of “news” would be necessary. Regulators themselves could take matters into their own hands but are reluctant. “I am not convinced that having a very clear definition is possible. What is news? News is lots of different things to all sorts of different people,” explained Cristina Nicolotti Squires, Ofcom’s Group Director for Broadcast and Media.

There are also fears that a legal definition of “news” would limit the media’s independence from government influence, subject it to censorship, and weaken its ability to hold the government accountable. As Professor Rasmus Kleis Nielsen of the Reuters Institute notes, “British journalists and British publishers…generally believe that having a formal, authoritative, state-imposed definition of what is news is worse than not having one.”

Additionally, aggressive unilateral measures could damage Britain’s soft power. Social media platforms are already bending to the demands of “decisive governments” where platforms must comply with restrictive laws. Robert Colvile, Director of the Centre for Policy Studies, warns the UK Government against adopting similar policies. “We probably do not want to do things that autocratic governments can seize on, saying, ‘You see, the British are doing it.’”

Tech action and inaction

To limit the UK Government’s reach, tech companies themselves may need to shoulder more of the burden. One promising approach lies in provenance-enhancing technology, which adds metadata to determine the origins of digital content. This could prove particularly useful for content shared on instant messaging apps like Telegram, whose active user base swelled by one million between July 29th and July 30th 2024. However, such tools to evaluate media are only effective if users engage with them.

Increasing transparency around social media algorithms has also emerged as a major focus. The OSA places the onus on platforms to publish transparency reports. Still, it’s unclear how detailed or useful this will be. Some tech companies already disclose similar information. Meta, for instance, details how its ranking system demotes certain content, while Google shares its search quality evaluator guidelines. But the complexity of algorithms – often involving billions of parameters – limits transparency.

Commercial interests also remain a significant barrier to full transparency. As Jane Singer, Emerita Professor at City, University of London, notes, “Why would the platforms necessarily want to do what you tell them to do?” Dutton also cautions that exposing the inner workings of these systems might “give everyone the information that they need to optimise their search,” providing bad actors with the tools to game the system even more effectively.

If the inner workings of algorithms cannot be disclosed or fully explained, they could at least be made more effective. Over half of the 289 experts surveyed by the IPIE believe current AI-powered moderation tools are poorly designed, failing to catch harmful content consistently. This is especially important for platforms with few human content moderators as a safeguard, such as X which had its team gutted in 2022.

Hours after the Southport incident, a post published by a 41-year old woman, calling for mass deportations and violence, was flagged by at least one X user. Despite her order to “set fire to all the fucking hotels full of the bastards for all I care,” an automated email informed the reporter that she “ha[d]n’t broken our rules against posting violent threats.” While her post might not be interpreted as a direct threat, it is unclear how it did not violate X’s prohibitions on violent speech, which include “Wish of Harm” and “Incitement of Violence.” The post has since been deleted and the woman’s account is no longer active; whether a human moderator at X took action or whether she removed it herself is unknown.

Empowering minds

Between commercial interests, algorithmic complexity, and the limitations of current AI moderation tools, tech companies cannot go it alone in eradicating the problem. Dr Dani Madrid-Morales of the University of Sheffield may be right when he says that the UK Government remains “overly focused” on regulatory and technological approaches to combatting misinformation, at the expense of educational initiatives. 

Although Ofcom data show that 71% of the 739 16- to 24-year-olds surveyed use social media as their primary news source, one might assume that older news consumers should be the primary target of such initiatives. Referring to Estonia’s media literacy programme, Maia Klaassen at the University of Tartu says, “I’m not worried about youth. I’m worried about 50-somethings.” Similar issues can be seen in Britain. While the UK ranks high on OSIS’ Media Literacy Index, this is misleading. Dr Steven Buckley at City, University of London, contends that many Britons may still lack the skills needed to navigate today’s information landscape effectively, such as an understanding of how to evaluate sources and how news is produced.

There is some evidence for this. In Ofcom’s 2024 Media Use and Attitudes survey, respondents aged 55+ were less likely than those aged 16-24 to recognise misleading news or verify its accuracy, such as by consulting additional sources or using a fact-checking website. They were also less confident in spotting fake social media profiles and more sceptical of genuine information.

Yet, if Dutton and the academic literature are right about confirmation bias and selective exposure shaping responses to misinformation, then the country’s younger people represent a crucial battleground where biases can be addressed before they take root. Despite being digital natives, many pre-teens, teenagers and young adults have been found to be overly trusting of news found through search engines and to overestimate their grasp of algorithm-driven content promotion.

A risky bet

Media literacy has its champions, including Education Secretary Bridget Phillipson, who has indicated that the ongoing school curriculum review will emphasise critical thinking skills relevant to media consumption. Before the summer riots, Oxford also took steps to enhance the media literacy of a portion of its students through last year’s climate change-themed Vice-Chancellor’s Colloquium. Importantly, the scheme was interdisciplinary, ensuring that all students could understand how misleading data can drive misinformation.

This notwithstanding, there are questions about media literacy programmes’ effectiveness and scalability. In a co-authored opinion piece for CNN, Professor Philip Howard at the OII deemed them “a risky bet” for combatting mis- and disinformation. Several factors contribute to this scepticism.

Funding is a hurdle. In 2023, the Department for Culture, Media and Sport allocated just £1.4 million to media literacy programmes. This in turn affects scalability. Delivery has been piecemeal and project-based, often led by media organisations and nonprofits. As a result, these initiatives struggle to impact a meaningful number of students. For example, the Student View programme reached just over 2,000 pupils between 2016 and mid-2021—out of nearly 9 million English school students.

Ofcom’s new media literacy responsibilities under the OSA could address some of these issues, but whether they will have the desired impact is uncertain. A 2012 meta-analysis of media literacy interventions showed positive results, but most of the studies predate the algorithmic age. More recent assessments, such as a 2019 RAND study, highlight the difficulty of defining media literacy and establishing a clear link between media literacy programmes and resilience to disinformation. Even when programmes show promise, results are often modest. The evaluators of the Guardian Foundation’s NewsWise programme found that it improved 9- to 11-year-olds’ ability to spot misinformation. However, the effects were not statistically significant.

The test we now face is to ensure we accurately assess a threat that is starting to reveal itself. Overcorrecting legislatively carries risks. Social media platforms may not cooperate fully. The impact of media literacy programmes may take years to materialise. But the summer riots suggest that the effects of dis- and misinformation on British political discourse are no longer as “hard to detect” as Martin suggested in April 2024. He was right to warn against overreaction. He also recognised things could change quickly. We must now confront whether, as 2024 comes to a close with Donald Trump as President-Elect of the United States, we have reached that tipping point.

EDI plan aims to increase proportion of BME professors from 8% to 9% by 2029

Bryn Mollet
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EDI plan aims to increase proportion of BME professors from 8% to 9% by 2029

Oxford University’s Joint Committee for Equality, Diversity, and Inclusion has published the first university-wide strategic plan to improve EDI. Titled “Everybody Belongs”, the plan includes increasing the proportion of BME Statutory Professors from the current 8% to 9% by 2029.

The foreword states that this plan marks “the first time we have articulated a strategic equality, diversity and inclusion vision for the collegiate University as a whole”. Previously EDI has been emphasised at college and department levels. 

The plan involves using task and finish groups to help achieve and report on the University’s EDI. It will see the creation of racial and religious inclusion task and finish groups to work alongside the pre-established LGBTQ+ group. The strategy also offers more support for student leadership, particularly JCR and MCR presidents.

Regarding student access, the University seeks to remove barriers to undergraduate and graduate access and see an increase in the proportion of entrants from the bottom two quartiles of the Multiple Deprivation Index to 23% by 2028.

The University aims to increase the proportion of Black students awarded a “good degree” to 94%. As of last year, 8% of Statutory Professors are BME, a number the University aims to increase to 9% by the 2028/2029 academic year. The plan also wishes to reduce the gap between BME and white staff reporting being bullied or harassed by 2027, and remove all statistically significant pay gaps between BME and white staff by 2028.

The plan seeks to increase the proportion of female Statutory Professors from 22% to 26% by 2027, and female central University committee members from 40% to 60% in the same timeframe. It also aims to reduce the gap between female staff with and without caring responsibilities who feel they are supported in their professional development, which saw a ten percentage gap last year.

With regard to LGBTQ+ representation, the University aims to bring the percentage of transgender and non-binary staff who agree with the statement “I feel able to be myself at work” up from 57% to be in line with the total staff average, which was 83%.

The plan also highlights the University’s belief in the importance of free speech to its EDI mission, stating the two go “hand in hand”. While the plan is university-wide, it also acknowledges the strengths of the collegiate system in achieving these goals, which allows colleges to “innovate and respond to particular contexts”.

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