Tuesday, May 13, 2025
Blog Page 596

Interview: Greg James

Joanna Lonergan
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Interview: Greg James

In a recent interview with The Guardian, Greg James admitted that he’d actually sh/t himself on the train on the way to speak at our very own Oxford Union. According to him this “may or may not have been the day after the Brits” so we’ll let you put two and two together on this one…

It’s this kind of laid-back, witty and approachable aura that impressed me when I spoke to the Radio 1 Breakfast Show DJ after his event at the Union. We talked about everything from his radio career and fundraising efforts to his university years and love of cheese and wine and, throughout our entire conversation, he was so at ease that I never would have guessed his traumatic train experience. It’s this relaxed and friendly approach which James tries to channel into his radio shows, spending time working on a more “natural style of presenting” like that of Terry Wogan, someone he counts among his heroes.

“There’s a lot of people on the radio that don’t actually understand what a radio show should sound like. It can be in the way they speak, sort of ‘Hello guys, hey you lot, how are you?’. But saying ‘How are you?’ is quite weird. What, are you supposed to go ‘Fine thanks!’? “It’s making sure you’re absolutely talking to one person. Just like you would do in the pub or something, when you’re like ‘oh did you see that thing on Netflix or here’s a funny email that I got.”

I experience first-hand the impact and resonance this approach has with his listeners, as we have to pause our interview on two occasions when students come over to say hello to Greg. Each time he is more than happy to chat with them, asking their names and what they study, and agreeing to take selfies with them. When Greg turns back to me the second time, he explains how important it is that people feel they have some sort of relationship with him. “That’s my only aim, to feel like they can just say hi to the point where sometimes they think they actually know me. Sometimes I even go ‘sh/t do I know you?’ and then I have to go ‘hmmmm no I don’t.”

The 33-year-old has an obvious talent for connecting with the ordinary person, something which has helped entice 300,000 additional listeners to the Breakfast Show since he took over from Nick Grimshaw (‘Grimmy’) at the end of last year. It’s well known that Grimmy is pals with the likes of Rita Ora, Harry Styles, Alexa Chung and Kate Moss – it only takes a glance at his Instagram to see his star-studded contact list. But James insists he is the flip side of the coin (or the CD?). “You need a Grimmy for there to be a me. You need to balance off someone.”

“I’ve never been interested in celebrities really, I’m not interested in fame. I don’t find all famous people automatically interesting, so it would be disingenuous for me to go on and pretend to want to talk to people I don’t want to talk to.” This strikes a particular note with me, especially as the modern media seems obsessed with what David Beckham had for lunch or the colour of Meghan Markle’s tights, often at the expense of the more acute issues of the day. Instead of the likes of Mr Beckham or the Duchess of Sussex, James says his real focus is the listeners.

“I’ve always found that listeners are more interesting than me or any guest you could have on. There’s 6 million people, with 6 million lives and stories to tell. I used to love hearing a caller be funny. There’s something very empowering about making the listener the star of the show. That’s what they should be. They’re literally paying for it and it’s a thing for them; it’s their show and they should be in control of it, to a certain extent.”

The desire to engage and connect with his listeners is what’s often inspired James to embark on his more ‘whacky’ projects for the show, and he uses the example of the “stupid pass the pasty idea”. After a listener from Scotland called in and admitted, to many peoples’ horror, that he had never tried a Cornish pasty, the team at Radio 1 decided to send a pasty from Padstow in Cornwall all the way up to Aberdeenshire via the listeners. Yes, the only companions the pasty had on its long trip was Greg’s producer, a microphone and various Radio 1 listeners.

“[My producer] would give the microphone to a listener and suddenly they were the commentator, or they were the reporter on the scene, and that’s a really special thing that you wouldn’t see on TV really…”

It’s here that James’ brain gives out on him and the revels of the previous night are hinted at. There’s a long pause, interspaced with various ‘ummms’, ‘errrrs’ and a “sorry my brain is a bit dead”, before Greg re-boards his train of thought and continues on.

“The listeners more often than not step up. They know the spirit of the show I guess, they know how to deliver it. They get the joke and they understand that it’s a very silly thing done very seriously. It’s really magical to hear a listener just sort of run with it and go. “We had a plumber, I think, who took [the pasty] from Manchester train station on a steam train. This guy just woke up in the morning and was going to his job, and suddenly he was the star of the breakfast show.”

In what I assume is his attempt at a Mancunian accent, Greg explains: “He was just like ‘We’re at the train station, big beautiful steam engine there and it’s a beautifully sunny day and the smoke’s billowing through the station.’ “It was this really beautiful description and I’m just like this guy didn’t know he was going to be on the Breakfast Show this morning and suddenly he’s the thing that brightened lots of peoples’ day.”

Although he’s likely too modest to admit it, Greg himself is also in the business of brightening peoples’ day. Listeners of his radio show will remember Katie, a primary school teacher from Kent, who had just been dumped by her boyfriend. Katie well and truly had her day brightened by Greg when he invited her to be his (platonic) date to the Brit Awards 2019. “Bringing along a teacher from Kent, who’s just been dumped, to the Brits is just like ‘c’mon, this is all nonsense’ – it’s wonderful nonsense the Brits is – so that was really fun. To see it through fresh eyes is really great. Hearing her go ‘Oh we saw P!nk, we were up close to P!nk’ because you can get a bit desensitised to the whole thing, a bit blasé like ‘ah it’s just the Brits’. But then suddenly you see it though Katie’s eyes and you go ‘oh yeah, this is fun’ and she really nailed it.”

The DJ showed promise as a radio DJ early on, winning ‘Best Male Presenter’ at the Student Radio Awards 2005. I ask him about his start in student radio, but he explains his passion for radio began long before he enrolled at UEA to study English and Drama. At 13, he began making his own radio shows in his bedroom, messing around with the jingles and recreating the chart show, but “didn’t really tell anyone about it”. From there he joined the local hospital radio station, taking requests and digging out CDs, before getting involved with Livewire at UEA. A desire to learn everything there was to know about the industry characterised James’ early radio career and he is keen to emphasise that he is still learning, even after over a decade at BBC Radio 1.

“You have to be obsessive. You have to be a nerd about it. I think you have to know everything, even things you don’t need to know. I need to know what Classic FM do, I need to know what Capital FM are up to at 4pm, I need to know all these things to know where I fit in.”

After his award in 2005, Greg did some shows for a radio station in Newcastle. It was then that Radio 1 got wind of the rising talent and invited him in for a pilot. He did his first show the day after he graduated. “When I got to Radio 1, I was very very new and I didn’t know anything about myself and I didn’t really understand about the radio industry that much, but I had been working at it. I wouldn’t say I’d been working hard, I’d just been enjoying it. I think in the last few years I’ve really tapped back into why I do it in the first place, and it’s because I enjoy it. You shouldn’t overthink it any more than that.”

After starting out on the Early Breakfast Show, starting at 4am, Greg moved to the drivetime show, where he accompanied listeners on their journey home from work. But after six years the DJ was beginning to grow out of this, and he says the move back to early mornings came at the right time, despite getting up before the crack of dawn. “I was done with the afternoon show. I’d had enough of finishing at. It’s just a long time to do any job, six years, and I needed a change and a new challenge. The getting up is all doable, and you know that it’s not going to last forever. There’ll be a time when they don’t want me to do the Breakfast Show on Radio 1, so you just grab it. “Also, going to bed at 9.30pm is such a great excuse not to go to things.” (If this isn’t relatable content…)

I’m keen to talk to Greg about his other great passion aside from radio – fundraising for charities. But his fund-raising efforts are more than your average bake sales, charity auctions or ‘celebrity experiences’. In 2013, Greg braved the crocodiles of the Zambezi River and in 2016 he completed five triathlons in five days. However, perhaps the most remarkable was his ‘Gregathlon’ which saw Greg cycle up the highest mountains in Wales, England and Scotland to raise money for Sport Relief’s projects to support young people living with mental health conditions. This challenge was especially gruelling and for a short while it looked like the infamous ‘Beast from the East’ might have ruined everything. But as soon as the harshest part of the storm subsided, Greg was back on his bike and competed his challenge, raising over £1 million.

“[The Gregathlon] became a metaphor for how people overcome their mental health issues. You couldn’t have written it any better really. We set out in the first week and I remember we all said to each other ‘I don’t know how this is going to go, but whatever the story is tell it and point a microphone at it, and jot all those little details down’. It’s all those little things that bring the story to life.” We talk a little about mental health, an especially acute issue at Oxford, as well as many other universities around the country.

Greg’s father-in-law, Alan Rusbridger, has been the Principal of Lady Margaret Hall since 2015, and Greg tells me that speaking to Alan has really opened his eyes to the problem. “[Alan’s] been surprised at how much he’s needed to learn quickly on the job about the stresses and strains that all the people who work and study here are under. How there’s never enough provision for peoples’ mental health. “You’re under a lot of pressure to deliver here, and you’re literally surrounded by the weight of this history of this place. It’s quite oppressive actually. It’s lovely on the one hand, but it’s largely irrelevant what Michael Gove did thirty years ago to what you’re doing now. It’s nice to have a history of a place, but people can get weighed down and overawed by it.”

Greg has his own experiences with mental health – his wife Bella has recently released a book, ‘Jog On: How Running Saved My Life’. Finding Bella is obviously something Greg is hugely grateful for, and he mentions it when I ask him about his greatest achievements. “Getting married is probably a thing I never thought would happen. I think I needed Bella to just give me the confidence to really go for the things that I believe in. She’s a really extraordinary person, and I think we really help each other because she suffers with confidence and anxiety and OCD. She’s been a really amazing addition to my life.”

It’s at this point we are interrupted again, though this time it is not a fan eager for a selfie. I am told to put my laptop away, since, of course, there are “no laptops permitted in the Union bar”. I spend the remaining five minutes of the interview surreptitiously peeking at my screen. Greg has a couple of bits of parting wisdom for me. He tells me that he is a qualified racing driver, that his first job was stacking papers in WHSmith, but he also tells me that the most important thing in life is to “be kind.” Having recently attracted media attention for ‘defending the snowflake generation’, Greg explains “being kind isn’t boring. It’s unfashionable to be kind, it’s much better to be shouty and a bit of an arsehole. Being an arsehole is in fashion.”

When we’re done, Greg transitions smoothly into his next appointment even though, in his own words, he feels “tonight I’m just going to put my mask on and then my ear plugs and just fall asleep as if I was in a coffin. I’m on my knees.” That’s the life of a radio star – the Brits, the Breakfast Show, the Oxford Union, and an interview with Cherwell, all in a days work.

The Ruling Class – ‘a new beast, though one they are competently battling’

Reem Ahmed
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The Ruling Class – ‘a new beast, though one they are competently battling’

My preview of The Ruling Class, a week before the first performance, demands quite a bit of imagination. The rehearsals take place in a rather cramped room hidden away in the recesses of St John’s College, and the worn furniture has been commandeered as a substitute for several props.

“Imagine those two chairs are a chaise longue,” the co-directors, Lev Crofts and Eddie Holmes-Milner, tell me, “and that those armchairs stacked on top of each other are a giant cross”. Later on, as we are watching a scene from the second act unfold, Crofts surreptitiously informs me that I am to understand a giant blanket that one of the actors is holding is a set of coronation robes.

Hold on: a chaise longue, a giant cross and coronation robes? Let me explain – but brace yourselves, because it’s gloriously ridiculous. The plot of The Ruling Class, a 1968 black comedy by British playwright Peter Barnes, revolves around the 14th Earl of Gurney, more commonly known as Jack. A paranoid schizophrenic, he has developed a delusion that he is in fact Jesus Christ. Now that the 13th Earl of Gurney is dead (accidental ‘autoerotic asphyxiation’, Crofts informs me – no, I don’t know either), and he has left the majority of contents of his will to his mentally ill son, classically farcical drama ensues.

Undeniably, this is a comedy driven by its characters, each memorable for their individual antics: among a few other characters, we meet Jack’s money-hungry, scheming uncle Sir Charles (played by Basil Bowdler), a bishop (played by Jack Parkin), a butler (Tucker, played by Lucy Mae Humphries) and a rather clinical, detached psychiatrist (Dr Herder, played Luke Buckley Harris). To be sure, Crofts and Holmes-Milner have chosen large shoes to fill in attempting to tackle the comedy. Tom Bannon, in playing Jack, is taking on a role first made famous by the iconic Peter O’Toole, who championed the character both on stage and later on the screen. Bannon also follows a 2015 West End revival for the play that featured an electric portrayal of Jack from James McAvoy, who earned Best Actor at the Evening Standard Theatre Awards for the performance.

In the first scene I preview, which is a scene from the first act and, I am told, comes directly after Jack’s dramatic entrance (fresh out of a mental institution), Dr Herder is in tense conversation with an irate Sir Charles about Jack’s delusion (“Why haven’t you used the knife?” Sir Charles demands, to which Dr Herder replies calmly, “Lobotomy is unnecessary in this case”).

The dark subject of mental illness is neutralised by the relentless comedy throughout – and yes, it even delivers some classic public school jibes: “He can’t forget being rejected by his mother and father at the age of eleven,’” Dr Herder claims. “They sent him away, alone, into a primitive community of licensed bullies and pederasts.” “You mean he went to a public school?” Charles replies.

When watching this preview, it’s not at all difficult to look past the makeshift set as I am instructed. Though deprived of a proper stage, Bowdler and Buckley Harris confidently command the small space they are accorded.

I must single out Bowdler in particular for the snippet of his performance as Sir Charles which I watched: bullish, angry and overbearing, he is convincing as an entitled English aristocrat, sidling up menacingly to the doctor and demanding answers.

In the next scene I preview, this time from the second act, Tom Bannon comes into his own as Jack, speaking swiftly, almost incoherently, as he further reinforces his delusion. Though Crofts informs me that I am to imagine Bannon as being singled out by a spotlight, and Sir Charles’ wife, Claire (played by Eleanor Cousins Brown), shrouded in darkness sitting on the chaise longue off to the side, the scene did not need it, as Bannon is arresting in his performance, the crescendo of his babbling speech culminating in a single loud proclamation (‘I am the Lord Jesus come again in my body!’) just before the lights come up.

This is Crofts’s and Holmes-Milner’s first production as codirectors. Both met on the set of Pirandello’s Henry IV last term, where Crofts was the Assistant Director and Holmes-Milner one of the cast members. The Ruling Class is clearly a new beast for them, though one they are both competently battling.

With the first performance looming on the horizon, and having only started rehearsing at the end of 0th week, it is clear that they are feeling the pressure (I am told, rather sheepishly, that a tutorial essay due three days ago may have been forsaken). Yet I am equally struck by how dedicated and passionate they both are about this show – after the preview, though both are still in the throes of an intense rehearsal schedule, they are both eager to talk with me more about the play itself and their experience adapting and directing it.

When I ask them what they want the audience to take away from their production of The Ruling Class, Crofts’s immediate response is simple: that “it’s fucking hilarious”. This is true – as I watched the preview, other cast and crew members could not help but laugh along with me, even though they must have watched the same scenes so many times before.

A question which struck me as I watched the preview was whether this was a play which could transcend its own time – with its rather crude treatment of mental illness (especially in light of our current mental health epidemic) and its mockery of a class system which is not quite as apparent today, is Barnes’s play outof-date, tasteless, or even offensive?

With respect to its depiction of the upper-class, Crofts rightfully points out that class is still as pervasive an issue as it was in the 20th century, citing his experience in Oxford so far as evidence of this. Coming from a state school, he tells me, institutions such as CalSoc (Oxford Caledonian Society) or pastimes such as ‘beagling’ are a million miles away from his upbringing and indicative of a long-standing class system. In his words, “you have to be involved in that sort of thing for a long time”.

With respect to its depiction of mental illness, Holmes-Milner makes a compelling argument to the contrary, describing it as a play that is essentially to do with institutionalised abandonment. He uses the second act in particular as evidence of this, as it represents a tonal shift from the first, a movement away from the absurdity to something much deeper.

It is at this point in my article where I must tread carefully, for fear of revealing too much. I think, echoing Crofts’s phrase that it is a ‘play of extremes’, is as far I can safely go – where you start when watching this production is very far from where you actually end up in the final scene. Barnes’s treatment of themes such as mental illness and class is much more nuanced than it first seems. It is precisely this which makes The Ruling Class so much more than a farcical comedy, and I recommend you head down to the BT Studio next week to see it.

The Ruling Class is at the BT Studio from Tuesday 14th until Saturday 18th May (3rd week). Tickets can be found here.


In praise of formal hall

Ernest Lee
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In praise of formal hall

Formal dinners are an unusual microcosm of Oxford life. A (generally) subsidised college service of hugely variable quality, good odds of making awkward eye contact with someone you vaguely recognise from that bop, and a great opportunity to drink on a Wednesday.

They easily become just part of college routine – or one of those things you do once and never again. All this, however, changes when you don your gown to step into another college’s hall. Someone else’s mundane evening is a whole new experience, one that you can safely navigate with the knowledge that whatever faux pas you are likely to commit will be around people you’re likely to never see again. Maybe it’s complacently sitting down at Univ after only the first ‘Dominum nostrum. Amen’, or snapping a picture of your first course in front of more eagle-eyed waitstaff.

Whatever may happen, it’s a great chance to experience dining in an unfamiliar location, experience its rich history, and discover a new bar. If you’re lucky, the food might even be good! The important thing is to just unwind and have fun, and preferably to check the menu beforehand.

To those yet unexposed to sitting in front of a foreign High Table, there are many ways to take your first steps. The easiest, of course, is to go with a friend: our time here is always busy and having an hour and a half to catch up with someone often ends up being the main attraction instead.

Alternatively there are many different, more one-off events dotted throughout term: Oxford RAG organises formal hall surfing to raise money for different charities, while exchange dinners with specific colleges are mainstays of MCRs. For the completionists among us, online groups exist for facilitate more informal exchanges, offers of hosting, or even college tours. It’s not just clubs and societies, but good conversations over dinner that are great ways to make new friends.

Nonetheless it must be acknowledged that constantly attending different formal halls isn’t everyone’s idea of having fun. Sometimes there is a good reason you haven’t been to said college: it is a long trek from St. Hilda’s to Wolfson. Dinners may run up to two, maybe two and a half, hours, particularly if you’re attending special ones like guest nights. And time isn’t the only luxury we can’t afford: some are flat-out expensive, particularly for guests. University life is far from cheap at the best of time, and so the idea of paying to participate in yet another stifling Oxford tradition may seem absurd.

Still, at other moments it can be a welcome escape, even a well-deserved treat at the end of the week. We all work hard, we’re allowed to take a break to appreciate where we are. Maybe trying out numerous formal dinners is just a reminder of how remarkably distinct the experience of living and working at different colleges can be. At times, it’s easy to forget the rich histories and architecture all brimming under the umbrella of a single university, and joined by its many traditions. It’s too big an ask to pack the little quirks and details of dining at all 44 colleges and halls into a single article: you’ll have to go experience it yourself.

Now for someone to get me into All Souls!

Daydreamers: Fantasy in the Face of Stasis

Mattie O'Donovan
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Daydreamers: Fantasy in the Face of Stasis

There’s a scene in one of my favourite films, High Fidelity (2000), in which John Cusack’s Rob plays out a number of angry reactions in his head to the arrival of his ex’s new boyfriend into his record store. We watch these short, comical scenarios play out one after the other, only to see sensibleness, or should I say mundanity, kick in, and Rob begrudgingly keeps his cool. Played for laughs, the scene is one that nevertheless continues to flesh out Rob’s incomprehension as to his fault in any of his past relationships- in other words, it reflects his and the film’s narrative crisis. While heavy handed in execution, the scene made it apparent to me that fantastical as it may be, daydreaming in film has the most purchase when it is contrasted to inertia and is not simply novel.

Episodes of such cathartic daydreaming pop up remarkably often in popular cinema, serving as shorthand for inaction and frustration of restrained desire. Whether its Seth’s increasingly absurd scenarios to get alcohol in Superbad or Cady paralleling the Plastics to vicious wildlife in Mean Girls, these vignettes work because their surrealism compliments the films’ sincere but light hearted tones. But crucially they are only passing vignettes and the characters involved do change; what happens when the escapism of daydream sequences becomes more narratively integral in film?

John Schlesinger’s Billy Liar (1963) offers a compelling case in favour of such an approach, coming straight out of the British New Wave to boot. The titular Billy (Tom Courtenay), a low-level clerk at funeral directors, indulges in Walter Mitty-Esque fantasies and uses his imagination to escape from the drudgery of his own post-war existence. Retreating to his imaginary realm of Ambrosia intermittently throughout the film, Billy inhabits it with his family, friends, girlfriends, who all admire and respect him- a stark contrast to reality.

Billy Liar, however, refuses to settle for the spectacle of Billy’s imagination alone to carry it- it illustrates expertly how such fantasies have coddled its main character into refusing to take risks, even when he claims he will. Billy is caught within a stasis that his fantasies imply he wants to escape, but which he chooses not to do out of fear, convenience and or obligation. Admittedly, there is sense that the film benefits from the visual kitchen sink realism of the sub-genre it finds itself in, serving as a natural contrast to Billy’s outlandish imagination. But thankfully, this is not to its detriment.

Comparing Billy Liar to another 1963 release, Federico’s Fellini’s 8 1/2, the utility of dreamlike fantasy states to help explain a static character becomes even more striking, albeit a lot more deconstructive. Semi-autobiographical in tone, 8 ½ refers to the number of films Fellini had made at that point in his career. The narrative follows Guido (Marcello Mastroianni), a popular Italian director struggling to make his next film, a film he earnestly wants to be “honest”, and which stands in sharp juxtaposition with his fraught and adulterous life. But the two converge more throughout the film, as Guido’s surreal fantasies and memories begin to crop up, while his own film looks increasingly like it will not be made.

Superficially, it would appear a creative block is the root of what compels Guido to be inert and dissatisfied. Like Billy, he adopts a looser grip to reality than most, as a way to escape; one particularly infamous scene sees Guido waited on by his own harem, made up of previous romantic partners and figures from childhood. Moreover, inertia in the realities of Guido and Billy is what propels the fantastical plane of their daydreams. But where the films differ is how such daydreams are played in relation to reality. There is never much doubt as to the reality of Billy’s existence- his daydreams are abrupt enough departures to be identified easily. Fellini’s baroque style and childhood sequences place Guido’s reverie in flux, and make the audience consider the line between his daydreams and his film to be intentionally blurred. 8 ½ is as such a film that examines the creative quagmire its protagonist faces when attempting to turn the fantasy of his film into a reality that we are not sure is 100% genuine.

But how have more contemporary releases fared with the role of the daydreamer in character development? Well, our fascination with dreams certainly has not waivered- Inception, Total Recall, Shutter Island are but a few examples that can attest to that. But daydreaming as a form of fantastical reprieve is a subject matter that is proving more difficult to translate without coming across as kitschy or self-regarding. Tepid reviews to Robert Zemeckis’s recent Welcome to Marwen (2018), for instance, reflect the dangers of when daydreaming is chalked up to cloying sentimentality and little else.

It is easy to understand how such a danger can arise. The visual opportunities that daydreaming sequences offer to even independent modern films, means that the stasis of their characters is at risk of being discounted for spectacle and whimsy. There needs to be a crisis of substance within a character for the fantastical elements to matter- otherwise audiences remained jaded and unable to resonate. Even the king of bizarre cult fantasy, Charlie Kauffman (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich) has noted this in the past: “I think if something resonates, even if it’s surreal, it’s because it is relatable, and I think that that’s a core issue for me”.

That relatability may not be absolute- how many of us can relate completely with an angsty Italian director? – but an understanding of the constraints of reality is more crucial than we anticipate. If a film wants us to escape down the rabbit hole of fantasy and dreamlike escapism, it first needs to ask why.

The Conservatives are on the brink of collapse

Euan Huey
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The Conservatives are on the brink of collapse

Local elections are notoriously bad indicators of public opinion at large, often reflecting voters’ concerns over issues like bin collections and school buses as much as national politics. In spite of this popular cloak of ambiguity, last week’s election results show clearly a Conservative party in total meltdown. Despite an emerging consensus that both parties were rejected by voters, only one of them faces a fundamental, existential threat.

The heavy losses of “Shire” voters suffered by the Conservatives on Thursday’s election spell deep trouble for their supporters, and the focus on the performance of both parties downplays the cost of this Brexit fiasco on the Conservative party’s identity. No longer can they call themselves “the natural party of government” – clearly voters don’t agree. In recent years, the internal divisions within the Labour party caused doubts to arise over its very right to exist. Then, Conservative MPs looked on and smirked. Now, the smiles should be long gone, as they face a crisis of an even bigger scale. The party which predates the existence of British politics itself is teetering on the brink of collapse.

The loss at the local elections of over 1,300 councillors and 45 councils should, in a political world that was still tethered to reality, not just raise alarm bells but break them. These deep losses extend as far as the deepest of blue constituencies, with Windsor and Maidenhead Royal Borough conservatives losing twenty-four seats on the Prime Minister’s own doorstep.

At the start of the 2017 general election campaign, the age at which the average voter moved from supporting the Labour party to the Conservative party was 34. By the end of that campaign it was 47. Now it is 51. If the Conservative party still harbour any hopes of winning a general election (and if we’re honest it’s doubtful that they do), then the next generation of their local, regional and national leaders must act now. Theresa May has found herself bound and gagged by the hard-right of her party and padlocked by the fantasies of her own red lines on Brexit. In short, she has overseen a government of consistent crisis and, unless she can learn the tricks of the illusionist Houdini (and fast!), she has left herself no escape from a self-dug grave.

The intransigence and stubborness of May’s premiership has cost her party dearly. The damage of the bitter legacy of her government, which has overseen the worst self-inflicted national crisis since Suez, may be too deep to overcome. But in actual fact, the solution to this chaos is clear, and attainable.

If we cast our minds back to just over a month ago, although it feels like a lifetime ago (and one we’d rather forget), the Boles Amendment lauded by even those on the Labour frontbench – a Common Market 2.0 – failed marginally after ferocious whipping by the government. The Boles moment can be pinpointed as the moment when common sense evaporated from the Conservative party, and it was the moment that the calamitous results of these local elections were conceived. Had Conservative MPs voted in favour, they may well have been in a far stronger position that they are in currently. And many of us are left wondering: is it too late for the Conservative party to hear reason, and pull themselves and our country back from the brink of implosion?

The extent of the calamity is made clear by the recent actions of disgraced former minister, Gavin Williamson, who, on being sacked from the cabinet, has splashed his personal assaults on the Prime Minister across the press. This tumour of irrationality now has now infected and spread throughout the Conservative party, with all the old rules being thrown out of the window. The far-right of the party now act as though they are intent on the party’s destruction, stirred by the rise of Trump and the alt-right in America. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that many of them were weighing up jumping ship and joining UKIP. To claim this path of revolutionary right-wing politics, they have bled poison into the Conservative party and picked off the moderate Tory MPs, such as Nick Boles and Dominic Grieve.

A party with no room for them is a party that will suffer, and a national politics with no room for advocates of moderate and consensual government is a country on the road to a very dark place indeed. For the sake of our country, one can only hope the Boles moment is soon surpassed rather than written into the history books of British politics.

For Labour, last Thursday’s result is not a particularly pleasant picture, but nor should it be a particularly worrying one. There is of course a sense that Remain voters are gravitating towards the Liberal Democrats rather than to Labour, but it shows Labour’s constructive ambiguity on Brexit has payed off for them, at least electorally, given their ability to hold on in leave areas and make some inroads into the South East.

But the criticisms of this approach have firm foundations. With a government fighting for its survival, the time to sit by and spectate should be over. Labour, if they choose to take anything from these results, should speak to their values and articulate a clear vision of how we escape this Brexit quagmire we have found ourselves in. They can push towards the Boles Amendment, May willing, or they can pull away from the ‘centre’ and push for a People’s Vote. In many ways, a clear message is the overriding concern for Labour now, in contrast to the chaos which defines the current state of the government.

For now, this seems incredibly unlikely – Labour’s approach to Brexit has also been hampered by the hugely diverse views held by members. Whether they could settle on one stance conclusively is far from clear. But if Labour takes this opportunity to lead, there’s no telling the rewards that could be reaped. This is not, after all, a strong or stable majority government. The longer Mrs May’s deal remains unpassed without any prospective alternative available to her, the greater the chance of a general election to break the deadlock and Labour capitalising on the Conservative Party’s weakness.

Luke Skywalker: The Fantasy of a Hero

Kristian Hallett
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Luke Skywalker: The Fantasy of a Hero

The first Star Wars film that I ever properly watched was Revenge of the Sith. It remains an epic that details the rise of one of the greatest cinematic villains of all time: Darth Vader. The film fascinated me with a litany of quickly-killed villains, shoddy dialogue, and CGI that is steadily aging like milk. I say this with great irony, since my six-year-old self was hooked, and my adoration for Star Wars has continued ever since. But why, despite the clear flaws of Star Wars – a franchise torn between three trilogies each at least a decade apart from the next– has it remained such a cultural phenomenon?

The appeal of Star Wars is grounded in deep nostalgia. Nostalgia for the characters, for the world that has been adoringly built over the decades, and for the viewing experience itself. After nine episodes, how could any fan resist another glance into the fantasy they have grown so comfortable in. The universe is strangely inviting despite its creep towards the authoritarian and the unstable. We trust Obi Wan when he speaks judgementally of a “hive of scum and villainy” and we feel Princess Leia’s slightly underwhelming reaction when Alderaan is destroyed. Star Wars is at its strongest when it weaves the darkest moments with the light and it’s carried by its likeable but archetypical characters: the space wizard, the space scoundrel, and the space princess. The reason why we love Star Wars is clear: escapism, fantasy, and the vicarious joy of the Hero’s Journey.

It’s a structure that we’re all familiar with. A young person embarks on a journey beyond their homestead with an old, idiosyncratic mentor who spouts platitudes and dies thankfully early. From here, the hero faces a crisis of inner turmoil, a confrontation with their ‘main’ villain, and a final rebirth where they overcome all challenges. Having faced their destiny, they return home for a final time where they ascend from man to myth. This is not a new storyline.

All this may be why The Last Jedi, the latest saga film, bore a great deal of criticism for its handling of Luke Skywalker, one such hero, and led to many questions about Disney’s understanding of the franchise. This criticism, though, actually reveals something I see as a success for the Luke Skywalker ‘fantasy’. Disney made one great step forward for Star Wars: they dared to be depressing.

The great Luke Skywalker, a legend, had retreated into hiding, as the myth had become only a distant memory. Luke rejected his role as mentor, and thus his complicity in the next ‘iteration’ of the Hero’s Journey. The cycle of Star Wars had stopped. The fantasy was shattered, as fans were left confronting a depressing and cyclical universe that reneged on character development. Then, at the end of the film, Luke atoned for his apathy with his death.

Yet when we lost Luke, Kylo Ren also lost a mentor, and Luke faced his homecoming, his final stage ending his tale as he had started it: facing the twin suns, head held high, and soundtrack triumphant. Rian Johnson’s treatment of Luke, whilst bittersweet, was sobering. It gave Star Wars some needed maturity. Growing up against this third cycle, seeing such ‘maturity’ operates as a reflection of the real life of the fan. Luke Skywalker is not infallible, and neither are we. We spend most of our lives fearing failure or attempting to overcome it. As we see in Empire, having your hand cut off (by your dad of all people) is a challenge, but Luke has it replaced in the following scene. By comparison, dealing with self-loathing, creeping doubt, and the repercussions of responsibility allows us to appreciate the flawed but relatable character of Luke. We are forced to reconcile the former image of ‘Luke The Hero’, the unbeatable image of adoration, with this new portrayal, something which, though it might be difficult for die-hard fans who have based their confidence and ego on the hero’s own, is a necessary step.

We inevitably turn to The Rise of Skywalker. How is the saga ending? Will Disney do it properly? This, dear reader, I cannot answer. But I’m optimistic. I was concerned when I saw that Kylo Ren’s helmet had been put back together in the teaser for IX. But I see now what it represents: renewed strength from the challenges that he’s faced. Kylo Ren is embarking on the final stage of an inverted Hero’s Journey.

Standing in the stage-wings is Sheev “The Senate” Palpatine. Darth Sidious represents the foil to everything ‘Skywalker’. He is designed to lack humanity and rob it from those around him. He is Satan, whom Palpatine’s actor, Ian McDiarmid, has previously played in Paradise Lost. So his presence in Episode IX is reassuring. It shows that Disney still subscribe to fantasy, to the Hero’s Journey, and know that the rise of every great hero happens in the shadow of a great villain. Laugh away, Sidious. Your overconfidence is your weakness.

Poets raise concerns over new Professor of Poetry age limit

Charlotte Moberly
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Poets raise concerns over new Professor of Poetry age limit

Several poets have spoken out against new rules on age introduced for this year’s Oxford Professor of Poetry candidates. Poets cannot stand if they are over 69 years old, which has ruled out poet Michael Horovitz from running for the position.

The Professorship is one of the most prestigious positions for poets, and has previously been held by poets such as Seamus Heaney and Matthew Arnold. The main role of the Professor is to give a termly public lecture. A new professor is selected every four years. The University announced it was opening nominations for the position last month.

Horovitz, who stood for election in 2010 and had been intending to run again, first raised the issue of the new age limit on Twitter.

Several other poets soon came to his support, pointing out that it can take longer for some poets to get their careers off the ground. Sasha Dugdale commented: “This is discrimination – age caps for this type of honorary position work against women and BAME candidates who have to work much harder for longer to establish themselves as serious contenders.”

The age limit was imposed to bring the position into line with other University academic positions’ retirement policies. Under Council Regulations 3, an academic and academic-related employee should be retired by the Employer Justified Retirement Age (EJRA), meaning that under normal circumstances all staff should retire by the 30th September preceding their 69th birthday.

According to the University’s website, the EJRA is intended “primarily to enable refreshment, inter-generational fairness and improvements in diversity.”

However, some of those opposed to the move have suggested the Professorship should not Poets raise concerns over new Professor of Poetry age limit be treated in the same category as full-time teaching work.

Patience Agbabi, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature who studied at Oxford, said: “They’ve made the mistake of assuming the post is comparable to a full-time teaching position. It’s exactly the kind of role that should be open to ALL poets.”

The position has previously been held by poets in their seventies. Christopher Ricks, who was Professor of Poetry between 2004 and 2009, was 70 when he was elected, while Geoffrey Hicks took on the position aged 78.

In a letter to the Guardian, Horovitz called on the University to change the policy. He said: “Applying conventional retirement rules to a four- to five-year job feels like a retrograde step on the part of Oxford. such discrimination is particularly inimical to the roles poetry and poets play in society.

“To rule out the potential contributions of numerous older poets who may want to apply in years to come, at a point in life when they will be likely to have achieved a considerable knowledge of poetic arts and crafts, seems not just unfair, but wilfully to defy administrative logic.

“I beseech my Oxford alma mater to rethink this blind, blanket application of routinely youthist policy, which will limit the dissemination of thought and learning from the very people who have devoted long careers to poetry, for what appears to be no good reason whatever.”

Nominations for candidacy closed on Thursday afternoon, with the final list of confirmed candidates including Alice Oswald and Andrew Macmillan.

Candidate’s statements will be published on 23rd May, and voting will be open from this date until 20th June. The results of the election will be declared at a meeting of Convocation on 21st June.

Language Centre Library closure woes continue

Samuel Blanès Targett
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Language Centre Library closure woes continue

As the petition to save the Language Centre library from closure approaches 2,000 signatures, information obtained exclusively by Cherwell reveals how the closure was set in motion.

A consultation on the library’s future began in February this year, but by this point new restrictions were already being placed on spending. The librarian, Lucile Deslignères, was ordered not to make any purchases without her line manager’s approval.

In December 2018, all but one of the library’s computers were removed and the number of private study spaces was reduced to three. A month later, on 16th of January, the library’s award-winning social media accounts, with thousands of followers in total, were either shut down or taken over by management.

The first indications of an official process emerged on 11th of February, when library staff (one of whom had only begun her job a month earlier) were made aware of potential redundancies. They were soon after given a three-month period to accept voluntary severance, which originally ended on 17th of May, two weeks before the library consultation itself ended.

Following this, it was reported to Cherwell that Ms. Deslignères and her colleagues were relieved of many duties, despite assurances throughout the consultation process that no final decision had been taken. Although the consultation had begun by mid-February, information allegedly remained restricted to a small group of Language Centre and Administration Division staff.

When Ms. Deslignères spoke to her Bodleian colleague, responsible for re-homing the library’s 14,000-item collection, she reported that “no one had heard anything”.

In response to the apparent lack of external input into the consultation, on February 27th a petition was published by Ms. Deslignères calling for the library to remain open.

Shortly after, a brief note was published on the Language Centre website, summarising the situation and inviting comments. This was also sent out in an email to Language Centre “learners” (i.e. those enrolled on language courses), although registered library users were not officially notified until May 8th – only 3 weeks before the consultation’s end date.

When feedback was first welcomed Svenja Kunze, of Oxford’s University and College Union branch, told Cherwell that the move was possibly made “in the hope [that the consultation] will be forgotten by the start of Trinity”.

Outrage from library staff has persisted, with a letter to the Editor of the Oxford Magazine from a Duty Officer of the Bodleian and Editor of the Journal of the Printing Historical Society, Paul Nash, condemning the “managerial weasel-wordage” surrounding the consultation: “The need to increase efficiency’ really means ‘the desire to save money’.

“Where once responsible managers saw the intellectual and educational value of the stock and resources they managed, and of their front-line staff, now they see only a financial burden. Many of the current generation of library managers are not custodians of wisdom but mere bean-counters.”

Initial criticism of the library proposals was largely based on their substance, with plans for closure described by Taylor Institution Subject Consultant Nick Hearn as threatening “to destroy a collection of national importance”.

Criticism is increasingly focusing, however, on the manner in which the consultation is being carried out, with the UCU stating that this raises “many questions” with “not enough answers”.

When contacted for comment, the AAD office contested claims made by staff, telling Cherwell: “We are currently consulting on proposed changes to the Language Centre library, in the light of low and declining usage, the increasing availability of online learning materials, and the need to increase efficiency to meet budget targets set for university services.

“No decision has yet been taken about proposals. A paper will be considered by the General Purposes Committee of Council on 1st July. This committee will then make a recommendation to Council on 15th July 2019.

“The consultation with affected staff is being carried out according to University policies. In line with agreed procedures, those affected were given advance notice that their posts may be at risk of redundancy at the start of the consultation process. This advance notice period will last until Council has reviewed the recommendations.”

“There has been no reduction in the library budget, or access to library facilities or resources. We are maintaining the budget and access to the library at previous levels until a decision on the proposals is made by Council.

“Further information, including the consultation paper and online survey, as well as information about an Open Forum event that took place on 7th May, can be found on the Language Centre website.”

Hungary’s Holocaust distortion

Edward Rhys Jones
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Hungary’s Holocaust distortion

There’s a stillness in the air around the site of the House of Fates, the new Holocaust museum in the run-down suburb of Józsefváros, just outside central Budapest. Temporary metal fences guard stairs around the perimeter, and armed police officers remove anyone who stands too close. Originally scheduled to open in 2014, it remains largely an empty shell, with furniture on the inside still wrapped in protective packaging. The building nevertheless makes itself seen, with a knowing lack of subtlety: the giant, elevated Star of David, which is supposed to be illuminated at night, sits between two rusty, metal buildings that resemble cattle cars.

On the part of historians, Holocaust educators, and Jewish groups, there exists wellfounded fear about the new museum, namely, that it will continue along the lines of a familiar narrative that begins with a museum elsewhere in the city: the House of Terror in the centre of Budapest, which opened in 2002 under the direction of Dr Maria Schmidt.

The House of Terror itself is a jarring and bizarre edutainment experience that blends together themed rooms on Hungary’s Nazi and Soviet occupations. The museum is nothing if not solemn, and you could be mistaken for thinking it means well. But look again: there is a political sleight of hand. The focus is on Nazism, intertwined with Communism. Hungarians are portrayed as victimised and powerless, their country rid of responsibility. The back of the information leaflet from when I visited thanked Orbán by name for his support for the project.

This is why many Holocaust historians, educators and Jews in Hungary have voiced concerns about the new museum. Dr Schmidt, who assumed the role of Director at the House of Fates, wanted to present a flawed vision of “love between Hungarian Jews and non-Jews” according to an interview with the blog Hungarian Spectrum. Schmidt has claimed that the museum has been subject to an “orgy of hate” from critics, which include the Israeli Holocaust museum Yad Vashem and the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

Her replacement as the project’s public face, Rabbi Slomó Köves, is known for being careful with his words. Although he received his doctorate in 2007 from the University of Debrecen in Eastern Hungary, there have been concerns raised internationally over his professional credentials as a curator and spokesperson of the broader Jewish community – and, furthermore, over his willingness to compromise with the government. In an interview with the conservative news website Origo, he has said that Jewish congregations should not take sides in political matters. Attempts to find common ground with the wider Jewish community in Budapest and more widely have been slow and pained, with a number of high-profile organisations giving up on the project entirely.

The greatest fear, amongst many, is that Hungary’s inability to recognise its own complicity in the Holocaust gives a carte blanche for Orbán (who studied political science for a short period at Pembroke College) to continue unchecked along the road to authoritarianism. It’s a path he has already made great strides along. Portraying Hungary as entirely the victim of so many years of terror, regardless of whether it is Nazi or Soviet (with little to distinguish between the two), has become a leitmotif in the rhetoric of Hungary’s popular right. Terror is terror, they claim – all of it imposed upon Hungary and never coming from within.

In speaking to the Hungarians who remain critical of the ruling party Fidesz, there already exists the belief that Orbán rules his country without any real challenge, and that the Országgyűlés has become a rubber-stamp Parliament. “There is no democracy any more in Hungary,” one student told me. In recent years, Orbán has targeted media freedom, immigrants and academia (most notably, the George Soros-funded Central European University, which is currently in the process of moving across the border to Vienna). Courtrooms and state newsrooms alike are packed with voices sympathetic to the ruling party. Internationally, Orbán has keenly espoused a resurgent European and global hard-right perspective.

Most notably, he has a close relationship with the Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu (who earlier this year led a scorched-earth election campaign built on authoritarian principles), and has praised Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro (who has frequently spoken out in support of the country’s former military dictatorship).

For all of the political concern that surrounds the museum and all it represents, it is still a quiet place – although not for long, if we’re to believe the Hungarian Prime Minister’s office. In a press conference last September, Dr Schmidt, Rabbi Köves, and Minister Gergely Gulyás anticipated an opening later this year, with the Government providing 2 billion florints (6.1 million euros) to the museum’s owners as well as contributing towards operating costs.

Köves, thanking Gulyás at the end of the conference, added that “every Secondary School pupil must visit this museum at least once”. The museum’s target demographic is young people: what are the lessons the museum expects to teach them? Though debates over curation and management continue, the project is quickly becoming an embarrassment. It is clear that opening is now a priority.

University’s visa advice to student a potential breach of immigration law

Ben van der Merwe
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University’s visa advice to student a potential breach of immigration law

A St Hilda’s student was advised by the University to travel to the UK on a tourist visa, a potential breach of immigration laws, Cherwell can reveal.

Anyone applying for a tourist visa must state that their main purpose of travel is not studying. The University told Cherwell that use of the Bodleian libraries alone “probably doesn’t meet the Home Office’s idea of study.”

The student had suspended her studies due to a serious illness and returned to her home country as a result. She was asked to continue her studies during her suspension, which necessitated the use of the Bodleian libraries.

The student requested a new Tier 4 visa to allow her to return to the UK but was informed that this would not be available possible the next academic year under Home Office rules.

Emails seen by Cherwell show that when she approached St Hilda’s for assistance, the College’s academic registrar advised her to travel to the UK on a tourist visa: “I have spoken with the University Student Immigration team about your situation.

“They tell me that if you want to come to the UK to use the library, you will need to organise a tourist visa to do so.”

The student responded to the email by writing: “Is there any chance you [could] have a conversation with the emigration team once more? “Because opening the tourist visa would be a lie – I don’t come to the UK for tourism in this case, I come simply for study, and I don’t like lying.”

Speaking to Cherwell, the student added: “I believe that foreign students can be taken better care of.

“When we accept our offers, we agree to the fact that Oxford will be executing some form of control over us. They put forth certain requirements and work targets that we have to fulfil to complete our degrees.

“It is rather strange, however, that having made the rules of the game clear, the Oxford administration then starts putting up barriers that make it more difficult to fulfil their own criteria.”

The College responded by reiterating their position, telling the student: “Under Home Office legislation, the University Student Immigration team cannot process an application for your new Tier 4 visa with a start date earlier than the start of October.

“Therefore, your only available route if you want to use Oxford libraries is to come to the UK on a short term tourist visa.”

It is legal to study for up to 30 days on a tourist visa, but according to Home Office guidance: “The study must be an extra activity that you do during your visit to the UK, and can’t be the main purpose of your visit.”

Speaking to Cherwell, St. Hilda’s academic registrar Rebekah Unwin explained: “After receiving the student’s initial email earlier this week, I spoke with the University Student Immigration Team, who advised that under Home Office legislation they cannot process a request for a Tier 4 visa with a start date earlier than the start of the academic year and that therefore if the student plans to come to the UK for a couple of weeks in the summer the only course of action open to her is to apply for a tourist visa.

“I then passed this advice on to the student, and also advised her to make contact with the Immigration Team herself for further details.”

Asked about the student’s use of the Bodleian library, the University’s Tier 4 visa compliance unit said: “If someone is coming to use a library without enrolling on a short course, or being accepted by a UK institution to undertake research or be taught about research, then this might not meet the Home Office’s idea of study and therefore would probably not be a problem for a visitor to carry out, even if it was the main purpose of their trip.”

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