Joe
Ted Bundy Reinvented
‘We can still be friends’: Thoughts about my Exes
I first realised I was a teeny bit in love when I heard “The Winner Takes It All” playing on the radio, and I got terribly upset at the thought of being dumped by my girlfriend. Very twee of me. And rather inconvenient, since I’d caught feelings in the middle of A-Levels: I even skived off revising the Third Crusade in order to lose my virginity. But in my defence, I’d never felt that way before. Oh, there’d been other people. From fumbled schoolboy kisses in the bike shelters after crappy discos to teenage dates in art galleries (pretending to be rather more cultured than I am) I’d had my fair share. But this was my first proper girlfriend. More than that, despite the cliché, this was the first person I’d really fallen for. I couldn’t get her out of my head. She was in the place where Saladin and Richard the Lionheart should have been. Dearest reader, I was a happy young fool; a happy young fool in what Hollywood calls lurve.
So with that experience, I have sufficient authority to say that that whoever it was that first said it was better loving and losing someone than never loving them at all was talking right out of their arse.
Obviously, she dumped me. Her reasoning was perfectly justifiable, and she was very sensible about it. I nodded along, agreed when she said we’d still be friends, and left amicably. Once I got home, I preceded to crank up the ABBA and start crying. My Dad tried to perk me up a bit – “son, in life, you go out with lots of people, they break up with you, until there’s one person that doesn’t” – but it didn’t work. I was far more interested in being morose than moving on. I’m a humanities student, so being a tortured romantic (and Romantic) has a natural appeal. However, I was much less Percy Shelley, and much more a bit of a moron. I haven’t talked to her since.
It’s been different with Girlfriend 2. Mainly that’s because we can’t afford to avoid each other. Short version is: friends, went out, split up. But since we’re at the same college, with the same friends, asides from ostracising ourselves from society, we’ve had to find a way to get along. She’s been much better at in than me. I was far too mopey and shy, whereas she toughed it out and is now doing better than ever. I wasted a term being an idiot, made the blood a lot more bad than I should have done, and was – once again – a bit of a moron.
Which is sad, because she was lovely. Genuinely lovely. We got along like a house on fire. She cared for me, and made me smile like no one I’ve ever known. I royally cocked it up, and got depressed about it. I knew I’d let her down and shot myself in the foot. So I’ve resolved to do better this term. Not to get back together with her – both agreed that shouldn’t and won’t ever happen – but just to get along.
Admittedly, mixed results so far. We’ve had a chat, and I can look her in the eye again. I even made her laugh recently, which felt brilliant. Baby steps, but I think we’ll be alright.
Because it seems obvious to me that if you like someone enough to date, then you like them enough to spend time together, ask them about their day and make sure they’re doing alright. It can be tough (especially if you’re a sad sod like me). But much like Avengers: Endgame, it makes sense in hindsight. You can wonder what might have been, why it all went wrong, and curse the fact that Ross and Rachel made it look way too easy. But if you can be happy for them, if you can smile when they mention their date that night, or laugh together the way that only friends can, then things will work out okay.
I really hope I can get there with my second ex. Truly. Especially as she was much nicer person, in hindsight, than my first one. I fell in love because I was young, foolish and, surprise, a bit of a moron. Oh well. Provides good copy, if nothing else.
Unbelieva-ball
As Trinity term begins, so does ball season at Oxford. No doubt a great deal of students are looking forward to this much-appreciated reprieve from studying (and stressing out over not studying), especially when many of us have exams, but is this the case for everyone?
There is an undeniable air of sophistication around the idea of a ball, and it’s always nice to immerse yourself in that every once in a while, but at a lot of universities, Oxford in particular, these balls breed elitism and the very class-divide that the university is supposed to be trying to quell. This may sound like an attack on something very well-intentioned and just generally enjoyable, but selectively enjoyable things that exclude certain people on the grounds of wealth and social upbringing need to be reformed.
Unlike a lot of things at Oxford, balls are not an exclusive tradition, and other universities do it too. Perhaps this makes it more acceptable, considering that wherever you go, there will probably be a ball and it sure won’t be free. However, the average cost of a ball ticket at St. Andrew’s, another old, prestigious university, is £35. The ‘cheapest’ ball ticket at Oxford ranges around the £85-£90 price tag, usually increasing in price for extra privileges, such as a meal or some free drinks.
Oxford may be one of the best universities around the world, but if we pay the same as everyone else for tuition, why can’t we pay the same for entertainment? St. Andrews can pull off balls that are just as good as ours, so why are they over double the price here? Oxford as an institution has grown comfortable with cutting out certain groups of people in the past, but that by no means makes it an acceptable practice in the present.
I knew well before I arrived at Oxford that I would not be going to any balls. The money that I would have to put into attending even one would set me back far more than I deem it worthy to spend a night in a suit drinking cocktails. This is the reality for a lot of students here, and it makes one lose faith in the promises that the university has made to iron out elitism and make the university accessible and enjoyable to everyone, regardless of background.
This is hardly something I lose sleep over, but what I didn’t know was that I would be made a fuss of for not going. As a result, I must vacate my room for the night of the college ball, which ultimately I see as an insult. Do they think I’m going to try and sneak into the ball? Maybe that has happened before, maybe they have to take precautions, but nevertheless, being moved to a different building for a night feels like an attack on my decision (that essentially wasn’t much of a decision) to not go to a ball. I would have been happy to stay in my room all night and not be a disturbance; I take this action as a lack of trust and a disrespect to my reasons for not attending.
It also serves as a physical separation of students that is centred around their financial background – I know that some people won’t be going simply because they don’t want to, but for those without a choice this feels very much like a physical manifestation of the class separations that Oxford is supposed to be fighting against. Going to such lengths to make sure a person cannot be included in something feels very wrong to me, and perhaps the university instead should be going to these lengths to make sure that everyone has the opportunity to be included.
In all honesty, I wish I didn’t have to sound like I am trying to stop anybody from having fun and making the most out of their time at university, yet it seems unfair for certain types of enjoyment to be exclusively for those with the money. Yes, I am aware that essentially that’s how life works, but when there is an opportunity to avoid this, why wouldn’t anyone take it, especially at a university that is as wealthy as this? It almost feels like the poorer students are being punished for their financial situation – colleges and the university as an institution offer great financial support for people who are really struggling, but there is no way to justify needing a bursary on the grounds of unacademic, entertainment-based activities, and even if there was, it simply doesn’t feel right to be having to take this money for something like a ball, which should already be accessible to all.
The future of Oxford is the hands of its students – it’s our responsibility to decide whether to cast off old, elitist traditions and move towards a place of equity, or continue along a path of financial discrimination that crops up in places that the institution seems to overlook. So let’s do the right thing.
Review: At Eternity’s Gate
It is worth watching At Eternity’s Gate for Julian Schnabel’s mesmerising cinematography alone. This new biopic of Vincent van Gogh, with the titular character played by William Dafoe, is rich with contextual information about the painter’s life and explores the profound bond he shared with his younger brother Theo, as portrayed by Rupert Friend. It also examines, in great detail, his history of mental illness and the blackouts he experienced during his worst psychotic breaks.
Dafoe honours our cultural memory of this artist and provides us with a perspective on the man as much as the artist. Though prone to violent outbreaks, such as the shocking scene when van Gogh screamed at a group of French children and chased them across a field, van Gogh is largely presented as a gentle-giant, at his happiest with a paint-brush in his hand. One of the aspects which surprised me the most was the kind of hero-worship which characterised the relationship between Paul Gauguin (Oscar Isaac) and van Gogh – at least as portrayed by the film – as van Gogh was left heartbroken at his friend’s decision to leave ‘him’ (as he viewed it) and cut off his own ear, ostensibly to gift it to his fellow painter, not to a prostitute as pop culture has suggested.
In March 1886, van Gogh, moved from Antwerp to live with his brother Theo, thus heralding the beginning of his famous ‘Paris Years,’ until February 1888. It was under his brother’s guidance that Van Gogh became a member of the group of young avant-garde artists experimenting with new styles, attending the eighth and final exhibition of the French Impressionists work in Paris that same year. The Impressionists and the colour theories of Chevreul helped to alter his style which was to become still freer. Van Gogh’s original work was nurtured by Gauguin whose disregard for the conventional methods of painting forged a strong friendship between the two of them. Despite the exaggerated presentation of van Gogh as a kind of Messiah-figure the film beautifully showcases the French countryside and the layer of ‘fairy dust’ which has been scattered across this motion picture renders it the more poignant if anything.
The time which van Gogh spent committed to the Saint-Remy sanatorium was intercut with shots of him in conversation with his doctor, portrayed by Mathieu Amalric, whose eyes regularly fill with tears at the suffering this artist experiences. The ending of the film, with van Gogh’s prolonged death, is emotional – as is to be expected, and left me a little tearful. However, I do cry a lot so this might not be the best indicator of the film’s emotional impact. Schnabel follows the new cinematic trend in portraying van Gogh’s death as a tragic accident, as accepted by the recent animation Loving Vincent, offering the less critically acclaimed version of the events surrounding his death.
A film like this did not need to be produced, of course, the easiest way to understand an artist is always through their actual work. But I’m glad it was. It is a powerful portrayal of an artist who has always suffered under our misconceptions of him; then as now. One cannot help but think that van Gogh would be appalled by his fantastic immortalisation and would struggle to believe that one of his paintings could now sell for hundreds of millions of pounds. Van Gogh was a man of simple tastes, wanting only money for his painting equipment and food. The scenes where van Gogh wanders through the French countryside, breathing in the air as if it is the only thing keeping him sane and alive, feel very pertinent today for a world consumed by the excess and trappings of luxury. Like van Gogh, we too should go back to basics and strip away the learned fantasy, drawing upon what we know to be true within ourselves.
Uni announces two new access schemes in “sea change for admissions”
The University of Oxford has announced two ambitious new access programmes, set to bring in up to 250 students from disadvantaged backgrounds annually by 2023.
The two new programmes, Opportunity Oxford and Foundation Oxford, both aim to increase the number of students from socio-economically or otherwise disadvantaged groups, including carers and refugees.
According to a University press release, “When fully up and running, these major new programmes will offer transformative paths to outstanding education for up to 250 state school students a year, representing 10% of Oxford’s undergraduate intake.
“This represents a significant step change for the University, boosting the proportion of students coming to Oxford from underrepresented backgrounds from 15% of the current UK intake to 25%.”
The first programme, Opportunity Oxford, will introduce a study programme for up to 200 students who have lodged a “normal” application to the University and are on course to achieve their entry grades but need additional support to “bridge the gap” between secondary school and university.
The programme will provide a structured course of study at home, as well as a two-week residential study course before the start of the first term. It will introduce students to lectures, tutorials, and university level group and individual work, and will also work to build on the students’ subject knowledge and academic abilities.
According to the University, this will allow these students to “begin undergraduate study with greater confidence, new friends and familiarity with life at university.”
Some students on the Opportunity Oxford programme may be those who have previously failed to meet the University’s entry requirements.
The second programme, Foundation Oxford, will run a university-wide version of the “Foundation Year” scheme pioneered at Lady Margaret Hall, and will “be offered to students who have experienced personal disadvantage or severely disrupted education.”
According to the University, “The scheme aims to open up places to students with high academic potential who, owing to their circumstances, are not yet in a position to make a competitive Oxford application.
“Eligible students could include refugees and children in care or with care responsibilities themselves. Once in operation, offers for Foundation Oxford will be made on the basis of lower contextual A-level grades, rather than the University’s standard offers.”
Successful applications will then undergo a one year, subject-specific programme building their capacity for university level study: those who are successful will then move onto the Oxford undergraduate degree for which they were admitted.
The current plan is for the University to phase these programmes in, building to 200 Opportunity Oxford and 50 Foundation Oxford places by 2023.
The programmes are inspired by Univ’s existing Opportunity Programme and LMH’s innovative Foundation Year scheme.
According to the University, “The schemes offer students the chance to immerse themselves in the Oxford environment, developing their study skills and their subject knowledge. The students will benefit from the University’s internationally outstanding teaching facilities while living and studying in a college community.
“By the end of their programmes they will have developed the confidence to meet the challenges of a demanding undergraduate degree. Both schemes will be free and students’ residential and living costs will be fully funded throughout the courses.”
The Vice Chancellor, Louise Richardson, claimed: “This is a sea change in Oxford admissions. Colleagues from across the University, its colleges and departments have united behind a commitment to accelerate the pace at which we are diversifying our student body and ensuring that every academically exceptional student in the country knows that they have a fair chance of a place at Oxford.”
Meanwhile SU President Joe Inwood said: “This is a major step forward in improving access to Oxford. Students are excited to see the University commit to these new initiatives, and it is a reflection on student efforts to bring this to the forefront of the University agenda.
“Oxford SU has long held access at the heart of our work, so this is excellent news for Oxford students.”
According to the University, the new programmes will “build on the success of Oxford’s existing activities to open its doors to a wider field of students. These include the UNIQ summer school, the Oxnet communities initiative and the use of contextual information to select students for undergraduate courses.
“Most recent figures for the 2019 intake show a record 64.5% of offers were made to students from state schools while 15.7% of offers went to students from the most under-represented backgrounds.
“This summer will see UNIQ expand by 50% to help a total of 1,350 state school pupils from disadvantaged backgrounds transform their chances of making a successful application to Oxford.”
Ffion Price, who studied on Univ’s Bridging Programme, said: “As a student who knows first-hand the benefits of access initiatives such as the Univ bridging programme, I could not be happier to see the University taking the necessary steps to ensure that more prospective students of the future are extended the same life-changing opportunity.
“It is a turning point for this institution – a recognition that, while unfortunately students up and down the country are not afforded a level playing field, as an institution we are capable of generating initiatives that help to combat that.
“It is a significant step towards ensuring that those who are capable, and have had to endure unique circumstance and hardship through no fault of their own, are afforded the opportunity to succeed as much as anyone else.”
Cherelle Malongo, another student, who took part in the LMH foundation year and now studies Classical Archaeology and Ancient History, argued that “I am very pleased to hear that the University will be introducing Foundation Oxford.
“As a beneficiary of the LMH Foundation Year, I am heartened to know many more students will benefit from an Oxford education.
“As a young woman from Newham, Oxford seemed a distant dream, but since arriving in September 2017, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. The Foundation Year has changed my life and today’s announcement means many more lives will be transformed in the future.”
Review: Four Men in Their Respective Cells – ‘a whistle-stop psychological drama’
Fly on the Wall Production’s Four Men in Their Respective Cells considers to what extent we truly know our reality, through the lens of four men imprisoned both mentally and physically. The play throws up some interesting questions for the audience to consider: Why these men? What have they done? Are they connected? And, most crucially, are they telling the truth, and, if so, can we trust their truth? Throughout the performance, the script, acting, and production combined well to force the audience to confront these issues and question whom their allegiance lies with.
Though there was a tendency towards overacting in the opening scenes, the overall standard of acting was good – Joshua Fine stood out in particular, with an engaging portrayal of a complex character. In terms of the characters themselves, there was an imbalance in the prominence of each in the script. This resulted in one of the characters becoming unnecessary as the play progressed, particularly in the climactic moments. The plot twists were delivered well, for which Eddie Chapman in particular should be commended. At points, however, these plot twists were too obvious, and elsewhere not obvious enough. A lack of character progression over the course of the narrative meant that one twist in particular felt too sudden and broke my suspension of disbelief.
For a play that only lasted 40 minutes, the Burton Taylor Studio was the perfect location for this whistle-stop psychological drama: dark and enclosed, the audience was immediately immersed in an atmosphere of oppressive isolation. This feeling was heightened through the use of dissonant violins before the show, and the sharp delineation of the stage into two halves, for two cells. The set design was clearly well-considered, and effective use of lighting aided understanding as scenes jumped from character to character. A particularly effective decision by Writer/Director Malgorzata Kaczmarek was the use of sound effects at moments of madness and violence – each character’s downward spiral was emphatically punctuated by ominous background noise. Throughout the play I found myself tense with anticipation.
The production team and actors worked throughout the play to create a suspenseful, somewhat claustrophobic environment, and to good effect. However, I cannot help but feel that this build-up was hugely let down by the ending of the play. Although the ending leaves the audience guessing, I did not find it adequately conclusive. The writing felt rushed and unfinished. Full resolution is not required at the end of a play, of course, but in general the audience should not leave thinking, “Was that it?” This was a real shame, and not an adequate testament to the work put into the production in other areas.
For a play with so much promise thematically, I cannot help but be disappointed by Four Men in their Respective Cells. This is not really the fault of the actors, the production team, or the director; rather, is due to the script not quite allowing the engaging, interesting and emotive parts of the play to come to the fore.
Worcester win hockey Cuppers again
Last week saw Worcester and Teddy Hall hockey teams battle it out to become Cuppers champions. This however, was not the first time that the two sides have met this year as they had already come face to face in the league. Teddy Hall had managed to snatch a victory over Worcester and take away all chances they had of winning the league, as well as ending a Worcester win streak that had been going for more than three years. Worcester would therefore be keen to take revenge and regain hold of the cup, which would cement their place as the dominant Cuppers hockey team, considering the success they have had in recent years.
It was clear from the start that tensions would be running high and the game was not very friendly, with both the Teddy Hall players and fans frequently shouting at the umpires. The Worcester side, captained by fourth-year physicist Oskar Williams, seemed the dominant team throughout the first half. They won short corner after short corner but were often unable to convert, which led to frustration. This meant that at half time, the score line did not necessarily reflect the scenes on the pitch, with Worcester only going into the break at 1-0 up, thanks to a goal from Jonah Boender.
However, in the second half the pace of the game picked up as the two teams became even more eager for a victory. Teddy Hall soon got back into the game and equalised to make the match more even. However, Worcester were determined to not throw away the momentum they had garnered and pushed to go back into the lead, scoring three goals in a row to put them 4-1 up with the game drawing to an end.
These goals were partly due to star performances from player of the season Jonah Boender, who scored an excellent hat-trick, and Aaron Goss who ran circles around the Teddy Hall defence. Ben Northam also managed to get his name on the score sheet. Boender in particular displayed the extent of his skill, scoring on two occasions from some superb drag flicks. The Cuppers title looked like it was in sight.
Whether it was over confidence, or just because the side just sat back, Worcester’s dreams of reclaiming their trophy came under threat as the match was drawing to a close. The game became extremely tense for Worcester as they let in two goals in quick succession with the timer running out.
The scenes on the pitch certainly led the Teddy Hall fans to believe they could do one over Worcester for the second time in the year, and there were numerous (very poor) chants shouted down the megaphone as well as smoke bombs being let off by the side of the pitch, which meant the game had to be stopped to wait for the smoke to go out. This display of support arguably could have prevented the Teddy Hall side to grab another goal, as it certainly disrupted the flow and momentum of the game.
Despite this, credit must be given to the Worcester side, who persisted and did not let these goals disrupt their cool. The Worcester side really began to show their dominance, with keeper Will Woods making some even more impressive saves. On the other hand, the Teddy Hall side became so desperate that by the end they had swapped out their goalie for a kicking back, which Worcester almost took advantage of. This meant that when the final whistle was eventually blown, Worcester had held on to their Cuppers title yet again.
Bart van Es and the ripple effect of trauma
On the 2nd May, I lit a virtual candle to remember Sara Rozenberg. Sara was born in 1924 in Krasny Luch, Ukraine, and died in the Holocaust at the age of just 18. As I scrolled past the link to the virtual memorial campaign, my Facebook timeline began filling with posts shared by my friends commemorating the individual victims of the Holocaust they had lit candles for. The 2nd of May also happened to be the 27th of Nissan, the Jewish date on which victims of the Holocaust are remembered.
“Chaya Samsonowicz of Dzestochowa, perished at Auschwitz, aged just 6 years old.”
“Jacob Perla of Haifa, perished at Treblinka, 1943, aged just 5.”
Clicking the link led me to the website Illuminate the Past. With the simple double-tap of the screen, I had lit a virtual candle to commemorate just one of the six million Jewish victims. The option to “share this to your timeline” was then presented to me on the screen. I couldn’t help but think, was this virtual touch and share truly an act of remembrance? A name, a date, and a place of death was all I was told of Sara. By posting her name and place of death on my own page, was I truly honouring her life? I wondered how similar Sara would have been to me, what she was would have been like. Would we have thought about the same things?
The movement towards the memorialisation of individual victims of the Holocaust is the growing initiative taken by many contemporary memorial campaigns. Masorti Judaism has recently brought the Yellow Candle Project to the UK, in which individual candles are disseminated in an attempt to remember by name individuals who died in the Holocaust. The candle is modelled on the traditional Jewish memorial yahrzeit candle but is coloured yellow to resemble the stars that Jewish people were forced to wear as a mark of their religious identity.
Mati Kovachi, an Israel hi-tech billionaire from a family of Holocaust victims and survivors, last week pioneered a controversial Instagram project, in which an account was set up recounting the real-life story of Jewish girl, Eva Heyman, using the social media channels of a 21st century-teenager. In an attempt to bring Eva’s story onto a familiar platform, the project echoes the Yellow Candle’s campaign attempt to scale down Holocaust memorial from the collective to the individual level. In order to humanise the victims, the campaign attempts present their lives in reality as ordinary individuals with their own lives and experiences.
While we cannot claim to relate to these experiences of systematic persecution, the initiative proves successful in framing the victims as people, defined not only by their status as a victim of the Holocaust. Each of these people had their own friends, families, jobs and experiences. It is only when we consider this fact that we can begin to imagine the extent of all-encompassing, pervasive impact of the Holocaust not just on those who died, or those who survived, but on society as a whole.
Chaya, Jacob, and Sara were just three of the lives affected by the Holocaust. While we know that six-million Jews perished, the number of those impacted by the tragedy remains greater. Not only did the victims and survivors each have their own families, friends and colleagues who were subsequently affected, but there were those who sheltered and cared for Jewish people at the risk of their own lives or simply knew them from around town. We often hear the stories about the camps, the shootings, of Jewish fate being laid out in two options – death or survival.
But sticking to this binary of victim and survivor remains problematic. All those who survived continued to be victims of the Holocaust, spending their entire lives attempting to come to terms with profound loss and trauma, often proving unable to lead fully functioning lives as a result.
This traumatic inheritance is precisely why Bart van Es’ memoir, The Cut Out Girl, represents such an important turn in the field of individual Holocaust remembrance. Van Es’ memoir of the Jewish girl, Lien, who was sheltered by his grandparents in Holland during the Holocaust, is a moving tale of the difficulties and long-lasting impact on those, Jewish and non-Jewish, who survived yet remained victims to the effects of the Holocaust. These included not only Lien herself, but Van Es’ family who sheltered her.
Van Es presents their relationship, despite steeped in obvious love and compassion, as being fractured and turbulent, lasting long after the end of the war. Lien’s own struggle forging a relationship with Van Es’ grandmother, her confusion towards his grandfather, and her inability to wrestle with her own position within the framework of their family culminates in the tragedy and break-down of family ties common amongst survivors of the Holocaust. Indeed, Lien is eventually cut-off entirely from her foster family and uninvited from the funeral of her foster mother.
Van Es’ memoir is a poignant reminder that not all stories of survival emerging from the damage of the Holocaust are of triumph and reconciliation. The physical and psychological effects of the Holocaust lasted well beyond the liberation of Auschwitz, or the Allied occupation of Germany. Lien could not just return to normal life with the Van Esses once the Germans had been defeated. We must avoid attempting to romanticise the experiences of the survivors of tragedy, for liberation did not mean the end of suffering.
To remember those who suffered includes acknowledging that survival did not necessarily mean freedom. For the surviving victims of the Holocaust, the lack of freedom from trauma, mental and physical distress mean the longer lasting effects of physical and cultural loss did not release survivors from their victimhood. Van Es himself, not Jewish and writing seven decades after Lien returned to his grandparents throughout the memoir still attempts to reconcile with the effects the Holocaust had on his own family.
Despite this, the plea for memorialisation on an individual level is not always honoured. Just days ago, a German doll with hair from a Holocaust victim was found to have been displayed in a Turkish toy museum. The curator alleged that the victim whose hair was being used was killed at Auschwitz in 1941, with the doll having been on display since the museums opening in 2017. The dignity of the individual had been entirely eroded in the process, reducing them to just one of the thousands whose hair was sheared and stored in camps controlled by the Nazis.
As a result, the individual whose hair is now on the museum doll remains imprisoned in the form intended to them by their persecutors, effectively frozen in their oppression. We must remember the liberation of the victims of the Holocaust only began with the liberation of the camps. Lien’s powerful individual story remains helpful in the quest to humanise the experiences of the 6 million, as ultimately her story reminds us that to remember the individuals is to remember the collective.
University to fund Erasmus alternative in case of No Deal Brexit
The University’s Department of Modern and Medieval Languages has announced substitute funding plans for foreign exchanges, should Brexit negotiations do away with current provisions.
The Department Chair, Professor Ian Watson, today confirmed an “open-ended commitment to funding exchange activity required as a compulsory part of an undergraduate degree programme on the same basis as current Erasmus+ provision.”
According to the University’s website: “Oxford remains wholly committed to the Erasmus+ programme and to ensuring student exchanges with European partner universities continue.
“Year abroad arrangements will continue to be in place. In the event that funding is not made available through the European Commission or the UK government for Erasmus+ activity, the University has committed to funding exchange activity required as a compulsory part of an undergraduate degree.”
This announcement follows the creation in February of “Oxford and the EU”, a website specifically designed to provide current students with information about Brexit fallout.
As reported by Cherwell, a no deal Brexit may lead to EU citizens, including students, being treated as third country nationals, removing all EEA afford rights to study and free movement.
As well as visa and immigration difficulties, consequences would include higher tuition fees, in line with those currently paid by non-EU international students.
The University has not yet made comment as to whether research staff will have access to EU equivalent funding, totalling £78 million in 2017/18.
Is It Really as Easy as ABC?
Inheritance is always a tricky topic when brought up in Britain. With this country’s colonial history its seems fashionable at the moment for debates on institutions like the British Museum, or even on our own hallowed halls of learning, to crop up.
The conclusions reached are usually something along the lines of “actually, it’s there now, just leave it be, so it isn’t always the easiest topic to approach”. In other circumstances, inheritance can be the proverbial opener of a tin of particularly claustrophobic worms, not only sparking family feuds which reduce the drama of Aunt Mabel’s refusal to do Christmas into a happy memory, but also feed into wider debates about social equality, the place of inheritance taxes, and politics in general. It was never going to be pretty, was it?
Whatever your personal opinion on the rights and wrongs of the inheritance of money or debt, thinking about how the passing down of physical things is quite a different matter from seeing how the past has shaped our language, culture and, consequently, our identity.
The effect that language has on our day-to-day is huge. We know this though: think about how things like pronouns, political correctness, or even just slang on its own is heaped with connotation. But these are often examples of the current changing our language. The way the past does it is less obvious and gives us a look into the world that it came from. Just think of the way that Icelandic, for instance, has nearly fifty different words for snow. Equally, English (once called “a shameless whore” by arch-lingophile Stephen Fry) has various words that we’ve nicked blatantly from other languages. You didn’t think that we came up with kangaroo, baklava or pain au chocolat ourselves, did you?
More interestingly, what about little phrases and idioms unique to a group or place and what they symbolise? One of my favourite idioms (if only for the dramatics usually accompanying it) comes, like me, from Ireland: “there’ll be wigs on the green”. It essentially means trouble is on its way. But my mother told me after I’d learnt a bit more about my heritage, that it specifically referred to a battle in which the wigwearing English had been (for the meantime) defeated. A quick google reveals that this might not have actually happened, but it forms a Romantic image nonetheless. While I have only inherited a spattering of Irish language phrases here and there, it’s through idioms and slang – as with language users the world over – that I keep a linguistic inheritance and share a culture which shapes my identity.
It is for these reasons, then, that our language is so crucial as a part of our national and personal identity. It provides nuances and records of our histories. Living in Wales has shown me how much the preservation of dying languages matters to so many and so much. On match days, the phrase “cymru am byth” is seen and heard being used by Welsh supporters, regardless of how much Welsh they can actually speak. It unites them and marks them out from the rest of the Anglophonic island they live on. There certainly isn’t an English rugby equivalent, and there doesn’t need to be. England’s identity hasn’t been challenged in the way that Wales’ has. Like many nations colonised by England, this pride comes in response to a history where Welsh-speaking itself was punished by teachers in schools. By inheriting the language (or lack thereof) we also inherit this history of oppression by the English. While traipsing through the ropes of Anglo-Saxon in a tute, I was shocked to find out that the very word “Welsh” derives from an Old English word for both “foreigner” and “slave”. Despite this, and despite being a non-Welsh speaking myself, the effects of the Welsh language upon vernacular in Wales is everywhere – from listening to exasperated teacher’s exclaim “ych-a-fi” (meaning “that’s disgusting” or just simply “ew”) over scrappy homework submitted as close to the deadline as this article was or watching my immigrant mother codify road signs like araf. Seeing this and hearing this around me every day made me aware of the cultural inheritance, even in a diluted form., that I’ve inherited.
But on a less oppressed note, what about the way that our own Oxford language has been created trhough the university’s history? If you mention a “tute” to a friend at another uni, you’ll be met with confused stares, and then probably have the piss taken out of you. Let’s not even get into a “plodge” and the uniquely Oxbridge things which go on in there (from porters to pidges). While we aren’t quite the only place where one can find a punt, we are one of the few places where virtually everyone knows what one is and the ultimate form of procrastination they represent. Bop for most can mean a lot of things from a bash, bounce or boogie. Only here are evening of drunken hijinks to a noughties soundtrack brought immediately to mind. Bod is paired with hot rather than card. A collection is something which happens at church, not at the beginning of term. Trinity for the rest of the world is God the father, son and spirit. Hilary is usually followed by Clinton not term and Michaelmas is pronounced in any number of ways. Just look at the centuryold linguistic heritage which we’ve absorbed by the end of freshers without even thinking. While this does bring us together, it also gives off the impression of something cultish and certainly, that verb-du-jour, elitist….
But what’s to be done about this? Should we stop using the word “Welsh” because of what it once meant? Out of shame of the British Empire, should we discontinue calling our nan’s house a bungalow? Are we being elitist by knowing what sub fusc is? But rather than actual theft, the fact that our whorish language (or other countries’ more prudish ones) totally reflects where it’s come from is only natural. Just like everyone and everything else. To strip a language of words or phrases that it’s picked up along the way reduces it and its speakers sense of identity and what we can actually do with it in a very 1984-esque manner.
Equally, language is above all a way to connect to our community and create a distinct identity for it. It’s a social bond.