Saturday 26th July 2025
Blog Page 653

Sex Education review: exuberantly explicit

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Though the opening shots suggest a John Hughes or Stranger Things-esque setting in an endearingly overlooked middle-American town in the 1980s (with a soundtrack to match), Sex Education is Netflix’s latest contemporary, explicit, and very British discussion of sex, sexuality, and all that comes with it. The eight-part series sees seventeenyear-old Otis (Asa Butterfield), the sexually inhibited son of a relationship therapist, strike up an unlikely partnership with Moorfield High’s best answer to the ‘riot grrrl’ movement, Maeve Wiley (Emma Mackey). Together, they start a sex advice clinic
for their peers.

If I were asked to sum up the show in one word, it would almost certainly be explicit. Nearly every single one of the episodes opens with a sex scene of some variety, including straight up full-frontal nudity. Since its debut, it’s no surprise that a central talking point has been the appropriateness of the content for the intended audience. Taking pride of place on the streaming service’s front page alongside comparatively innocent teen shows such as Riverdale and Pretty Little Liars, the potentially affrontive nature of the show in relation to its target audience has been the topic of many headlines.

Several online news outlets have drawn comparisons between Sex Education and the controversial Thirteen Reasons Why, both of which utilise explicit imagery to forward their storylines. However, where the latter veers towards gratuitous trauma porn, Sex Education presents an honest and realistic representation of contemporary teenage culture.

It refuses to conform to the tiring tradition of sugar-coating anything that sits outside the realm of the PG-13, and this refusal makes it the relatable and refreshing show that it is. In their clinic (in reality, an abandoned, asbestos-filled toilet block), Maeve and Otis confront issues that are prevalent in young adults, removing the taboo and encouraging honest, open discussion. Combining these hard-hitting topics with some of the most quotable one-liners of recent times (see “she touched my eyebrows, and now I have an erection”) is what the show does best.

Aside from the issues directly tackled by Maeve and Otis in the clinic, the show shines in how it addresses the wider experiences of real teenagers. This is poignantly done through the character arc of Eric (Ncuti Gatwa), Otis’ best friend, and a victim of both verbal and physical homophobic attacks. His character arc sees him tackling these adversities as well as the pressures from his religious family. We also see the status quo being challenged through Maeve’s character. She is labelled a ‘slag’ and a ‘cock-biter’ by her peers, yet seems utterly unshaken in her sex positivity, reinforcing the revolutionary idea that women can actually enjoy sex too. In the second episode, Maeve falls pregnant and makes the choice to have an abortion. Instead of making this the focal point of her character arc, Sex Education does not let this define her. All the while, the topic is handled with great sensitivity, as an issue that is faced by women from all backgrounds and walks of life. The issues are breached with a comforting sense of normality, providing an honest and real exploration of the issues that many of its contemporaries push under the rug. It is welcoming that such a diverse and meaningful show is taking centre stage, reminding us that in whatever circumstance (really, whatever circumstance) we find ourselves in, we all need to “own our narrative” a little bit more.

The illusion of reality television

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When the first series of reality show Made in Chelsea aired in 2011, it was clear from the beginning that the heart of it was the relationship between two young Londoners, Spencer Matthews and Caggie Dunlop.

Between them, their conventional good-looks and blasé affluence became the distilled essence of the show. He was a bad boy socialite, as much a charming womaniser as he was caught up by other women’s charms, a Restoration rake stuck in Belgravia; she was the vulnerable, uncertain girl-next-door, someone from his childhood who suddenly reappears as a beautiful adult. Her re-entry into the Chelsea bubble disrupts his relationship with his long-term girlfriend, and throws the whole series into a drawn-out will-they-won’t-they arc of constant romantic deferral. The plot is perfect – part fairytale, part realism, all performed against the backdrop of the mansions of Knightsbridge. But doesn’t it all sound a bit too good to be true?

Made in Chelsea is a reality television show, but it admits to being a ‘structured-reality’ television show. The true nature of Spencer and Caggie’s real-life relationship cannot be truly known, by virtue of the fact that nobody’s relationship can authentically exist in the public eye. But its depiction on the show cannot be the truth of it. For one, nobody can make genuine, heartfelt declarations of love with cameras shoved up close and a whole crew of directors, producers, and engineers leering round; for another, by claiming to offer a ‘structured-reality’, the show effectively concedes to the fact that it hires scriptwriters and story developers to construct the ‘reality’ we observe; they admit to using television magic to conjure illusion.

The great irony of reality television is that it is, of course, an illusion. The creators manage to construct this pretence in two ways. On set, producers are able to contrive circumstances that allow them to control the content of the show.

For example, in the Love Island house, books and televisions are banned. The contestants’ phones are taken away from them, and they are instead given ones that are disabled from the internet. As it turns out, great television isn’t made by letting people watch it all day. It’s easy to imagine how this absence of mental stimulation cultivates an atmosphere of cabin fever, one in which tensions are raised to fever pitch and pack mentalities doggedly persist, when there isn’t a great deal else to do. Ironically, it’s the absence of activity that makes the show as voyeuristically entertaining as it is.

But when they have the footage, the producers then have to construct a narrative for the episode in the editing room. In the moment of filming, what happens can be manipulated to some extent through persuasion, creating high-pressure environments, or penning contestants in, but humans are still humans – they’re still prone to responding contingently, to behaving erratically, or simply to offering very mundane content. In order to make the show feel cohesive, well-structured, and logically episodic, the editors must work to construct narrative threads throughout each episode, whether it be that of conflict, romance, or failure.

Reality television is, then, in many ways a fiction. They tell us they are depicting something akin to an authentic reality, but flatten and stabilise the randomness and contingency of actual life, while refusing to overtly acknowledge the authorial voice behind it.

None of this manipulation would really matter if the content was actually fictional. But real people are implicated in this process, and their representations on national television won’t always help them when they leave the villa, or step back into the world of work.

Narrative arcs in reality television follow the tropes of folklore – good vs. bad, hero vs. enemy – and so those who are demonised in the editing process have their reputation soured. In an age of internet trolling and hyper-awareness about online reputation, this depiction isn’t easy to come out of. For all those celebrities who feed off of this gossip for their fame, like the Kardashians, for example, this concern is perhaps no issue.

But for the average person thrust into the limelight, they will come out of reality television with bucket-loads of baggage that has been amped up by producers, dissected by the Twittersphere, and dumped unceremoniously on their CV.

The fact remains that people still tune in. People will happily block out that which disrupts their illusion, when the illusion is far too much fun to bother becoming disenchanted with.

It seems it might all be too good to be true – but it’s also too far good to ignore.

Cracked Actors: Invention and Reinvention in Music

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We drove on through the night, our faces illuminated by nothing except the flash of the occasional speed camera. My father was driving as quickly as he dared. He drives like a vicar. A slow vicar. A really slow vicar. So, this was unusual. But for a good cause. I was playing an evil headmistress. As you do.

For two nights only, the people of Amersham got to see me in a production of Matilda. I looked like an evil drag Mary Poppins, except with a riding crop and an itchy white wig. Quite the look, and brilliant fun. It was very silly, very funny, and camp as your hat. I even had some solos, which is always exciting. Not that I’ve got an ego or anything.

Any way, the point of this nostalgia, apart from gratuitous self indulgence, is to show how playing a persona on stage is something dear to my heart. Broadly, a persona is a character a musician creates for performances. Mine was far from Ziggy Stardust, but probably had just as much makeup.

Ziggy is, of course, the most iconic musical persona out there. Chances are when most think of Bowie they have the shocked orange hair, ghostly white face and outrageous outfits in mind. With a man who was everything from a Nazi space duke to a ghostly harlequin, it’s interesting to that this persona endured. Why, in fact, do any? Why are Ziggy, Alice Cooper and (ahem) Sasha Fierce so iconic?

Adopting an alter ego for the stage is often sparked by a desire to draw attention to a subject, like Marilyn Manson exploring death, or Madonna sexuality. Sometimes it’s because a certain look proves memorable – think Bob Dylan with scruffy hair, clothes and guitar. Sometimes it’s to strike a pose for a particular song or album – like The Beatles and Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely-Hearts Club Band – or for spicing up a song, such as Mick Jagger playing Satan in ‘Sympathy for the Devil’. They’re either a way of bringing personal interests on stage, or something to make a song stand out.

If I’m honest, I don’t buy any of those excuses. Well, not entirely. Because I know what it’s like playing someone outrageous. It’s too much fun. I wouldn’t want to dress like Miss Trunchbull all the time, but up onstage, the audience cheering me on – it was liberating. My worries, my shyness, my irritating awkwardness, all wiped away. I was someone else, just for a little while. That’s why, I think, personas remain popular. Sometimes the only way to escape the usual is creating a whole different character. We get a chance to be who we’re not, who we want to be, or who we could never be but would love to be.

Beyoncé goes wild as Sasha Fierce. Nicky Minaj pushes boundaries as English homosexual Roman Zolanski. And Bowie? A man can’t go through that many faces without wanting to be someone else. There’s a fascination with the transgressive, a burning desire to do something completely crazy, that lurks within all of us. Bowie was just lucky enough to be able to let it out. Musicians are only human, and they dream of being someone else just as we all do. Fortunately, for them, they can make money out of it. You can’t be you all the time. Who would want to be? Not me. Being a bit outrageous occasionally is healthy. If it’s good for Bowie and Beyoncé, it’s good for us. Or at least that’s what I told the police officer who stopped my father for speeding.

Concerns raised about religious inclusivity at Somerville

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Somerville JCR has faced controversy this week over a motion seeking to introduce halal and kosher food to hall, including accusations that the JCR is not sufficiently concerned about the welfare of its Jewish students.

The original motion proposed that “Somerville have decided to take octopus off the menu for the annual Fresher’s Dinner so this appears to be is a good time to review the menu in general, we think that they could do more in terms of hall provision to ensure that different groups of people can eat in hall more.”

The proposed changes faced opposition from some JCR members, who raised concerns that halal and kosher meat were produced in “inhumane” ways.

An amendment was then proposed “to remove the halal and kosher aspects of this motion due to the animal welfare concerns about how animals are killed in order for them to be halal and kosher”, which passed with 22 votes in favour, 8 against, and 7 abstentions.

Supporters of the initial motion argued that between 80% and 90% of animals used to produce Halal and Kosher meat are stunned beforehand (the correct figure is 84% according to the RSPCA), but concerns were raised that religious law prevents Kosher meat from being pre-stunned.

In the end, the motion passed with 26 JCR members voting “in favour of re-adding the halal and kosher aspects of the original motion on the condition that it is pre-stunned”.

However, this was met with a backlash on the JCR’s Facebook page, with one student even questioning whether “the JCR cares more about animals than its Jewish members”, whilst others noted that the acceptability of stunning is widely debated in Islam and particularly Judaism.

Another student claimed that the JCR’s Head of Environment and Ethics was “doing his best to ensure that we source ethical produce: “He is doing so in good faith and because he believes passionately in animal welfare.”

In a discussion about the new rules on Facebook, one JCR member said, “The forms of kosher and halal without pre-stunning were considered deeply unethical during the meeting so were removed from the motion. Religious thoughts were put aside for the sakes of animal welfare, quite rightly.

“This was later re-amended to permit halal and kosher only if animals had been pre-stunned, even though many are uncomfortable with this as this sort of meat fails to qualify as kosher/halal to many people (especially orthodox Jews).

“The Jewish and Muslim communities were poorly represented in the meeting as there was simply no one to represent them. In the mean time, I hope we continue to prioritize animal welfare over other abhorrent practices, without anyone feeling the need to get offended.

“We continue to offer vegetarian meals 7 days a week for anyone unhappy with the fact that their meat did not suffer the cold sting of a blade to the throat.”

The President of JScoc, Nicole Jacobus, told Cherwell: “The very fact that this amendment was passed in a JCR meeting without a Jewish student being able to challenge it highlights the lack of diversity and awareness of other cultures amongst students in Oxford.

“The vote to ban kosher food only makes the diversity issue worse, as it shows that Jewish students are not only poorly provided for, but that they cannot actively practise as Jews at Somerville.

“This reflects badly on the whole of the Oxford student community. Oxford JSoc is always there to ensure Jewish students have the freedom to practise their religion as they choose to.

“We appreciate that the Somerville JCR President has now liaised with both Jewish students at the college and the staff to clearly work towards making kosher food available to students.

“Nevertheless, this situation has demonstrated the severe lack of cultural awareness that Oxford is facing.”

Somerville JCR President Emmanuel Amissah-Eshu has said, “We are pleased that we have been able to secure the support of the JCR in asking College to provide more inclusive food options in the form of gluten free, lactose free and pre-stunned halal meat on our menus.

“It has resulted in a productive meeting with College where they said they would look into providing the above as well as a proposal for kosher food to be available upon request for those that want it. This will be followed up on to make sure it happens.

“The debate following the motion to ask College to provide more gluten-free, lactose- free, halal and kosher food was a difficult and controversial conversation at times but the JCR is a place for such discourse but the motion amendment and the resulting vote was solely based on the debate of stunned vs pre-stunned meat provision in Hall and not the religious implications.”

Changing Perceptions: Contraception is not just a ‘Women’s issue’

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In 2018 new developments in contraceptive technology were the cause of much excitement, as reports of a contraceptive injection for men dominated the headlines.

There was a sense that the conversation surrounding contraception might be changing. However, as drug trials for this drug progressed, reports of the side-effects and how they were affecting men take over the news cycle. Men reportedly complained of mood swings, acne and weight gain.

For women who have used birth control such as the pill, these side-effects will be strangely familiar. They are, in fact, the very same sorts of side effects many women experience when taking the pill, or using other methods of contraception such as hormonal implants.

Many newspapers told us that because of these side-effects, men dropped out of the drug trial, resulting in its closure. However, this was erroneous reporting. Most men were happy to continue the trial. It was the trial monitors that decided to stop the trial, because they were concerned about the side-effects men were experiencing and the medical ethics surrounding the issue. In this particular trial, 20% of men reported side-effects, which led to the monitor’s decision to shut it down.

This would be less galling but for the fact that in recent female contraceptive trials, 30% of women have reported side-effects for the trial to be stopped. It is disappointing but not surprising that the side-effects men had to suffer were viewed as intolerable, despite the fact that women have routinely experienced similar side-effects ever since the pill became widely available in the UK in the 1960s.

In a society where masculinity is often highly prized, the idea of talking about contraception methods with partners, let alone friends and peers, seems unthinkable and alien to many men. They fear that, in expressing a willingness to take such a contraceptive, or even to engage in a conversation about contraception, they will be viewed as ‘less of a man’. This hyper-masculinity leaves no space for men to engage in a conversation about contraception, much less to consider taking on the burden themselves.

Besides this, weaknesses in sex education mean that even if men wanted to discuss contraception, they don’t have the available knowledge with which to do so. In school, girls and boys are often split into separate groups to talk about the different experiences that they will undergo during puberty.

Often, men are not taught about female contraceptives, and thus feel that they have little to add on the subject. Beyond simpler and less effective methods, like condoms, men don’t feel they are in a position to discuss contraception in much depth. The onus is on women to make sure they use protection during sex, because they know more about it and they will face the ramifications of it going wrong.

It is said that a viable male contraceptive will not be readily available on the market until 2022. Despite this, it is clear that we need to re-think our understanding of contraception and our perceptions of the gender roles that are so closely associated with them in order to implement meaningful change to- day. We need to reassess our preconceptions of what contraception is, who is in a position to talk about it, and who has to make sacrifices in order to make sure sex is safe.

In order for the contraceptive methods to progress, the way we talk about contraception must progress too. And the potential consequences of sex are the responsibility of both parties.

It follows that the burden for preventing those consequences should be shared equally as well.

The demonisation of antifascist protestors cannot continue

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You would have to be living under a rock to avoid talk of the Oxford Union’s controversial invitations. As someone of German heritage I cannot help but notice the ongoing misrepresentation of antifascist protests outside the Oxford Union. Coming to Oxford, it soon became clear that the student political scene is quite far removed from British and European campus norms – both those of my friends and those in my parents’ heyday. Peculiar to Oxford, especially when compared to what my family taught me, is a deep-seated disaffection for protest and indeed many overt forms of political expression. Protests are almost always maligned in the comment sections of student newspapers, for example.

With each Union-related fascist controversy, I am certainly pleased to find a host of opinion pieces advocating free speech and a healthy dose of caution when using the fascist label. On the other hand, something that is problematic is that there is such little breadth of opinion represented in the discussions after each protest. It seems almost as if the antifascist protestors are not represented at all in student journalism. I have also become quite disturbed by how often those arguing against the antifascist demonstrators buttress their arguments with an attack on the very essence of protest itself.

The critique of antifascist protest itself made me think of what my mum and dad had taught me. They were at the forefront of student politics when they were studying in 80’s Munich and later 90’s London. Theirs was a childhood steeped in the inescapable spectre of German fascism and its horrendous trail of devastation and genocide. The fear of a fascism’s revival was then – and still is – at the very centre of the German psyche. My mum was taught at the age of five what had happened at the nearby Kemna concentration camp; my dad went on compulsory school trips to the memorial sites once a year. As students, they stood time and time again in solidarity with the Roma communities who were – and still are – being deported from the same countries they were massacred in 70 years ago.

Most intrinsically, they taught me never to forget The Holocaust. They pressed eye-witnesses’ novels into my hands and ingrained in me an innate wariness of fascism. Fascism was unique, dangerous and innately opportunistic. It came in all different guises and its greatest strength was that it was so hard to pin down. It must be dealt with sooner rather than later.

My parents also enshrined in me the importance of protest. Peaceful protest was sacred and always justified. A society in which people are no longer at liberty to assemble and critique authority is a society which has lost its freedom. They warned me that protest as a legitimate form of political expression was going to become more and more endangered as the internet took hold, whilst fascism was going to become increasingly dangerous as the holocaust faded from collective memory of Europe[1].

And so it was disheartening to find that many of those who took it upon themselves to use the Cherwell Comment section to castigate antifascist demonstrators do not seem to have grasped the centrality of protest as a universal human right[2], an intrinsic form of political expression and a crucial tool to stop fascism’s deadly spread[3]. Each time the Union invited Tommy Robinson, Marine Le Pen, Alice Weidel, Steve Bannon or Marion Maréchal Le Pen to speak, numerous comment pieces appeared chastising antifascist demonstrators on increasingly ludicrous, unfounded grounds[4].

One theme which is running through the pieces is that protesters are somehow ‘wasting’ police resources[6]. This is not a valid line of argument. Protest is as much a civil liberty as free speech is, in fact, the two are part and parcel, and the function of the police is to protect both. As the East Oxford MP Anneliese Dodds so aptly put it, it is the Union that is wasting police time by consistently inviting propagators of hate speech as a publicity stunt[7]. The opinion pieces tarred all protesters with the same brush, suggesting that the most ‘extreme’ slogans, the swearing at police or the physical violence were somehow totally universal amongst all those who chose to speak out against fascism. To expediently negate just how multi-faceted and broad a church protest can be so as to better make a point is hardly accomplished reporting. Throughout these myopic, finger-pointing generalisations, it soon becomes easy to forget that those protesting outside the Union are united behind a cause we all sympathise with. They are saying no to fascism, racism and hate speech.

But what I found by far the most disturbing is the lack of responsible journalism. In spite of the critical acclaim many of these ‘free speech’ articles receive, there is little to no attention paid specifically to what antifascist protestors are demonstrating against. Instead, commentators write a thousand words in voracious attacks directed towards what they see as illiberal, intimidating leftists.

Predictably, earlier this week heralded the publication of another immensely popular Comment piece criticising those protesting against Marion Maréchal Le Pen’s visit last week[8]. It re-used the trope of demonstrators wasting police money and shouting ‘disrespectfully’ at police. It is also the latest in a long succession of Cherwell Comment pieces which grossly misrepresent those standing up to fascism. Not a single ‘free speech’ advocate who has thus far chosen to  protestors has taken the time to properly interrogate why so many see the likes of Robinson, Le Pen, Weidel, Bannon and Maréchal as fascists.

And so it was hardly surprising that an article avidly defending Maréchal’s right to speak at the Union did not feature the words Front National a single time. Maréchal is practically guaranteed to become the next leader of France’s Front National (recently rebranded as National Rally[9]). She represented the party in the French parliament and is tipped as its most likely candidate for the 2022 presidential elections[10]. To discuss the politics of protesting Maréchal’s visit whilst alluding only once to the political party and ideological movement she represents surely fails to grasp even a sliver of what the debate is all about. A piece earlier this week offered a thousand words on how the term Nazi had been ‘taken out of context’ but did not once attempt to properly explain how Maréchal and her movement are not Nazis. This is symptomatic of the reaction to antifascist protests over the past two years and is simply irresponsible and lazy journalism.

In the case of Maréchal’s Union speech, its defender’s constantly cite her party’s recent electoral success in the French presidential elections as some sort of loose justification for her right to speak. Since when did mainstream public opinion suddenly serve as a benchmark for what ideologies are considered acceptable? Was it not one of the first lessons we learnt in history classes on Nazi Germany that what is mainstream is not necessarily justifiable? Public opinion is hardly a bastion of progressive values – 55% of Europeans would ban immigration from majority-Muslim countries[11]and only 55% of Brits support gay marriage[12], to cite two of many examples. Maréchal’s Front National received 30% of the French vote in 2017, the exact same proportion as Adolf Hitler received in the first round of the German elections in 1933. Both achieved unexpected success, in part by promising to tyrannize and persecute minorities, be it the Jews then, or the Muslims, Roma and migrants now. In both cases, a third of the public cheered them on: the people had spoken[13].

The Union invited a speaker who represents a fascist movement which singles out minority groups as enemies of the people. 82% of Front National’s members self-identify as racist[14]. Despite their leaders attempts to ‘de-demonise’ the movement, another poll found 87% to still be ‘very racist’[15]. The FN’s regional elections were run on a campaign slogan promising ‘to decry and eradicate all bacterial migration’[16](my own emphasis added to highlight the fascist language of racial contamination). The FN frequently promises a ‘great displacement’ of migrants who have settled in France[17]. One FN councillor recently suggested that Roma families should pay for their houses by having ‘their gold teeth…collected from them’[18]. I simply ask, does this idea of ‘mass removal’ of minorities or the extraction of gold teeth remind us of anything? More pressingly, what is the difference between this rhetoric and that of the Nazis and where would those arguing for freedom of speech draw the line? Is there even a line?

It is obvious. Maréchal’s movement has a long-standing affiliation with fascism which refuses to go away. This is not an extreme leftist or progressive opinion. 58% of French people perceive Front National as a threat to democracy[19]. It is a movement which has always been home to fascist undercurrents. Only a few months ago it was explicitly renamed after a party founded by French Nazis. This tradition stretches far back to Maréchal’s racist, fascist, homophobic, holocaust-denying grand-father Jean-Marie Le Pen, who founded the party in 1972[20].

Maréchal herself – far from merely making ‘controversial comments about Islam and homosexuality’ as previous opinion pieces have indifferently put it[21]– has always refused to fully condemn her grand-father Jean-Marie’s hate speech. Not in 2014 when he jeered that Ebola would solve France’s migration problem ‘in three months’[22], nor in 2015 when she deemed his horrendous gas-chamber comments nothing more than ‘a useless provocation’[23]. The Union invited a speaker who condones racist hate speech and blasé allusions to the mass murder of minorities to give a 15 minute address up the road from a holocaust memorial exhibition.

Jean-Marie Le Pen’s descendants Maréchal and Marine, her aunt and current leader of the Front National, continue to communicate the same fundamental hate-filled, fascist message, simply cloaking it in more palatable language[24]. The pair of them have simply shifted the goal-posts: antisemitism and homophobia have been toned down. Overt ethno-nationalism has been replaced by a kind of ‘civic-nationalism’ with distinctly racial undertones[25]. Let us not forget that the latest ‘reformed’ generation of the Le Pen dynasty did not describe Jean-Marie’s racism, homophobia and antisemitism as deplorable or criminal. No, they simply deemed it a political suicide[26]. It was more than enough to win them an audience at the Oxford Union.

In any case, where antisemitism and holocaust denial have been swept under the carpet, the FN’s Islamophobia and racism remain full-throated as ever[27]. Maréchal claims that Muslims ‘cannot have the same rank’ as Catholics in society[28]. Her aunt compares Muslim street prayers to the Nazi occupation and once asked an audience ‘would you accept twelve illegal immigrants moving into your flat?…some of them would steal your wallet and brutalize your wife’[29].

Perhaps a closer look at Marion Maréchal Le Pen’s record and a broader interrogation of the movement she represents can give us a better picture of how diligent we should be. It is patronising to suggest, time and time again, that protestors who ‘lump’ her and other controversial figures into the category of ‘Nazi’ are misguided, without even touching on the political movement she or other supposed fascists represent. It is foolish to presume that any political movement operates in a vacuum away from its members, followers and voters. Robinson’s white supremacist followers, Breitbart’s hateful authors, Weidel’s neo-Nazi following and Le Pen’s racist voters should be considered just as much as what their figureheads say on record. Perhaps the Union could rescue its reputation by evaluating what is fascist through a more comprehensive framework. As for the Maréchal speech’s relevance to us in the UK? The ‘foreign country’ that one article described Maréchal as affecting is France, one of the UK’s closest allies, £33.8bn of its exports, and a shorter drive from Oxford than Newcastle. Maréchal and the Front National are on our doorstep, threatening the very values that make Great Britain, namely inclusivity, equality and multiculturalism. Upon closer inspection, some things explain themselves.

[1]https://www.history.ox.ac.uk/article/no-isnt-1930s-yes-fascism

[2]https://www.libertyhumanrights.org.uk/human-rights/what-are-human-rights/human-rights-act/article-11-right-protest

[3]https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/jan/07/st-kilda-rally-a-fascist-movement-can-only-be-kept-small-if-we-call-it-by-its-name

[4]http://cherwell.org/2018/11/16/dont-confuse-free-speech-with-hate-speech/?fbclid=IwAR3gBy7-PZps_ZiM693P_XTTf_daC4m7N1o7De9aOf6ZP_idqnMPsnGrH8s

[6]http://cherwell.org/2018/11/16/dont-confuse-free-speech-with-hate-speech/?fbclid=IwAR28relvFOD-obwGmqLuV2HwPsIbiQbUgMkCeKVrihPpKqPSBYBvcsIw1co

[7]https://www.oxfordstudent.com/2019/01/22/marechal-talk-draws-protests/

[8]http://cherwell.org/2019/01/29/bring-down-controversial-speakers-with-debate-not-disorder/?fbclid=IwAR1gu3EYz82GgzCquKyb3Vix2-ZLTwgVASvVZ2itAvBho9r-JR5Y0OOwzBQ

[9]https://uk.reuters.com/article/uk-france-politics-nationalfront/frances-national-front-renamed-national-rally-idUKKCN1IX5LR

[10]https://www.dw.com/en/cpac-2018-marion-marechal-le-pen-marines-hardline-niece-to-share-stage-with-us-conservatives/a-42665843

[11]https://www.chathamhouse.org/expert/comment/what-do-europeans-think-about-muslim-immigration

[12]https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-35447150

[13]https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/oct/07/politicans-must-shape-public-opinion-not-follow-it

[14]https://booksandideas.net/The-Front-National-Still-Racist-and-Xenophobic.html

[15]https://www.marianne.net/politique/retire-le-noir-le-racisme-decomplexe-des-jeunes-du-front-national

[16]https://www.ardi-ep.eu/marine-le-pen-proposes-to-eradicate-bacterial-immigration/

[17]https://jyx.jyu.fi/bitstream/handle/123456789/58696/URN%3ANBN%3Afi%3Ajyu-201806213316.pdf?sequence=1

[18]https://www.20minutes.fr/politique/2131615-20170913-elu-fn-voulait-recuperer-dents-or-roms-exclu-parti

[19]https://www.businessinsider.com/french-see-marine-le-pen-front-national-as-danger-to-democracy-2017-3?r=US&IR=T

[20]https://www.rtl.fr/sujet/jean-marie-le-pen

[21]http://cherwell.org/2019/01/29/bring-down-controversial-speakers-with-debate-not-disorder/?fbclid=IwAR1gu3EYz82GgzCquKyb3Vix2-ZLTwgVASvVZ2itAvBho9r-JR5Y0OOwzBQ

[22]https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/france/10847344/Jean-Marie-Le-Pen-Ebola-epidemic-would-solve-immigration-problems.html

[23]https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/apr/08/frances-front-national-plunged-into-family-feud-over-holocaust-remarks

[24]https://oeilsurlefront.liberation.fr/en-bref/2018/03/11/un-cadre-du-fn-suspendu-apres-des-injures-racistes_1635321

[25]https://www.history.ox.ac.uk/article/no-isnt-1930s-yes-fascism

[26]https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/apr/08/marine-le-pen-front-national-jean-marie-elections-holocaust

[27]https://sos-racisme.org/fn-pas-change/

[28]https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/politics/exclusive-interview-with-frances-youngest-and-most-controversial/

[29]https://www.businessinsider.com/john-oliver-france-election-warning-2017-4

Budget cut for Bodleian Libraries

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The Bodleian Libraries’ book purchasing budget has been cut for the 2018-19 academic year.

The central library budget for the 2018-19 financial year is £8,699k which is a fall of over £50k from the previous year. When adjusted for inflation over the period, this amounts to a near -3% cut in the library’s book-purchasing capacity.

One librarian who wished to remain anonymous told Cherwell: “it’s disappointing to see that the book purchasing budget has fallen in real terms for the 2018/19 financial year.

“The problem is being exacerbated by the fall in the pound, which has meant that books published outside the UK cost a lot more than they used to. We have a smaller budget but an even smaller number of books that we purchase with it.”

Philanthropic donations to the Bodleian, which are counted towards the library’s book purchasing budget, have also fallen from £1,088k to £993k, representing a 12% real-terms cut from 2017-18 to 2018-19.

Philanthropic donations include “income generated by Trust Funds being used to purchase materials and one-off donations for the purchase of particular items or groups of items” according to a spokesperson from the Bodleian Libraries.

No squidding! Time to ink again about octopus terrine?

Squidnap!

Michael Culbert

The recent controversy over whether Somerville was right to remove octopus from their formal menu highlights the persistence of a lack of understanding of how it feels to come to Oxford for someone from a working-class background.

As someone from a council street in Belfast who has tried some of the more unusual seafoods, I welcome the Somerville principal’s decision; and I’d say if you are an Oxford student finding yourself outraged by the fact octopus has been taken off your formal menu, you might want to re-evaluate your priorities.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with eating octopus, as far as I’m aware there are no ethical issues beyond the usual for any meat, and branding foods as “too posh” misses the issue here.

I would, in fact, quite like to try octopus after hearing about this mini-scandal, but I’m somewhat glad that it wasn’t on the menu for my freshers formal.

Coming to Oxford is, for most, a disorienting experience filled with novelty, much of which is exciting, some of which is stressful and takes a while to adjust to, and a little of which is just unnecessary. So why make that any harder than it already is?

Having a plate of octopus – a food I don’t think any half-educated person should need to have pointed out is not a staple of the British working class – set down in front of you at your first formal dinner at Oxford firmly joins knowing which type of gown to buy in the latter category.

For many students at Oxford formal dinner, with its candelabras and three courses, may be at least a somewhat familiar experience, and a great part of Oxford is that formals are, for the most part, very cheap and accessible.

This means that whatever students have (or have not) experienced at home becomes less important.

We should recognise, however, that millions of people in the UK live in poverty, meaning going out for a meal is a rare occurrence for huge swathes of our country; and when it does happen it’s Wagamama or TGI Friday’s, not Somerville for some cephalopod.

Inevitably, then, to make Oxford more accessible to all sections of society we must realise this and alter our expectations.

The ability of any student to feel that they fit in here is more important than scolding them for a lack of adventurous tastes in seafood, and to not recognise that fact is the epitome of middle-class privilege.

We’ll sea

Ray Williams

Octopus terrine. A week ago, I’d never heard of it. Even now I’m not wholly sure what it is.

And yet its supposed abolition from the menus at Somerville College has been talked about in the Daily Mail, The Telegraph, and on BBC Online. We have found ourselves in the midst of a manufactured controversy that should never have gotten beyond the pages of the student papers or the com- ment threads of Oxfess.

Believe it or not, octopuses do not feature heavily in Oxford’s Access and Participation Plan for the coming year. If you read Baroness Royall’s original blog post, she mentioned the ‘bemusement’ of one Somervillian at being served what I gather is some kind of pasted octopus.

Bemusement was the emotional trigger of all this fuss. Baroness Royall’s heart is in the right place and I applaud all those working to make Oxford a more comfortable place for students that do not fit the traditional Oxford mould.

However, access isn’t about removing and hiding Oxford’s various curiosities it’s about making them less mysterious. Indeed, it’s those very curiosities that appeal to many students here.

Students from less advantaged backgrounds, including myself, go to university expecting to try new things.

We expect and welcome change and challenge. We are not afraid of the odd oddity. We are not afraid to stand up and demand that changes be made. And we are not afraid of octopus terrine.

After all, there are far stranger things in this city. And, for that matter, far greater impediments to access.

The media furore around things like this do far more harm than good.

It’s bad enough feeling like a fish out of water without being patronised as well. I am of course sympathetic to the fact that in a place as bizarre as Oxford there is no reason to make it any stranger.

I also empathise with any student who’s been embarrassed in a new situation. I lurched from disaster to disaster in first year. But there’s a first time for everything and university is the place to discover new things. If not now, then when?

Of course we find it comforting to eat food that reminds us of home. But we don’t need to eat such food exclusively to feel comfortable, and we don’t need to be patronised by those who feel we can’t handle the shock of octupus terrine.

We would quickly come to regret it if colleges decided to serve fish finger sandwiches every dinner time in a the name of comfort.

The world’s in dissarhea: the sillier side of life

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We live in a world where a recent death row inmate demanded he be served a “fattened live cat” for his last meal, forcing the Colorado State Penitentiary to become the first to deny a prisoner their final supper of choice.

Once upon a time, this kind of wacky story was light relief amongst the dryer political fare. How lucky we are that cat eating felons are now on the more predictable, tedious end of the news spectrum.

Government shutdown slackening staff numbers at the White House? Fret not. A Big Mac buffet it is. Of course, the nuggets and sachets of sauces must be served on silver platters and flanked by robust candelabras, lest we lose the touch of grandeur for the fast food feast.

Brexit not going as well as one would hope? Never fear, Chris Grayling is here and he’s brought a bunch of plucky rookies to run our glorious cross-Channel ferry service. Don’t worry about their lack of experience, they’ll pick up how to float the boats as they go along!

But happily, the weird and wonderful is not just a matter for international politics. Closer to home, a runaway rhea (a small emu, apparently. No, me neither) is running amok in the vicinity.

The bird was first spotted somewhere called Peppard Common, which Google Maps assures me is relatively close and, much to do chagrin of law enforcement, he is still at large. Chris is his name and circumvention is his game.

The juicier news tidbits often seem to come from America, a surprise to no one. For those who failed miserably in their attempt at dry January, a woman in the US was recently banned from Walmart after she went on a wild joyride around their car park on a mobility scooter, all while slugging back wine from a Pringles canister.

This went on for two and a half hours. No, really. Two and a half hours. That is 150 glorious minutes. Think about that. If you, like myself, are a finalist and feel on the verge of cracking in a similarly dramatic and amusing manner, never fear.

Whenever it all becomes too much, and you too feel like eating a well-fed cat in dismay, don’t worry about light entertainment or stand up comedy.

Turn on the news, open up the paper and prepare to enjoy the strangest show of all – the real world.

The awkward conversation around ‘Privilege’

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The concept of social ‘privilege’ is something that only relatively recently has been prominent in social discourse.

Some believe that it’s something that defines the very essence of everything one can achieve in their lives, such as columnist Brando Simeo Starkey. Others, like lecturer at the University of Michigan Jamie R. Abrams disregard entirely believing it to be a myth.

When asked to write something on the topic, I had to reflect on the concept and my own position on it for one of the first times ever, and its something I have found quite difficult.

It’s a topic that’s impossible to define, quantify and measure and even my own musings will be completely different to yours of your friends or anyone else’s.

I felt best to begin with myself. As shocking as it may be for some of you to hear, I’m disabled. When I was born, my parents were told I would never walk, talk, sit up, or even eat solid food, and that I’d likely be dead by the time I was 12.

Luckily, and against all medical advice, my parents refused to accept this prognosis, trying any way that they could to make a better life for me.

I’m so thankful for the mobility I have, because I know it should have been much worse. That’s not to say that there are many facets of my disability that I really don’t like, many of which are not too obvious to others.

I fatigue an awful lot quicker than most, so am limited in the amount of time I can spend both working and socialising. In addition, this city in particular throws up a lot of access issues. The fact that I’m in Bridge every Thursday is because it’s the only club accessible for wheelchairs. Perhaps what irritates me the most of my condition is the social stigmas surrounding it.

The slightly higher and slower speaking voice that I’m met with when talking to strangers is a bit too common of an occurrence for me. A girl I met in the summer even asked my Dad: “Did he really get into Oxford?”.

It’s very hard to create an individual personality that allows you to be per- ceived outside of your wheelchair. As much as I love the people and the environment at Hilda’s, I even felt it took at least until around the midpoint of Michaelmas to kick these stigmas at university, which is why I really didn’t enjoy the beginning of my time here.

The issue of ‘privilege’ I think perhaps is highlighted here. I even felt that I had to overcome these social preconceptions when meeting everyone, even some of who I now consider my closest friends.

They clearly never had any malicious intention, which is why I feel it unfair to confront people on this issue, when, if anything, they’re doing it with my benefit in mind.

The Wikipedia definition of privilege is: “The perceived rights or advantages that are assumed to be available only to a particular person or group of people”. Under this definition, I feel personally I don’t quite have the ‘advantage’ of having a ‘blank slate’ in a new social situation, with me often having to joke about the disability to bring out the elephant in the room.

In a more practical sense, even last term, there were many events that I’d turn up to, not be able to attend, and then leave my friends with choice of either leaving me or spoiling their night, which is a lose-lose scenario.

I think it’s fair to assume these all to be considered as some sort of ‘privilege’ for abled bodied people.

However, even factoring in my own experiences, I still feel the term ‘privilege’ is a bit problematic. Granted, I am disabled, from a working-class background, and am a first-generation University student, which could lead you to assume that I am lacking ‘privilege’.

However, I am also a heterosexual, white, man, which one could argue grants me certain ‘privileges’. There are also issues of types and degrees of ‘privilege’: am I, say, more ‘privileged’ than an able bodied, black woman from the LGBT community?

Even from a mobility point of view, is the fact that I still have function of all four limbs a type of ‘privilege’ I hold over other people with certain disabilities?

Your answers to all of these questions would likely depend on your own social position and perceived ‘privileges’, which in turn I suppose throws into question this entire piece: can my point of view be trusted and accepted given my own social position?

Can I be trusted to be unbiased, subconsciously or otherwise? The fact that Oxford University is not 100% comprised of white, British, abled bodied, heterosexual men is a sign that ‘privilege’ is not a definitive.

Society has evolved to the point where, although its true ‘equality’ can be debated to say the least, one can overcome their social ‘privileges’, as seen by all of us being where we are.

I don’t think its unfair to feel that an Oxford Education is a ‘privilege’, given its likely career boosts.

So ultimately, the question of the severity of different types of ‘privileges’, and if ‘privilege’ even exists in the first place is a debate for someone far cleverer than I (I’m an English student, I’m clearly not that bright).

I just think that, given that everyone has a different social position, and thus a different level, type, and perception of ‘privilege’, the healthiest and best way of dealing with it and getting it out in the open is to talk about it more.

We have to create a discourse with people from all sides contributing, so that hopefully, one day, the marrying of all these different perspectives can be achieved.