Monday 20th October 2025
Blog Page 71

My parents, Oxford, and me

Angharad Thorp
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My parents, Oxford, and me

My parents studied at Oxford, which meant I knew Oxford before I knew myself. 

The university found a way to fill each nook and cranny of my life before it even felt like my own. A hand-drawn map of Jesus College was hung in our downstairs bathroom; my eyes were level with front quad any time I washed my hands. My interest in philosophy was supplemented by my dad’s old tutorial essays and reading lists, leading to debates about Kant quickly dominating our after-school chats. He seemed unphased that I was thirteen; he was glad someone listened to his thoughts on obscure ethics with the same eagerness with which he spoke.

Crucially, this bright, richly academic childhood kept Oxford close to me. Small paintings scattered throughout the house and quiet quips about college life meant it felt like a viable destination for study rather than a distant, dream-like city of spires and snoots. I am entirely aware of the privilege of this perspective. The reason I am at Oxford is due in no small part to my parents’ encouragement of my academics, and I am indebted to their continual support. 

I am also slowly realising how Oxford connects me to my parents. With no close extended family, it was difficult to  picture my parents as anything other than my mom and dad. Despite my best efforts to bring them into focus, they remained blurry. What Oxford crucially offers is a point of contact, where our lives exist in parallel. My mom talks of fond nights at “The KA”, and I smile because I too am partial to an overpriced pint there. Now, every pub trip there makes me think of her. In this small world, I find parts of them which exist beyond their parental outline. 

And yet, this city also is a reminder of our distance. Though I walk the same path, my footsteps do not fit perfectly in prints first left by them. In unassuming conversations, I find reminders that my days do not look like theirs. My dad, with a mix of humour and sadness, explains that he was too anxious to ever step foot inside of the Rad Cam. I respond that it is one of my favourite places to study, acknowledging the gap between us. It is on my quiet days, when I am too depressed to get out of bed, that I feel most distant. I wish I knew what they did when they were sad. How did they fill the silence, which streets did they walk? Ghosts linger around Oxford and I can neither outrun and ignore them, nor embrace them, pulling them into a hug. It is hard to know what to do. Sometimes too hard. Late one night, I walked to Jesus College, sat down on the pavement steps outside and cried, confused by the strange weight this city has come to hold, as well as its emptiness. 

What I do know is that a man reading PPE and a woman reading Music met at Jesus College, Oxford, in the 90s and quietly fell in love. Eighteen years later, they dropped their daughter off at Balliol College for her first term of university. It was a sunny day in October, and the sun  shone kindly on their faces. I know that when I received my Oxford offer, my dad rushed upstairs, grabbed his mortarboard and placed it on my head; he was beaming, slightly teary-eyed. In amongst these memories lies disconnect and confusion, but also gentle warmth and understanding. These contradictions are testament to the city’s  ability to hold it all, each moment, feeling and everything  in between. That certainly feels like a good reason to smile and give my parents a call. 

Inauguration Day: ‘No one can claim complicity from across the ocean’. 

Sydney Walter
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Inauguration Day: ‘No one can claim complicity from across the ocean’. 

First, a proclamation: I voted for Kamala Harris in the 2024 US election. Second, a geological fact: I am from Seattle, Washington. Washington is the only state that got bluer in the 2024 election. My mom and dad are there, living in this blue bubble, running their business, walking the dog. Instead of the shock and horror that characterized Trump’s first election, they have grown weary.

To be fair, my mom started with anger, planning to perform a silent protest where she would write on pieces of paper: “This store hates women”. She intended to put them inside coat pockets at Anthropologie because the parent company URBN donated to Trump’s campaign. But the rage didn’t last long, nor did the plan get executed. The weariness took over, and my mom and dad have kept going; running the business and walking the dog, going about life at the pace they want to live it. And they can do this because we live in a bluer-than-blue state, within a blue bubble, and for my family, this is the illusion of protection. And for me, this is the illusion of their—and my own— safety. 

The day Trump won, I still performed the functions of life. I made the trek to college from my accommodation in Summertown and once arriving on college grounds people gave amicable hugs, asked if I was ok, and said “sorry.” I moved through the day with a foggy sense of recollection. I lost my fork, a hairband, and misplaced my computer. I developed pink eye in both eyes. I was disoriented and experienced many variations of sadness, but I found odd comfort in the “sorrys”; I was saying the same thing. 

The first time that Trump won, my school held an assembly to watch Hillary Clinton’s concession speech; “This loss hurts. But please, never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it. It is. It is worth it.” A Trump Countdown appeared on my drive to school; 1,460 days left. People mourned, yes, but the mourning dissolved into normalcy and jokes about Trump became common in school and when talking to your neighbours. In my circles, it felt that Trump was an inconvenience, a terrible, horrid one to be sure, but what could one do? And eight years later that feeling held true; Trump was an inconvenience, a terrible and horrible one, a case for many sorrys. 

When you spill milk, what do you say to the person whose milk you spilt? You say sorry. You say sorry because your action was an inconvenience to them. They have to take time out of their day to show you where the paper towels are to clean the floor, and they have to get new milk. You feel bad that you have caused them these inconveniences. 

When Trump won the 2024 election and people said sorry it had similar principles; they felt bad because they knew it would cause many inconveniences. One of the key traits of inconvenience is that there is distance, that it isn’t completely your burden, and so one says sorry to signal comradery but not claim the issue. 

I cling to these facts: The governor of Washington is a Democrat.

And to this fact: The former Governor of Washington instituted some of the ambitious climate laws in the country because he knew that Washington could look like California with over 100,000 people displaced due to fires in the Palisades, Eaton, and Hurst. 

And to this fact: If, for some godforsaken reason, I get pregnant at the end of Trinity Term, there is an open abortion clinic on East Madison Street. I can walk fifteen minutes from my house to the light rail, ride to University Street Station, walk five minutes and be greeted by people who will care for me and support my decision. 

And to this fact–which is not just true for Washington, but any state: that my parents are white, middle class, and citizens of the United States. 

And that I am white, middle class, cis-gendered, and a citizen of the United States.

When Trump won, I called my friends from red states and said sorry. I called my friends who are trans, who are undocumented, and said sorry, because I know they don’t have the same facts to cling to. But even with facts to cling to, this does not exempt me from claiming the issue, red state or blue state, this is still a country governed by Trump. The illusion of protection is only as salient as those who fight to make those same protections for every person, in every state. And the illusion of protection spans, across oceans, across country lines, because an America governed by Trump is also a world braced for unruly potential. 

Let us not forget that these facts are also true: 

Trump plans to prioritize US production of oil and gas.

It was the work of Trump that overturned Roe v. Wade.

Trump plans to launch the largest mass deportation of migrants in U.S. recorded history and end birthright citizenship: “We’re going to end that because it’s ridiculous.”

January 20th 2025, Trump will go into office a second time. Hold your sorrys and turn them into rage; do something with this rage. No one can claim complicity, from a blue state or across the blue ocean. Be vigilant. Hold yourselves with gentleness, because rage and gentleness can go hand in hand. First, a proclamation: I voted for Kamala Harris in the 2024 US election. Second, a geological fact: Trump’s policies and political actions will impact every part of the globe.

“…But please, never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it. It is. It is worth it”

Women’s Blues carve out ski victory at varsity

Sebastian Page
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Women’s Blues carve out ski victory at varsity

Recent years have seen Cambridge dominate the Varsity Skiing competition that dates back over a hundred years, as Oxford have seen only seven victories since 2010 across all twenty-four Blues races that happened prior to the 2024 set (although no information is seemingly available for the 2023 outcome). So, with a chip on their shoulder and catsuits (think full-body Lycra) that left you wondering whether they were even capable of movement, our valiant skiers braved the -10ºC to hit the slopes and get practicing. Thankfully, the Women’s Blues delivered.

For those unaware of how competitive skiing is judged at the Varsity match: Both university enters a team of six racers, with each racer completing two runs in two separate categories. For each category, the times are combined, and the four fastest totals are used to calculated the team’s score. The same process is repeated for the other category, and the times for both categories are added together to determine the teams’ final scores. This system emphasises the necessity of squad depth and consistency,  as teams require four racers to deliver reliably strong performances to achieve an overall good final score. 

The two categories are Slalom, and Grand Slalom. The former is more technical and demands faster and sharper turns as racers will need to go slower to weave their way around the poles that are spaced very narrowly. Grand Slalom is more about overall control, as skiers pass gates that are more spaced apart, requiring them to remain in control while going at higher speeds. 

Both universities were well-matched. Oxford took home the victory in the Men’s 2nd and 3rd team races, as well as the Women’s Blues overall. Cambridge picked up the remaining contests, but established their case for breaking the deadlock by having both the fastest man and woman overall. Despite this, there were still many results to be celebrated. Oxford’s individual fastest times were David Schram and Charlotte Wargniez, both of whom captained the Men’s and Women’s Blues respectively. 

The Oxford Men’s 3rd team also deserves significant recognition, as the course dramatically deteriorated over the course of the day, leaving them the daunting task of putting up a good score on what had become a steep wall of rutted ice that had claimed many victims already that day. They walked away with a score that not only won their own contest, but would have narrowly lost to  Cambridge Men’s 2nd team as well.

The setting of Tignes added another dimension to the race this year. With a large area for spectators, and a chairlift going directly overhead, there were plenty of witnesses for some of the good, bad, and ugly moments of the day, including multiple falls and the odd lost ski. Lest the crowd be enough, all competitors were asked for one song each to play in the background during their last run. Some saw this as an opportunity to become the main character and picked famous titles like AC-DC’s ‘Thunderstruck’ or their other classic ‘Highway to Hell’. In my opinion, that was taken too far when one person chose KSI’s latest addition to the world of music, his infmaous track, ‘Thick Of It’. Other selections were a tad more bizarre, as quirkier racers chose the ‘Wii Sports Theme Tune’ and even ‘Clash Royale Drill Remix’. There were even racers who became momentarily self-aware, with one choosing ‘Stayin Alive’ by the Bee Gees, while simultaneously hurtling down the hill with the sole cushion of a block of ice. 

The major drawback to the songs (that were otherwise a great opportunity for some fun in what could have become too serious of a day) is that racers who had fallen over would have to ski down the side solemnly while the song they had chosen played in the background. This might not have been so bad if the chosen song had been a bit more hardcore, but when one skier chose to have their name sung in noughties Europop-style by an artist called Die Zipfelbuben, they might have started to wonder why they didn’t pick a different song…

But as we well know, the day is about a lot more than skiing. Wednesdays are about socials, not sport, and skiing is about après. Cambridge celebrated their great win outside the neighbouring venue Cocorico’s, before dancing the night away at the Blues Bop. All in all, the Varsity Skiing race is generally a very good-natured affair, and Oxford brought their most appropriate flag to pose with after the races, with a message that perfectly matched the tone of good-sportsmanship: ‘F*ck Cambridge’. Glad to see that good old-fashioned rivalry is still ‘in’, and I very much look forward to a term’s worth of trash talk and competitive spirit in the Varsity matches to come.  

BookTok: The Last Page of the Publishing Industry?

Maya Heuer-Evans
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BookTok: The Last Page of the Publishing Industry?

The #booktok stands that have become fixtures of bookshops across the country inspire intense feelings in me. It’s a mix of guilty curiosity, superiority, and bewilderment. BookTok, of course, encompasses a greater variety of interests than is represented in these displays, whose books are selected on the Holy Trinity of online appeal: ‘smut’, ‘spice’ and specific ‘tropes’. Yet in doing so, booksellers are (perhaps unwittingly) highlighting a side of BookTok and its audience which are the focus of a furious argument over the diminishing quality of literature being produced by the publishing industry. In the nuanced fashion which is typical of online discussion, critics decry book-tokkers as anti-intellectualist, while book-tokkers condemn its critics as conceited elitists. It certainly makes you wonder: is BookTok’s influence on how we engage and produce literature genuinely this impactful?

Influencers that have gained fame by analysing and recommending works online have become the faces of the publishing industry to an emerging generation of readers. Publishers actively encourage this by inviting figures like Jack Edwards, a prominent youtuber, to attend Booker Prize award ceremonies and literary festivals. However the charge levelled at these individuals is that by engaging in ‘trope-ification’, they lower standards of engagement to the point where derivative literature – works based on prior books and characters – can be published traditionally and dominate the book market. There are works like Red, White and Royal Blue, which demean the quality of publication through a reduction in standards – or so the online critics hold. To them, the similarity of the book covers decorating these #booktok stands is a visual symptom of the homogenisation of literature as Booktok distills novels down to mere checklists of tropes and stock characters. Even the way influencers market these books is predictable; an individual is framed by bright and bountifully brimming bookcases, identifying ‘Five books to solve X’, or ‘Five books for when you’re feeling X’.

Yet the argument that a form of culture can be debased by vacuous work designed to engage the plebeian taste is an old, tired argument, which has been rinsed and recycled since mass literacy became a phenomenon. This specific claim smacks of misogyny too, given that a majority of the authors who are perceived to benefit from this ‘trope-ification’ of reader engagement are Romance-writing female authors. Derivative literature has existed and enriched culture for decades – think of Bridget Jones’s Diary, which is a partial retelling of Pride and Prejudice. Any assessment of the overall quality of published books at any one time would be, by nature, arbitrary and subjective – there’s simply not enough evidence to suggest that ‘BookTok’ is even having a definitive impact on it.

However the popularity of tropes within the online book community has had an effect on the way in which readers engage with works. Because publishing is a market constantly responding to changes in profitability, this has, in turn, led to a reconsideration of how books are marketed. When books are promoted online, it is based on the number of tropes they fulfil, from ‘chosen one’ to ‘one-bed’. They are grouped together with works from completely different genres and contexts, instead united according to these categories. Literary tropes have always existed, but they’ve tended to be background influences, something rarely used to judge a book’s potential success. I’m disappointed to say that I’ve recently seen Jane Eyre marketed as ‘enemies-to-lovers’ – a particularly low point, in my estimation.

It is important to stress that the Romance sub-community is only one of BookTok’s many faces. There are sides which specialise in literary fiction, the Classics, and even nonfiction  – most of which have their own distinct ‘trope’ checklists like ‘sad girl’ or ‘female rage’. Recognising the distinction of sub-communities is particularly interesting in itself. It speaks to the fact that like all online spaces, ‘BookTok’ is essentially operating as a market: there’s competition for visibility, followers, and potential brand deals. No matter how much genuine enthusiasm one might have for the written word, behind every video lies the pressure to make content that ‘sells’ and which will remain ‘visible’ – that is, receive high levels of engagement. What ensures engagement in the fast-paced, short-form world of TikTok is concision. This specialisation according to genre or type, funnelled by algorithms designed to repeat what has already been enjoyed, occurs because newness takes longer to engage people than familiarity. This means that analysis gets reduced and videos get shorter, which pushes the need for code words – like ‘enemies to lovers’ – which, economically, intimate the greatest amount of information about a book in the fewest seconds. 

Videos specialising in the literary classics are often labelled inaccessible, while influencers  promoting romance are labelled vacuous. The problem is never in the genre or type of works being read: it lies in the lack of variety and exposure to the unknown. But variety is hard to achieve in an online sphere, particularly because ‘BookTok’ is but a corner of an online world which subsumes all art forms under the guise of ‘content’ to be ‘consumed’. Film, music, art, literature – our exposure to culture has been reduced to a multivitamin, a once-a-day media tablet that we swallow quickly and with little attention to its specifics. The sensitivity needed to enjoy different art forms differs greatly between and within categories. They all require different palates and sensitivities, but the ever-productive churning force of the algorithm prevents this from developing. It also deprives us of the patience needed to, say, slowly savour a book, rather than skim to compete in the logging of as many books as possible on Goodreads.

This is not to say that online spaces like BookTok can’t provide community, inspiration and connection. However it is important to remember that BookTok is an artificial space, with underlying algorithms and structures that encourage artificial engagement.  I’m not telling you to scorn the ‘BookTok’ stands in your local Waterstones, but simply suggesting that we also remember to appreciate the wider array of genres, editions, authors and contexts which await you on different shelves.

Medieval kitchen discovered during Oriel renovations

Charlie Bailey
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Medieval kitchen discovered during Oriel renovations

A once-in-a-century excavation of Oriel College has led to the discovery of the remains of a medieval kitchen and part of the city’s Saxon-era walls. The discovery, made by Oxford Archaeology, has shed light on Oriel and Oxford’s historical development, of which little was previously documented. 

The excavations were made possible by renovations to the college that took place in preparation for its 700-year anniversary, which included rebuilding the kitchen and refurbishing the bar. Oxford Archaeology discovered what they believe to have been part of the city’s south eastern corner, before Oxford extended eastwards. The walls separated St Martin’s Hall, one of Oriel’s old medieval halls, and land Oriel owned to the north. 

A roasting hearth and oven base were also discovered: medieval structures like the kitchen had been replaced in the 1640s, when the present Front Quad was constructed. 

Further excavations of Oriel could uncover even more about Oxford’s history and will contribute to the debate that started in the 1950s, around whether the excavation site may contain the remains of a smaller defended town. 

Oxford Archaeology’s senior project manager, Ben Ford, described Oriel’s location as “archaeologically rich.” Ford also commented that unearthing the medieval kitchen allowed archaeologists to confirm assumptions about the size of Oriel’s original perimeter, which were made based on maps, views and surviving historical documents. 

Previous renovations on the Oriel site in October 2024 unearthed a ditch that revealed late-Saxon Oxford’s eastern defensive line. It dates from when Oxford was one post in a wider defensive network on the boundary of the kingdoms of Wessex and Mercia. Its position in relation to a section of wall believed to be the late-Saxon north-eastern corner of the town meant that archaeologists were able to verify a theory that the late-Saxon perimeter of the town was square, and thus based on the Roman model.

Mini-crossword: HT25 Week 0

Zoë McGuire
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Built by Cherwell Editors using PuzzleMe"s online cross word maker

For more crosswords and other puzzles, pick up a Cherwell print issue from your JCR/Plodge!

Not everyone needs – or ought – to go to university

Zagham Farhan
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Not everyone needs – or ought – to go to university

University is not cheap. For most of us, it will be one of the largest set of debts we ever take out.

It remains to the Treasury, however, a debt largely left unpaid. By March 2024, outstanding student loan debt to the government stood at an eye-watering £236 billion, and that figure is predicted to double in the next 25 years. This is symptomatic of very active choices from governments, both Tory and Labour, over the last few decades; Blair made a pledge to send over half of young people to university, a pledge which has had untold negative consequences on the country as a whole. His 50% target was finally reached in 2017-18, and what has it gotten us?

The results are disappointing: a nation full of shortages in key industries (plumbing, electricals, etc.) and an incredibly over-saturated graduate market. As with anything, when you increase the supply the item itself becomes significantly less valuable – and so being ‘a graduate’ is no longer the golden ticket it once was. Combined with the domestic fees cap, we now also see a university sector subsidised heavily by international students and the British taxpayer, with many universities struggling to be financially viable. 

Encouraging people to go to university seems now to be a compulsion, as opposed to being considered one of the most significant financial decisions of one’s life. My own decision was thought through long and hard – after the Navy rejected me for medical reasons – and to this day I often feel that I may have been better placed diving straight into the real world. Indeed, I often feel that my year of employment before I started at Oxford taught me significantly more about life than this degree ever will.

And there are, of course, plenty of excellent non-university options out there. Someone I know recently took up a Ministry of Defence apprenticeship instead of going to university, and I’m beyond convinced that this was a fantastic decision. He earns an excellent salary, and is learning skills that are actually incredibly valuable to both himself and the nation – and crucially he won’t be saddled with £50,000 of debt. We can, and should, do more to open up new opportunities to people – to show them that in today’s world a piece of paper with the word ‘Bachelor’ written on it doesn’t have to define your ability, skill, or indeed earning potential.

So what’s the solution? In my ideal world, the government would do everything in its power to expand and celebrate non-university options. They would encourage the establishment of more degree and non-degree apprenticeships, and careers that start at 18, not 21. At the same time, they should raise tuition fees and end the repayment threshold, acknowledging finally that higher education is a privilege, not a right, and currently an outsized burden on the taxpayer.

Student Finance is a truly wonderful thing: it has enabled millions of young people to access the world’s best educational institutions. But it comes at a massive cost. Not everyone needs to go to university, and that’s not at all a bad thing. 

Importantly though, we must recognise that someone pays for these degrees – either that is the person who chooses willingly to go to university, or it’s the taxpayer. I know which one of those options I prefer.

Have an opinion on the points raised in this article? Send us a 150-word letter at [email protected] and see your response in our next print or online.

What Gisèle Pelicot can teach us about student consent workshops 

Victoria McKinley-Smith
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What Gisèle Pelicot can teach us about student consent workshops 

The trial of Gisèle Pelicot exposes the disturbing reality of consent ignorance, even among those convicted of sexual violence. This case underscores the need for more effective, comprehensive consent education to address widespread misconceptions on the topic of rape and assault.

CW: Sexual Assault 

“No means no.” We’ve all heard the phrase, repeated in a variety of settings; ranging from public campaigns to Freshers’ Week consent workshops. Yet, despite this clear-cut message, consent continues to be misunderstood, misrepresented, and in some tragic cases, ignored. The recent trial of Gisèle Pelicot in France has brought these issues to the fore, forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths about the state of sexual consent laws, education, and attitudes – not just in France, but across the globe. 

A case study in consent

Consent workshops have been a mandatory part of Freshers’ Week at Oxford University since 2016, in a bid to create a safer environment for students and initiate a more open conversation about the issue. While some colleges opt to carry out their own JCR welfare-led sessions, others opt for Oxford’s internal training system, CoSy, offering a comprehensive course dispelling myths on consent and its associated laws. Every one of us has sat through the excruciating awkwardness of these sessions, placed into groups of five or six people, whose names we might not even know yet. We’re presented with scenarios, then asked to decide whether or not consent was given. A typical example might read something like this: 

“A 59-year-old woman lives in Avignon with her husband of 38 years. Between 2011 and 2020, he used an online chatroom to invite over 70 different men, aged from 21-68, to violate her. One of the perpetrators arrives, a 53-year-old baker and father of three. The woman is splayed on the bed, motionless and snoring; she is unconscious. Rape, or not rape?”

This was no imaginary scenario, but the horrifying reality for Gisèle Pelicot. 

Over nine years, Dominique Pelicot, Gisèle’s husband, contacted men from all walks of life, including trusted professionals from nurses to journalists, to violate his wife whilst he filmed them. To most people, there is no question that this is rape – and indeed, the court in Avignon reached this verdict for 51 of the men guilty of these abominable crimes. But this clear-cut case did not stop almost a quarter of the convicted claiming that they had not realised Gisèle had not given her consent, or even that she was unconscious. This defence raises major questions about the state of consent education in France: it seems inconceivable to us as students who have been through the consent workshops offered at school and university, despite their flaws.

Other participants in the mass rape claim that they were coerced by the formidable Dominique, revealing the problematic emphasis of male influence in society. It’s perhaps sickeningly ironic that a group of consent-ignoring rapists argued that they ‘couldn’t say no’ to the demands of Gisèle Pelicot’s husband. This serves as a reminder that rape is a crime deeply rooted in misogynistic attitudes, reflecting a disregard for women and their rightful place as equals to men in society. The voices of men therefore continue to be unfairly prioritised over those of women. One video played during the trial shows Gisèle, eyes closed, tongue lolling from her mouth, rendering consent totally impossible. It seems banal that we still have to debate the basics of consent in the 21st century, so how can the argument of so many of the men be that they “didn’t know what consent was”?

A lack of knowledge

What was perhaps more concerning during the Pelicot trial was the argument that Gisèle’s husband gave consent for her. Many of the men during the trial argued that they were convinced they were taking part in a sex game with a consensual couple. Needless to say, there are no consensual couples, only individuals.  

For the vast majority of us, consent is not a difficult thing to understand. Should we not know what consent is by the time we reach the age of 18? However, the reality is more complex. Research shows that many young people, particularly men, may not fully grasp the nuances of consent due to the widespread consumption of pornography, which often portrays explicitly non-consensual scenarios as normal or even desirable. This can lead to a distorted understanding of consent, with some individuals internalising harmful ideas about coercion, manipulation, and entitlement in sexual relationships. In fact, one YouGov survey indicated that 36% of British men, compared to 4% of women, consume pornography at least once a week. This has prompted growing concerns that these influences shape perceptions of what is acceptable behaviour. In order to keep such problems from worsening, it is therefore vital that secondary education provides adequate teaching on the subject. In many cases, comprehensive sex education is still lacking or inconsistent, often focusing on the biological aspects of sex rather than emotional, psychological, and ethical dimensions like consent. This leaves many young people ill-prepared for navigating complex situations around consent once they reach adulthood. Given these realities, it seems more necessary than ever that consent workshops at university are conducted – workshops that aim to challenge common misconceptions and provide clear, comprehensive education on the importance of mutual respect, communication, and boundaries in sexual relationships. 

University consent workshops

The sessions conducted during Freshers’ Week are instrumental in explaining the nuances in body language, continuation, and withdrawal of consent. Many workshops attempt to address these nuances by exploring both real-life and hypothetical scenarios, to help participants understand that consent is an active process that can evolve throughout a situation. They emphasise that consent can be communicated not just verbally, but through physical cues and body language as well. However, the effectiveness of these sessions can vary. While some students report a deeper understanding of how consent works in practice, others feel that the workshops oversimplify complex issues or fail to address the subtleties involved, especially when it comes to non-verbal signals or ambiguous situations. Moreoever, as rape can take many different forms, the issue of consent is not black and white either. This raises issues with the application of a blanket law, leaving no room for nuance in situations which can turn out to be far more complicated than they first appear. French criminal law defines rape as a penetrative or oral sex act committed on someone using “violence, coercion, threat or surprise”. It makes no clear mention of the need for a partner’s consent and prosecutors must prove the intention to rape to secure a guilty verdict. What the men in the Pelicot trial failed to understand was that the absence of a ‘no’ is not a ‘yes’. 

While this renders these educational workshops more necessary than ever, it is important to acknowledge that they are far from perfect. One college welfare rep told Cherwell: “The resources we are given by the SU are fairly fundamental and there is no guidance from college or the welfare professionals in it towards more effective resources.” It is also important to remember that a team of welfare reps and second-year volunteers now trying to educate had sat through the workshops themselves only a year ago, and received no formal training or guidance. In order for these workshops to succeed, they need to feel less like another obligation in the overwhelming Freshers’ Week timetable, and more like an essential step in educating the next generation of students. In order for this to be the case, the responsibility needs to be placed on trained professionals rather than welfare reps and well-meaning volunteers. Colleges or the central university must therefore increase funding to ensure resources are comprehensive and well-designed, and establish standardised, high-quality sessions that are regularly updated and tailored to students’ needs. Professional facilitators, with expertise in consent and sexual violence prevention, should lead these sessions, guaranteeing a more informed and impactful delivery. 

Assault happens everywhere

The domestic setting of Gisèle’s ordeal reminds us that assault does not just take place in busy bars and clubs at the hands of a stranger. Dominique was seen as a loving father and caring grandfather to his three grandchildren. Nor was this an isolated incident carried out by one man, with so-called ‘disciples’ of Dominique Pelicot taking inspiration from his heinous crimes. Such copy-cat behaviours only highlight that rape and assault are not hypothetical moral quandaries, but the reality for women everywhere. According to the university-wide Our Space study from 2021, more than half of Oxford students reported being sexually harassed within a single year, and over one in five said they were victims of sexual touching or rape, demonstrating that universities can be a breeding ground for sexual harassment in the forms of both physical and verbal targeting. Despite all students having access to the free online consent platform ‘Consent for Students’, roughly two-thirds don’t complete the training. Granted, this is an improvement on the mere 949 from the previous year, but this only highlights the need for quality resources and training in mandated sessions. Freshers are simply unlikely to engage with over-simplified, seemingly obvious scenarios where they come away from sessions feeling bored and patronised.  

Yet, even with such workshops in place, the defence used by the perpetrators in the Pelicot case – that they didn’t understand what consent truly meant – suggests a larger societal failure. If adults, particularly those of legal age, are still unclear about the concept of consent, what does this say about our educational systems and cultural attitudes towards sex? This misunderstanding of consent often manifests in dangerous ways, such as the defence used in the Pelicot case from one of the men that: “My body raped her, but my brain didn’t,” as if a lack of intention could erase the harm caused. This line of defence, which hinges on the claim that the accused didn’t understand the situation fully, is not only legally weak but morally reprehensible.

More needs to be done

The Gisèle Pelicot trial forces us to confront the harsh reality that, despite the good intentions behind consent workshops, much work remains to be done. Beatrice Zavarro, Dominique Pelicot’s lawyer, has said that she believes “change will not come from the Ministry of Justice but from the Ministry of Education”. This only highlights the need for systemic change. The Gisèle Pelicot trial teaches us that student consent workshops, whilst often simplistic and even a little condescending, are vital in ensuring that the excuse: “I didn’t know what consent was,” can never be used again. It’s about recognising that consent is not just a rule dictated in an isolated workshop, but a responsibility that we must actively enforce.

If anything in this article has made you uncomfortable, please do look at the resources provided by the University’s Sexual Harassment and Violence Support Service at the link: https://www.ox.ac.uk/students/welfare/supportservice. 

Smoke and mirrors: Oxford’s changing smoking culture

Jack Leader
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Smoke and mirrors: Oxford’s changing smoking culture

Behind a constant veil of thick tobacco smoke, students relax and chat in a night of music and dancing far from Oxford’s usually formal settings. This might sound like a club smoking area, but it actually describes Oxford’s ‘smoking concerts’. An integral part of entertainment at the University in the early twentieth century, they speak to a time where smoking was an inevitable backdrop to everyday life. Smoking was more a constant part of its scenery than a University-wide ‘culture’.

This ghost of smoking past left me wondering: is there a smoking ‘culture’ at Oxford today? And how much has it changed?

Changing times

Those days of carefree smoking have vanished. The 1950s saw a definitive link established between smoking and lung cancer, and smoking rates have been largely on the decline ever since. When the Health Act of 2006 made some premises smoke-free, the University seized the opportunity to introduce a no-smoking policy inside its buildings. Philosophy students could no longer indulge in endless nights in their rooms spent staring at an unwritten essay question, a cigarette between their fingers. 

Cast out of doors, even smoking outside has faced heightened restrictions. Most colleges have restricted smoking to a few fringe areas. The areas in question are generally dingy, such as a small hole outside Lincoln College’s bar. When that’s the space on offer, little wonder barely any of Oxford’s smokers picked it up at the University. 

Some colleges have banned it entirely from their main sites: Brasenose, Mansfield, and Queen’s to name just a few. Unhappily for smokers, but a victory for those concerned with the significant health threats of second-hand smoke. These policies have seen occasional reversals – St Peter’s College rowed back on a ban on smoking on-site in 2019 after a JCR majority opposed it – but the trend of increasing restrictions continues at pace.

Declining rates 

Health concerns and the steady encroachment on smokers’ terrain has won results. Today, the dangers of smoking have never been better-documented: It is currently the leading cause of preventable illness, responsible for over 74,000 deaths a year. Whereas in the 1950s we might have expected 80% of students to smoke, a survey of 84 Oxford students showed only 23.8% now do so. The decline is unmistakable. Smoking has been limited and de-normalised as a habit for students. A smoker described to Cherwell his shock that: “At Oxford, if you smoke other students will ask you about it: ‘why do you smoke?’ I haven’t seen that anywhere else.” Ever fewer smoke, and ever fewer spaces allow them to.

Smoking survives outside bars, pubs, and clubs. Tobacco and alcohol go hand-in-hand as some of the substances available to students looking to cool off from the University’s “stress machine”, as described by one interviewee. Oxford’s nightlife helps students socialise and de-stress, and smoking provides both. Even within clubs cigarettes facilitate these roles – who hasn’t taken a breather from Bridge in its smoking area? 

Even with this appeal, smoking wins few converts at Oxford. A few respondents discussed picking up smoking to deal with stress. One told Cherwell: “Oxford is stressful so there’s peace in smoking.” But 87.5% of respondents who smoked started before coming to the University. The alluring thought of a quick cigarette to calm the nerves before a collection only occurs to those already used to it. 

Oxford’s smoking cultures

Carried over by incoming students as opposed to being home-grown at the University, smoking is more a passive practice at Oxford than a ‘culture’. It is in the background of other parts of life. This is exactly the same place it held when smoking was much more common, but now confined to some dank smoking areas and the cold streets of the city.

A narrow majority of the students surveyed disagree. 54% believe there is a smoking ‘culture’ at Oxford. Yet even here it was seen as largely passive. Non-smokers rarely felt pressured to smoke. If one person went for a smoke, others wouldn’t necessarily follow. But if non-smokers are naturally more likely to come from environments where smoking was rare, the culture shock of seeing students their age smoking semi-regularly might lead them to think there is a smoking culture. One non-smoker interviewed described exactly that, though they conceded this may be because they were “sheltered”. This chimes with how sceptical the smokers interviewed were of the idea of a university-wide Oxford smoking culture. 

A wider consensus emerged among respondents that the case was more one of smoking cultures than a single one for the whole university. Here, different subcultures develop their own smoking ‘cultures’ as part of the images they wish to cultivate: the Oxford Union and Oxford University Conservative Association, “posh kids”, student journalism (The Isis even have branded lighters as stash). PPE and English had by far the highest proportion of smokers by subject – the same groups most likely to be active in these subcultures. The connotations of smoking here become more attractive: a social currency; a tool for hacking; something more glamorous or worldly. Smoking becomes adopted as a part of the subculture’s aesthetic. 

The result is a feedback loop encouraging new participants to partake as well. Smoking becomes a social glue within these contexts, helping to cohere the groups by the opportunity it provides for socialising within them. Its position as a natural part of the subgroup’s culture and image is then consolidated. However, if you weren’t a part of these specific groups you wouldn’t necessarily draw the same associations. One interviewee told Cherwell: “I used to walk past the smokers outside Port and Policy without thinking about it. It was only when I picked up smoking and started attending that I saw it was a culture there.” This explains why drinks and stress were much more commonly associated with smoking as being more widely applicable.

Oxford’s cigar-smokers exemplify this. I was unaware such a subculture even existed, but a few respondents described it. Limited to a tiny group who can afford them and are “almost always dressed formally”, cigars are used by them as symbols of wealth and ‘refinement’. Freshers assimilate into the groups and adopt the practice, but otherwise the subculture is so compartmentalised as to be largely invisible. The symbols are only for each other to see – in these contexts smoking is as much a social signal as an outlet.

Generational Changes

Yet the future of smoking at Oxford appears to be a bleak one. With a declining proportion of smokers between years, it is increasingly endangered. Ever higher cigarette prices mean the habit can easily cost over £100 a month, discouraging any new intake. The decline may also be part of the wider trend in recent years of Gen Z proving increasingly abstinent. One in three is teetotal, as a shift occurs away from a ‘going-out’ culture and the substances like alcohol and tobacco that accompany this.

As ever fewer students participate in the ‘going-out’ culture and ever more pubs and clubs are forced to close, this has a knock-on effect on smoking. Those spaces are the very ones most closely associated with the practice. Its ground is yet more limited, leaving it with too little space to even become a University-wide culture. The subcultures are its last bastion.

At a more direct level, the proposed Tobacco and Vapes Bill of 2024-25 – set to be passed into law early this year – will ban the sale of tobacco products to people born on or after 1st January 2009. This raises the prospect of Oxford’s Freshers of 2027/28 being nearly entirely smoke-free. A black market will almost certainly develop, with products even more expensive and difficult to attain. Students still smoking will be far less willing to freely give them out, and Oxford’s casual smoking culture will face extinction. It will be too much effort for something banned in so many places to be worth it.  

Smoking’s Future at Oxford

I can only speculate about what smoking cultures in Oxford will exist then, but I can think of two alternative paths. First, existing smoking cultures may slowly die out due to the expense and legal difficulties of the purchase. Second, smoking may become further limited to even fewer subcultures, but become more important in and culturally distinct to those contexts. If I had to place a bet, I would count on the second one, since it’s hard to believe smoking will lose all of its appeal by becoming illegal (you need only look at the UK’s drug culture to see supportive evidence – a subject for another article).

Smoking retains its allure: many identified it as a “cool” aesthetic for Oxford. The practice has recently seen a resurgence in pop culture, most notably as ‘a pack of cigarettes and a bic lighter’ became the symbol of Charli XCX’s provocative ‘Brat Summer’. In a context where it is limited and threatened, smoking gains its own attraction as something almost counter-cultural in breaking with those norms. It hardly possessed this trait when it was a constant presence around Oxford. It is precisely the restrictions designed to limit it that make smoking more attractive to specific groups.

The proven health dangers of smoking may mean that it is not a practice whose passing should be lamented. But it has evolved into a symbolic prop for many of Oxford’s vibrant subcultures, complementing their chosen aesthetics and images. Smoking has also maintained its older role as a passive practice occurring in the backdrop of Oxford’s nightlife and entertainment. 

Nicotine is hardly the most attractive social glue. Still, the fact that it retains a social role despite its dangers and increasing restrictions is testament to its staying power. Any judgements on smoking’s demise may be premature. And while there has never been a University-wide smoking ‘culture’ as such at Oxford, different smoking cultures have developed and look set to continue, for now.

St Hilda’s to plant over 5000 trees to protect woodland area

Bryn Mollet
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St Hilda’s to plant over 5000 trees to protect woodland area

St Hilda’s College is set to plant 5000 trees in Radley Large Wood over the next three years to help protect and diversify the woodland area and combat the impact of ash dieback – a fungal disease which kills ash trees. The college received £21,115 from the Rural Payments Agency to fund the project as part of the government’s Countryside Stewardship Programme. 

St Hilda’s purchased Radley Large Wood, which lies just south of the Oxford ring-road, in 2022 and has worked closely with the Forestry Commission to create a 10-year management plan for the area. Before St Hilda’s became the custodians of the woodland area, there was scant active management, with many areas overgrown and, in some areas, ash dieback affecting up to 40% of trees in some areas. 

The tree planting is part of St Hilda’s broader goal of improving sustainability which involves achieving net zero emissions and improving biodiversity. The college also hopes that the project will enhance local wildlife habitats. 

The college also wants to ensure that the wood remains accessible to the public. Falling branches as a result of ash dieback can make woodland areas unsafe for visitors and nearby properties. St Hilda’s bursar, Chris Wood, told Cherwell by combating the disease, “the College’s intention is to ensure that Large Radley Wood becomes a truly living woodland for the benefit of all.”

The college has warned that occasionally the active management of woodland areas can appear “stark” but emphasises that it is crucial for the long-term health of the area and limiting the impact of ash dieback disease. 

The Countryside Stewardship scheme is an initiative by the UK Government which aims to protect, restore and enhance the environment by providing grant funding for farmers, foresters and lang managers. It is especially committed to countering the effects of climate change.

The grant will cover the essential activities of the project which involve planting, maintaining and protecting the newly-planted trees to ensure their growth and survival. Hilda’s will plant several varieties of native species in segments across the Radley Large Wood, including oak, sweet chestnut, and hornbeam. This particular variety of species has been selected to ensure ecological resilience, as well as the long-term health of the woodland.

The college has warned that occasionally the active management of woodland areas can appear “stark” but emphasises that it is crucial for the long-term health of the area and limiting the impact of ash dieback disease.

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