Friday 11th July 2025
Blog Page 75

Ticketmaster hurts student concert culture

Sara Lee
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Ticketmaster hurts student concert culture

Competitive, difficult, and opaque. All words associated with the Oxbridge admissions process. More recently, however, they have been used by disappointed Oasis and Coldplay fans in relation to Ticketmaster. It’s devoted fans with less to spend (namely, students) who suffered most.

After the recent release of tickets for Oasis and Coldplay tours, the company has been accused of ‘advertising misleadingly’. Many have blamed the confusion on the website’s dynamic pricing model, where the price of a ticket varies to reflect changing market conditions, shooting up exponentially when met with great demand. This can be particularly detrimental to devoted fans, a large number of whom are students. The result is significant financial strain, resale market impact, and uncertainty surrounding the elusive nature of these tickets.

With this in mind, it is easy to feel hopeless at the prospect of joining the Ticketmaster queue system. However, there might be hope on the horizon for eager fans, as provisional legislation could aid demographics with less disposable income, such as students, to have their shot at bagging a ticket. The Competitive Markets Authority (CMA) has launched an investigation into Ticketmaster operations over Oasis concert sale. The organisation will evaluate whether the sale of those tickets have breached consumer protection law, which states that ticket sales sites must be transparent in their deals with consumers and must relay clear and accurate information about the price they pay for a ticket. As part of this, they check if Ticketmaster has engaged in ‘unfair commercial practices’, particularly looking into the transparency of their dynamic pricing model and the impact of time and pressure when paying for these tickets. 

Whilst dynamic pricing is not automatically unlawful, its inherent changeability means that its operations are prone to fall into grey areas. In this case, the CMA is concerned with the potential lack of transparency when marketing these tickets, questioning if the information buyers were given about prices before checkout aligned with the prices they actually paid. A glance at  X (formerly Twitter) reveals the frustration many fans felt during the process, with a sense of being ‘unfairly’ treated being a common theme. Some complain that one price was shown at the time of selecting a ticket but were confronted with doubled prices at checkout. 

Another emphasis of the investigation seems to be the pressure put on fans to finalise their purchase within a short period of time. Heightened moments of pressure thwart customers’ ability to make coherent and rounded judgements, and when coupled with what are high prices for most of the population, people are thus more prone to make rash decisions that have heavy financial implications. Ticketmaster has used a timed element to control consumers’ perception of scarcity and demand, which potentially impacts their purchasing decisions in the company’s favour. It is a system that feels on the verge of exploitative. 

However, the double standards surrounding dynamic pricing must also be considered. Plenty of other consumer services use dynamic pricing, such as hotels and airlines, and yet aren’t scrutinised in the same way. Dynamic pricing is a natural by-product of market-based capitalism, where demand and supply are bound to have an inverse relationship. It just so happens that we are experiencing potential misuses of it. Whilst Ticketmaster’s practices do seem like a breach of ‘clear and accurate’ information relayed to consumers, it is not yet evident whether Ticketmaster has actually broken consumer protection law. 

Perhaps it would be helpful to think about why concert tickets are met with more disdain than their, equally dynamically priced, counterparts. In both the Oasis and Coldplay incidents, the central frustration seems to be centred around high, and hidden costs due to concentrated demand for a non-essential commodity (whereas a hotel or plane ticket is more likely to be a ‘necessary’ or sometimes ‘non-luxury’ purchase due to business). Fans are thus more likely to stress over the chances of securing a ticket for such an in-demand concert, but due to their desperation for an opportunity to see their band live, they are willing to pay a premium for tickets. Therefore, the problem isn’t inherently within dynamic pricing, but in Ticketmaster’s lack of transparency. One way to resolve this would be to declare the rate in which prices will rise based on consumer interest. By displaying that ‘this might be £70 now, but will go up in x number of hours after x number of tickets are left’, some fans are left still having to endure a premium, but they will at least know what they are getting into, enabling them to make an informed choice as to whether or not to remain in the queue. This is surely preferable to being ambushed by an extortionate price tag at checkout, after committing hours to the wait. 

Some have also advocated for a set number of tickets that are left aside to be sold as ‘means-tested’ ones, where capital to support this could be raised through charities. Though bands have no duty to be a social service, it would help to broaden their prospective audiences – which can only be a draw. Student discounts are also a potential solution, with food chains, travelling services, and fashion brands offering yearly discounts. Some of these products on discount are non-necessities, too. The problem of bad actors and misuse arises, but this will always be unavoidable to a certain extent. 

Whilst a lot of Oasis fans will be ‘looking back in anger’ due to their lack of tickets for the upcoming concert, the future is not all doom and gloom. Changes are afoot to increase access to these concerts, in whatever form they may take.

Celebrating two centuries of the National Gallery

Flo Wolter
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Celebrating two centuries of the National Gallery

In Skyfall, the Bond franchise’s 50th anniversary film, the passing-prime protagonist sits alone in Room 34 of the National Gallery. In a moment of reflection as he waits to meet the young and tech-savvy new Q, he gazes at Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire. Though unacknowledged, there is a quiet camaraderie between him and that “bloody big ship”. 

Turner’s painting invites viewers to evaluate the nature of modernisation, and to question what role rusty battleships and dusty institutions have in an ever-changing Britain. At this milestone in the National Gallery’s life, marking 200 years, we reflect with Turner’s honey-hazed nostalgia on what this great British institution means to us today. The gallery was established in 1824: 38 paintings and an address of No.100 Pall Mall. Two centuries later, it is home to 2,300 works, host to over 4 millions visitors a year, and at the heart of the nation in Trafalgar Square, it is far from being towed to the scrap yard.

To me, the National Gallery’s appeal lies in part in its name and founding ethos; unlike most European national collections, the gallery was not the product of the nationalisation of the royal collection. Rather, it was established through Parliament on behalf of the British public, with whom ownership still resides today.

The British public have been actively involved ever since: the gallery’s collection has been stabbed, stolen, shot, and – most recently – souped. Velázquez’s Rokeby Venus has been attacked in protests divided by over a century, while the only successful art heist (a Goya, burgled 1961) resulted in a high profile trial. Kempton Bunton, bus driver turned art thief, was found not-guilty of stealing the painting – but guilty of stealing the frame.

It is not just the vandals that make the National Gallery ours, but the visitors. As a small child, the National Gallery was a soggy Saturday sanctuary to me, traipsed through on many a rainy weekend, hand in hand with my art-loving dad. Over a decade later, long after my family had moved out of London, I would catch the train into the city and pay a pilgrimage back to the National Gallery, which became my school each saturday. The gallery hosted my education for two years during sixth form, in collaboration with Art History Link-Up. 

AHLU is an educational charity which provides free A-Level and EPQ instruction for state school students. Currently only 8 state schools throughout the UK offer art history. Yet since AHLU was founded in 2016, 400 young people across 200 schools have had the opportunity to study the subject, including myself. The National Gallery is a stunning place to study. While the gallery provided a classroom, my favourite hours were spent wandering through the collection. Huddled around paintings, we would discuss Caravaggio’s chiaroscuro and I would try to capture something of its effect through inked words and blurry sketches in my notebook’s margins. 

The collaboration with AHLU demonstrates the ideals of outreach and inclusion that make institutions such as the National Gallery enduringly vital in modern Britain. In a country that has yet to foster comprehensive cultural accessibility, having nationally-owned, publicly accessible art galleries is an investment in the idea that the nation’s treasures, that culture and education, are everyone’s to share in. 


And while I came to love Turner’s great visions of national change, it is Rembrandt’s wistful self-portraiture of ageing that captures me most. His gentle brushwork and  tender observation in A Woman bathing in a Stream impressed on me the significance of the personal, of the insignificant people that mean the most. The National Gallery is an institution built from the people of this country, and it seems to understand that. Though it has been suggested that Rembrandt’s painting was simply a study for a larger biblical work, the National Gallery believes that ‘the most likely possibility is that Rembrandt knew and loved this quiet, gently absorbed woman and shared her delight in an unguarded moment of pleasure in some anonymous Dutch stream’.

‘warþ gasric grorn, þær he on greut giswom’ [Fish sad when washed to shore] – The Franks Casket

Molly Cartwright
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‘warþ gasric grorn, þær he on greut giswom’ [Fish sad when washed to shore] – The Franks Casket

hronæsban
sorrowful, weeping tears of salt
taken, hunted, harpooned
from my blue lagoon
crafted by you into this box.

hronæsban
carve me, recalcitrant though I am
may my banhus tell both your story
and mine. 
unsure which is which,
unsure who is who.

hronæsban
scratch your runes and your faces
deep within me
your knives penetrate bone and flesh.

hronæsban
reach your hands within me,
violate me, 
stick your pins and needles inside of me.

hronæsban
why are you scared of me?
climb upon my back,
or inside of me.
i’ll bite you; i’ll eat you.

Autumn à la mode

Cerys Bennison
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Autumn à la mode

Fake fur and feathers, textured knits and tweeds, boots, black tights, and billowing coats: behold the autumn wardrobe in all its cosiness. In the fashion calendar, autumn’s arrival is the industry’s biggest money-churning event, as customers flock to restock wardrobes for colder weather and work. Adverts run riot in magazines, boosting the biggest brands alongside proclaimed ‘wardrobe essentials’, which nevertheless seem to change yearly. Soon, luxury fashion knock-offs appear on the high street, allowing all to be suited and booted for the new season.

Inevitably, this surge in profits is anticipated by the entire industry – and nothing heralds its coming quite like the September issue. It is a source of much competition and deliberation: each fashion magazine seeks to release a blockbuster edition in September, outshining competitors by bagging the most illustrious cover star. Vogue, as the established queen bee of such publications, continues to reign supreme with 11.1 million print readers alone. But where Kylie Jenner is now framed by the iconic font (seen on the 2024 September issue of British Vogue) there would have been a stylish illustration a century hence. The 1920s were the golden age of fashion illustration, fusing historical art practice with modern seasonal glamour.

It depicted a fantasy world, but was coloured with enough reality to make it feel obtainable. The lissom silhouettes and lively scenes positively dance with humour – albeit edged with a certain Art Deco hauteur. Instead of a perfectly coiffed Jenner, autumn Vogue covers of this period show women catching leaves or chasing their hats across the park in a relatable reference to the season. Such illustrations make the couture elegance of celebrities seem achievable, without airbrushing autumn’s weather-related quirks. Take, for example, George Barbier’s L’Air image: an unexpectedly windy day is threatening to – or succeeding in – dislodging the hats of pedestrians; yet despite the mishap, they still look fabulous, even as they frantically try to retrieve their headgear.

The magic of fashion illustration lies in its creative freedom: certainly, photographed editorials might be better at selling the clothes, but the camera can only ever depict what’s there in front of it. Contrarily, fashion illustrators can emphasise specific bits or make them up entirely, posing them somewhere between commercial artists and designers in their own right. A 1924 Vogue illustration by George Wolfe Plank evidenced this. Fur-lined and feathered, the model sports a long coat that intentionally – and rather hilariously – resembles a rooster. Huge puff-ball sleeves and talon-like gloves emphasise this zoomorphic effect, with the pictured deer apparently accepting the wearer into its animal kingdom. It is more likely that this garment sprung from Plank’s imagination than any Parisian atelier, but it pokes fun at fashion’s seasonal sales pitch and its never-ending quest for novelty – sometimes to the point of ridiculousness.

Of course, real clothes were depicted too. As fashion photography began to usurp fashion illustration, artists were forced to confront reality and focus on the material. Nonetheless, there is a whimsy to these drawings which no camera can achieve: the real and imaginary are often intertwined, meaning the pictured fashions of 1920s illustration idealise seasonal style. Vogue’s September issues of the 1920s sell a fantasy of everyday life, and yet the illustrated models – chasing hats, catching leaves – seem more relatable than the celebrities pictured on its cover today.

Review: Joker: Folie à Deux

Hassan Akram
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Review: Joker: Folie à Deux

In 2019, Todd Phillips’ Joker made a stir both with critics and at the box office. For an audience of comic-book fans accustomed to watching grown adults in swimsuits laugh at their own jokes and float around exploding skyscrapers, Joker, a serial-killer thriller masquerading as a piece of social realism, was a refreshing break. It was a film “about society”, and that vague appellation was enough to distinguish it from the general crop of popcorn cinema.

Few fans realised that in heaping praise on itthey were in fact commending two earlier Martin Scorsese/Robert De Niro collaborations – Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy – from which the better parts of Joker were plagiarised. The film had excellent source material. But it was destined to join American Psycho and The Wolf of Wall Street as the latest in a subgenre of “incel flicks”. Any chance of realism or nuance vanished in a film in which a serial killer dressed up as a clown is interviewed live on TV by Robert De Niro and makes a staggeringly on-the-nose monologue whose final line is: “What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash?”

The musical sequel, Joker: Folie à Deux, is out now in cinemas. It contains few of the redeeming features of the original – none of the “will he/won’t he” suspense, none of the sympathy for victims of state austerity. It is a marriage of two dead genres – the musical and the superhero movie – while also dipping into prison and courtroom drama.

The story, with spoilers, is this: Two years after the murders shown in the first film, Joker is in prison (“state hospital”), where he meets a fangirl named Harleen Quinzel (Harley Quinn), who, like him, endured a traumatic childhood. Joker’s subsequent court trial acts as the centrepiece for the film. Here we are treated to the return of familiar faces from the first film, and to the twist that Harley Quinn is pregnant. The court is adjourned and for a time Joker returns to hospital, where he is beaten by guards who then murder his prison mate. When he returns to court, he decides to renounce the Joker persona, and to become Arthur Fleck once more. Rejection, murder, and a clumsy form of tragic irony, make up the thematic punch of the final scenes.

The film is as nonsensical as the summary suggests. It seems far too concerned with itself, trying self-consciously to defend Phillips’s decision to make it a musical, for it to provide much drama or entertainment. The ratio of music to non-music is also troubling – I counted sixteen tracks – and the regular bursts of song are a structural flaw from which the film never recovers. Joaquin Phoenix, it must also be said, sings like a chain-smoker. Watching him try to pour out his soul, I could not have been the only one praying that he would swallow some cough syrup, and the film soundtrack is unlikely to make the charts.

Phoenix, who won the Oscar for his portrayal of the title role in the first film, returns looking gaunter and older; it is unclear how much of this is make-up and how much the natural progression of time. At first, his attempts to look dead inside end up on the McDonald’s-worker end of the spectrum rather than the psychopathic-clown end. As the film progresses, however, he becomes genuinely riveting, and his one undeniable strength is to create sympathy for a character who could so easily become unsympathetic. He never allows us to hate Arthur Fleck.

The performance of Lady Gaga as Harley Quinn is even better worth praising. She sings better than Phoenix, naturally, and often is more convincing than him in the intensity of her performance: when she leans against a window and tells Joker in a hoarse croak with transfixed eyes how much she admires him, she – more than the music or the prison setting or the subtle inclusion of cigarette-smoke in the shot – thickens the moment with atmosphere. She freshens every scene in which she appears.

Unfortunately, neither she nor Phoenix can save the film. Unlike the first one, which aimed, however clumsily, to issue a political statement, Joker: Folie a Deux is ultimately too disjointed and unnecessary to win Oscars or make headlines. It deserves to be seen in the cinema – not because it is a film “about society” – but because in view of its poor box-office performance it is the last Joker film that we are likely to get.

The Graduate took on generational divides

Sebastian Hall
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The Graduate took on generational divides

From its start, The Graduate shows its audience that Ben is alienated from the older generations. At the party his parents throw to celebrate his graduation from college, he seems aloof and indifferent, in both his physical detachment from the party and the emotional distance he embodies. His university is an invisible but powerful symbol of his youth, with the intellectual and physical vigour of his achievements – cross country, debate – contrasted with his muteness now, in the face of a sea of fawning adults. The university would also by the late sixties become the most recognisable site of an entire generation’s social removal from its elders, in its embrace of sexual freedom and anti-war protest.

It is when relaxing on a floating pool bed that this generational fissure becomes all too clear. The camera angle shows Ben’s father towering over him when he objects to Ben’s slovenly lifestyle and demands aspiration and hard work, or at least movement. In the world of film, movement is an integral part of youth – think Jonah Hill and Michael Cera dancing in the opening credits of Superbad – but Ben seems happy to reject it. In reality, his affair with Mrs. Robinson keeps him moving around nightly. Not only does Ben not participate in the plans of his parents, but he symbolically disrupts that very cabal that overlooks him in the pool. His use of the alter ego Mr. Gladstone at the hotel rejects his parents’ name, and by implication their plans for his life. 

Ben is something of an anti-hero. The actions he takes are often far from admirable, while his apathy (for most of the film) detaches him from the chivalric standards celebrated in America’s World War Two veterans. Yet perhaps this is what a disillusioned generation demands. The Graduate portrays in stark terms the removal from the moral compass of previous decades, foreshadowing the social breakdown of the late sixties. The final scene, as Ben and Elaine flee from her wedding, fittingly symbolises the destruction of the most fruitful safeguard of post-war American prosperity and society. The uncertain expressions on the faces of Ben and Elaine at the close of the film, however, make clear that this catharsis remains full of uncertainty.

In this superficial world, Ben seeks meaning and connection, pleading with Mrs. Robinson for some sort of conversation. While Ben’s scuba suit obscures the world around him and distances him from it, his affair represents physical contact that confounds the values of the society. In this act of rebellion, he still seeks some sensibility and good manners, reflecting some youthful optimism that he can make and participate in a different world. But Mrs. Robinson is resigned to the affair as a fleeting transgression: both she and Ben are trapped in unhappy lives in Pasadena, both alienated from a society characterised by aspiration and patriarchy. If Arkady rebels against his father’s provincial gentry origins in Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, having been inspired by his charismatic university friend Bazarov, Ben’s symbolic rebellion fails because he can’t establish this sort of meaningful relationship outside conventional society with Mrs. Robinson.

His escape with Elaine at the end shows he must commit absolutely to a non-reified life; while he once forced her to confront her own sex’s reification at a strip club, now he sticks the holy cross in the door to prevent the wedding guests from pursuing them. He can’t have his reified cake and eat it: if his rebellion is to work this time, he must detach himself from every symbol and embody that meaning himself. The bus passengers overtly staring at Ben and Elaine demonstrates this shift, with her wedding dress transplanted into the cold soil of de-reified realism. Will it survive? Maybe not – as their uncertain faces betray at the very end – but at least they can now pursue the authentic meaning of the self, distanced from suffocating convention. The essentialist tone which The Graduate strikes at in its conclusion cannot but presage the generational reckoning of the late sixties – and depict perfectly the perennial youthful conflict between confusion and absolutism.  

New Oxford ethics institute aims to answer ‘how should we live?’

Sara Rourke
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New Oxford ethics institute aims to answer ‘how should we live?’

The new Uehiro of Oxford Institute, launched on 1st October, has tasked itself with answering a long-standing philosophical question: “How should we live?” Through its interdisciplinary research, the institute aims to apply its findings and get closer to answering the Socratic question, providing forms of ‘ethics consultancy’ to organisations.

The Uehiro Oxford Institute will replace the previous Oxford Uehiro Centre for Practical Ethics based in the Faculty of Philosophy. However, the Institute will retain its strong links with the department and will be directed by Oxford’s renowned philosophy professor Roger Crisp.

Crisp told Cherwell: “The fundamental question we are asking is ‘How should we live?’, and more particularly ‘How should we act?’. To answer that question in particular areas will require input from specialists in politics, science, medicine, and many other areas, and so we aim to be genuinely interdisciplinary in our approach. We are not expecting to provide all the answers, but we aim to use what we’ve found to help others make their own decisions: this is what we call ‘Thought into Action’.”

The Institute aims to help solve pressing contemporary ethical issues such as how we should respond to the climate crisis, pandemics, and rapid developments in information technology. It will be based in the Humanities Division and will focus on producing interdisciplinary research across a range of areas such as art, literature, law, medicine and social sciences. The move to the Humanities Division from the Faculty of Philosophy recognises the collaboration between relevant disciplines needed to tackle ethical issues.

A gift from Uehiro Foundation on Ethics and Education, which has worked with the University for over two decades, enabled the institute’s creation. The gift will also allow for the creation of postdoctoral research fellowships and graduate scholarships for the Institute.

Founded in 1987, the Uehiro Foundation was formed by Eiji Uehiro, a Japanese social educator and writer. Inspired by his father’s survival of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, he dedicated himself to the furthering of moral and ethical education.

Vice-Chancellor Professor Irene Tracey said: “The ethical challenges facing humanity today are greater and more numerous than at any point in our history. To understand them and to find the best ways to confront them, the Uehiro Oxford Institute will draw on the expertise of our world-leading researchers across the university.”

Eileen Gu on Olympic skiing, fashion modelling, and studying at Oxford

Selina Chen
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Eileen Gu on Olympic skiing, fashion modelling, and studying at Oxford

In China and beyond, Eileen Gu is an icon. You see her defy gravity with impossible spins as the first woman to land a forward double cork 1440 in freestyle skiing. You see her dazzle at Met Gala and grace the cover of every major fashion magazine. Somehow alongside all this, you see her studying at Stanford and now at Oxford for a term of exchange – she hasn’t been in the same country for more than three weeks this year.

Gu has three Olympic medals for China – including two golds in big air and halfpipe – and a full-fledged fashion career. Time named her among the world’s 100 most influential people, and Forbes named her the world’s second-highest-paid female athlete. Omnipresent on billboards, the news, and video platforms, she’s made over $30 million in luxury endorsements. But when we chatted at Oxford’s Vaults & Gardens cafe over jasmine tea, I was speaking to a 21-year-old girl who is down-to-earth in her demeanour and full of excitement about coming to Oxford. 

Born and raised in San Francisco but began competing for China in 2019, she said that she is “American when in the US and Chinese when in China.” She is also a self-described nerd who signed her email with an affectionate “E”, made light-hearted quips, and asked me questions about everything from punting to subfusc. After our conversation, she headed to the Rad Cam to get some writing done – classic Oxford.

Gu generally does not comment on politics. For context, Western media has reported on Gu’s straddling the Sino-American geopolitical divide (BBC and The Economist) while Chinese media portray Gu as crucial to rejuvenating the motherland (China Daily).

Formal in the Magdalen College hall. Image Credit: Eileen Gu

Cherwell: Why Oxford?

Eileen Gu: I have always valued education deeply. Lots of people around me – other athletes, advisors, mentors, my mom – all tell me to take time off school, but I feel like being an academic is an integral part of who I am, so that’s why I’ve remained a full-time student throughout my life. I want to explore the institutions that make up our educational landscape globally, and Oxford is definitely one of those. There’s also a romance about it: the architecture, the wit, the fashion. Lastly, I’m training in Europe this fall, so Oxford’s closer to Austria, where we have training and a World Cup next month.

Cherwell: Between school, fashion, and training, what’s your schedule like?

Eileen Gu: I competed in the the first World Cup of the season was in New Zealand this August, where I was happy to win my 15th world cup victory. I was at Paris Fashion Week before I came to move in, then I’ll be doing various shows the next few months. But for the most part it’s gonna be training and competing because it’s pre-Olympic qualification season. I spend a lot less time on snow than all of my competitors on the professional tour – that’s my own doing, though, and it’s worth it because school and fashion are deeply enriching. But when it gets to crunch time, aka now, I have to be a lot more focused and intense because every day I’m on snow has to count for three days. The hardest part isn’t necessarily producing high quality work while on different time zones or locations, but rather maintaining strong friendships and making sure I get the true campus experience.

Cherwell: What tutorials are you doing?

Eileen Gu: I’m doing a creative nonfiction tutorial because I’m writing a memoir. I’m also taking an entrepreneurship and the arts seminar – that’s particularly interesting for me as a member of the creative sphere to understand how people build businesses and value creativity. 

Cherwell: There are lots of Oxford traditions, some of which people all know about while others come as a surprise when we get here! What classic Oxford things have you done?

Eileen Gu: This is actually funny: we’ve been to a lot of freshers’ events, but all of us on exchange are juniors – a third-year here – so I’m actually not sure how I should meet people my age. [At freshers’ week this morning] I signed up for a bunch of societies: cheese society, running, equestrian, polo, Oxford Union, and squash on a whim. I definitely want to attend some formals – I love fashion so the opportunity to do it in an academic sense is so fun. They sell out really quickly! Every time there’s an intersection between my three spheres, it makes me so excited. 

Cherwell: Do you plan to pick up a British accent?

Eileen Gu: (With a giggle) I wish it were that easy!

Cherwell: People always want to take photos with you. (At this point two graduate students recognised Gu and asked to take a photo with her). What does fame feel like here at Oxford?

Eileen Gu: Everyone wants to separate their work and their personal life. I think I’m pretty normal, I love making friends, I’m also just a new student here trying to figure it out. But I don’t want people to be friends with me because they think I’m famous or whatever – I would prefer for people to be friends with me for substance, interesting conversations, mutual exchange. 

Cherwell: Recently people like Chappell Roan have be outspoken about treatment of celebrities, especially women, in their personal lives, to a lot of positive traction. What are your thoughts on this?

Eileen Gu: I feel that part of having a platform is understanding all of its impacts. Her case is a bit different from mine, since I have made it my personal mission to make social impact in terms of sports, using my voice and my platform. Because I do a lot of outreach, I can’t really complain about it. I do feel bad when my friends get harassed because they didn’t consent to the publicity. If anyone comes up and asks me for a photo, I say yes nearly 100% of the time – I only don’t if I’m mid-training. Especially at Oxford, where everyone’s so brilliant, it’s a two-way street where I’m always curious what other people are doing. But it’s really unfair if my friends get the short end of the stick just by virtue of association with me. It’s a tough thing – sometimes it’s tiring but I feel lucky to have the privilege to do what I do.

12% of Oxford students seek mental health support

Zach Burgess
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12% of Oxford students seek mental health support

CW: Mental Health, Suicide.

Around 12% of Oxford students have made use of Oxford University’s counselling services in the past academic year, Vice-Chancellor Irene Tracey said in her Oration this year. 2,000 staff have also received training to provide mental health support to students.

Last year, the University joined the University Mental Health Charter Program, an initiative by charity Student Minds to support universities in improving their mental health services. Tracey said that the Charter is a new commitment that will “strengthen” Oxford’s existing policies.

This is in line with the University’s pre-existing “Common Approach to Student Mental Health”, which commits to supporting the mental health and wellbeing of all students across the collegiate University, including through access to a range of specialist services such as counselling. The priority of the service is that all treatment be “efficient and focused”. As a result, the University acknowledges that students must use the NHS or private services for long-term talking therapy. 

A uniform approach was implemented across colleges after a review into five student suicides in Cambridge, which concluded that a significant cause was “wide variations” in provision between colleges. Cambridge’s new updated policies on mental health are similar to the Common Approach in centralising the mental health provisions to provide a single university-wide standard. 

A student who has accessed Oxford’s counselling services in the last year appreciated the speed at which they replied to her request. However, she expressed frustration over the limited time offered: “45 minutes every other week isn’t enough to form the sort of relationship that I needed to make any progress. Besides, after two sessions my counsellor told me that I wouldn’t need any further meetings and dismissed my feelings as ‘freshers’ anxiety’, despite me disagreeing.” The student told Cherwell that she went on to seek private counselling.

A 2023 investigation by Cherwell found that students did not believe that the University’s services were adequate to meet mounting mental health challenges.

A University spokesperson told Cherwell: “We take the mental wellbeing of our students very seriously and encourage those who are in need of support to access the extensive welfare provision available at both University and college level.  A range of specialist support services for students who experience mental health difficulties is accessible via the Student Counselling Service as well as college Welfare Teams. Oxford’s Student Support and Welfare Services are committed to delivering timely, high-quality and effective support to all members of our student body who need information and support.”

152-year-old Boat Race medal discovered in the River Thames

Charlie Roberts
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152-year-old Boat Race medal discovered in the River Thames

An 1872 medal from the Varsity Boat Race between Oxford University and Cambridge University was scavenged in the River Thames by two mudlarkers. It likely fell amid severe weather conditions described as “a pitiless descent of swirling snow [that] was literally blinding” by the Times.

The medal, bearing the crests of both universities, is inscribed with the words “University Boat Race Putney to Mortlake” – the same route used today. The reverse side is engraved with the year “1872”. It was likely a commercially produced souvenir rather than an official medal awarded to participants.

The find was made at Southwark on the banks of the Thames by Tom Chivers, author of London Clay: Journeys in the Deep City, and Nicola White, who posted a video of the discovery to her mudlarking YouTube channel.

Mudlarking is a centuries-old tradition which entails combing the shores of rivers to find valuable items. London is particularly well known for this particular pastime, with the Thames holding objects from the Roman period to the present day. The Boat Race medal is one of many objects uncovered by mudlarks along muddy shores of the River Thames, where significant artifacts, including mammoth remains and Tudor garments, have been discovered by licenced mudlarks such as Chivers and White.

The 1872 Boat Race marked the 29th time rowers from Oxford and Cambridge competed in this event, with Cambridge winning for the third consecutive year. That particular race was notable for being the last year to feature fixed seats before sliding seats were introduced.

A snowstorm during the 1872 race led to poor visibility and fewer spectators than usual lining the banks of the river, with the Times describing it as “of the most cheerless character” and “in the teeth of a bitter gale and snow storm”. The weather conditions marked the worst the Boat Race had seen until 1912, when strong winds caused both team boats to sink – an incident that has not been repeated since.Now a world-famous event, the Boat Race attracts around 250,000 spectators to the Thames riverbank each year, with millions more tuning in to watch the race on television. Last year Oxford lost to Cambridge, giving defending champions Cambridge a 87–81 record for men and 48–30 for women.

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