Tuesday 7th October 2025
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Bops are for everyone – the themes we choose should be too

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A recent decision by Mansfield Entz to host a 4/20 bop seems in best case misguided and in the worst exclusive, and the decision of the Entz reps to rethink the bop is a welcome one.

A 4/20 bop sounds, to many, great fun, and this article is not an endorsement of some prohibitive stance against drug culture, nor an endorsement of any sort of drug culture – what adults choose to do in their spare time is completely up to them. However, a bop is an event in which the whole college community comes together, and in which every member of the college should be made to feel not only welcome, but accepted. College is a student’s home. As a proud member of `the friendliest college in Oxford`, I do not think that a 4/20 bop is inclusive and welcoming, as every bop should be. Bops are an event that should involve all members of the college, from students who seldom go out to the Cellar regulars.

However, by proposing an event which seems somewhat exclusory, essentially available only to those who feel comfortable in an event based on this culture, the Entz reps who chose this theme have ignored the inclusivity that makes bops such great college events.

Firstly, those who disagree with drug culture are likely to avoid the bop on principle, rightly or wrongly, as a glorification of a culture that they disagree with. But even if the bop is not avoided on the basis of some strong principle, many students, I am sure, will feel uncomfortable in an environment which encourages and seemingly endorses a pro-drugs culture. The response of some Mansfield students shows that the bop was met with a negative reaction from at least some quarters, and this is clearly not in keeping with the inclusivity that a bop should be built upon. An addendum to the original email states that the bop was intended to celebrate 4/20, in part, as a recognised day of protest for legalisation. Yet, it seems clear to me that bops should be entirely apolitical, in order to allow the whole college community to be involved. Those who don’t want to celebrate the protest for legalisation, or feel that it is misguided to describe 4/20 as `an iconic aspect of pop culture for our generation`, are left being excluded.

Of course, as with every bop, those who came up with the theme thought it would be light-hearted fun, I am sure, and let’s not blow this out of proportion – it is not a particularly offensive theme. Those who criticise the theme on the grounds that it may lead to some sort of cultural appropriation are being somewhat hasty. If we start banning events because of pre-emptive concerns that someone might dress inappropriately, we wouldn’t have any bops left. The Entz reps haven’t really done anything seriously wrong, and although an apology is the right action to take, I am sure they didn’t cause too much offense or distress. What they did do was fail to understand the needs of the college community as a whole, and this is a mistake which they correctly rectified.

Don’t silence Powell – deconstruct him

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It is no surprise that the BBC’s announcement that Powell’s ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech would be read on Radio 4 generated controversy. There have been calls for the BBC to pull the segment, given the incendiary nature of the address which Powell made at a Conservative meeting in Birmingham in 1968. Others think that the views expressed in the speech should be repudiated, but that it still holds historical and social value as an educational tool. A third minority, usually only vocal behind veils of anonymity on Twitter, would like the speech to be aired because they believe that Powell’s words were true.

The segment did air, with the speech cut into portions and commented on by various commentators across the political spectrum. Admittedly, the crass manner in which Media Editor Amol Rajan announced the reading (“the first EVER”) on Twitter was distasteful – a more reasoned method of promotion would have been preferable. However, the airing of the segment was the right thing to do.

The speech is a template for any would-be demagogue. It contains patriotic fervour, with Powell emphasising his “duty” to warn of Britain’s impending demise. It includes an anecdote, unverified and likely embellished, of a white pensioner being harassed by immigrants. Another statement, attributed to a constituent, makes the stark claim that “in 15 or 20 years’ time, the black man will have the whip hand over the white man.” A man of Powell’s intellect would not have used this phrase without realising the offence the word “whip” carries in this context. The speech is filled with urgency, citing the dangers posed to the NHS and to British jobs. Paranoid visions of immigrants exercising “domination” over the British population ramp the apocalyptic tone of the speech to a climax, where Powell quotes Virgil’s Aeneid, stating that “[he seems] to see the River Tiber foaming with much blood.”

This is a speech dripping with ill-disguised malice and xenophobia. I am sure there is more to the man than his address suggests, but there is no reading that absolves Powell from racism here. He fails to explain why an influx of darker-skinned migrants should be so alarming – it seems to be taken as a given that Commonwealth immigration is something that Britons should be duty-bound to rail against, an “evil” that is self-explanatory. A particularly unedifying portion of the speech discusses the “tragic and intractable phenomenon which we watch with horror on the other side of the Atlantic”, referring to the civil rights movements and race riots occurring in the USA at the time. Consider what prompted this declaration of seeing Britain “heaping up its own funeral pyre”. Powell was responding to the 1968 Race Relations Act, an amendment to its 1965 predecessor that made racial discrimination in some businesses a civil offence. Essentially, his paranoia was sparked by racial parity becoming a law – he states that its supporters were akin to the appeasers of the 1930s.

Powell addressed a meeting of the Conservative Political Centre in 1968

Against this backdrop, the controversy around the decision to air the speech is understandable. Powell shows disregard for the vital role immigrants played in post-war Britain and denies them any agency or credit for Britain’s standing. Yet, this speech had a deep and long-lasting impact. Tropes painting immigrants as burdensome, anti-social, and incompatible with British values rear their heads repeatedly in contemporary politics. The focus may have shifted to migrants from the Middle East and Eastern Europe, but the subject matter is broadly similar. Understanding Powell’s speech, analysing it, and laying bare the racism under the surface offers a greater insight into challenging demagoguery of a similar kind seen in the modern day.

A successful aspect of the Radio 4 segment involved commentators describing the impact of this speech on their families, both at the time and thereafter. It was a reminder that words like these have serious consequences. Racially aggravated violence cannot be fully separated from speeches that denigrate the humanity of those of foreign origin. Picking apart the words of Powell not only offers a historical understanding of the tribulations suffered by immigrants over the half-century, but also provides a deeper insight into the effects of similar language directed at other groups today.

It is a myth that Britain is a post-racial society. Cases of serious, overt racism, as seen in film on social media, have occurred at universities in the last few months alone. Contrary to Powell’s premonition, the “whip” has not changed hands and institutional racism still exists in some quarters today. Challenging the words of Powell, whose words underpin modern-day xenophobia, is imperative if racism in society today is to be defeated.
Enoch Powell was a man of considerable academic and military achievement, yet the elaborate vocabulary in his 1968 speech masks racism of a simplistic sort. The Radio 4 segment analysed the speech in great detail, highlighting the pernicious racism, the half-truths, and the nationalistic fervour. It was a measured and cautious analysis rather than a mere recap of the speech. Rather than accusing the BBC of inciting racial hatred, we should instead be appreciating the educational value of deconstructing the speech’s sentiment, one which is so relevant to the current age.

Rock, Soul, Techno – Trinity has it all

If you think rock ‘n’ roll is the best revision break, Cellar has some fine offerings. Liverpool loudmouths Queen Zee will paint the place pink on Monday first week (23rd April) while similar soapbox shouting will come courtesy of Blackpool trio Strange Bones on Monday third week (7th May). Come down to see why these guys are nominated for ‘Best Live Act’ at the 2018 Unsigned Music Awards.

Chaos will equally ensue when West London post-punksters Sports Team play on Wednesday of third (9th May). With the following week offering some lush Lo-Fi in the form of duo Her’s (12th May) before the week after will see The Underground Youth play to some youths underground on 17th May. For fans of Sonic Youth be sure to catch Drahla on Thursday of seventh (7th June) for some abrasive guitar galore.

But its not all guys and guitars. Friday of 0th (20th April) sees the return of Soul Sessions with trio 3Peace DJing and playing an exclusive live set! Saturday of first week presents another Cellar first: a vinyl-only night. Headlined by Sunil Sharpe, who has played at the likes Tresor, Berghain and Fabric, for fans of techno it cannot be missed. While linking in with their upcoming production of Huxley’s Brave New World, 472 Productions will showcase a night of art-pop and industrial funk on Thursday, second week (3rd May).

The Bullingdon also has some fine club nights to offer. There’s Gun Fingers with Murlo on Saturday of 0th to get you back into the swing of things, and then a continual stream of beauties to make cocking up exams a real possibility. Chaos in the CBD headline the Easter Party on Friday, first week, while Simple and Musical Medicine will serve up weekly entertainment to wet the whistle, before Dr Feelgood treat us on Friday of eighth.

In amongst the tribute acts, the O2 has some fine offerings. Touring in support of his fantastic debut, Isaac Gracie is set to captivate the place on Saturday of 0th closely followed by the emotive electronica of Will Heard (26th April).

This is also the best place to show off your stamina, with the This is May Day celebrations running from 11pm to 6am. If your dad’s in town on 4th May, take him to the Bullingdon to see Wilko Johnson, 70s pub-rock band Dr Feelgood’s legendary guitarist. The day after sees folk hero Frank Turner take to the stage, before the laid-back indie of DMA’s (10th May), manic Marmozets (11th May), and big-chorused Black Honey (14th May) to round off a marvellous month. Although, the biggest name may have been saved for sixth week, with Miles Kane on Saturday 2nd June.

Trinity: it is the worst of times and the best of times. Sure, it’s summer and there’s plenty to stress about. For finalists, I hope that the film of this term will be the Graduate. But if it all goes pear-shaped, don’t worry; with all this good music about, at least, it will have a half decent soundtrack.

Wes Anderson’s films are nostalgic for the present

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Wes Anderson returned to the big screen in April with the release of Isle of Dogs, another fine film from one of the most distinctive auteurs in modern cinema. Anderson’s style is unmistakable: his frames are symmetrical, his palette is filled with vibrant colours, and his sets are painstakingly crafted down to the tiniest details.

His stories are madcap capers, but they are presented with a striking emotional detachment, matched by the impassive movement of the camera and the monotone speech of his characters. Anderson’s stylistic virtuosity means that it’s easy to regard his films as shallow and superficial, but his unique style disguises a surprising emotional depth. Anderson’s worlds, seemingly so joyful and beautiful, are actually deeply lonely places. Almost all of his characters are repressed or incapable of connecting with the people around them.

In The Royal Tenenbaums, Margot locks herself in her bathroom and refuses to talk to anyone due to a failing marriage. The same movie sees Richie exile himself to the other side of the world, and Chas proves himself unable to come to terms with the loss of his wife. In Moonrise Kingdom, Suzy and Sam are misfits without any friends, Suzy’s parents sleep apart in a loveless marriage, and Scout Master Ward leaves his thoughts in an audio diary since he has nobody to talk to about them. In Grand Budapest Hotel, even the seemingly happy and sociable Mr. Gustave has to eat his meals alone, in a bare room every night, while Zero has lost his entire family to war. This is where Anderson’s detached style truly comes into its own. Often criticised as draining all emotion from his movies, he actually does the exact opposite, highlighting and reflecting the detachment of his characters. The long, silent, static shots of Gustave eating alone or Margot locked away in her bathtub capture their loneliness perfectly.

Despite his overly complicated plots, Anderson’s main interest is in how his characters manage to find a connection in a detached and lonely world. We may rejoice when Mr. Gustave and Zero finally prove their innocence and gain their fortune, but the emotional height of the film only comes when they are chatting with Agatha in a train car, completely at ease in a place where they truly belong. Similarly, the conflict with Social Services in Moonrise Kingdom is the centerpiece of the plot. However, the story’s narrative arc is only reached when Sam and Suzy are relaxing in Suzy’s house at the end, free from all the troubles that everyone else brings. But Anderson can never leave it at that – his endings are rarely unequivocally happy. In The Royal Tenenbaums, the narrator nonchalantly tells us that ‘Royal died of a heart attack at the age of 68’ while Chas and Royal are still laughing together on screen, following their reconciliation. In exactly the same way, the narrator of The Grand Budapest Hotel informs us that ‘in the end, they shot him’ just after the scene in which Mr. Gustave is shown happily talking to Agatha and Zero in a train car. We are then told, briefly and bluntly, that Agatha died of disease a few years later. In all of his films, Anderson is quick to remind us that all good things must come to an end. At the very beginning of The Grand Budapest Hotel, he shows us a glimpse of the future – a future in which the hotel is ruined, Zero is a lonely old man, Agatha and Mr. Gustave are probably dead. Even the setting is a reminder of how quickly things can change; we are well aware that the grand old Europe which Anderson celebrates will soon be destroyed by fascism and communism.

The ending of Moonrise Kingdom is just as bittersweet. We know Suzy and Sam will manage to live happily together for a while, but Anderson constantly reminds us that they too will grow up and become the adults they so despise. The symbol of their youth, their Moonrise Kingdom, is washed away into the past by a storm. Sam and Suzy are left with no more than memories, which Sam crystallizes in the form of a painting.

Anderson celebrates the joy and beauty that shared humanity can bring in a lonely world. But he is quick to remind us that every happy moment is half-gone before it has begun, doomed to last an instant before disappearing into the distant past. Wes Anderson is, in other words, nostalgic for the present.

Childhood’s Clarity in ‘The Ocean at the End of the Lane’

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Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane opens with an epigraph from Maurice Sendak, the author of Where the Wild Things Are: “I remember my own childhood vividly… I knew terrible things. But I knew I mustn’t let adults know I knew. It would scare them.”

Gaiman is no stranger to adopting a child’s perspective: his novel Coraline has become a macabre modern classic in the sphere of children’s literature, and The Graveyard Book won him the Newbery Medal.

But where Coraline and The Graveyard Book use children to explore a twisted underbelly to the world which adults cannot see, The Ocean at the End of the Lane allows Gaiman’s narrator to straddle the perspective of the child and the adult, and then to blur the divide between them.

The narrative ‘lens’ which Gaiman employs generates a warped and fogged-up image, a series of events presented to the reader by way of the narrator relating his experiences as a child. In the novel, the nameless narrator returns to his childhood hometown for a funeral, and while he is there, he starts to remember a series of strange events that unfolded when he was a child.

The narration switches to a flashback, told by the narrator as a seven year old boy. When, at the end of the novel, the narrative returns to the present day and the narrator begins to drive away from his hometown, the memories fade away once more.

Despite its classification as a dark fantasy novel, Neil Gaiman claims the novel was inspired by events from his own childhood. The theft of the protagonist’s father’s car, for instance, is based on an incident in Gaiman’s own childhood – and thus The Ocean at the End of the Lane functions as a quasi-autobiographical work.

This basis in self-reflection manifests itself in the narrative exploration of the peculiar journey toward ignorance that comes with growing from child into adult. The climactic moment of the novel comes when the narrator sees his friend, Lettie Hempstock, sacrifice herself for him and enter a permanent, death-like trance. The young boy is then put under a spell that leads him to forget the events that have occurred and instead believes Lettie has simply moved to Australia.

When the narrator returns home years later, he slowly remembers the truth, only to forget it again upon leaving. This ebb and flow of the truth is intrinsically linked to the narrator’s proximity to and connectivity with his own childhood, a fact representative of Gaiman’s subversion of the archetype of childhood as a state of naïvité. Under Gaiman’s direction, childhood is clear and adulthood obscure. Childhood is a perspective bereft of the clouds. Without the clouds which come when we know what’s normal, childhood is the lens through which trauma, otherness, and “terrible things” can be seen clearly and examined. In short,

The Ocean at the End of the Lane allows Gaiman to demonstrate how adulthood functions as a way to forget what childhood cannot. He uses childhood to expose the real world hidden within the cracks, to tell the truths that adults have forgotten how to face.

Oxford should not accept billionaires’ vanity projects

Controversy concerning the School of Government’s name has reared its head again.
In response to a piece in the Financial Times, Professor Ngair Woods has defended the record of Leonard Blavatnik, the UK’s richest man, and asserted that Oxford is “not for sale”. The original piece expressed concern that “autocrat donors” like Blavatnik will soon rush to fill the gap left by the loss of EU funding after Brexit. Defensive statements from beneficiaries of Blavatnik’s £75m will not stop the criticism. Simon Kuper’s article is only the most recent in a number of pieces since the founding of the school. In 2015, a group of academics, activists and Russian dissidents signed a public letter entitled ‘Oxford University must stop selling its reputation to Vladimir Putin’s associates’. It highlighted the Russian state-sponsored harassment of BP, under Blavatnik’s directorship of TNKBP.

Professor Bo Rothstein resigned last year from the school after Blavatnik donated $1m to Donald Trump’s inauguration. Woods states of Blavatnik: “He is not a Trump donor.” But according to Rothstein: “$1m is a sizeable amount of money. In my book by donating to the inauguration of Donald Trump you are supporting Donald Trump.” Woods states that Blavatnik also “has a history of donating to both Democrat and Republican candidates”, as if the admission that he mercenarily buys government influence is a positive message for a School of Government.

Wafic Saïd is also associated with political cronyism. Before donating £70m to the Saïd Business School, Saïd donated hundreds of thousands to the Thatcher government. Additionally, he aided Thatcher’s government with the 1985 al-Yamamah arms deal through his close connections with Saudi royals. He has been accused of employing Mark Thatcher as a back-channel to donating sums of up to £12m to his mother. Banned from political donation due to his tax residency in Monaco, Saïd’s daughter has since donated tens of thousands to the Tories. According to The Guardian, there was resistance from the academic community to the naming of the Saïd school.

The Sackler Library is similarly controversial. By massively understating OxyContin’s addictive effects, the Sacklers’ company Purdue pleaded guilty to marketing their drug “with the intent to defraud or mislead” in 2006, by massively understating its addictive
effects. In 2010 and 2011, oxycodone overdoses killed more Americans than any other drug – more than heroin.

Oxycontin has been at the forefront of a prescription opioid crisis that had, by 2016, caused around 200,000 deaths. A recent Cherwell article quoted medical students and SU representatives at Oxford opposed to accepting this blood money from the Sacklers.
And so the tradition continues. Despite these three buildings being founded in the past 25 years, the rich have always used Oxford as a means to sanctify their image in times of unpopularity.

During the Rhodes Must Fall debate, rhetoric suggested that Rhodes and Codrington are only criticised in 21st century dialogue, and were universally admired in their own eras.
While I want to be very clear in not equating white supremacy or slavery with the acts of Blavatnik, Saïd or the Sacklers, they were met with similar controversy in their time. Codrington’s donation followed a number of scandals, in which he was taken to court for abusing his power as governor, and his reputation as a soldier was heavily damaged. Oriel’s own website describes opposition to the Rhodes statue as early as 1906, quoting one alumnus who stated: “I am not in love with the ‘Imperial’ spirit.” The RMF campaign didn’t succeed in removing Rhodes, but it would perhaps be even more successful if it prevented the Rhodes statues of the future.

There will be those that argue such donations are worth the research that can be funded and those that claim it does not matter whose name is on a building. But donations only substituted 6% of the university’s funding in 2016 and symbolically, supporting these figures does matter. It promotes a message of money over morals that puts conscientious potential applicants off applying. It glorifies cronyism, arms dealing, tax evasion and more for students that will become many of the next generation of leading world figures, and for students of the future.

In a hundred years Oxford’s opposition to his vanity project will be forgotten, but Blavatnik’s bad name will still be immortalised.

Top Five Must-See ‘Coming of Age’ Films

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What is a coming-of-age film? This genre is frequently billed as teen drama: an insulting description which suggests these films are shallow and restricted. But a conflicted protagonist and classic issues of love and education make for films that are far from shallow. Instead, they are enriched by the vantage point of their teen or young adult protagonist.

Coming-of-age films offer a unique perspective on how we grow up, and how circumstances affect this process. The possibilities for these films are endless, making this an open-ended genre. So, as someone whose Tinder bio states that I have seen every coming-of-age film since 1995, I feel I am a worthy guide for any coming-of-age novice. Here are my top five recommendations:

Boyhood

Richard Linklater follows the life of the protagonist, Mason (El- lar Coltrane), from childhood to university. The beauty of this film is nothing really happens. It is a compilation of the misfortunes of a mother attempting to raise her two young children, intertwined with Mason’s experience as a child with no solid father figure to guide him. Linklater makes ordinary life into something gripping. Filmed over twelve years, it is also interesting to spot the cultural and political references.

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Some might question if this is truly a coming of age film, following the life of a mother, after her son Kevin commits a school shooting. But it also explores the events in Kevin’s childhood and the months leading up to the atrocity, as the mother tries to reconcile her memories with the reality of what happened. This is a topic that is rarely touched upon in the media and, while it is a relatively difficult film to watch, it is also an important perspective to explore.

Fishtank

A British film, with a 91% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes, Fishtank follows the life of Mia Williams (Katie Jarvis), a teenager struggling to deal with her mother’s new boyfriend (Michael Fassbender), while she attempts to pursue her passion for dance.

Mean Creek

Starring Rory Culkin, brother of Macaulay Culkin, this is an independent psychological drama that explores bullying and peer pressure. It also features Josh Peck, of Drake and Josh fame, and is available on Netflix. Go forth and binge!

Thirteen

This film stars Nikki Reed and Evan-Rachel Wood and arguably launched the careers of both actresses. The film deals with all the classic plot points of the ‘coming of age’ genre: crime, drug abuse, sexual awakening, and self-harm, making for unmissable viewing.

Five very different films, each centred on the trials of teenage years. ‘Coming of age’ isn’t just an umbrella term for drippy films caught up in teenage drama. Instead, these films bombard the viewer with adversity, angst, and nostalgia.

The Taste of Success

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It has been a week since the MasterChef final aired, and runner-up Nawamin Pinpathomrat is already back to the grind, attending an immunology conference in Oxford. In person, he is just as he seems on the show – articulate, friendly, and incredibly humble about his talents and achievements. “It was absolutely bonkers,” he says, “I didn’t expect to get that far – and you have to be so organised to do a PhD full- time and finish within three or four years, but I was away for a full week in Peru [the MasterChef finalists faced three culinary challenges there].” It is no small feat to be a competitor on a prestigious national cooking show, while also working on a PhD, developing a vaccination for tuberculosis.

Unsurprisingly, Nawamin does not often have the time or resources to develop the ornate dishes he presented on MasterChef. However, he does “always [make] Thai food”. He insists that, while making a curry from scratch seems very technical, it is quite easy, and even saves time, particularly if you make curry in a big pot, so you have plenty of leftovers.

On MasterChef, he was known for his amazing twists on Thai cuisine. “If you want a chance in the final,” he tells me, “you have to take a risk and do something different”. His ‘reversed pork satay’ was particularly special: in this dish, he took a whole piece of bamboo and laid the pork inside, and created profiteroles with peanut sauce inside rather than on top of a toast. “Why not?” he asks, “It paid off.”

Of course, it’s a high-pressure environment. The smallest error or misjudged risk can ruin a dish and take a competitor out of the running. But Nawamin explains that there was always a good atmosphere and the competitors were friends rather than rivals – “this year we are all so different and cook in our own ways. I’d be thinking, I want to know what Kenny and David will come up with today, rather than that I want to fight against them.”

He tells me that the finalists still use a WhatsApp group to share tips. “We’ll ask each other what we’re cooking each day, and share recipes. They’ll ask me tips on how to make a green curry, or how to make their rice fluffy.”

He explains that John and Gregg also helped to ease the pressure. “John knows everything about food, so actually he did help me a lot. And Gregg is very funny, although he often made British jokes that I didn’t understand, but I’d often just laugh anyway. When you’ve got that kind of pressure, you need someone to distract you so you’re not trying to focus too much and then make a mistake.” Crediting John for his knowledge of Asian cuisine, he admits that that he thinks the controversy surrounding the crispy rendang got “a bit crazy with the internet”, noting that ultimately when it comes to the competition, the best contestants on the day go through.

Overall, Nawamin tells me that it was an incredible experience. In particular, he remembers how his “jaw dropped” when he heard he was going to have the opportunity to work with Tommy Banks, who he had watched make it through to the banquet on the Great British Menu twice. Nawamin still says he can’t believe that he has gone from making curry in his kitchen one month, to cooking piranha in Central Restaurante the next.

Since moving to the UK, he has developed a soft spot for the noble chip butty. “I ordered fish and chips once and they gave me two pieces of white toast and butter, and I said what is this for? What is it?” Nawaman says, eyes glowing, “And then I tried it: the toast filled with chips, butter, and ketchup, and it’s just exquisite.”

There’s no doubt that Nawamin has a big choice to make – whether to pursue his love of cooking or to carry on with his current goal of developing an effective vaccination for tuberculosis. And when it comes down to it, he admits that it’ll eventually be a difficult choice between pursuing cooking or science.

“I have been thinking about this – and cooking is my real passion. I’d love to be a chef, but ten million people become newly infected with TB each year. And if I can successfully make a good vaccine, I can save around two million people from dying from TB each year.

“If I had to choose between them, I’d probably have to keep doing what I’m doing – being a scientist and making a vaccine. Nobody will die if I don’t open a restaurant.”

Staff-student relationships are a question of consent

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Writing for The Pool in October, Oxford graduate Mel McGrath named the man who allegedly did “a Weinstein” on her during her university days. She described how David Robertson, an academic at Oxford, and her personal tutor made her feel uncomfortable when he would reportedly open the door to her tutorials half-dressed, and make comments on her appearance or personal life. She felt that those in charge ignored his alleged misconduct.

She’s not the only person who has opened up about being in uncomfortable situations with staff at universities in the UK. In a recent article for The Guardian, an anonymous academic shared her experience of being invited to coffee by a lecturer during her days as a student. She felt obliged to go because he would be marking her work.

The line between what is acceptable between teaching staff and students has long been debated, particularly in the light of #MeToo. Yet, many people remain reluctant to recognise that it’s a consent issue. Just like Weinstein’s victims, students’ career prospects could be gravely affected if they were to refuse the advances of academics. It is therefore hard to consider something as consent between two adults when there is a power dynamic that compromises the student’s freedom to resist.

Even if you are of the belief that a student and member of staff are two consenting adults, the point stands that this could offer unfair consequences.

Biases in grading work may disadvantage other students. It would be impossible to distinguish whether an impressive grade were down to a genuinely diligent, capable student, or due to generous marking from a member of staff who had a personal romantic relationship with them. I can’t help but feel that you would feel uncomfortable and suspicious if you knew your tutor was seeing another student and, despite your hard work, they got a particularly good mark.

This doesn’t mean that we can’t have good relationships with those who teach us. After all, we share interests in specific academic areas with them and may even consider some of them colleagues in the future.The case stands that even if a member of staff weren’t actively teaching the student, or involved with marking their work, it still changes the dynamic of the entire college, or faculty. Do we really want the uncertainties of romantic relationships to seep into our academic environment, an environment that influences our futures and careers, and has capacity to be manipulated to the advantage or disadvantage of others?

Ultimately, accepting staff-student relationships only makes it harder for students to come forward if they feel uncomfortable or harassed for fear of the implications of rejecting someone responsible for their teaching or marks. If #MeToo has taught us anything, it’s that we need to be making sure that ambition can thrive without a fear of compromising our ability to consent in the process.

Upcoming Trinity Theatre – a guide

After careful research – namely an investigation of Caroline Flack’s Twitter and recalling when ‘exam lifestyle’ (read: McCoys and reality television) began last year –  it appears that Love Island will not return until early June. This leaves an intimidating stretch of empty time to fill, so Cherwell Theatre has selected the productions which will drag you from the edge of despair. Refreshing new comedy, drama in translation, the return of the garden play: here is the most promising theatre of the first half of Trinity.

Week 1: Death By Murder at the Michael Pilch Studio

First week sees the debut production of new comedy troupe The House of Improv, whose show Death By Murder: An Improvised Murder Mystery is proposing a different, narrative based approach to the more traditional sketches favoured by the Oxford Imps. The idea is that an entire narrative is improvised on the spot. The audience will be asked to provide details, so this is not a production to attend if you want to sneak in a nap in the shadows of the Pilch. There may be something disconcerting in entering a production that you are being asked to craft, but the more open to participation the audience is, the better the night will be.

Week 2: The House of Bernarda Alba at the Michael Pilch Studio (performed in English)/Travesties at the Playhouse

Oxford is having a Lorca moment, with this production following Hilary’s ‘Blood Wedding’. If you have Spanish A Level, no doubt the Lorca hallmarks of sexual repression, stifling social conservatism, unashamedly obvious symbolism will be familiar to you. Hopefully, this performance of Ted Hughes’ translation will leave you feeling grateful that we live in a society capable of producing Love Island.

This week also sees Stoppard’s ‘Travesties’ at the Playhouse. The year is 1917 and James Joyce, the Dadaist poet Tristan Tzara, and Vladimir Lenin are all staying in Zürich. Stoppard envisages a meeting between the trio, with a former British diplomat recalling the events that unfold. The show does sound intellectually demanding, but, particularly if you’re an English student questioning your life choices, the satisfaction of seeing the importance of the arts in informing political movements will be enough to justify handing over £11.50 for a student ticket.

Week 3: Dogfight, The Pichette Auditorium, Pembroke College

This is a musical set in the USA in the sixties, with the main character having served in Vietnam. Beginning with a group of marines who compete to find the ugliest possible dates, the narrative rather predictably morphs into a love story. The underlying theme: a youth movement railing against poor decisions made on their behalf by an antiquated political class, which makes this production more angsty and timely than your classic Andrew Lloyd Webber. Pembroke have may be investing in wings for their auditorium for this production – a pull factor in itself?

Week 4: The White Devil, Jesus College Hall (Candlelit Show)/Company, The Nun’s Garden, Queen’s College

To experience a Revenge tragedy performed in the manner originally envisaged by Webster will bring out the full ghoulishness of The White Devil. It is also an alternative to The Duchess of Malfi and Tis Pity She’s A Whore, both Webster works that have perhaps received too much audience attention over the decades.

Queen’s College, is offering the antithesis of revenge tragedy: a musical, in a GARDEN. This Sondheim show presents the life of a thirty-something commitment-phobe. This production offers the option to lounge in the sun and have an internal boogie to Sondheim, which, in Oxford, would be an attraction for more students than you think.