Saturday, May 17, 2025
Blog Page 864

Nature showcases its true colours

The iridescent greens, blues and reds found throughout the animal and plant kingdoms are one of the most beautiful accidents of evolution. The striking colours found in a peacock’s feathers or painted on the exoskeleton of the jewel beetle are as a result of a phenomenon known as structural colouration. Working alongside pigmentation but separate in base, structural colouration has arises through random mutations in organism’s genome – altering the conformation of tiny cellular components like keratin and cellulose. The complex nanostructures which have been created range from helices to pockets and grooves. It is the varying ways by which these structures interact with light that causes these striking colours, resulting in the complex and beautiful examples we see across nature today.

What has been described as the “brightest biological substance” owes its intense blue appearance to this very same mechanism. Despite being over 40 years old and long dead , the fruits of Pollia condensate, known as the “Marble Berry”, cannot let go of their iridescent hue. This longevity is due to the fact that the colouration is caused not by degradable chemicals such as pigments, but by a microscopic landscape of cellulose microfibrils. In 2012 the thick walls of the fruit cells were found to contain cellulose helices, each layer rotated slightly more than the former. Blue light is selectively reflected, at up to 30 percent, due to the distance between most of the helices being the same as the wavelength of blue light. But the iridescence, with its subtle hints of red and green, is produced due to slight variations in this distance – reflecting small amounts of red, green and purple wavelengths.

Plants aren’t the only ones capable of iridescence. Structural colouration has evolved in the animals several times independently – including multiple times in insects, as well as in birds, fish, reptiles, cephalopods and at least once in mammals, in the Mandrill.

Hapalochlaena lunulata, the Greater Blue-Ringed Octopus, may have come to stardom when being used in the James Bond film Octopussy, but it was actually discovered and named over a century earlier in 1832. It is famous in-part for its relatively unique ability to change colour rapidly, a concept known as dynamic iridescence. When resting it appears a pale brown colour with faint blue rings, but when stressed it transforms as iridescent blue rings glow out against the brown.

The mechanism for this is based on pigment-containing cells called chromatophores, but even so they can be manipulated in a structural way. By coordination of the muscle and nervous systems the Octopus’ chromatophores can alter their physical size and shape, manipulating the way in which the light reflects off the pigment.

The venomous greater blue-ringed octopus displays it’s striking iridescence

In the case of the Greater Blue-Ringed Octopus, colouration is used as a way of warning potential predators that they possess a powerful and paralysis-causing-neurotoxin, called tetrodotoxin, which can kill a human with a single one bite. However, structural colouration can also be used for communication, distraction and attraction. Pollia condensata berries draw in birds, with the sparkling blue flashing in the light as they fly towards it.

If one allows for generalisation, colour can be said to have evolved for different purposes in different groups. Birds often use it to assist with the task of finding a mate, whilst insects rely on chemical interactions, allowing them to instead use colour for camouflage – like in the distinctive morpho butterflies whose wings melt into the sky in ethereal swathes of blue as they fly overhead.

Structural colouration is thought to have evolved around 541 million years ago during a time known as the Cambrian explosion, yet the mechanisms and functions continue to change even in the present. The past century saw the emergence of the field of Biomimicry – the science of using biological processes as inspiration for new technology. The nanostructures controlling colour in butterfly wings and beetle exoskeletons are being used as the basis for new types of “never-fading” paints as replacements for toxic lead-based concoctions. These paints retain their colour for years, as they should: 49-million-year-old beetle fossils that have been unearthed still possess the same iridescent glow. This reflects just how important it is to understand the mechanisms of biology, not only out of respect for our wildlife’s incredible diversity, but also in an effort to make improve our societies by taking inspiration from biological innovation.

‘Generation Kill’ director Susanna White talks documentaries and Dickens

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Tuesday night saw Oxford University Film Foundation playing host to acclaimed director and former St Anne’s College student Susanna White. Susanna, whose past projects include HBO series Generation Kill, BBC period drama Bleak House, and feature films including Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang, spoke at length about her wide-ranging and successful career.

Susanna’s path to success was an unconventional one—she explained her difficulty in finding a screen industry job in the years following her graduation from both Oxford and UCLA, the latter of which she was awarded a Fullbright scholarship to attend. When asked for her advice for aspiring filmmakers, White emphasised the importance of willpower above all else—“people get there by determination one way or another”.

As the proud director of an array of vastly different films and television series, Susanna has led the production of both documentaries and drama, including Tell Me the Truth About Love, a moving exploration of the life of W.H. Auden. Susanna described documentary-making as a looser, more freeform film discipline, and attributed the strength of her later dramatic work to the emotional structuring lessons she learned from such documentaries.

The BBC’s adaptation of Bleak House is a project of which Susanna is particularly proud. She talked at length about her gripping soap-opera style direction of the series, in which close-ups and profile shots were innovatively employed to accentuate Dickens’ larger-than-life characters.

Character itself was a theme of the evening, be it Susanna’s praise for the imaginative depth of Nanny McPhee’s child actors, or her decision to emphasise emotions rather than explosions in HBO’s Generation Kill, a choice which sets the series apart from regular war-flick fodder. Reflecting on the eclectic mix that is her back-catalogue, Susanna commented “I guess there’s something iconoclastic about my filmmaking—I like throwing things up in the air”.

Susanna also discussed her current project, Woman Walks Ahead, an 1800s-set drama about a painter who leaves New York to find Sitting Bull and paint his portrait. Starring Jessica Chastain opposite relative unknown Michael Greyeyes, Woman Walks Ahead is currently in post-production.

Susanna closed by wishing all in the room the best of luck with any future filmmaking endeavours, noting that there is no single path to success, rather there exists instead an industry with endless opportunities. In all, it was an evening as inspirational for budding filmmakers as it was interesting for casual movie fans.

Urwin and Hooper named Blues Football captains

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Alex Urwin and Maddie Hooper have been named Men’s and Women’s captains ahead of the 2017/18 Blues football season.

After a pair of Varsity wins in both 2016 and 2017, OUAFC will go into the campaign with high hopes, and players and staff have chosen Urwin and Hooper as the pair to lead them forward. Urwin, 19, was victorious after a hustings event was held, which pitted him against 2016/17 captain Laurence Wroe and Varsity hero Dom Thelen.

“I was obviously absolutely delighted [to hear the news],” Urwin told Cherwell last week. “I didn’t quite realise how much I wanted it until I got up there and gave the hust.”

Whilst those outside of the club may have been surprised that Wroe and Thelen were overlooked, Urwin had few doubts about his credentials and “was confident going into it.”

“There was a sense of relief, as I imagine there would be with every sort of contested election, [but] I don’t want to say I was shocked,” he continued.

The PPE student will not be learning on the job: he has considerable captaincy experience, having led the 1st XI at Repton School in 2014/15 and Exeter College AFC in 2016/17.

“I captained Exeter to a strong return to the JCR Premier League, and we had a really strong Cuppers run, getting knocked out in the semi- finals.

“Before that I’ve captained school teams, and also Staffordshire cricket, so [I have] quite a bit of captaincy experience,” he said.

Regarding his aims for next season, Urwin reiterated what he had told the Blues squads during his hust, and laid out some high expectations. “I think we should better our [BUCS National] Cup run. We should win the league, and obviously the big aim is to win Varsity for the fourth year in a row,” he said.

On a personal level, Urwin will feel he has a score to settle in the BUCS National Cup, which pits all British universities against each other. In the 2016/17 quarter-finals, Oxford went out on penalties following a 0-0 draw with Worcester, with Urwin missing his spot-kick in the shoot-out.

“By the nature of Oxford sport, the success of a team’s season is quite heavily placed on their performance in the Varsity match,” he said. “But obviously BUCS [the league] is what we’re doing week in, week out, so you don’t want to prioritise it too highly over that.”

Bizarrely, despite being captain next season, Urwin is likely to be playing out of position again. Three other returning Blues play in his natural position of centre-back, and it seems probable that he will continue to start on the left in a 3-5-2 formation, where he impressed with some marauding runs in this year’s Varsity match.

“If we do persevere with 3-5-2, I guess I’d stay out there at left wing-back. I felt I really grew into the role this year, and ended up with maybe eight or nine assists, so I wouldn’t mind staying there.”

Hooper, meanwhile, will lead a Women’s Blues side that will be hit hard by the absence of Becca May, who scored a hat-trick at The Hive in the 2017 Varsity Match.

“Following the disappointment of being relegated last season, it would be great to have a good league run,” she told Cherwell.

“It’s hugely important that the team enjoys training and playing matches, and then hopefully the results will follow.”

Hooper, a tough-tackling defender, expressed her delight at becoming captain, labelling it a “huge honour”.

“I’m so excited to spend another year working and playing with such a fantastic group of girls.”

Cliché of the Week: “Top, top player”

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As a phrase that has been popularised by many Match Of The Day guests over the years, the concept of a “top, top player” is a straightforward one.

Pundits from Danny Murphy to Martin Keown have long used it to signal their approval, but it is current Celtic manager Brendan Rodgers who has promoted the phrase’s use the most. Infamously, he managed to use five “tops” to describe Steven Gerrard in the 2013/14 season during his stint as Liverpool boss.

Of course, the phrase is ludicrously overused: anyone who has a four-game streak whilst also being under the age of 23 can be categorised as on course to becoming a “top, top player”. Naturally, anyone who uses the phrase will suffer from confirmation bias, convincing themselves into thinking that they only use it for those that truly deserve the accolade.

Personally, I have no issue with the concept of players being viewed as better than most of their peers, but terms such as “top, top player” only result in the Zimbabwean inflation of the merits of individual footballers in discussion.

I think we need to look for an alternative solution: I propose we look to one of the greats, former Lord Chancellor Michael Gove MP.

I think that we should force all pundits to grade every player from 1-8, with one representing the quality a college’s JCR reserve team might produce the day after a trip to Arzoo’s, and eight being the pinnacle of footballing achievement.

It is evident that this proposal has no potential for the same bias. Whisper it, but I do believe I have solved the issue of overly repetitive punditry.

Football fans of the world, rejoice.

The Japanese House – “I’ve never wanted fame at all”

Amber Bain, also known as The Japanese House, has forgotten about our scheduled interview until she picks up my call and I introduce myself. It’s lucky I caught her: she’s just got off the phone from a two hour chat with her mum. I give her a minute to light a cigarette, and then we’re off . Bain talks slowly, carefully, as matches the ebb and flow of her moody electronica. She seems relaxed yet thoughtful, often taking considerable gaps in her speech as she takes a drag on a cigarette or re-lights another.

As a musical project, The Japanese House is wonderfully unfussy. You may well know ‘Face Like Thunder’, though you may not place The Japanese House’s name to it. Taking its place as the lead single on 2016’s Swim Against the Tide EP, it’s an 80s-era pop tune hidden under swerving synths. It’s a tune much like Amber Bain herself, our conversation, and her whole musical output: inconspicuous and not at all showy, yet absorbing once you give time to its details.

Now, Buckinghamshire-born Bain is gearing up for the release of her fourth EP. She tells me the forthcoming single is her “favourite song [she’s] written to date”, with warmth, pondering, “I guess that’s how it’s meant to be.”

Bain talks about this upcoming track with tenderness. For a long while she hesitates, before ultimately confiding: “I had someone who I used to be really close with die a couple of years ago, and it’s about them. It’s about confronting those kind of issues.” For every song she writes, the way in which each element comes together is very different. But “this time I started the lyrics and melody at exactly the same time. My favourite songs are always the ones where everything comes at exactly the same time—the melody and the lyrics and chords or whatever.”

For such an understated musician, it’s interesting that Bain is so closely tied-up with outrageous pop successes The 1975. Drummer George Daniel co-produces The Japanese House with Bain, who first met the band in 2012 when they were playing The Barfly, Camden—a venue of just 200 capacity. Last December the Manchester quartet played London’s O2 Arena, capacity 20,000, which they sold out in just three hours. While Bain is every bit in awe of her friends, saying “it doesn’t even really shock me how successful they are because they work so hard. I don’t know anyone else that works that hard”, she is very aware that the band’s fame has a lot to do with their aesthetic identity.

I ask Bain what she thinks of this kind of 1975-level fame. Would she take it or leave it? “I’ve never wanted fame at all. It’s not something that I even think about or am interested in. There’s a difference between being famous and being a successful musician. Like The National, for example. If they walked down the street, I wouldn’t know what they looked like. They’re not really famous. Whereas The 1975—their identity is a thing.”

For the moment, the identity of The Japanese House is withdrawn and subdued. Bain’s Instagram account is all bleached colours, her blonde hair usually obscuring part of her face. I doubt she gets many people coming up to her on the street, though she’s playing impressive O2 Academy venues and London’s KOKO this May, and high critical acclaim is likely to follow once a full album arrives, even though she’d be far too modest to make that National comparison to herself.

After three EPs and a fourth on the way, a full debut album is on the cards, and she hopes she’ll have finished it by the end of the year. For now, she’s happier dissecting Ed Sheeran’s current chart success rather than being up there with him: “When I came back from America on Friday, the first song I heard in the UK was that ‘Galway Girl’ song. I just didn’t understand what was going on. I thought I was in some alternate universe. It’s a ridiculous song. It’s ridiculous.”

Once we start talking about chart music, Bain is suddenly animated. She “loves” Justin Bieber, thinks Lady Gaga is “amazing”, doesn’t “really get” the new Harry Styles, but wishes she could get James Blake on her album, like Beyonce did on Lemonade. “I obviously love Beyonce”, she tells me, “I’m not a fucking psycho.”

College Insider: Christ Church

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Regular readers of this column will perhaps be narked to be told that ‘the’ Christ Church student–posh barely visible behind reams of waxed cotton, clad in drinking society ties and astride Daddy’s pony, with a warbling RP accent that can be heard a few streets away—is largely a myth. It’s a friendly place, with big year groups and a diverse bunch of people. Some of them suffer from Barbour jacket syndrome, but it doesn’t seem to be contagious.

That said, as in most of Oxford, privilege pervades, and it might be fair to say that the biggest problem most of us face in our daily lives is the frankly barbaric number of visitors that clog up the quads like tourist cholesterol, making it impossible to get anywhere without being stuck behind a group being told blatant untruths by their enterprising guide.

Did you know that Harry Potter lived here for a few years in the eighteenth century, and used to smash up the windows in Peck Quad after one too many pumpkin juices? No, me neither. Speaking of booze, College discipline apparatchiks are reportedly concerned about the pretty rambunctious bops we host, and their famed four-for-a-pound, triple-vodka-Redbull deals. A recent bop charity event involving contestants downing litres of cold blended Happy Meals left a sour taste for the cleaners the next morning and, more worryingly, threatened the effective duopoly of McCoy’s kebab van and Artisan Pizza on Christ Church’s fast food consumption.

That said, the strictest discipline in College is enforced not by the authorities but by Classics students, who run a pretty tight ship in their wing of the library, and have been known to enact death by Plutarch on uninitiated freshers who make scratching noises when they write. Heaven forbid that one accidentally takes the place of a senior classicist: they’ll have to endure an afternoon of Latinate whispering for which even Caecilius didn’t prepare them at school.

Yet despite the House’s misgivings, we can draw strength and hubris from the words of Hugh Trevor-Roper, Regius Professor of History and notable alumnus, who wrote: “The Christ Church manner, that assumption of effortless superiority, is said to be galling to those that weren’t at Christ Church. But we can’t expect the world to be run for the benefit of those who weren’t at Christ Church.” Jolly well said, Hugh.

A titanic record for all the wrong reasons

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Humanz is billed in press releases as ‘the party album for the end of the world’. In some respects that’s true: there was a moment on ‘Charger’, which is the album’s eighth track, when I started to warmly consider the US’s threat of nuclear war with North Korea.

It was at that point that, looking down the tracklist, I realised there were no fewer than twelve songs left to go. Perhaps it’s the party album—for a considerable spell in purgatory.

Unfortunately there’s not much to wax lyrical about on the latest LP from Damon Albarn’s ‘virtual band’. It’s worth mentioning that, unlike previous release The Fall, all the usual ingredients are here: hilariously overblown concept (this time involving Ben Mendelsohn of Rouge One fame playing the role of the narrator), gloriously glitchy beats, and, of course, a real menagerie of celebrity musician cameo appearances—from Danny Brown to Grace Jones and ever-stable staple-pieces Vince and Mavis Staples.

Despite having so much in common on paper with Gorillaz’s brilliant Demon Days and the heavily underrated Plastic Beach, Humanz just doesn’t manage to pull it off. Collaborators De La Soul, who are normally relied on to provide the ‘chart smash’ of the record, are put on the abysmal ‘Momentz’, which has a Damon Albarn breakdown that sounds—honestly—like the ‘Oh my gosh/Look at her butt’ part of Nicki Minaj’s ‘Ana-conda’, as well as a bass beat that sounds like a compressed polka band.

Poor De La Soul, meanwhile, pull off an excellent impression of Jermain Defoe in the now relegated Sunderland side—they don’t know what they did to deserve to be here, but they’ll give it a shot.

A party album for the end of the world?

Well, De La Soul sound like the quartet on the Titanic, desperately trying to keep it together as the boat splits in two and starts to sink into the cold, enveloping depths of the ocean.

Meanwhile, there’s ‘Busted and Blue’, the customary point in every Damon Albarn record where he shows us just how melancholy he can be. No, don’t worry, it’s not a tribute to everyone’s favourite two moderately successful Noughties pop bands.

What a pretty chorus—except, hang on, it sounds remarkably similar to ‘Thought I Was a Spaceman’ on Blur’s The Magic Whip. And in this song, every time Albarn sings the title refrain I’m reminded of Duncan James and Simon Webb gyrating on stage at Eurovison 2011.

It’s not all bad—‘Let Me Out’, featuring Pusha T and Mavis Staples, is one of those brilliant mish-mashes of artists that only Gorillaz can pull off, and it features a beautifully eerie refrain—not to mention its ending. And Benjamin Clementine’s turn on ‘Hallelujah Money’ was widely dismissed when released as a single, but has a staying power which many of the songs here lack.

But sadly, that seems to be more or less that. There’s an awful lot of filler on the album that melts into the background: ‘Strobelite’, ‘Submission’, ‘Andromeda’ and ‘Sex Murder Party’ all have the same anodyne beat and could well do with being cut by a few minutes, if not completely.

And as the album winds to a close over the disjointed ‘We Got the Power’, on which Britpop enemies Damon Albarn and Noel Gallagher sing in unison, “we got the power to be loving each other no matter what happens” it makes you wonder—maybe Humanz is just a test of our faith. We’re human, after all.

Blind Date: “It soon became apparent that we were quite different people”

George Dickinson, Second year, Classics, Worcester

After a quick relocation from one pub to another (accidentally giving the photographer the slip, whoops), we found a nice, if cold, table outside. We hurdled the cliché ritual of establishing Colleges, subjects, and years, before starting a decent conversation. And it was a decent conversation. Laura was good at being interesting, good at appearing interested, and just fun to talk to. She led the talk through politics, past-times and pets, and would swiftly side-step awkward silences with impressive effortlessness. I was quite nervous beforehand, as I’m not the sort of person who goes on blind dates, but Laura put me at ease. As the conversation went on, it soon became apparent that we were quite different people. She is artistic—I am not. I am musical—she is not. However, it turns out that we’re both quite into yoga and lefty politics. All in all, I will happily say that it was a success from my point of view, although I guess I should wait and see what she writes about me…

First impression? Pretty with an edge of edginess

Chat? Very good!

Personality? Pleasant

2nd date? Why not?

 

Laura Savage Second year, History, Balliol

George was incredibly accommodating and friendly, even when I accidentally ordered his pint for him, forcing him into drinking the same sickly ale as me. Having used this to establish my dominance, we moved on to the subject of what we actually did with our time. Him: parkour, choral singing, yoga, trumpeting. Me: fuck all. With him deep into his exam revision, I think he was more envious than impressed of my detailed description of how little work I have, whereas I was impressed with his commitment to day drinking under the circumstances. There were a few dicey moments when we disagreed over who was truly in charge of the Life section of Cherwell and the inclusivity of some of Oxford’s more wanky traditions, but ultimately we found common ground over the respective merits of London versus Gloucestershire. After two hours we parted ways, he returning to a problem sheet and I feeling emboldened by his enthusiasm for Oxford life and by a small pint of ale.

First impression? Polite, lost, wearing a jumper

Chat? Cheeky yet understated

Personality? Sweet, friendly, conscientious

Second date? If I can fit him into my busy schedule

 

Hughes wide of the Mark for Stoke City

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To an outsider looking in, all might seem well at Stoke City.

Comfortably in mid table, with high profile individuals such as Jack Butland, Xherdan Shaqiri, and Bojan on the books, they have a billionaire owner and a manager offering stability in his fourth season at the club.

But, beneath the surface, you will find a fan base becoming increasingly restless in the face of apparent stagnation both on and off the pitch.

It is important for a club such as Stoke to realise its limitations. The Leicester miracle aside, medium-sized clubs can hope to finish no higher than seventh, given the gulf between them and the likes of Chelsea, Spurs, Liverpool, Arsenal and the two Manchester teams. Everton too are looking resurgent under Ronald Koeman. Stoke have finished ninth in three consecutive seasons since Mark Hughes replaced Tony Pulis.

As such, you might ask yourself what more the Potters can hope or ask for. The Stoke fanbase is largely very grounded. There have been too many setbacks in recent history for any delusions of grandeur. They know their place: they are a small fish punching above their weight in a big pond. But Hughes has become a victim of his own success.

Having replaced Pulis in 2013, he transformed the fortunes of a side which had become bogged down playing turgid, defensive football. He brought in a more attractive style, more skilful players, more goals and, crucially, higher league finishes. Importantly, he had a clear plan—a vision of where he wanted to take the club. He put round pegs in round holes and signed players who fitted the system, all on a very modest net spend.

Arguably his biggest failing is that this plan seems to have been thrown out of the window. For 18 months, he has displayed cluttered thinking, making a catalogue of perplexing decisions. Whenever results have floundered, he has lost faith in the players who he himself signed, and reverted to the “old guard”—Tony Pulis’ committed but uninspiring journeyman, the likes of Peter Crouch, Jon Walters, and Charlie Adam.

On the field, performances have regressed. A poor start to the season left Stoke on two points after six games. Within that run, drubbings by Spurs and Crystal Palace exposed a brittle team low on confidence. Only the rather fortuitous loan signing of Derby County’s third choice goalkeeper Lee Grant and an inspired point away at Manchester United in early October stopped the rot.

Seven months on and things feel rather flat again. Stoke are safe, sitting in twelfth place at the time of writing. But that is to mask what has been a dour season.

Whatever happens, they will finish the season with their lowest points total since Mark Hughes joined the club. They have not beaten a side above eleventh in the league all season. They have not scored a goal in an away game for four months. Team selections and substitutions continue to infuriate. Performances in the cups were dire: beaten at home by second string Hull and Wolves sides in the early rounds of both domestic competitions. Stevenage are the only side disposed of by Stoke in knock-out football this season.

Off the field, the management have alienated large sections of the support thanks to bizarre transfer dealings. The club’s record signing, Gianelli Imbula, is rarely included in the matchday squad. Saido Berahino—the man brought in to end the club’s goalscoring woes—has failed to score since his arrival in January. The exciting £5m Egyptian Ramadan Sobhi is routinely overlooked. Talented players such as Bojan and Joselu have been sent out on loan. Xherdan Shaqiri has been a walking sick-note. At the same time, new contracts have been handed to Peter Crouch and Glen Johnson, who, whilst good players in their time, are now deadwood who epitomise Stoke’s slow, numbing football.

Put simply, the excitement has gone. Matchdays feel like a chore, exactly as they became in the dying embers of Tony Pulis’ reign. Any level-headed fan knows that trophies and European football are mere pipe dreams. But what is needed is some entertainment, some finesse. Hughes, to his credit, provided this in spades in his first two-and-a-half seasons at Stoke, but for 18 months now, the decline has been stark.

So what next for Stoke? They approach a crossroads this summer, with some key decisions to make. Peter Coates, the chairman, must decide whether to stick or twist with Mark Hughes. If he sticks, many fear that Stoke’s regression will worsen. That said, his staunchest supporters argue that he has earned more time at the helm. If he twists, a new manager could reinvigorate the club, but no managerial change comes without risk.

As far as this Stokie is concerned, Coates— who has made his fortune through Bet365— should gamble again and replace Hughes.

Not Wong: Beyond the social construct

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We’re told that our realities are constructed by, and constitutive in, our social interactions. Gender, sex, race, class, identities, the imaginations of ourselves in relation to the infinite others populating our existence. And through social rituals of performing our identities, we construct, imagine, and develop our attributes and characteristics within existing power frameworks.

A popular trend in the status quo seeks to posit that because some ‘x’ is a social construct, it does not matter—that the constructionist attribute of a concept renders it somehow less important, less potent, and less valuable. From the construction of the attribute comes the dismissal of its value—as if anything being constructed would diminish its authenticity, and hence the need to treat it as an important attribute and characteristic for individuals. Problematically, the logic does not follow.

The first observation is that everything is—to various extents—socially constructed. Some are more obvious than others: we construct gender through iterating and performing gendered norms that are inculcated in us from a young age by our parents, family, society, and education; we construct the value of money through repeated interactions with others in which money is employed as a storage of value and vehicle of financialised power. Some are less obvious, such as the fact that we view humans through ‘sexed lenses’ largely derives from our prior understanding of gender (Judith Butler), or that we understand the differences amongst races through a mixture of colonial frames installed initially to divide and conquer (Frantz Fanon), and historical tribalism that developed out of lineages. Some are yet even more implicit, such as the way in which our language games and interpretations of reality are shaped by the language in which we converse (cf. Sapir-Whorf hypothesis), or that we could never really be certain that an external reality exists beyond the reality established by intersubjective consensus.

But I have no interest in spending this piece examining the intricacies of constructionist philosophy. To posit that some attribute is socially constructed is trivial and uninteresting. As Lukes points out—when power is everywhere (as per Foucault), the term ‘power’ becomes trivial and vacuous. Exactly because everything we know is mediated by social construction, I find the claim that ‘x’ is socially constructed definitively represents some valuable information absurd, and bizarre. What we really ought to ask is—so what?

The second observation I’ll make is that the metric of authenticity should be detached from the metric of constructionism. As a non-binary queer, I am deeply aware that my gender identification is socially constructed through the dichotomous labels of gender binaries, and my violent definition of my gender identity in antithesis to the bifurcation provided with me by society. But this does not render my identification any less authentic—for the determinant of authenticity should be the strength of feeling and emotional reaction. Similarly, trans individuals should not have their experiences denigrated merely because “both gender and sex are socially constructed anyway”. For trans individuals, their gender identities (different from the ones assigned at their birth) are phenomenally real—and manifest in deeply powerful emotions that are authentic. Whether or not their identities are ‘constructed’ by society is irrelevant, because the object of social justice is not a futile one of ‘expelling social construction’ (in and of itself a construction process), but of helping people achieve what they subjectively conceptualise as the authentic ideal for themselves. How you choose to define yourself in relation to your parents, loved ones, children, and friends may be socially constructed in their genesis, but what should play a role in determining how you treated should be how you currently experience these generated attributes.

Some critics of identity politics like to imagine that they’ve found the ‘ultimate’ trump card against Queer rights, when they go: “Ha! You acknowledge that sex and gender are socially constructed, so why should you not also concede that you are merely living under a false consciousness that has misled you to stray from the (cis-heteronormative) norm?” But this objection makes no sense. Firstly, to the extent that the false consciousness claim holds, tu quoque—the norm is just as constructed and just as a part of any false consciousness as the alleged ‘false consciousness’ that Queer individuals live under. Secondly, given that a vast majority of social discourse perpetuates a privileging of the cis- and the het-, it is more plausible that the false consciousness effect extends in the opposite direction—i.e. that it is perpetuating a cis-heteronormative hegemony, as opposed to a Queer hegemony. Thirdly, it appears very demeaning to posit that all Queer individuals cannot genuinely desire or fundamentally prefer their identities (i.e. hold second-order preferences that match onto their revealed preferences). But fourthly—and most importantly—to the extent that false consciousness and social construction exist on both sides, surely the best solution should be the one which allows individuals to live most comfortably with their identities within a society that seeks to repress their rights to self-identify. The metric of social justice is about the feelings and experiences of individuals, not what we’d subjectively vet to be most ideal for these people.

The third observation is that the means through which we establish our identities is inherently social. Brian Wong means nothing if it is a solitary speck in an empty universe. There is no way for me to acquire an understanding of the ‘Self’, in a land where my subjective consciousness is the only consciousness floating in an abstract, empty space. We relate our identities in relation and relativity to others, and that is why the social construction that goes into our identities is so essential. Through constant comparisons, contrasts, adaptations and imitations with others, we find our place within a complex and multi-dimensional social reality. To posit that because something is socially constructed, that said something ought to be neglected or ignored, is not only unrigorous: it also ignores the most basic processes by which humans integrate themselves into mass society.

Yes, the labels and categories we employ to understand ourselves are tools given to us by society. But the choice for the individual is perpetually conditional—it is not the question, “What would you aspire to be in a vacuum?”, but rather the question “Given that you are Brian Wong, born in October 1997, what would you aspire to be?” And whilst your answer may indeed be written in the language of your society, this does not render it any less worthy of respect or dignity. We must look beyond the allure of dismissing socially constructed items in order to appreciate a very simple fact. Yes, reality is socially constructed. But so what?