Thursday 17th July 2025
Blog Page 894

A turning point in French politics

0

The upcoming French elections have been held by some media, such as the Economist, as a turning-point in Western politics, with the two major parties that have alternated at the head of the state since the start of the fifth republic in 1958 predicted to lose to one of the three underogs: Marine Le Pen, Jean-Luc Mélenchon, and Emmanuel Macron.

The striking element, common to the success that these three campaigns have had so far, is an intense criticism of the French political landscape. Marine Le Pen, just like her father, has always thrived by criticizing French politics for being a system in the hands of an establishment, coining the phrase “UMPS” to describe how the UMP (rebranded The Republicans last year) and the Socialist Party kept alternating in power, with very little difference in the decisions that they took. It is however unlikely that she would win, given the strong support for a ‘popular front’ against the FN that is shared by the left, the centre and a portion of the right.

However, the idea that the right and the left have become two sides of a same coin has deeply permeated the French electorate. Indeed, since Mitterrand had to abandon his Keynesian program two years into his presidency to turn to a much more pragmatic austerity phase from 1983 onwards, both socialists and republicans have had very similar approaches to economic policy, embodied by the El Khomri law presented by the Hollande government supporting a neo-liberal simplification of the employment-related legislation. It is important to note that the article was passed by decree by the government, despite massive popular uprisings and parliamentary opposition.

Jean-Luc Mélenchon is the product of this disappearance of a properly militant left. He proposed to indebt the country by up to 100 billion in order to finance initiatives in new technologies and sustainable development, as well as stated, in a highly contradictory manner, that he would refuse to pay back the debt that France incurred over the years from international financial institutions. Finally, his will to cap the revenues of the highest earners to twenty times the salary of the worst paid employee clearly shows that he pictures himself as the renewal of the left, of its true values and its militantism. It thus seems that Mélenchon has been gaining in momentum to the point of having a non-negligible probability of reaching the second round of the presidential elections, as a consequence of branding himself a more genuine socialist.

In this landscape, Macron can be seen as the embodiment of the centrist liberalism that has guided French politics for 60 years. However, there are two sides to his campaign. The first is that of the liberal ex-minister, with a history of dealing with the patronal elites. The second side is almost populist: he inscribed himself in the popular opposition to the idea of a political class. He has proudly held his experience as a private banker as a sign that he has been in touch with the reality, and the structure of his new movement, En Marche, is based on popular support and aims at presenting people with no former political experience to most local elections. The fact that Macron did not even have a programme a few weeks ago shows that he wants to be elected as this central, liberal pragmatist.

This election has shown a polarisation of French politics, as well as increasing levels of populism, leading some people like Mélenchon to argue that a whole new political system, a Sixth Republic, is necessary. It is highly probable that the next French Parliament, elected in June, will have to prove its ability to work despite the absence of clear cut majority. This entails that career politicians will have to actually participate in a democratic debate rather than playing the political game of perpetual virtue-signalling conflict between opposition and majority,. The Nuit Debout initiative, inciting Parisians to debate together on the streets, has shown that a significant portion of the French population feels like the people themselves should be placed back at the centre of democracy, which is impossible under the current constitution. Quite paradoxically, this election, highly influenced by the deep and increasingly well perceived problems of the Fifth Republic, may be the one that saves it by giving it an opportunity to reform itself. Populist movements have clearly signalled that the French people has had enough of its elites. Some things never change.

Yangon University is modelled on Oxford, but there are no dreaming spires

0

Walking around Yangon, though there are the affluent areas and fast food restaurants that exist in nearly all big cities, these areas are few and far between. Poverty pervades in this former capital city to a greater extent than in many of its Southeast Asian counterparts. The military regime, though removed in 2013, has had lasting effects on Burma (also known as Myanmar) and especially on its education. In Oxford—in the UK in general—we take our right to an education for granted. For certain periods during the last 50 years, university education in Burma was neither a right nor a luxury—it did not exist.

Universities, especially large ones, provide an opportunity for political discontent to manifest and for groups to mobilise. Oxford has been at the heart of student unrest many times in the past. The University of Yangon, too, is a prime example of this: in 1988, the 8888 Uprising—which occurred on 8th August 1988 (8/8/88)—began as student protests at Yangon University. It was during these protests that Aung San Suu Kyi became established as a source of hope and possible future leader of the country. In the aftermath of the uprising she co-founded a pro-democracy party, of which she remains president, that governs Burma today. This infamous uprising protested against the socialist autocracy which, with General Ne Win as leader, had ruled the country since 1962. The immediate response to the uprising by the government was a massacre of protestors. Officially, several hundred died as a result of the 8888 Uprising. Unofficially, the number was in the thousands.

The immediate impact of the uprising was clearly devastating, but the long-term impact can still be felt today. In response to the uprising, to prevent further mobilisation, the government shut down both Yangon and Mandalay University. The exact length of time for which the universities were closed is ambiguous, due to censorship. It appears that the universities were shut twice: once for roughly four years, immediately after the 1988 protests, and again just before the turn of the millennium. A quick Google search suggests that the second closure was brief, but speaking to people residing in Yangon tells a different story. Of the many people I asked, very few could give me a specific answer. The majority of the conversations I had went something along the lines of: “When did they reopen the university?”, “Not long ago”,“How long ago?”, ”Not long”.

The clearest answer I received suggests that, while the university has officially been open again since roughly 2000, they only reopened the accommodation. It was only just before Obama’s first state visit in 2012 that the university began running graduate lectures and classes again. It took even longer for undergraduate courses.

Though the main Yangon University central campus temporarily reopened in the 1990s, protests in 1996 again led to its closure and it remained intermittently closed for some time after that. Even at the bare minimum, using official figures which are likely to be an under-estimation, there are at least five school year groups who were not given the opportunity of a university education. International options at the time were equally scarce with the political regime barring most opportunities to leave and study abroad. Only the rare few in financially and politically privileged positions would have been a afforded the opportunity.

There was no option to look around at university open days, to have the dilemma over what course to apply for, to worry that you would not find the right university or that, when you found the right one, they would reject you—there was no university. By 1988, there were more than 50 universities established in the United Kingdom. Oxford had been established long, long before that. In 1988, Oxford was little different to what it is today. Oxford students still had their tutorials, went to bops, and were coerced into attending their JCR meetings with the promise of free food.

The University of Yangon, when established in 1848, was modelled on the University of Oxford. It had been one of the most prestigious universities in Asia. And yet in 1988, and the years that followed, it lost its prestige. There were no tutorials and no opportunities for formal education beyond school, not in that university nor anywhere in Burma. Yangon University was modelled on Oxford, but it had neither the same dreams nor spires.

Though Yangon University has been intermittently closed since 1988, it is no longer one of just two universities in the country. Even before the uprisings, the military regime converted the faculties into separate state-run universities which operated from the central campus, essentially functioning as a single university. After the closure however, when the government felt it safe to at least partially reopen, these faculties acted as separate universities. As the government refused to reopen the central campus out of fear of students mobilising once again, they opened these universities—now much smaller—in outer regions of the city. The university buildings were constructed quickly and in areas where there was little else other than these buildings. By keeping students separated, they prevented them from mobilising.

Decentralising the university, along with other actions by the government, has had lasting effects upon the quality of the education. When talking to people from Burma, though I could find little consensus on when the university reopened, one thing was clear—the education today still is not as good as it was before 1988.

The government didn’t just employ this tactic of fragmentation with universities–the same was done with places of worship. Burma is a religious country with 87.9 per cent of people being Buddhist, the majority of whom actively practice the religion.

Despite the large number of practicing Buddhists, the tradition and its places of worship are fragmented throughout the city and country. This is at least partly to prevent groups being able to mobilise against the government. To see such blatant disregard of crucial aspects of society, of education and of religion, purely for the purpose of maintaining power is something hard to stomach. Regardless of whether we agree with our current government’s agenda, their actions are not solely motivated by a desire to repress discontent–they aren’t that self-destructive. The same cannot be said in Burma.

We can’t know for certain exactly how much of an impact the university closure had on the city, as well as the rest of the country, but it is not insubstantial. For many, the best education still lies abroad and, though getting a visa may be easier than in the 1980s, the financial burden of an international education means that only the richest have access to a good education.

There is some good news. Following the dissolution of the military regime in 2011, there has been increased autonomy and investment in Yangon University. In 2013, they even started welcoming back undergraduates for the first time since the 1980s. The university may remain fragmented but it is slowly being restored. The benefits of improved education will take time but the effects will be lasting. Who knows, in the future the university modelled on Oxford may hold a similar prestige.

For now, Burma remains a product of the past governments’ failures. Education is still considered a luxury and a novelty—it is an opportunity which large portions of the adult population missed out on completely. Yangon University had been deemed a ‘bastion of academic freedom’. Though the doors of the university are now reopened, opportunities for education are still limited.

Education is such an ingrained aspect of all our lives that the concept of its non-availability is unfathomable. We complain about endless reading lists and essay crises on a daily basis, but we all had the opportunity and privilege to choose them. We should be grateful that it is an essay deadline that we’re missing rather than the opportunity to study at all.

Oxford pollution levels break health rules

0

Air pollution levels in Oxford breached international health rules at the beginning of 2017, an investigation by The Times has revealed.

The levels of nitrogen dioxide, which can cause cancer, exceeded both European Union and World Health Organisation (WHO) guidelines.

While levels of nitrogen oxide are supposed to be kept below 40 micrograms per cubic metre of air, the average level of nitrogen dioxide between January and the end of March was 48 micrograms per cubic metre in the city.

The latest figures have led to more calls for a crackdown on diesel cars—which are among the leading producers of nitrogen dioxide.

A number of solutions have been proposed in Oxford, including the introduction of “driverless cars”. Reports earlier this moth suggested that driverless cars could be operating in Oxford city centre from as early as 2017. Oxbotica, a spin-out company from the University’s Robotics Institute, has begun to trial the vehicles in London and plans to continue the experiment in Oxford. Oxford is one of 26 areas of 146 that reached nitrogen dioxide levels that breached EU legislation and WHO guidelines. The Oxford Mail revealed in November that the amount of harmful nitrogen dioxide in the most polluted part of the city—St Clements—rose three per cent between 2014 and 2015, from 65 micrograms per cubic metre to 67. However, roadside levels of nitrogen dioxide have dropped by an average of 35 per cent across the city in the last ten years in Oxford.

Jonathan Grigg, professor of paediatric respiratory and environmental medicine at Queen Mary University of London, and founding member of Doctors Against Diesel, said there was “overwhelming proof” of the harm caused by air pollution, saying: “diesel fleets should be removed from the roads as soon as possible.”

Professor Grigg added: “Exposure over a very long time has an insidious effect. It suppresses the lung growth of children; it’s involved in the onset of asthma, a decline in lung function as you age; and there’s emerging evidence of it causing cognitive problems and also reduced growth of foetuses.”

Speaking to Cherwell, Dr Christian Brand, Senior Research Fellow and Associate Professor at the Environmental Change Institute, responded to the findings, saying: “Generally, I think we have less of an air pollution problem than is often advertised—especially when compared to London, Paris, or Delhi, Beijing.

“Exceedance occurs only in a few hot spots with high traffic flows of diesel buses and London style, Hackney carriage taxis. While annual hourly means of NO2 concentrations are 20 percent above legal limits at 48 micrograms per cubic metre, it is worth remembering that the two roadside monitoring stations measuring these levels are near bus stops—with buses queuing and diesel engines idling.

“So, a pragmatist could just move the local AQ monitoring stations away from bus stops and further up the high street and St Aldate’s—just not next to bus stops.”

Dr Brand added: “The other point to make is that one of the best ways to reduce population exposure to nitrogen dioxide and other key pollutants is to shield pedestrians and other road users from the pollution.

“For example, some public transport stations have plexiglass tunnels, shields and sliding doors that only open when people are alighting or boarding. I am not suggesting this is pretty or feasible but certainly an option.”

A spokesman for the University told Cherwell: “The poor air quality in the City is a concern for the University, which has set in place measures in its Transport Strategy.

“The University has taken action to encourage staff and students to travel to work by sustainable modes and has taken steps to enable staff to travel on business within the City by pedal cycle, electric bikes and mass transit options. The University is also replacing diesel fleet vehicles with Ultra Low Emission equivalents.”

The Oxford Student Green Party issued a statement, saying: “The Oxford Greens have consistently worked to reduce Nitrogen Dioxide levels in the City, by discouraging driving in the centre and calling for sensible organisation of bus routes.

“This is merely further evidence that authorities have failed to treat a life-threatening problem seriously. With the problem growing ever more prominent, Oxford’s people have a chance to make this a significant issue in upcoming elections.”

The findings from the investigation come as the government prepares to publish its plans to improve air quality, after the High Court ruled last year that the current plan was inadequate—ordering a replacement to be produced by 24 April.

Life Divided: Unpacking

Rosa Thomas: For

Unsurprisingly, if you ask most people at Oxford, they would not put unpacking six times a year at the top of their list of favourite university traditions. I’ll admit it, perhaps packing doesn’t have the hedonism of trashing, the sophistication of matriculation or the rich history of Merton’s ‘Time Ceremony’, but I’m willing to bet that the process has had much more of an effect on your time at Oxford than you might think.

For one thing, packing provides a glimmer of hope that you may, just for once, have your life organised. For the other seven weeks of term I find myself living in a constant state of chaos. By second week clothing will be rammed in my desk drawer, pens will be in biscuit tins, and, my socks will never be seen again. I become accustomed to a life where seeing the floor is like meeting someone who likes Lola Lo’s; rare and fascinating. But, for the first blissful days of term everything is perfectly organised.

Unpacking is my sole chance in eight weeks of madness to have my life together, find the things I’ve lost and remember that normal people do not keep their tutorial notes inside a spare pillow case on the floor. The pillow case may be a rather extreme example. However, I do refuse to believe that every Oxford student manages to keep their rooms in perfect, regimented order, all term.

You may complain about packing, but I’m guessing you’ve found more than a few important old essays in the great 0th week unpack. The process doesn’t just allow you to organise your life, it makes Oxford feel like home. It’s hard to deny that your college room feels quite different every time you’ve finished unpacking. I may be a university cliché, but after taking out my fairy lights, sticking up my photos and unloading my varied cushion collection, term doesn’t feel quite so daunting, and home never feels quite so far away.

Jamie Onslow: Against

Each time I return to Oxford after the vac, my feelings of almost pant-wetting excitement are tempered by the knowledge that before I can gaily dive into the fun-filled bonanza that is life at our university, I must first go through the ordeal of unpacking. The first item to be unpacked is, in fact, myself. As is common practice, at the end of every Oxford term the head porter rubs me down with goose fat and pushes me into a tight-fitting wooden box. Any remaining space is filled with items, read yet mostly-unread, from my reading list.

The lack of light within the box precludes actually reading anything, and I instead absorb books through my feet and into my bloodstream, much like a phagocyte might absorb a suspicious-looking amoeba. However, just as a foetus knows when the time is ripe to slide forth into the world, as soon as term begins I instinctively slither out of my box. I writhe around naked on the floor, temporarily blinded by intense daylight, with half-absorbed Russian classics protruding out of my legs.

Luckily I am not alone, as much like the hatching of baby turtles, all undergraduates emerge from their boxes simultaneously, and thrash around on main quad until they can walk. Much as a new born calf soon hobbles to his feet, or a butterfly emerges from a cocoon, I am soon ready to undertake the more serious task of unpacking the various items that I use in my daily routine. As 0th week comes around I often consider staying within the oaky confines of my box. However, it is common knowledge that throughout history few have achieved greatness from within the confines of a greasy box, and so I reluctantly nibble my way out, ready for some learning.

OxFilm: your script

0

Getting the right script is a crucial first step in making any student film. It’s common for student filmmakers to decide that they want to make a film, and then immediately jump to the camera they want, the budget they’ll have, and the cool shots they want to incorporate—the story comes after, and it frequently shows in the final product.

So, first things first, write a script. It doesn’t need to be a summer blockbuster material—it can be as wacky as you want, but make sure it’s been redrafted enough times to have reached the necessary degree of polish. Remember, this script will end up on a screen, so if you feel like adding throwaway lines or a half-hearted conversation about the weather to fill some space, think again—every line counts!

While you’re at it, consider your poor audience in the cinema. Do they really want to sit through an avant-garde realisation of the experiences of a greenfly? Would you? Even if you don’t want the audience to enjoy your film—there could be other emotions you want to provoke—writing a script that tells a compelling story is essential to kickstart your project. Without a good script, there’s no point in filming.

Blind Date: The only way to cope with these inadequacies was to drink more”

0

Priya Khaira-Hanks, 2nd year, English, St Catz

My evening with Jamie started and ended with gossip—at the beginning, we chatted about Gossip Girl, and, a few hours and drinks later, were exchanging juicy details about certain mutual acquaintances. Jamie also divulged to me what really happens at Christ Church: coming from a mere proletarian college, I was astounded that, instead of Freshers’ week, first years are told the dark secrets of privilege and made to sign a confidentiality agreement, promising never to let slip who drowned in champagne at that ball in the nineties. We exchanged our fatal flaws—for him, country music, for me, cheese—and the fact that neither of us can drive. The only way to cope with these inadequacies was to drink more, and I ended up embarking on an impassioned polemic about Holly and Phil on This Morning. And, if ranting about daytime TV isn’t winning date etiquette, I’m not sure what is.

First impression? Punctual!

Chat? 76% banter, 24% French Revolution

Personality? Destroyed my anti-ChCh prejudice

2nd date? Holly Willoughby is a hard act to beat

Jamie Horton, 2nd year, History, Christ Church

The fortune cookie I opened at dinner prior to the date (something about a lettuce wrap) didn’t provide me with the encouragement I was hoping for and so I ventured with some trepidation to Turf. Nevertheless, I was soon put at ease by Priya’s friendliness, and I really felt like I was making progress when my confessed admiration for country music got me likened to her mum. Sensing my bad boy image was under threat, I panicked somewhat and claimed to be running an Escobar-style drug cartel from my college room. Her lack of surprise that such an operation existed inside Christ Church said a lot. Whilst we were bonding over our lack of ability to drive, I felt the time was right for a high-risk, high-reward gambit. Unfortunately, the revelation that I lived next to the busiest bus route in Europe (Wilmslow Road, Manchester) proved not to be the winner I hoped it would be.

First impression? This might be quite fun

Chat? On point

Personality? Genuinely lovely!

2nd date? Not holding my breath

 

If you would like to go on a Blind Date, get in touch with the life editors

Warren Gatland selects controversial Lions squad for upcoming summer tour

0

British and Irish Lions Head Coach Warren Gatland has named a controversial squad for the upcoming Lions tour to New Zealand this summer.

The 41-man squad includes sixteen Englishmen, twelve Welshmen, eleven Irishmen, but only two Scots.

The appointment of Sam Warburton as captain was not a surprise, however, after a promotional photo of the Welsh flanker leaked online earlier this week.

He is seen as a steady hand by rugby coaches, and is only the second player, after England World Cup Winner Martin Johnson, to captain two Lions tours.

However, what has led to anger amongst fans is that Warburton will be joined by eleven other Welshman—who, on the whole, performed poorly in this year’s Six Nations. The selection of Leigh Halfpenny and Dan Biggar in particular seems to suggest that Gatland has also considered previous performances in his selection process of rugby players, not only their current form.

Despite this, Ken Owens, consistently seen as the underdog during his playing career for the Llanelli Scarlets and Wales, can be assured he has been selected purely on his extraordinary form during the Six Nations championship earlier this year.

While Welsh fans may complain that there are not even more of their countrymen in the squad, it will be hard for them not to acknowledge the brilliant form of many English players in the squad: Mako Vunipola’s power will add intensity to the pack, Owen Farrell’s flair and kicking game will test the New Zealand defence, and Anthony Watson’s pace will be a necessity if the Lions hope to break the ferocious All Black gameline.

Yet, the squad’s announcement also produced more major shocks. The first was the exemption of England captain Dylan Hartley. The England captain’s omission means that he is the third consecutive England captain not to have been named in the Lions touring party, following Steve Borthwick and Chris Robshaw’s omissions in 2009 and 2013. While his aggression and competitiveness often gets the better of him, the fact that Hartley captained England to a record-equalling streak of 18 matches without defeat suggests his omission is unfair and strange.

As well as this, notable English players Mike Brown, Joe Launchbury and George Ford were absent from Gatland’s Lions squad, while Ben Te’o, who made his Test debut in 2016, was included in the bold squad announcement on April 19.

While the inclusion of eleven Irishman such as Jonny Sexton, Rory Best and Conor Murray will be welcomed across the home nations, Scottish fans have rightly objected to Gatland’s decision to include only two players from their impressive Six Nations campaign: Stuart Hogg and Tommy Seymour.

Speaking on BT Sport’s Facebook page after the announcement, former Ireland captain and Lions player Brian O’Driscoll conceded that Scotland were unlucky not to have more players in the touring party: “Beat Ireland, beat Wales—if I was Scottish I would feel hard done by. It’s the first time since 1908 they haven’t had a representative in the pack.”

Overall, Gatland and his coaching staff surprised the public and the world’s media. The Lions face a daunting task: attempting to topple the greatest rugby side (perhaps even the greatest sporting side) the world has ever seen. On top of this, the demanding schedule facing the British players has raised concerns: only this week former All Blacks and Lions coach Sir Graham Henry described the 10-match schedule as ‘suicidal’.

As well as this, the 2011 World Cup-winning coach has warned Gatland that Wales’ 40-7 humiliation against the Chiefs in Hamilton in 2016 shows many of the pitfalls of playing midweek matches against Super Rugby outfits.

The last few months of British rugby have been incredibly exciting, and if the drama surrounding this selection is anything to go by, the Lions tour itself should be one of the best in recent memory.

The Lions will arrive in New Zealand on Wednesday, May 31, four days before their first match against the New Zealand Provincial Barbarians in Whangarei on June 3.

The full squad is as follows:

Forwards: Rory Best (IRL), Jack McGrath (IRL), Dan Cole (ENG), Ross Moriarty (WAL), Taulupe Faletau (WAL), Sean O’Brien (IRL), Tadhg Furlong (IRL), Peter O’Mahoney (IRL), Jamie George (ENG), Ken Owens (WAL), Iain Henderson (IRL), Kyle Sinckler (ENG), Maro Itoje (ENG), CJ Stander (IRL), Alun Wyn Jones (WAL), Justin Tipuric (WAL), George Kruis (ENG), Billy Vunipola (ENG), Courtney Lawes (ENG), Mako Vunipola (ENG), Joe Marler (ENG), Sam Warburton (WAL)

Backs: Dan Biggar (WAL), Jack Nowell (ENG), Elliot Daly (ENG), Jared Payne (IRL), Jonathan Davies (WAL), Jonathan Sexton (IRL), Owen Farrell (ENG), Tommy Seymour (SCO), Leigh Halfpenny (WAL), Ben Te’o (ENG), Robbie Henshaw (IRL), Anthony Watson (ENG), Stuart Hogg (SCO), Rhys Webb (WAL), Jonathan Joseph (ENG), Liam Williams (WAL), Conor Murray (IRL), Ben Youngs (ENG), George North (WAL)

Irresponsible escapists and the architecture of power

0

Why do schools, prisons, and mental asylums look so strikingly similar? This question has troubled intellectuals from Franz Kafka to Michel Foucault. The ‘architecture of power’, with its drab hallways and isolating cells, seems almost ideally designed to sap its subjects of individuality. Yet reality refuses to comply. Far from reforming their charges, these institutions all too often instil in us a profound hatred of conformity, an anti-authoritarian recalcitrance—a desire, in a word, for escape.

People with a mission to ‘save the world’ often dismiss escapism as a distraction from serious work.

In a less troubled time, they say, they might indulge in the frivolities of sex, drugs, and art—but what we need right now is responsibility. Only by submitting our desires to a higher purpose can we advance toward a decent society.

Don’t believe me? Then look at how the views of cultural conservatives and many left-wing radicals converge on pornography, gangsta rap, and offensive humour, to name only a few of their mutual bugbears. These sources of pleasure are ‘sinful’, or ‘problematic’, and they ought to be controlled. If shame fails to keep us from degrading ourselves, say the champions of responsible progress, then we might need rules to regulate these dangerous forms of escapism.

And make no mistake: from the public moralist’s point of view, escapism is dangerous. Some of the most liberating changes in our everyday lives were made possible by escapists.

The advocates of responsibility (and its natural partner, respectability) have won important fights of their own, which I don’t mean to belittle. In their struggles to improve the world, however, they have often stood in the way of very real improvements brought about by the urge to escape.

The protestors who burned their draft cards at the height of the Vietnam War, the hippies who dropped acid and slept with total strangers in Golden Gate Park, and the gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transfolk who pelted the police with rocks outside the Stonewall Inn—were they being responsible?

Of course not. They were breaking the rules, writing better ones, escaping into their own lives, their own bodies, their own pleasures. But in doing so, they battled for basic human freedoms which many of us now take for granted. In much of the developed world, conscription is unthinkable. It’s alright to have sex without any thought of marriage—and in a growing number of states and cities, you can now smoke marijuana without punishment. And while there is still progress to be made in the acceptance of queer people, who could deny that we are freer today than we were a few decades ago? As I see it, ‘irresponsible escapists’ of various kinds have made the world a much better place.

This is not to say that responsibility is a bad thing, or that we should spend our whole lives ‘running from reality’. There is a place for marches, speeches, campaigns—and for people to organise them. The world needs leaders to make certain lasting changes.

Take the struggles of the civil rights era. Very few people alive today would argue that Martin Luther King’s leadership was anything short of heroic. Even by the standards of those who opposed him, King was a man of sound moral convictions and a publically sterling character. (We may ignore his private hypocrisies, which were not revealed until after his death and did not detract from his work.) His respectable conduct and status as a Protestant minister bolstered his arguments and drew many supporters who might otherwise have found his message threatening.

Even so, escapism remains a powerful force of transgression. It shouldn’t surprise us that The Lord of the Rings was the bible of ‘60s counterculture. Nor should we find it strange that the great socialist William Morris was also the father of modern fantasy fiction, or that the early leaders of the Labour Party (John Robert Clynes especially) drew inspiration from the medievalist art critic, John Ruskin.

So it’s no wonder that we fill our lives with ‘escape hatches.’ These can take many forms: as fiction, music, poetry, artwork, sex, dance, gaming—the list could continue without end. What they all have in common is the power to challenge the ordinary, to lift us out of our day-to-day boredom and show us new possibilities, new feelings, new worlds.

A life spent apart from the hard reality would likely leave most of us miserable. Huxley’s Brave New World comes to mind, as does Homer’s island of lotus-eaters. But a life without escapism is an even bleaker prospect: the windowless walls of a prison cell, perfectly built from the slabs of ‘hard work’ and the mortar of ‘responsibility’.

 

Is travel the only way we can set ourselves free?

0

I am sitting in Bratislava Airport, around the beginning of January. It is incredibly warm here, which is quite ironic given how freezing cold it is outside. I used the last of my euros to order a cheap coffee and, like pretty much all of the coffee I have drunk here, it really isn’t great. All the coffee I have ordered has come with a little glass of water which is nice, I guess, although the coffee never seems to be hot enough and tastes far from the artisanal joy of Brew or The Missing Bean to which my tastebuds have become accustomed.

But I deviate—where was I? I’m sitting in this weird little cafe thing off the side of the airport departure lounge. There is no complex shopping structure, bendy corridors and sections or hoards of holidaymakers, there is simply this one large hangar, a few shops hanging off the ends, and that is it. There are hardly any people here at all, no queue at security, and only a handful of flights leaving today. Five, as I count them. An airport in the capital city of a major (ish, but certainly getting there) European country on a standard working day evening and there are only five flights for the rest of the day. Maybe everybody flies from Vienna around here. I don’t know, but it’s definitely a tad bizarre.

The more I contemplate it, the emptiness of this place really is rather lovely. There’s the element of emptiness in a place one expects to be busy which is, on the face of it, a little bit suspicious. I was reminded a little of a short story by Stephen King called The Langoliers in which a plane lands into an empty airport, which turns out to be in an alternative reality where monster things are coming to get you. Or the universe is collapsing in or something. I can’t really remember. Would recommend it though. At the same time, the emptiness is quite beautiful. The quiet allows me to hear my own thoughts, find inner peace (whatever that means) and be genuinely relaxed in a sort of place never usually associated with such a thing. It’s surprising, but certainly welcome. The more I think about it, throughout my trip here I have experienced a strange form of refreshing happiness.

This feeling certainly stems from the anonymity I have here and the ability to genuinely be away from everything, but it goes further than that. The potential of who I could be has not been at all been limited by anyone. I cannot think of a single person I know in this city, I do not speak a word of Slovak: to the people here I could be almost anything and them to me. I could have whatever name I choose, be from any country, do any job. An infinite number of possibilities exists about me and about my story, I am not confined by the bog standard routines and practises of home. It is the art of introducing myself that makes this potential go away. It doesn’t matter whether I tell the truth or if I lie: simply saying something makes that something the image of who I am and crystallises potential into something real.

I know that, deep down, I am just me. That person I spend all of my days and all of my nights with, the person with whom I share my most intimate thoughts, happiness and depression with, just me. The person to whose soul I talk and confide in, the person who’s senses show me the world, the person who will be there through love and heartbreak, the person who feels my hopes and dreams and the person who comforts my failures. It is just me. I can’t escape me when I am with people that know me, when I am in familiar settings and ticking through ordinary life. But sitting here, right now, I can. I could be anybody. Up until the point here I start talking and bring into existence a model of my character I feel as if I have escaped. The trap laid down by the most basic elements of conversation is evaded, for a temporary amount of time I am much closer to true freedom than at most other points of life.

So is freedom about money, power, or prestige? Is it contingent upon our friendships and loved ones, does it rely on safety and security, or is it about not tapping into potential? Bratislava freedom is clearly not a sustainable strategy—clearly nobody would want to live without meaningful relationships with others and clearly humankind needs them to prosper. Maybe, though, escaping them from time to time is a refreshing, healthy and necessary way to remind ourselves what truer freedom feels like.

Ageing under the spotlight

0

The film industry has been wracked with controversy in recent years, with accusations of discrimination flying left, right and centre. From the #oscarssowhite trend of 2016 to Patricia Arquette calling out Hollywood’s wage disparity in her Oscar acceptance speech in 2015, we are all finally starting to wake up to the fact that the seemingly perfect and polished celebrity world is just as infiltrated with prejudice as every other aspect of society. Despite our societal tendency to position our celebrity idols under a microscope, it is only in recent years that issues such as ageism have really been highlighted in the media.

The very nature of celebrity is rooted in admiration, all too often aesthetic admiration. When we watch a film or listen to music, we often don’t recognise the complexity of the people involved, instead reducing them to a simplistic idea of straightforward beauty. Ageing complicates this admiration. We are used to categorising celebrities as someone to emulate, but when the first grey hairs and laughter lines appear, suddenly they become a bit less god-like, and all too human for our liking.

Both Hollywood and the music industry are guilty of perpetrating these ideas. Madonna is a prime example of a woman who can seemingly do nothing right these days. Her onstage kiss with Drake is an obvious illustration of the double standards she faces. While other factors are naturally at play when considering the incident—principally Drake’s lack of consent—the point remains that a lot of the visceral disgust voiced on Twitter and other social media platforms was related to the age gap between Madonna and Drake. While in theory we reject the convention which teaches us to be appalled by a relationship between an older woman and younger man, the legacy of such a heavy cultural influence is hard to shake.

Madonna resolutely refuses to relinquish her sex appeal, and rightly so. She was among the first to embrace her own sexuality at a time when few female artists did, and as a result has become a feminist icon. Rather than retreating to ballads and black dresses like many singers of her age, she continues to joyfully prance around in bodysuits and leotards, throwing her legs above her head in a way which many in their twenties would envy. Yet her performances are often figured as grotesque, a laughing stock, or a warning to those also considered ‘over the hill’.

In 2015, Madonna went so far as to accuse BBC Radio 1 of ageism for their refusal to add her new single to their playlist. The response from the station was that they were trying to lower the average age of listeners, and that most Madonna fans were in their thirties and forties. A fair response perhaps, yet even on Radio 2, a station aimed at over 35s, Madonna’s single was only begrudgingly added to the C playlist, meaning that its airtime was minimal. Paradoxically, it was pointed out that Radio 1 often play songs by older artists, listing David Guetta (49) and Paul McCartney (74) as examples. For starters, it is significant that both of these artists are male, but also that the only Paul McCartney song that has been featured on the Radio 1 playlist in decades is ‘FourFiveSeconds,’ a collaboration with Kanye West and Rihanna—two much younger artists.

The backlash to Madonna’s complaint reflects the all too conventional negative attitude towards assertive women. While undeniably a problem for all women, particularly in the workplace, the stereotype of subservience affects older women to an even greater extent. Being a ‘Girl Boss’ is becoming trendier and trendier, as young women are encouraged to go after the careers and lifestyles that they deserve. However, the aspirational image of the ‘have it all’ career woman is notably restricted to the young and glamorous. While the idea of a young and stylish business woman demanding the raise she deserves fills most of us with ‘you go girl’-esque admiration, a woman in her fifties doing the same thing would likely provoke discomfort in many. While Jennifer Lawrence was applauded for her open letter criticising wage disparity in Hollywood, Madonna’s claim that her poor chart performance was the result of discrimination was treated as the whining of an old woman who can’t let go.

It is perhaps this differing standard applied to men and women which is the most disturbing aspect of ageism in our society. In a recent interview on Radio 2 promoting their new film ‘Going in Style,’ Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman both expressed their happiness at the number of roles they are still receiving in their seventies and eighties respectively. They proclaimed it as a sign that ageism in Hollywood is really not such an issue, with Caine even exclaiming triumphantly: “I’m not sitting round watching Coronation Street!” While I’m glad that Freeman and Caine are continuing to have their talents recognised and appreciated well past conventional retirement age, what the industry really needs is respected artists such as them to acknowledge and call out disparities. Their blindness to the fact that they are the exception, rather than the rule, not only excuses, but perpetrates harmful views.

Meryl Streep is one of the few high profile individuals in the film industry who does actively call out the ageism and sexism that she experiences. Although some may be sceptical of Streep’s claims of discrimination, due to her continuing relevance in Hollywood, she is vocal about how much harder she has had to fight for these opportunities since turning forty. In 2011, she confessed to Vogue Magazine that upon exiting her thirties she was only offered three roles–all witches–astutely noting that “once women passed childbearing age they could only be seen as grotesque on some level”. But unlike Freeman and Caine, who refuse to acknowledge the issues present in their industry, Streep is actively trying to solve the problem. She is helping to fund a screenwriting lab for women over forty, in the hope that diversifying representation behind the camera will propagate a similar growth onscreen.

While it is of course true that male actors will often face a decline in opportunities as they age, perhaps restricted to roles such as ‘senile old man’ or similar, it is undeniable that female actors suffer this fate to a much greater degree. The collective decision taken by film industry professionals, and even viewers themselves, that a woman is no longer at her peak attractiveness, epitomises the very objectification which the majority of us so vocally condemn. The recent Women’s Marches across the world demonstrate that feminism is a very prescient issue, and one being taken seriously, so why is that as a society, we still enable and encourage ageist attitudes towards women in popular culture? The fact is that films with female leads over forty don’t make as much money at the box office. Of course there are notable exceptions such as The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, but movies fronted by lesser known older actors often fall flat. Although our tastes are obviously moulded to a degree by the film industry itself, the influence goes both ways, and so by supporting films featuring older actors, we can help to foster a culture in which ageing is not something to be dreaded in our own lives, or disgusted by in others’ lives.

It is the idea of the female actor being intended for titillation which perpetrates this problem. Of course we are all guilty of objectifying our favourite celebrities to a certain degree, but this sense of ownership goes much further than teenage girls wondering what it would be like to kiss Zayn Malik. There is a cultural expectation that a female celebrity owes her followers something, her sex appeal translating into a currency of success. While male celebrities become ‘legends’ and ‘icons’ as their conventional attraction wanes, women struggle to make a similar transition. Their value is irrevocably tied to their appearance, and once their appearance ceases to be pleasing to their audience, the unspoken contract between performer and viewer is infringed.

And it’s not as if this objectification is even purely sexual. The attitudes of straight women towards their favourite female celebrities can often be just as harmful, particularly in the Instagram age, in which we can follow and fawn over their every move. The rise of social media has fostered trends such as the ever present ‘#goals’ hashtag, an idea which has always existed, but has only recently been explicitly named. It’s more than just petty jealousy. In fact, it’s taking active pleasure in the beauty, glamour, or success of someone you admire. But when your favourite female celebrity becomes a bit less #goals and a bit more grizzled, then why bother watching them anymore?

After all, whatever the content of a movie, the primary goal is ultimately escapism. For many viewers, this manifests itself in an appreciation of the seemingly perfect lives of its stars, as we perversely revel in the levels of glamour and beauty which our own lives can never hope to attain. Such admiration in itself is not necessarily harmful—society has always orientated itself by its idols. However, it does propagate the idea that ‘perfection’ and hence, happiness, is only attainable between the ages of twenty and forty.

As a society we still consider women, especially beautiful women, to be flat and one-sided, with little more to offer than being aesthetically pleasing. Whether consciously or subconsciously, we all have an inherent discomfort with women who are perceived as ‘unattractive’, a bias which we must do our best to fight. Perhaps the unpopularity of older female celebrities simply reflects our own fears of ageing—the idea that if we don’t see it reflected in the media then we can pretend it will never happen to us—but this attitude in itself is deeply harmful. The infiltration of ageist attitudes in popular culture reflects a wider obsession with beauty, and a concerning cultural shift towards superficiality. Prejudice in the film and music industries makes a significant contribution to this, filtering down to us, and infiuencing our own ideas of beauty and happiness. Perhaps the first step to developing more healthy attitudes towards our own appearances is to appreciate the performances of older people in the film and music industries.