Saturday 16th May 2026
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Richardson’s indefensible pay is a product of the marketisation of education

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Louise Richardson has recently come under fire for a comment perceived by many to be defending homophobia. However, the real scandal of what she said was not that students should not complain about homophobic professors, but her defence of her own £350,000 salary, and similarly high salaries of vice chancellors across the UK.

Over the last thirty years, the number of academic positions relative to PhDs, and the remuneration of those who get those positions, has declined. A generation or two ago the standard practice for a newly minted PhD was an academic career path, almost certainly culminating in a full professorship. Today, less than a tenth of newly minted PhDs are likely to become full professors, and even formerly safe branches such as mathematics and biology have a conversion rate of less than half.

At the same time academic salaries have stagnated, even as the price of living has increased – at our own university, the highest a full professor can be paid is £67,827, with a yearly increase below inflation. This salary in real terms is much less than what Oxford professors were paid thirty years ago, with the city much more expensive than it was in the past.

Yet one branch of the academic world has seen a rapid increase in both salaries and positions: administration. Not so long ago, heads of departments, wardens, and even vice chancellors were not paid much more than the professors they oversaw. Indeed, it used to be the norm in the whole Anglophone world for university presidents and vice chancellors to be elected for a fixed term from amongst the current academic staff, and to be paid one and a half times, or at most double, the salaried professor. The administrative staff was small, and most people employed by a university would be either teaching or doing research. Today, however, there is an entire class of people in universities who contribute little to research and teaching, but instead administer, adding needless cost for not much value.

Richardson defended her salary as vice chancellor on the grounds that, compared to some US university presidents, she was modestly paid. That is true: her salary may be over five times more than an Oxford professor could ever hope to earn without entering administration, but it is paltry compared to salaries for university administrators in the US.

Richardson’s £350,000 pales in comparison to the £570,000 earnt by Drew Faust of Harvard or the £3 million earnt by Mark Wrighton of the University of Washington, St Louis. In a global market for vice chancellors, Richardson probably could earn more in the United States.

If emulating America is the goal, then vice chancellor pay in Britain shows we’re well on the way. If, however, we seek to resist the rampant marketisation which characterises the United States, higher education must stand at the front line.

Academia is a land of contradictions. At one end is the vast army of underpaid academics, many of whom have to work on short term contracts with no job security, or slave away as post-docs. On the other end are the university chief executives—an almost parasitic group that no longer research and simply live off their past careers.

Richardson’s comments on homophobia, deplorable as they are, will have no impact: the tide is already well in favour of equal rights. Her defense of gross levels of executive pay for vice chancellors, however, can have lasting ramifications. The trend towards marketisation of the British higher education system is already starting to damage our universities, and Richardson’s comments will only help accelerate this trend.

By all means be angry about Richardson’s comments on homophobia – but remember that the real controversy is her defence of a burgeoning academic system whose influence would hurt everyone save a self-serving class of academic administrators of which Richardson is a part.

How to survive Oxford freshers’ week

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From Keep Off the Grass.

So, after months of anticipation, freshers’ week has finally come around. Some of you will arrive loaded with paracetamol, fully prepared for a week that sees you bouncing from being absolutely hammered to hanging on a daily basis. Others may be daunted at the prospect of mass socialising and leaving home behind. No matter your expectations, aims, or anxieties about this week, this a fool-proof guide that will see you intact and fully functioning come 1st week.

First up, don’t get stressed about work

From the word go, this is where the Oxford experience begins to diverge from your average fresher’s week. Your tutors will call you to a meeting in the first few days and set you an essay due in a week. They will encourage you to hit the books from the off, cordon yourself in a section in the library, and come to terms with your new existence as a living essay machine. Whilst it’s a bad idea to leave that essay until the night before, there’s plenty of time for work during the year. This week is about having a blast of hedonism before that begins, so remember to relax and live a little.

Know your limits

Now that you’ve accepted that you’re going to have fun, it’s important to acknowledge the limitations of what your body is physically capable of—there’s a big night out and then there’s puking into a plant pot in the Bridge smoking area and performing a weepy public monologue to Kevin from the floor above you about how you just missed out on an A* in History. Kevin, who is of course your new soulmate, because somewhere between the last jaeger and tripping down the stairs you realised that you just really like get each other. Drinkers, don’t go overboard! Take refuge in a stodgy Hassan’s to keep the killer hangover at bay, and take at least one night off for the sake of your liver.

Get to know Oxford

When you’re not spending your time drinking, you should probably get to know Oxford. Take a walk, see the sights, go on the Harry Potter tour if that’s your kind of gig. You’ll thank yourself for doing a little sight-seeing when, in 1st week, you have a lecture in a college whose name you aren’t sure how to pronounce, followed by a class in the faculty building you haven’t yet located. Oxford is beautiful and ancient, so soak some of the scenery up before you begin a very busy year.

Freshers’ Fair: the baptism of fire

Freshers’ Fair is a baptism of fire into the societies and clubs the Uni has to offer. Navigate your way around the impressively maze-like trail of stalls and sign up for whatever catches your eye. Whether you’re interested in singing, comedy, politics, or pastries, there will be something there for you. The students behind the desks will be grappling for your attention and the atmosphere is somewhat like a noisy market, but it’s a great way to see what’s available. Oh, and there’s free pizza.

Budgeting

In the sheer hedonism of it all, you might find that—five days in—you’ve spent way more money than you meant to, and you’re already behind budget. Fresher’s week is a good time to learn how to economise. Eat in hall, buy a kettle and a clothes horse, and most essentially, discover boxed wine. This brings me to another key tip, remember to call your parents. Those people who dropped you off with teary eyes? It’s really awkward when your first call is due to the fact that you’ve ran out of money, trust me

It’s only the first week

Lastly, don’t worry if you don’t feel like you’ve found your best friends for life in the first few days. Freshers’ Week is really a time for first impressions and bonding experiences, but you’ll end up having great friends who you didn’t even meet in freshers’ week. Go to some of the meet and greet events organised by your freshers’ committee if you’re nervous about introductions, and remember that you’ve got a year to get to know people. This week is only the beginning of your experience here, it won’t define it. You’re in for three amazing years that will be as unpredictable as they will be rewarding, and no one could pack that into one week.

This piece is from Cherwell‘s guide to Oxford Freshers’ Week 2017, Keep Off the Grass. Pick up your copy from your freshers rep or pidge room at the start of term.

“Once again, I find myself applauding the Oxford Revue”

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Having previously seen the wealth of talent in the Oxford Revue before arriving at Subway on Cowgate, I was excited to see what new material the trio would bring to the stage. I was not disappointed and neither were the rest of the audience, who seemed to lap up the majority of the jokes and characters effortlessly and seamlessly portrayed by the group. The opening verged on awkwardly cheesy, as one of the characters attempted to motivate the crowd with clapping, but the show soon gained momentum and the jokes finesse. What began as seemingly a series of stand-alone skits progressed as the story lines intertwined, and the blurb I had read before entering the theatre became apparent. It follows a journey to Australia made by an American, Scotsman and an Englishwoman in order to hunt down a fascist Youtuber with a number one single, which twists and turns with some hilariously random and seemingly unrelated scenes.

Kathy Maniura plays the rather less child-friendly JK Rowling, teaching kids that a cigarette and bottle of wine are the perfect complement to worldwide fame and fortune. And while I adore a wildly inappropriate Harry Potter joke with a beautifully subtle satirical twist, the American, played by Derek Mitchell, really stole the show. Dawn McIntosh, your stereotypical Christian mum, with her snickerdoodles and crossbow, had an intoxicating enthusiasm when played by Mitchell. Not only did he work the space and the character, he owned them. He plays the mum you’d never want to have while deep down you never want him to leave the stage. While the Scotsman (aka. Mary Macrel), played by Alistair Inglis, may have had some of the weakest material of the show, his characterisation, wonderful accent, and the fact he spends most of the show in an ill-fitting vomit-green ladies suit made him entertaining still. Inglis plays your hyperbolised politician, competing with JK Rowling for most influential woman. Kathy Maniura must also be commended for her musical abilities as well, as Ariel and JK she sings and plays guitar with skill and style. Not only are her musical moments funny and endearing, but a pleasure to listen to.

The humour itself is found in both the absurdity of this show and in the cracking one-liners all three of the trio perform; the humour hits more than it misses with some wonderfully creative forms of satire and ridiculousness. Credit must be given to Laura de Lisle for her wonderful technical work, the use of media to supplement the humour and give time for the trio to change wigs and costume, kept the pace of the show and the audience occupied. Furthermore, the sheer number of cues she had to execute was unbelievably impressive for one person.

This show is heart warming and had me tearing up with laughter, a show truly performed with flair by some incredible talent. Again, I find myself applauding the Oxford Revue.

A Thinly Veiled Story of A Damsel in Distress

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CN: Eating disorders

Starring Lily Collins, To The Bone is hard-hitting story of a 20-year-old girl’s struggle with anorexia. From an unconventional family and having received treatment for years, protagonist Ellen is persuaded by her desperate step-mother to enter a group recovery home, under the guidance of the supposedly ‘revolutionary’ Dr Beckham. Thrown together with a group of girls (and one boy named Luke) each of whom suffer from an eating disorder, Ellen is forced to confront her issue head-on.

Despite being based on the director Marti Noxon’s own experiences, To The Bone has come under fire for ‘glamorising’ anorexia, supposedly portraying the illness as desirable. However, after watching frankly harrowing scenes, episodes from Dr Beckham examining the yellow bruises on Ellen’s spine as a result of frantic calorie-burning sit-ups to a fellow in-patient’s tragic and purging-induced miscarriage, I can say that anorexia is portrayed as far from glamorous.

Instead, what left me outraged was this: Ellen’s journey to recovery is catalysed by two key figures, and both are men. Although Ellen doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with Dr Beckham, his advice (which boils down to “Life’s not perfect, get over it”) eventually gets through to her. An affable character, his role is essentially paternal, perhaps replacing Ellen’s notably absent father. While female doctors are the ones who actually cook for the inpatients and monitor their health on a daily basis, Dr Beckham only appears at random intervals to impart supposedly ‘gritty’, ‘real-life’ advice, yet is presented as a miracle-working saviour.

The second male character that catalyses Ellen’s journey is Luke, fellow anorexic inpatient who lives just down the hall. With his British wit and eccentricity, Luke acts as the stereotypical Indie film hero. Quirky in appearance and character, his cheerful spirit and humour quickly charm the more serious, broody-yet-beautiful Ellen in a cliché, The Fault in Our Stars-esque manner. Despite the five other girls surrounding Ellen, it is Luke who takes her out for a meal, it is Luke who manages to get her to eat a chocolate bar, and it is Luke who appears to her in a dream and tells her that “Your courage was a small coal that you kept swallowing”. Ultimately, it is Luke (or at least a vision of Luke) that persuades Ellen to give recovery another chance when she was at the point of accepting death.

When I was explaining why this bothered me to a friend, she said, “Well, I think you’re coming at it from a very feminist perspective.” Yes, I am coming from a feminist perspective. Because in today’s social and political climate, where patriarchy is so entrenched and accepted in everyday life, we need to tackle it head on. I am surprised and disappointed that a film involving so many powerful women essentially followed a clichéd, outdated and frankly sexist storyline of a knight in shining armour rescuing his damsel in distress. I am not denying the importance and necessity of highlighting eating disorders as a problem, and in fact I applaud the film for doing so, but to embed within such a sensitive topic yet another boy-transforms-girl’s-life plot is irresponsible and saddening.

To The Bone is amazing in some respects: it is beautifully directed and produced, and it highlights some genuinely harrowing issues that need to be brought to more urgent attention and enter the public’s consciousness more fully. So while the film takes great leaps forward in creating a dialogue around eating disorders and particularly anorexia, it unfortunately feels like a step backwards when it comes to dismantling gender stereotypes and patriarchal narratives. For once, could the damsel save herself from distress?

The future of AI is closer than we think

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Difficult ethical questions have been raised this month after artificial intelligence (AI) was shown to be 91% accurate at guessing whether somebody was gay or straight from a photograph of their face. If a madman with a nuclear weapon is a 20th century apocalypse plot, climate change and AI are the two blockbuster contenders of the 21st. Both play to the tantalisingly ancient theme of humanity’s hubristic desire to be greater, bringing about their own downfall in the process. Barring recent political setbacks, the risks of climate change are no longer controversial. AI, on the other hand, seems to still be.

In Oxford, an ancient city of spires and philosophers, seemingly standing out against technological advance, there is the Future of Humanity Institute. The institute is headed by Nick Bostrom, a philosopher who believes that the advent of artificial intelligence could well bring about the destruction of civilisation. Meanwhile, in the New World, the top ‘schools’ are turning overwhelmingly to the study and development of artificial intelligence. At Stanford University, about 90% of undergraduates now take a computer science course. In Silicon Valley, the religion is one of self-improvement. Optimization (with a ‘z’) is their religion. With a strong culture of obsessing over their own ‘productivity’, it’s little wonder that the promises of AI, the ultimate optimiser, have such a powerful draw on so many brilliant brains on the West Coast.

Back home, Bostrom is a leading source of warnings against AI. His papers have titles like “Existential Risks: Analyzing Human Extinction Scenarios and Related Hazards. It’s clear that he is a man not shy of staring back at the abyss, though I’m not entirely sure what ‘Related Hazards’ we need to be concerned about post-Human Extinction. He’s said that our work on artificial intelligence is “like children playing with a bomb”.

Bostrom extrapolates from the way that humans have dominated the world to highlight the risks of AI. Our brains have capabilities beyond that of the other animals on this planet, and that advantage alone has been distinctive in making us so overwhelmingly the dominant species, and in a relatively tiny amount of time. The dawn of civilisation could be described as a biological singularity, an intelligence explosion. If an artificial brain could be made more powerful than our own, why should we not see a second ‘intelligence explosion’? This brings up the technological singularity – a paradigm in which humans might come to have as little power over our lives as battery farmed chickens do now over theirs. The difference, I suppose, is that chickens didn’t inadvertently create humanity, so Bostrom sees a chance for us to control our creation – we choose how and when to turn it on.

However, AI need not be inherently malignant in order to destroy us. By illustration, one of Bostrom’s fun apocalypse scenarios (another of his light reads is Global Catastrophic Risks) is that of the end of the world by a runaway artificial intelligence algorithm initially designed to help a paperclip factory manufacture as many paperclips as possible. Within seconds, the machine has quite logically reasoned that this would be best achieved by wiping out the human race in order to make a bit more space for paperclip manufacturing, and cheerfully, obediently embarked on its task.

My engineering degree at Oxford is definitely a bit backward. Most of the course seems not to have changed since Alan Turing cracked the Enigma Machine at Bletchley Park. My decision to focus my final year on AI thus makes me – I would like to think – a dangerous maverick. Probably, the professors discuss me in hushed tones, fear mixed equally with reverence. I’m actually extremely grateful for this environment.

Away from the fervent centre of the Religion of Optimisation, it’s far easier to see the bigger picture, without being blinded by the light of enthusiasm. The Laboratory of Applied Artificial Intelligence which I just became part of sits within the Oxford Robotics Institute. The important nuance in this hierarchy is that at Oxford, artificial intelligence is more a prosaic tool to be applied to an end, than a quasi-religious holy grail in itself. Say, making better driverless cars. It is only in very specific, tailored ways like this that artificial intelligence is, and can be, currently used. This concrete embodiment of AI is called Machine Learning, and is nothing more glamorous than particularly clever statistics, run by relatively powerful computers.

It is these mundane algorithms that optimise all online ads to their audience, determine your sexuality from a photo, get your Über driver to you within 2 minutes, or even replace that Über driver altogether. Long before Bostrom’s artificial superintelligence surpasses the human brain and crushes us like ants, civilisation will be tested by the extreme turbulence in lifestyle and employment that will be brought by this far more mundane embodiment of computer intelligence. Besides a bit of philosophy and working out how to unplug a monster brain, we should be considering a far closer future, in which boring machines that can’t even hold a conversation will have nonetheless put most of us out of work.

Revues reviewed: the best (and worst) student comedy at the Edinburgh Fringe

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Oxford Revue: ‘Triptych’ (★★★★)

The week before I arrived at the Fringe, my mother, passing through Edinburgh on the way to her sister’s, managed to catch a few shows. One of these was ‘Triptych’, the latest offering from the Oxford Revue. She sent me a quick Whatsapp afterwards: “Oxford Revue shocking I walked out. Xxx”. Naturally, I had to see it. The room was packed with middle aged, cardigan wearing women rather like dear mum – clearly word hadn’t got round. After a cursory introduction, the first sketch: I won’t ruin it, but from then on, for me the show was worth every penny – if only to see the look of shock on anyone expecting feel-good, easy going comedy. With monologues exploring the darker sides of laddishness, this ‘anti-sketch show’ made for an entertaining, albeit uncomfortable hour. Just don’t go with your mum.

‘Studio 9’ (★★★★★)

This two man show from Cambridge Footlights regulars Will Hall and Leo Reich must rank amongst the best sketch comedy offerings this year. It’s a shame that the premise of the show – a pilot recording of their sketch show (in the most cramped venue – sorry, ‘studio’ – available to them) – is just a fiction: superbly crafted and impeccably executed, the show weaves together excellent stand alone sketches whilst satirising the inanities of ‘showbiz’, sketch shows…and themselves.

Edinburgh Revue (★)

Edinburgh University alumni include some of the greatest writers and thinkers ever to have lived: from Conan Doyle to Darwin, pretty much every field is represented. The exception is probably comedy, and on this showing it’s not hard to see why. Having trekked 20 minutes to get to a pub in what felt like the furthermost reaches of Perthshire, we joined the audience of six to witness an extraordinary spectacle: I can now say with full confidence that there is no greater agony than unfunny comedy. If I were being kind, I’d say the cast were undermined by their tendency to corpse at crucial moments, but that would wrongly suggest that these sketches had some kind of vitality about them. Following mum’s example, I walked out.

Rees Mogg is wrong, religion has no place in politics

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Last week, Jacob Rees-Mogg gave an interview, which some have called “the end of his political career”. Depending on your political leaning, his performance on Good Morning Britain could have either made you squeal with delight, or feel sick to your stomach. Despite his contention that his views were in line with “the teaching of the Catholic Church” and therefore weren’t politically relevant, this failed to prevent the wave of criticism which followed the interview.

The issue at hand is not whether religion can influence one’s political views. It’s instead whether politicians can have those views inform their political stance on issues in Parliament. Politicians are there to represent us. Whilst manifestos and pre-election promises may provide some of the guidelines on how those politicians should vote, and the issues they will pursue as matters of political urgency, they cannot account for all of it. Mogg’s defence of his own, unpopular, views was that they will never be enacted in Parliament and that these decisions, made by free votes, will never be decided in his favour.

Contrary to Mogg’s belief, this does not justify politicians voting based purely on their own beliefs. They are still our representatives, and voting contrary to the wishes of their electorate is failing to fulfil their designated role. It is the duty of a politician to try to discern an area of consensus, and as far as possible to vote in accordance with it.

The problems with intertwining religion and politics go far further than causing offence to our democratic process. Religion in politics is derisive. It invites arguments about ideologies on which neither party will change their mind, and can encourage the demonisation of religious groups. So shortly following the Brexit vote, and in a nation which has seen a shameful amount of Islamophobia, it is plain to see how quickly minorities are attacked. To allow or encourage such potential for division is irresponsible. To endanger the minority groups who will feel the negative effects is neglectful.

The place of religion in politics may be up for debate in Cherwell, but religious views themselves are rarely put to the test in the same way as those unsubstantiated by a religious viewpoint. Mogg had to reply: “I’m afraid so” when asked if he opposed abortion in all circumstances, including rape. Surely this reluctant response demonstrates the precedence religious teachings take over logical reasoning.

If someone were ordinarily to oppose protection of rape victims, or equality for the LGBT+ community, there would be an uproar. So why is it deemed acceptable when blessed with the seal of religion? When it comes to politics, and the policies which will affect all of us, we cannot allow votes to be made without reason. That is not to say a religious individual cannot be guided by their faith, nor that they cannot advocate them when independently justified. It is just to say that where something is morally indefensible, being in line with “the teaching of the Catholic Church” is an insufficient answer.

There may be a concern that telling Mogg to keep his religion out of politics is denying him his religious freedom. A quick look at the current system would reveal it to be a lot worse. Our monarch serves as Head of State and Head of the Church of England, the Prime Minister selects the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the House of Lords seats 26 bishops as peers. This endorsement of a religion is inappropriate in itself, and such preferential treatment should be left as a historical relic, distinctly in the past.

Freedom of religion is important and should be protected. Individuals who wish to be guided by their religion are free to do so. However, if you are a policy maker in this country, we demand more. Views based on belief should be reestablished in reason, and we will never allow religion to be used as an excuse to discriminate against citizens. Mogg may never have to face the choice between an abortion and having his rapist’s baby, but for those who do, we won’t let his religion stop them from getting the protection they need.

Wahoo to be turned into University’s ‘Entrepreneurial Hub’

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Just when you thought Oxford’s nightlife scene couldn’t get much bleaker, it has been announced that the building containing Wahoo, the popular club which closed its doors last year, is set to re-open later this month – as Oxford University’s new entrepreneurial centre, The Oxford Foundry.

The Foundry is described on the Said Business School’s website as “an eco-system, offering the opportunity of idea generation, experiential learning, and the development of an entrepreneurial mindset”. Developers say it will be used by around 23,000 students, staff, and alumni across a range of disciplines.

The change comes after a multi-million pound deal in July 2016 between Nuffield College and Christ Church to transform the area around Frideswide Square. Over the summer the building has been transformed from a bar area and comedy club, famed for hosting Glee nights, to a space that describes its core purpose as “creating more entrepreneurial people”.

It is planned that the Foundry will open to entrepreneurs across all of the University in Michaelmas term.

Though Wahoo’s management have been reportedly seeking a new venue for the club, none has yet been found.

The news comes as another setback to Oxford’s nightclub scene, with campaigners claiming that gentrification of the city centre is eroding Oxford’s nightlife and driving music venues out of the city. In August it was announced that the much-loved nightclub Cellar will close in early 2018 to be turned into a retail space, while Lola Lo’s shut in March.

Oxford graduate killed by crocodile in Sri Lanka

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A Financial Times journalist who studied French at Oxford has died in a suspected crocodile attack in Sri Lanka.

Local police say they have recovered the body of Paul McClean, 24, one day after he was reportedly dragged into a lagoon by a crocodile while washing his hands in the water.

The reporter, described as a “talented, energetic and dedicated young journalist” by the FT’s managing editor, attended Lady Margaret Hall, graduating with first-class honours in 2015.

He spent his year abroad teaching English in the rural Ardennes, and translated for local police officers, being the only Englishman in the area.

McClean was also an avid contributor to Cherwell during his time at Oxford, becoming Deputy Editor of the newspaper in 2012. Writing for the i, McClean’s former Cherwell colleague Barbara Speed described his death as “an enormous waste”.

“Paul was a rare combination: thoughtful yet always smiling, hardworking but never over-serious, and friendly to everyone,” she said.

“He was willing, bright, hardworking, but most of all, he was nice. He was, as another of our student newspaper friends said after his death, a ‘fundamentally good person’. That isn’t something you can say about everyone.”

After leaving Oxford, he joined the FT as a graduate trainee, spending a few months reporting on Brexit and the EU in Brussels.

McClean had arrived in Sri Lanka a few days earlier and was staying at a nearby hotel with friends. It is believed he wandered off to use the toilet after a surfing lesson, and when he dipped his hands in the water at the lagoon known as Crocodile Rock, he was attacked and pulled into the water by the reptile.

Fawas Lafeer, the owner of the surf school, said that this was the first known crocodile attack that Sri Lanka has had, as crocodiles very rarely come to the beach on account of the blinding salt water.

Divers found his body on Friday in the mud of the lagoon in the coastal village of Panama, on the east of the island. “There were six or seven wounds on his right leg,” a police officer told Agence France-Presse. A postmortem later on Friday will formally establish the cause of death.

McClean, originally from Thames Ditton, Surrey, had enjoyed playing squash and watching football, describing himself as a “long-suffering Evertonian”

Alex Barker, the FT’s Brussels bureau chief, praised the “one hell of a reporter” whose “magnificent” French helped him produce groundbreaking work about Brexit’s effects on the aviation sector and the fishing industry.

“Paul was an inspiration to us all in the Brussels bureau, turning out some of the most original, insightful, and deeply researched journalism on Brexit since the referendum,” Barker recalled.

“He had a rare gift: an eye for hidden stories, writing flair and the charm to make people tell him anything and everything.”

Another colleague added: “We’re all totally stunned. He was a great kid, an Everton fan, super bright. It’s an absolute tragedy.”

Yes, religion has a place in politics

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Jacob Rees-Mogg is a Catholic, and takes the teachings of the Catholic Church very seriously. Or so he argued in his appearance on ITV’s Good Morning Britain, when justifying his views on same-sex marriage and abortion (which he opposes in all circumstances). While these views were condemned as extreme by the British Pregnancy Advisory Service and others, one writer for the Catholic Herald compared Rees-Mogg to the prophet Elijah, standing alone against the priests of Baʿal. For many people, whether criticising or defending his comments, an MP’s private beliefs should have nothing to do with his public persona. Even if it were possible to make this distinction, we should instead welcome Rees-Mogg’s commitment to his faith, and hope recent events inspire him to bring his politics closer to the Catholic church.

The teachings of Pope Francis should serve as an example. His word is not automatically ecclesiastical law, but as head of the church, Catholics look to him as a model and a source of spiritual guidance. Despite being a little more liberal than some of his predecessors, the pope conforms to prevailing doctrine on homosexuality and abortion. But he feels, as he said in an interview given in 2013, that these issues are a distraction from the real problems facing the planet – economic inequality and climate change.

The pope has called for all those of Catholic faith to struggle against injustice and to take care of the Earth, or to risk ‘becoming pastry-shop Christians, who like beautiful cakes and sweet things, but are not real Christians.’ In a famous speech in Bolivia in 2015, Pope Francis condemned what he described as a system that ‘had imposed the mentality of profit at any price, with no concern for social exclusion or the destruction of nature.’

While the head of his church calls for action against environmental degradation, Jacob Rees-Mogg votes for selling off the public forests, and against setting decarbonisation targets. While the head of his church denounces unfettered capitalism and calls for economic security to protect our fellow human beings, Jacob Rees-Mogg votes for the bedroom tax and welfare cuts, and against a tax on bankers’ bonuses. While the head of his church praises workers’ cooperatives and the organisations that ordinary people form to protect their rights to work and shelter, Jacob Rees-Mogg votes for anti-union legislation. It seems, then, that the MP’s politics could do with more, not less, commitment to his religious beliefs.

Religion can be a powerful force for political change, as history teaches us. It is not question of whether religious beliefs should play a role in politics; they have done and will continue to do so for as long as human beings believe in higher powers. The question is whether we should advance the core values at the heart of every major world religion, or cherry-pick what we like and ignore the crucial problems facing humanity.

Rees-Mogg, in his aristocratic bubble, is unable or unwilling to recognise the changing nature of Catholic belief and experience. While things have changed a bit since the Reformation, most ordinary Catholics still have no access to the power structures of the church, creating a widening gulf between leadership and membership. A British social attitudes survey last year found that 61% of UK Catholics support the right to an abortion; 50% of practising Catholics – including Ruth Hunt, head of Stonewall – support the right to same-sex marriage, compared to 45% of practising Anglicans. A study carried out in August 2015 by the American Public Religion Research Institute found that 60% of US Catholics supported same-sex marriage, and 62% opposed the overturning of Roe v Wade. In the Republic of Ireland, where over 80% of people identify themselves as Catholic, 62% of citizens voted to give same-sex couples the right to marry. 70% of German Catholics, according to one survey, supported state and church recognition of same-sex unions, while over half of Pope Francis’s fellow Argentine Catholics supported its legalisation in 2010. Brazil, the world’s largest Catholic country, also hosts the world’s largest Pride parade.

As one Irish priest said on the eve of his country’s referendum on same-sex marriage, “a lot of people who vote ‘yes’ on Friday will be at church on Sunday. They won’t be any less Catholic. In fact, they might be even more so, because they’re following the words of Jesus and showing more love.” There are Catholic politicians who, unlike Rees-Mogg, use their position as a platform to call for change, such as former president of Ireland, Mary McAleese, who strongly criticised the church’s ‘love the sinner, hate the sin’ attitude.

We should not outright condemn the role that private religious beliefs may play in a person’s politics. But to want decency and consistency from our representatives is not too much to ask. If Jacob Rees-Mogg can only muster religious conviction on the issues of same-sex marriage and abortion, while perpetuating social inequality and injustice, Pope Francis might describe him as a picky, ‘pastry-shop Christian.’ But if he really has the courage of his avowedly Catholic convictions, then perhaps in future we might see him, as Psalm 82 asks, upholding the cause of the poor and the oppressed.