Wednesday, May 7, 2025
Blog Page 952

US Elections: The Movie

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In the midst of a presidential election that has at best been like a Charlie Brookeresque farce, what better way to reconcile yourself to the imminent degeneration of US politics than through satire? I’ll be examining the best election-themed comedies to get you in the mood for the dystopic reality that will descend upon us on Tuesday.

An obvious place to start is Dave, a 1993 comedy about a look-alike for the president who is forced to stand in as his double after a stroke takes the president out just before a big conference. Although the politics are slightly hazy and the romantic sub-plot a tad predictable, its lighthearted presentation of an every-day guy being given the most powerful office in the world is hopeful and cheery, the perfect antithesis to the sad reality of the rise of Trump. With a 93 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and several cameos from senators and Arnold Schwarzenegger, Dave is the perfect film if you want a nostalgic view of politics in which being friendly is more important than any understanding of how to run a government.

For a slightly less rose-tinted depiction of the world of politics, In the Loop is solid. A spin-off from long-running satire The Thick Of It, In The Loop combines the biting satire of the original TV show with the ambition of the film industry, shifting focus from the workings of Westminster to a darkly comic portrayal of the politics surrounding the invasion of Iraq. While the comedy is perhaps slightly more obvious than the TV show, the central plot, a strained US/UK relationship, characterised by miscommunication, is as relevant as ever, packing a punch while prefaced as dark comedy. Oh, and it also contains some top notch swearing from Peter Capaldi, if any further convincing was needed.

For a more direct focus on the canvassing and public side of the election, The Campaign is a refreshing 2012 film about a North Carolina senator whose campaign for a fifth consecutive term is challenged by a local tour guide and comparative nobody. The focus of the film is on the varying PR tactics used by the two opposing sides, including smear campaigns that involve Al-Qaeda, the release of a sex tape, and an incident of punching a baby. The humour may be base, but Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis are convincing as the rival statesmen, and sometimes a bit of slapstick comedy is what you need to distract from the fact that the legitimate presidential candidates for 2016 wouldn’t seem out of place in this farce.

My final pick is the 2004 cult classic Napoleon Dynamite, the story of a nerdy high school kid campaigning to get his best friend elected Class President. Although not technically about the presidential election, the stereotypical high school dynamic acts as a microcosm for wider scale US politics, and so this quirky film is a good bet. Shot on a budget of less than $400,000—the main actor, Jon Heder, was originally paid only $1,000—the film was picked up by Fox at the Sundance Film Festival and went on to win various Teen Choice awards, so as an option for a night in you’re very much in safe hands with this one.

It leaves me to say only “enjoy”, and let’s all hope that, whatever happens, America makes the sensible decision.

Cheap nights-out app to launch in Oxford

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Two former students, including one Oxford graduate, will launch an app to make nights out in Oxford more affordable to students.

More than 100 establishments in the city, including bars, restaurants and cafes have signed up to the app, which is expected to go live in January.

The app, called The Dealer, gives retailers the ability to constantly monitor levels of demand and be aware of their popularity at different times of the day and week. This will allow them to off er discounts to students during off-peak times.

Ed Alun-Jones, the app’s co-founder and a history graduate from St Edmund Hall, told Cherwell, “We help all manner of venues including restaurants, bars, clubs, theatres even football stadiums. We are now moving in to processing events through The Dealer. Such that any university play, night out etc can push their tickets through us and we can help them with their marketing. The Dealer is also about letting students know exactly what is going on around them and helping them engage with their cities.

“We even take requests. If you are a sports team or a student society looking for a deal on an evening out or an activity, maybe it’s just a birthday party.”

The Dealer has seemed particularly popular with independent businesses in Oxford, who lack the resources to advertise alongside large chains.

Alun-Jones and his business partner, Henry Hayes, raised £40,000 for the app after completing 25 pitches.

A proportion of any profits will be donated to the homeless charity Crisis Skylight Oxford.

One thing I’d change about Oxford… Inequality of college endowments

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If, like me, you were slightly overwhelmed and lost during the Oxford admissions process, you may remember clinging to the nugget of hope that “it doesn’t matter which college you apply to”.

While this may be true regarding teaching standards, there is a huge disparity between college’s respective levels of funding.

At first, this may not sound like the sexiest of Oxford’s problems. While white-male curricula, mental health issues and the state and private school discrepancy all, quite rightly, grab headlines, this issue is quieter.

Here are the facts: each college is financially autonomous. They spend their endowments on their students and teaching. This means their expenditure is directly linked to their income, independent of the University.

As of July 2015, St. John’s had an endowment of £423,321,000. By contrast, Mansfield’s was £12,614,000. This difference is eye-watering and unjust. When every home student pays £9,000 a year, it is insulting that money should not be parcelled out equally among them.

The impacts range from the supplementary to the grave. This year, St Peter’s JCR couldn’t afford to buy the pizza they advertised for their freshers. More seriously, my college, St. Anne’s, which has one of the lower endowments per student, couldn’t afford to buy land neighbouring their site which could ease their current accommodation crisis. When some colleges can’t afford to pay for basics, it’s hard to walk past yet another shop in the city centre which is part of the St. John’s discount scheme.

Easy steps could remedy this. A university-wide funding pot available for the colleges with the smallest endowments, abolish the current funding and donation system and ensure that funding is fairly distributed according to size of grounds, number of students, or academic attainment.

If Oxford is serious about its students, then it must be serious about levelling their students’ experiences. Who knows, maybe we’ll all get more pizza.

Interview: Sir Paul Nurse

Professor Sir Paul Nurse is possibly the biggest name in British science. Since jointly winning the 2001 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine for research into the mechanism of cellular division, he has placed his name alongside Wren and Newton as ex-President of the Royal Society (and his face, too, with a portrait in the National Portrait Gallery). He has just established The Francis Crick Institute, a multimillion-pound research facility set to become the forerunner in British research, for which he is Chief Executive and Director. He took time from talking to the Lancet and BBC to speak to Cherwell about the true implications of being a Nobel Laureate, his vision for the Crick Institute, and Brexit damage-limitation.

What’s the secret to good research?

Luck is really critical. It is very helpful to be working with something that the rest of the world has yet to recognise is important; following the crowd is probably not a good idea. And you do have to be pretty rigorous and high quality in your thinking and in your experiments.

I did my work on yeasts quite a long time ago, doing most of the work in the 1970s and 1980s. I was interested in what controls the reproduction of cells, the division of one into two. I took a genetic approach and that’s why I used yeast, a simple single celled organism, so the genetic investigation was relatively straight forward. I looked at genes that controlled the rate at which cells divided and that identified a small subset which advance cells prematurely through the cell cycle. My group worked out how those genes worked—they encoded a key protein kinase called cyclin dependent kinase—and then we showed that the same gene was present in humans.

How did being awarded the Noble Prize affect your life and work?

Well you end up with an extra job. Everyone asks you to open things and pronounce on things that you know nothing about, or just to be there like a table decoration, and this can all be hugely distracting. There’s a danger there because Noble laureates are no different before and after, but suddenly people think you’ve got sensible things to say about almost anything, which obviously we don’t. It doesn’t really help you very much in practical terms with doing your research, but it certainly means you become a public figure.

You’ve just set up the Francis Crick Institute in London. What are your visions for this?

There were several research institutes within London already which were in very poor laboratories and they all needed somewhere to go. What I proposed is that we put them all together in one building so we got a bigger critical mass that would allow us to take a somewhat different approach to research. We wouldn’t have to divide ourselves up into divisions or departments; every group would be responsible for its own research and we wouldn’t be establishing barriers through departments, which is more typical in universities.  And because it’s large, we can recruit the best people we can find across the board because we are fishing from a bigger lake.

Before this you were President of the Royal Society. What did that role involve?

There is a partly figurehead role—it’s an unpaid position, for example—but actually it’s really important for public policy about science and scientific issues more generally because the Royal Society is the academy for science in the UK. The Royal Society is the main body which delivers advice on issues about scientific advice for policy or, for that matter, policy for science. So as President I had to be ultimately responsible for ensuring that was good advice.

What can we do to level the gender balance in science?

Science is a broad base. Undergraduates in the life sciences will be more than 50 percent female—indeed we now have to worry a bit about gender balance the other way in those areas—but in the physical sciences it’s still significantly lower than that. There’s clearly an issue in the school pipeline on physical sciences which has been solved in the life sciences. But probably what you’re more referring to is the very significant drop-off of women in senior positions.

One can be very theoretical about these things or we can try to be practical. We have to consider how we can best support young women who are giving birth to children and looking after them in the first couple of years of their lives. If we can get them through those five or seven years I think we won’t see the same fall-off, because up until that point women hold their own, at least in life sciences. So my answer, and we’ll be doing this at the Crick, [because] we core fund the research, is to be very, very supportive of those going through that phase of child rearing by having genuine part-time appointments where somebody can work half-time and is judged by half-time work. (Normally what happens is that even if it is agreed they are still judged by different criteria.) Then they can come back again as their children get a little older and that will allow us to maintain that pool of talent from women into an older age. People like me have got to deliver a work place and environment which allows them to get through that difficult time.

You have been vocal about your views on Brexit from a scientific perspective. What should now be done?

I think Brexit is bad for British science. Nearly 90 per cent of scientists thought Brexit was a bad thing. Science (and, for that matter, most intellectual and academic endeavour) is built on openness, exchanges of people, a more outward looking country, and culture and those are not the feelings that have motivated the Brexit campaign.

Then there are more practical issues: we get more money for science from the EU than we put into science, so that gives us a hole in our annual budget of 500 million pounds that the government has got to find for science. Will it do that?

We are also limiting ourselves by having less access to the pool of talent Europe provides. We’ve somehow got to remain open and welcoming to that high quality population that is necessary to drive research and, for that matter, scholarly endeavour across all subjects.

I had a personal letter from Prime Minister Theresa May a couple of months ago saying she recognised these are important issues and communicating that science was critical in thinking about how to deal with Brexit. The statement is promising; it shows that it’s on their agenda. Now we have to make it really important for them so that they engage with us properly and so that we can continue to be the powerhouse in science that we are at the moment.

Has 2016 shown that majoritarian democracy has failed?

YES: The lack of respect for knowledge, anger-driven voting, and a poisonous two-party system dooms democracy

Alex Oscroft

This isn’t an article I ever wanted to write. I’m an ardent supporter of democracy, a believer in the inherent goodness of our liberal society, and I have the utmost faith in the institutions of Western democracy to keep things ticking on as they should. For years, they worked entirely as they should, with the occasional hiccup here and there.

But the events of this year, including one particular election that has yet to come to its conclusion, has challenged all my preconceptions about how our democracy works and its ability to maintain the liberal government we take for granted. When democratic decisions are being made on the basis of anger and instinct rather than informed opinion, has the tyranny of the majority gone too far? Is there any way out of the downward spiral of anti-establishment anger, which seems to continue regardless of the successes of the current administrations? Has popular democracy lost its way?

Perhaps the most worrying trend of 2016 has been the astronomical rise of anti-intellectualism, where the opinions of those who have dedicated their lives to specific fields of research are brushed aside as “snobbery” or “pessimism”. Democracy depends on a choice being made by the voters between a number of candidates with different views, and that choice should be as informed as possible to make a vote worthwhile. Obviously there are big discrepancies in people’s backgrounds, but to completely discount expert opinion as a source of information, branding it ‘establishment propaganda’ only turns political debate into a shouting match.

From Michael Gove’s now infamous declaration that “Britain has had enough of experts” to the regular disregard of professional polling, the opinions of experts have become about as valuable as the pound is at the moment, which can only lead to a fundamental degradation of democracy’s value.

In the last year, the emergence of angry rhetoric as the motivating force for voting has been hugely unwelcome as well. Perhaps, locked in my metropolitan and liberal bubble, I’ve misunderstood the basic nature of humanity, but I fail to see how a world defined by structural racism and sexism is in any way desirable compared to the (allegedly) open and tolerant one we have today.

Arguments based on reason, evidence or even simple logic have been lost under mountains of vague but strong-sounding promises, which everyone knows are undeliverable but attract support anyway because they are so outlandish and people think they need something outlandish to make their lives better. The situation we are currently in, where Brexit negotiations are going ahead without any idea of what people want out of Brexit (hard? Soft? Squishy in the middle?), shows the rhetoric that won the campaign for Vote Leave is lacking in terms of factual basis and concrete evidence. The Leave campaign, as with all modern movements, was designed to be all things to all people, which works fantastically for winning votes, but for implementing a platform, it lacks the certainty and definition needed to make it successful.

The failure of majoritarian democracy on an institutional basis is the result of a polarised two-party system. The nature of political systems in the US and UK means they naturally polarise to form two large and vaguely-defined blobs sprawling across their respective wings’ political spectrums. Particularly in the United States and to a slightly lesser, though still very significant, extent in Britain, the fixation on only two major parties makes nuance a rare commodity. It’s clear this no longer serves its purpose of representing the views of the electorate. With steadily-shrinking turnout and increasingly issue-driven politics, the major conglomerate parties of the 20th century are becoming steadily less relevant to people’s individual views. But they still maintain their stranglehold on national politics purely because of an electoral system that always favours broad churches over narrow foci.

As Churchill – admittedly not a role model in many things, least of all race relations – said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others”. Majoritarian democracy has failed to produce the stability and order it promises as an electoral system. Trying to find a simple, partisan answer to every question has devolved into a shouting match of emotion, barely covering the bigotry underneath (shared by both sides – I’m sure I’m displaying plenty of it in this article). I’m not going to pretend I’m in a position to offer a solution, and even if I were, I wouldn’t know where to start. When neither side of the same coin can bear to be next to each other anymore, there’s little hope for the cashier.

 

NO: If majoritarian democracy has delivered unpopular results that is only because it has been abused and misused, not because it is inherently flawed

Toby Williams

This year has certainly been a calamitous one for the status quo. Globalisation is cracking at the seams. Nationalism is on the rise and conflict seems more likely than ever. The blame can be laid at many feet, but not at that of majoritarian democracy.

Brexit was not the fault of democracy. Neither was it the fault of a majoritarian referendum. It was the fault of a political class whose agenda had become so distant from those they claim to represent that, when presented with an opportunity to reject it, the electorate jumped at the chance. I cannot deny that it may not have happened had the method been less majoritarian. A more consensual supermajority would probably have prevented Brexit. Yet to blame majoritarian democracy would be like blaming the car in a crash caused by a drunk driver. Yes, without the car, it probably wouldn’t have happened; that doesn’t really mean the car has failed

Democracy is the vehicle through which the will of the people, whatever that may be, is translated into political action. If the electorate behave like drunkards, then political actions will follow suit. Of course, Brexit is bad, but to impose the (good) European Union on people, against their wishes, is a far greater evil.

It seems as if there’s now a group which exists in many societies around the world—the internationalists without an identity, as Theresa May would say—who’ve decided what’s best and that everybody should follow their edicts regardless, and if majoritarian democracy doesn’t facilitate these policies, then it has failed.

But this is plainly wrong. In fact, the opposite is true. If majoritarian democracy permitted this ‘tyranny of the minority’, then it would, by definition, have failed. Pandering to the wishes of an elite few, even if their views did possess some objective superiority, would be a failure of democracy. In enabling the masses, the millions of ordinary people who make up the vast bulk of humanity, to reject the decrees of a small elite, democracy has succeeded.

Yet, surely, permitting an unelected government to rule over a divided Britain for another four years does nothing to elevate the will of people? It could likely do the opposite. Again, however, this is not the fault of majoritarian democracy but rather the quirks of Britain’s bizarre constitution. The very fact it does not require fresh elections after such a seismic shift in the political landscape is the source of the problem. It is not a failure of majoritarian democracy. It is a failure to implement it.

Such universal implementation, however, brings risks with it. You only need look to Colombia’s calamitous referendum result, rejecting a peace deal to end a 40-year civil war, to see these risks brought to bear. If there had been no referendum, then the peace deal could have been signed and the conflict could have been stopped. Contrary to popular belief, democracy seems to have perpetuated war.

But just for a moment, consider the alternative. If there had been no referendum, or if a rejection of peace required a supermajority, then the Colombian people may have been forced into a peace they did not consent to. You only need remember Versailles, and the 25 years that followed, to see the consequences of unpopular peace. Majoritarian democracy is not preventing peace—the Colombian people did that. It would only have failed had it not translated their rejection of peace into policy. It is only on these terms we can judge its success.

Despite this there may be one final factor which could drive the nail into the coffin of majoritarian democracy. It comes in the shape of the fourth horsemen of the democratic apolcaplyse himself: The Donald. We don’t yet know the outcome of the Presidential race, but if Trump wins, it will create a cacophony of discontent around democracy and many will say it has failed. To simply reply by claiming that democracy has no responsibility in governing the will of the people may seem insufficient for many.

But why so? Over the past few decades a perplexing attitude seems to have developed that ‘democracy’ will save us. That we need not fear the casual racism in the pub or the sexism at work because ‘democracy’ will stop it from getting out of hand. It’s as though we are addicted to bad things and democracy is some silver bullet which provides the cure. Yet it can’t. But just because it can’t does not mean it has failed.

English: Lost in translation

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You might expect to ask a child something like “You like apple?”, “Where do you live?” or “What’s your favourite colour?” Alas, I was not speaking to a child but a fully grown man. In fact, he was a Thai English teacher. Only 21 years old and barely out of uni, he was being entrusted with the education of English for a hundred 4-12 year-olds. Yet he could barely string together a coherent sentence himself.

Teaching and education is a cycle. One generation teaches another and the knowledge they have obtained is then passed down. For Thailand, however, that is where the problem lies. Thai teachers are being taught at universities by teachers who themselves were taught badly, and they then go on to teach their own students poorly, and the vicious cycle repeats itself.

Before I started teaching, I was told to shadow the Thai teacher, and from this, I could clearly see the problems teachers and students faced when I wasn’t around.

Frequently it seemed like he had no idea what he was teaching. One lesson plan he handed me was titled “Love is…” and under vocabulary were words like ‘bend over’ and ‘rub’, which made me wonder what he had typed into Google to get the lesson plan. The lessons themselves were formulaic and draining. It was no wonder these children weren’t retaining much of the English they had learnt.

For the most part, money was the main obstacle for solving these problems. The schools did not have the funds to hire better teachers or buy better teaching resources. Western teachers would naturally demand higher wages than Thai ones and some Thai teachers couldn’t even search for better teaching resources because of their poor English. Some schools were particularly bad: another English teacher reported their school needed fundraising events and people would donate money for the poorer kids to attend school.

The situation had become so dire that Westerners were now paying the schools to allow them to teach English, which is exactly what I did. I was meant to be the magical solution, yet it feels like I barely made a dent. Before I arrived, there had already been two cycles of English teaching interns before me in the academic year and even more since the programme started.

To the western teachers, the whole teaching-English-abroad thing is a novelty, a ‘gap yah’ thing, and it’s how people ‘discover themselves’ over the summer. Yes, they go with the right intentions, but whose recollection of their experience focuses on the teaching rather than the novelty of it? Couldn’t the money they paid be spent better elsewhere?

Our money should be spent not on sending more Western teachers to teach the students themselves, but to educate the Thai English teachers so they can continue teaching children a good standard of English even when there are no Westerners around, breaking free of the vicious cycle.

Being a teacher comes with great responsibility, and a heavy burden should you fail. Thus, we should stop treating the teaching experience as if it were a novelty and properly invest in our children’s futures.

Profile: Jeremy Paxman

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As part of the Chavasse Family Lectures commemorating the St Peter’s College founders and their family’s role in the First World War, the college have started a lecture series on everything from faith in the trenches to medical treatment at the time. I was lucky enough to sit down with author, journalist, broadcaster and biting TV host Jeremy Paxman after his talk, ‘World War I: The War to End War’ to discuss the “war to end all wars” and how it relates to modern Britain.

Having skim-read a couple of books about the First World War for A-level History, I felt comfortable telling my famously knowledgeable guest that I quite liked World War 1 as a topic in history.

“You probably know more about it than I do”, he shot back, a shocking statement from a man who laughs at students who don’t know the complete works of Czech composer Antonin Dvorak.

The formality of the interview decreases quickly after this. Of course, Paxman is nothing like the man we see grilling politicians or mocking university students. He’s a much more mild-mannered, calm version of this, complete with a subtle version of that biting wit.

“Anyone can write a book”, he tells me, shrugging off any assumption of his knowledge on the war before launching in on the massive difference between the Britain of today and the Britain of 1914.

“I don’t think there are many parallels—in fact, virtually no parallels at all—between pre-World War I Britain and Britain today” he said. “It seems to me that the war just about made modern Britain, in that it was unimaginable after [the war] that you would have such a restricted franchise, that you would ever again prevent women from working and voting—albeit there were many years before full parity between genders. It seems to me that it changed medicine, science, the forces how politics ran: just about everything.”

None of my A-level history books had prepared me for this moment, and I was stuck offering odd, meaningless statements just to keep the conversation moving: “I had no idea”.

My lack of knowledge didn’t matter; he was riffing, now. “Yes, it’s true! It’s entirely different! In Edwardian Britain, you didn’t even need a passport. Most people didn’t even travel, though, so there was no real requirement. The contract, it seems, between government and people changed completely. Once conscription was introduced, the nature of the relationship changed hugely. It was the old power circumstances that were intolerable.”

At the same time, none of this really stood the test of time.

“People say there are many accounts of classes being broken down. I mean, on the Western Front, where everyone is working together in a hole in the ground, it’s very hard to maintain illusions about ‘them and us’. People say that, but in the end”, he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know that ‘the shared endeavor completely broke down the illusions each had about the other’ is a merited story. It’s a difficult judgement call.”

The shared illusions of them-and-us, though, isn’t simply about rich and poor. It extends to the more than 1.5 million troops recruited from British colonies like India. As Paxman has most recently written on the ways imperialism changed Britain, I was interested to know his opinions of colonial troops fighting in the First World War. Were they erased from popular memory? Why did we ignore the contributions of so many to the war?

“I would be surprised if that was still true”, he said of whitewashing the history of colonial contribution. “Now, I don’t know the syllabus, but these things hugely changed the country, a country completely different to where we live now. I don’t find it surprising that history syllabuses lag far behind popular assumption or are doctrinally different. I would be surprised if it were the case that the contribution of colonial groups and civilians had been erased. If so, it’s a mistake.”

Changing course, we began to discuss how World War I, often called the war to end all wars, had not fulfilled that role, seeing an even larger conflict just a couple decades later.

“Well the Germans had believed there was an unjust peace put on them, and the mechanisms that were set up to try to establish new ways of settling disputes, while tremendous energy was put behind them, were deeply flawed institutions.

“The UN has struggled to prevent issues—consider, for example, the war in Syria. I do think that politics really matter. If we can’t solve our problems by talking, then the obvious recourse is fighting, which, as the First World War demonstrates, doesn’t solve anything.”

Interestingly, the Second World War occurred even after the sheer size and scope of the First had surprised and terrified its participants.

“Kitchener thought it would last three years. This was an enormous conflict, he said, but most people seem to have seen it as akin to other European wars, like the Franco-Prussian. No one ever assumed anything like the dimensions of the World War I”, Paxman said. “Everyone was affected by it: there was rationing; everyone had men they know who were serving; there were women who were serving; children were victims.”

The very pervasiveness that kept the war effort going in 1915, to Paxman, is also the reason it couldn’t happen now.

“We wouldn’t be able to put up with anything that resulted in the mass involuntary enterprise”, he said. “I just can’t see it happening today. That’s the source of my anxiety: we’re an atomised and hedonistic society, accustomed to serving itself.”

Paxman’s comments that the latest generation are “materialistic, self-obsessed, hedonistic” have attracted significant reaction and controversy. He has maintained that the current generation would never engage in a conflict like the First World War. His idea is that the notion of ‘For King and Country’ is long dead and has been replaced by a society exhibited by a lack of any sense of public duty.

Speaking at the Emirates Airline Festival in Dubai in 2014, Paxman argued that there are fundamental misunderstandings about how people reacted to First World War. World-famous poetry, such as that by Siefried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen, was “part of the problem” because they fostered a narrative of armchair generals and wasted lives.

Accompanying his book, Paxman presented Britain’s Great War, the flagship documentary series for the BBC’s WW1 Centenary in 2014. Although reviews were generally favourable, there was furious backlash for naming those who refused to fight as “cranks”.

On October 1st, Paxman released his new memoirs, A Life in Questions, which charts his life from failing Maths O-level at school to his signature status presenting Newsnight, interviewing almost every major public figure in the UK.

Earlier this month, Jeremy Paxman revealed that University Challenge edited out scenes when students can’t answer questions. Speaking at the Henley Literary Festival about his autobiography, Jeremy Paxman said, “I’ll let you into a secret [about how] University Challenge is recorded.”

“If we get a run of questions, it doesn’t happen very often, say one show in seven or eight or 10 or something, you might get a run of unanswered starter questions, they all get edited out.” Paxman, who studied at St Catherine’s College, Cambridge became a fellow by special election of St Edmund Hall, Oxford and currently lives in Oxfordshire.

Red on Blue: Should we support electoral reform?

Red: Liam Astle

Why should we reform our current voting system? Looking at first past the post, an electoral system in which the person with the most votes wins the seat, the flaws within the system are fairly evident and are most clear when it comes to the 2015 election. Under the current electoral system, you don’t need to have the majority of the country supporting you in order to form a government—the Conservative Party won a 51% of the seats in the Commons, with only 37% of votes. By definition, the will of the people is misrepresented if a party forms a majority government without a majority of the votes.

In the same way that a government doesn’t require the support of the majority of voters, nor does a member of Parliament need the support of a majority of their constituency. Take Alasdair McDonnell in Belfast South: a Social Democratic and Labour Party MP, who was elected on 24.5% of the vote last year, holding the UK record for the lowest share of the vote in any constituency. Do we really believe this is sufficiently representative of the voters of Belfast South?

Then there’s the inevitable factor of tactical voting. Surely, in a modern democracy, a voter should be free to express their democratic choice in the candidate they most believe in, rather than the candidate they disagree with the least. Democracy should be the people expressing their will, not being forced to make a choice for the convenience of two big parties.

So, if these are the problems with first past the post, what’s the solution? First, there’s the possibility of replacing the current system with the alternative vote, which would allow for the most continuity. The current electoral map would be retained, with constituencies remaining the same in size and makeup, but due to the ranked ballot voting system, people would be free to express their choices and vote per their will. There’s also the knock-on effect of safe seats becoming far less safe and allowing for greater representation for smaller parties, thereby better representing the voters. However, due to AV being a majoritarian system, there can still be cases of the people’s will being misrepresented in the overall seat makeup of the Commons, though it would avoid the constant coalitions we’d see under a proportional representation system.

Moreover, electing the Upper Chamber under the single transferable vote (STV) would allow for a greater democratisation of the system, resulting in direct proportional representation of our regions. STV would be more appropriate for representing regions instead of individual constituencies, since the system relies on bigger constituencies to elect representatives. This would ultimately allow for greater representation of small parties, better representation for our regions and nations, and for a much more democratic system, with both voting systems being tailored to the needs of the respective Houses of Parliament.

 

Blue: Altair Brandon-Salmon

One of the great tragedies of Western foreign policy since the Second World War has been the assumption that if certain governmental structures work in your country, then they will work in someone else’s too. This seductive but foolhardy notion, which has all too frequently resulted in costly wars abroad, also underpins arguments over electoral reform. Proponents point to countries such as Australia, Belgium and Norway as nations which employ proportional voting systems and claim those successes can and should be translated into our political system, replacing first past the post (FPTP). Yet this seems to iron out the differences between countries, as though the wants and needs of the electorates in these diverse countries are the same. We need to recognise that different democracies have different demands.

It’s striking that, of the liberal democratic permanent member countries of the UN Security Council, all three, the UK, US and France, have majoritarian systems like FPTP for elections. When we turn to the world’s 10 largest economies, of the nine which democracies (China being the non-democracy), five use FPTP. So, when we compare the democratic world powers in terms of political and economic influence and size, we can see FPTP has been a wide-reaching success. This utilitarian argument is seldom made when discussing electoral reform. Critics would challenge that correlation does not equal causality, and at any rate, if we pursue a utilitarian strategy, should we emulate China, as it has been an undoubted global success despite its oppressive political system?

While it would be foolish to claim that the UK or US are amongst the largest economies due to their voting systems, we should also observe that in the Anglo-sphere, the countries which are the most successful, like the UK, US or Canada, all embrace a majoritarian system. To claim what works in Japan will smoothly function in the UK seems to utterly ignore the crucial variances which exist amongst democracies. One of the main virtues FPTP delivers and which is prized by the British electorate is a strong, majority government, ruling with the checks and balances provided by a well-organised opposition. The presence of minor parties like the SNP, Liberal Democrats, UKIP and the Greens in Parliament ensure a plurality of views are represented without having undue influence, while extremist parties such as the BNP are shut out entirely. The standard single-party government is able to deliver a coherent policy platform, without the dilution and paralysis that we see in multi-party governments in Italy and Belgium. Those who would argue a government needs 50% +1 of the vote to be entirely legitimate ignore that the British electorate expect their government to be strong and dynamic on the global stage, delivering economic and foreign policies that ensure the UK maintains its international status. None of these priorities would be as well achieved under a coalition government which is the inevitable result of a proportional electoral system. For the UK to remain one of the leading democracies, we need an electoral system which creates a government able to meet the priorities of the body politic, making it crucial to keep FPTP.

Review: The Accountant

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When did we all start taking Ben Affleck seriously? Ten or fifteen years ago, he was universally derided for being a bad actor in bad movies. I actually can’t get through Pearl Harbor in one sitting because he is so horrible to watch in it. It wasn’t until I watched Gone Girl a couple of years ago that I started to change my opinion about him—and when he was the best thing in the otherwise dire Batman v Superman earlier this year, I started to look forward to his next film: The Accountant.

It has possibly the most boring title ever, but the trailers looked pretty good, and after watching the film, if there’s anyone in the production who deserves a medal, it’s the marketing people because in their shoes, I would have absolutely no idea how to cut a trailer for this film.

Firstly, the premise is kind of bizarre: Ben Affleck plays an autistic accountant who helps bad people with their money, and the Feds are keen to catch him. Inevitably, when things don’t go his way, he just so happens to be a world-class marksman and a badass fighter to boot, so he’s kind of like a superhero with Aspergers.

Then we get to the story which is, quite simply, all over the place. There’s a lot of flashbacks and story jumps so the film can withhold information from the audience for literally no reason other than to have “twists”. Some of the scenes dealing with the accountant’s condition, especially in the beginning, are a bit problematic, too. There’s also a couple of unnecessary subplots that don’t add anything to the film, but take up an inexplicable amount of the running time. It makes the film feel incredibly unfocused, almost like it can’t work out what or who it actually wants to be about. It feels at least 15 minutes too long.

The flipside of that is the number of brilliant actors the film manages to squeeze in. Ben Affleck puts in a fantastic performance as the Accountant by playing the part very understatedly, and that’s no easy feat. He’s also surprisingly funny in the part, using the idiosyncrasies of his character’s personality to make an engaging performance out of a character who perplexes those around him.

Anna Kendrick isn’t revelatory, but she’s a welcome addition to the cast, and despite Affleck looking old enough to be her dad, they have good chemistry in their scenes. JK Simmons is, unsurprisingly, absolutely excellent in a supporting role that really pins down the films emotional core, and elsewhere there are a host of solid performances from lots of actors you vaguely recognise, even if you can’t remember from where.

But the direction and storytelling just aren’t up to snuff. Gavin O’Connor can direct his actors toward decent performances, but he displays absolutely no flair for action sequences, and when many important story beats happen during shoot outs and punch-ups, the film really suffers for that.

Ultimately, The Accountant is not a bad movie, but it’s not a good one either. It’s worth catching on TV or Netflix, but it’s not worth rushing out to see. I honestly had fun watching it, and you probably will too, just don’t go in expecting a masterpiece.

Stop scolding May’s grammar schools

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One of Theresa May’s ideas has been to lift the ban on grammar schools and give existing schools the chance to become selective. The media and even the currently disunited Labour Party have all formed a consensus of opposition against May’s proposals, which would potentially see new grammar schools open for the first time in England and Wales since the 1970s.

Alongside this are the ever-present and extremely valid concerns about access to higher education. With the first universities coming forward saying they will incrementally increase tuition fees from the academic year 2017/18, and the restructuring of maintenance grants received by students from low-income families into loans, there is a lot to be worried about in terms of ensuring people from all socioeconomic backgrounds are given the opportunities they deserve to succeed academically and to boost their career prospects.

However, I believe bringing back the grammar school could be a good thing for our education system as a whole, or at least are a good starting point for a fundamental rethink of the purpose of education in this country. They could provide a more tailored system that works for pupils rather than forcing them to work in an environment in which they are bored and unhappy. They could also enable children and teenagers who are academically-minded to learn in an environment conducive to the kind of critical thinking required at university level.

Yet, I completely understand there are risks with this kind of approach. Some of the concerns aired by opponents of May’s proposals include writing off children at the age of 11 based on a single test—an incorrect assumption as the proposals give the opportunity for those who fail one year to take the test again the next year, ensuring no-one gets left behind.

Others argue that grammars are not socially inclusive and never have been. Although many of the existing grammar schools do suffer from problems when it comes to diversity of socioeconomic backgrounds, this can be explained by factors including their location, many in traditionally middle class areas, and middle class parents paying for 11+ tuition for their children.

Onto social exclusivity, there is a point to be made in that grammar schools can easily be manipulated by families who have the money to pay for tuition for their children to pass the entrance exam—at whatever age that might be. In the case of my grammar school, 35 of the Year 7 entrants in one year came from an independent preparatory school, the largest percentage of the year group. The second highest number of entrants came from a state primary school, approximately 22 of the year group. Overall, the issue here is clear. This is one aspect of the grammar school that doesn’t put it in a favourable light.

It also has something to do with the metrics by which deprivation is measured in terms of education. I have reservations about measuring the percentage of pupils from deprived backgrounds in schools based on whether or not they are eligible for Free Schools Meals, which excludes those whose parents are in low-paid work and receiving Universal Credit for instance. Most of the statistics about socioeconomic background in grammars use this metric, which isn’t to say that it doesn’t have a point, but perhaps doesn’t tell the full story. Regardless, this is, in my opinion, the most important argument against reintroducing grammar schools.

I only attended a grammar school in Years 12 and 13. I didn’t take the 11+ exam because, frankly, I would never have passed it. I knew this at the age of 11, and coming from a single-parent family on tax credits my mum certainly didn’t have the funds to afford tuition. I attended a local secondary modern school and enjoyed my time there. The pastoral support and sense of community at the secondary modern was, in my view, far superior to that of the grammar school. But that didn’t stop me from noticing how some in my year and in others years were simply not being challenged enough across the board in terms of our academic ability. Yes, there were some fantastic teachers who really did challenge us to the full, but a majority were more willing (again, understandably) to get the class one mark above a C grade at GCSE than encouraging us to enjoy and think critically about the subject in question. In my opinion, that’s a dereliction of a school’s duty, which should be to raise the attainment of all. The current system, however, means that all students are taught the same, very little is tailored to their interests, and many, but by no means all, come out of the system feeling disenfranchised and worthless.

Many people need to realise that not everyone is academically-minded, and understand that this is no bad thing. You might be a master essay writer in History, but someone else might be a technological whizz-kid who excels at Graphic Design. The introduction of a system whereby more academic pupils could attend schools that were designed as academic schools, and where more vocational pupils could attend schools designed to be more vocational, might lead to a major culture shift in Britain about the value of vocational skills and might improve issues like youth unemployment in the country.

Finally, to my point about segregation in education. Many seem to leap to attack the prospect of grammar schools returning, saying it brings about unfairness in our education system and leads to a sense of failure that stifles aspiration. But what of private schools? These are institutions which are accessible only to those whose parents have enough money to pay the fees. It is a known fact that most private schools, especially public schools, are better equipped to give children the education they need to succeed in life. Many politicians, actors, academics and the like have been educated at these schools, and many of these very people berate state schools (therefore, schools with no fees) that want to give academically-minded pupils from all backgrounds the same environment and facilities they had in their youth

Overall, if they are to be brought back, grammar schools will need reform. They cannot be the same beast they were in the mid-20th century. But I truly think they can be successful. They can also ensure that people from social backgrounds can receive the preparation needed to go to top higher education institutions. It could even spur on development in vocational subjects at top universities, allowing people who under the present system would not consider university at all the chance to develop practical skills at a higher education level. We may rightly be cautious about what the current Government has planned for the reintroduction of grammar schools, but if they’re done well then I think a shake-up of a system that is far from perfect would be no bad thing.