Friday, April 25, 2025
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Interview: Dame Anne Glover

Josephine Pepper
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Interview: Dame Anne Glover

Professor Dame Anne Glover is one of the most influential women in science. Initially a “traditional” scientist who developed a novel system for monitoring soil quality by genetically engineering microbes to emit light, she later became Chief Scientific Advisor for Scotland and then for the European Commission. Her time as a political advisor ended in 2014 when the European post was controversially scrapped. She spoke to Cherwell about her career, the relationship between science and politics and the challenges facing science today.

Your biochemistry degree led to you developing a system to test soil quality using glow-in-the-dark bacteria…

Yes, I was at a conference with my first PhD student in Portugal and we went for a midnight swim. She stood up from the water and was simply glittering from head to foot – these were tiny bioluminescent crustacea. It got me thinking about the bioluminescence reaction which is rather interesting: most reactions are not 100 percent efficient and [wasted] energy is usually given off as heat, but in this case energy is given off as light. Enjoying the friendship of many colleagues in different areas of science, we discussed whether we could apply it to track organisms, bacteria in particular, in the environment. Bioluminescence tells us all sorts of interesting things about an organism: whether it’s metabolically active, how you can activate organisms to make them do things like clean up pollution in the environment and about the ecology of the organism.

From there you took a career turn and held the position of Chief Scientific Advisor for the European Commission.

Well that sounds massive the way you say it! Until I was in my late forties I had a very traditional scientific career—writing papers, getting grants, having PhD students, teaching undergraduates and so on—although I’d also done things like been on the governing body of the Natural Environmental Research Council so I’d had some introduction into policy for science and what you do with the knowledge generated from scientific research.

I spent five and a half years seconded part-time to Scottish government as Scientific Advisor to look at evidence for policy making; if you like, science for policy rather than policy for science. Because I’d enjoyed that so much I then accepted the post of Chief Scientific Advisor for the President of the European Commission. It was a big step but amazingly enjoyable.

Was it difficult at any point to keep a healthy dialogue between science and politics?

Yes, because politics is a marriage of lots of things such as evidence, necessity, philosophy, economy, and sustainability. In science we tend to look just at how we can unpick and understand our particular area of interest but sometimes, in politics, the evidence is a little inconvenient. My role was always to try and provide challenge. I think what success would look like—and I don’t think I ever fully achieved this, in fact I know I didn’t—is if I could get politicians to say, ‘Well the evidence tells us one thing, but for other reasons we’re actually going to do another, and here are the reasons…’. But politicians are still reluctant to acknowledge the evidence when it doesn’t suit their philosophy and I think that everybody loses when that happens. The politicians lose because it can be demonstrated that they’re misrepresenting the evidence, science loses, and indeed citizens lose because they pay for much of the evidence being produced.

The post of Chief Scientific Advisor and the bureau for the EU no longer exist. How is science presented to the EU now in their absence?

Because the entire scientific community across the EU and much further afield objected very strongly and very vocally to the role of Chief Scientific Advisor being discontinued, the Commission responded and have something they refer to as the ‘Science Advice Mechanism’. That’s seven individuals of the highest quality representing a number of different scientific disciplines, including social science, across Europe who have had experience of not just working in the scientific environment but also working at high strategic levels with governments and funders. I suppose what they don’t have is the same figurehead that the CSA provided. That role has to be borne more by the Commissioners. I think we’ll have to wait and see how the Science Advice Mechanism delivers. It’s early days but I would be optimistic that they will be able to do many things that will have a positive impact.

So we’ve talked about the dialogue between science and politics. How have you found the relationship between science and the media?

One of the things I’m very proud of in the UK is that we have the Science Media Centre which has a database of people who are willing to talk on specific issues to try and address what was a deficit: when a story broke in the media and they didn’t know who to go to for credible comments. It’s independent and they give media training to scientists, but also journalists can get comments from people who are highly credible and expert in particular areas which can help to undermine any misinformation that’s going on.

This was partly set up in response to the MMR triple vaccine issue which the media saw as a big scoop; they love controversy. So I would say my disappointment with our mainstream media is that it prefers sensation rather than clarity, but there’s variation across the media of course. In a scientific environment that’s anathema really; what we want is clarity.

Many of us for a long time have been concerned with false balance. If 99.9 percent of scientists think that climate change is happening and it is highly influenced by human behaviour and 0.1 percent think it isn’t and you give equal airtime to the 0.1 percent then that’s a false.

If there’s one thing I would say to scientists it’s for goodness’ sake speak out! If scientists don’t do it then who do they imagine will? You think when you do small things that they don’t make a difference, but actually they all add up. Everything that we do is underpinned by science, technology and engineering. It could not be more important whether you’re in the UK, the EU or a global citizen.

I think it’s good to see that there’s a chink of light, that people understand that science is for everyone and we should make an effort to communicate it, for one because it’s so blooming exciting! It’s just so interesting! In the nineteenth century it was entertainment. People used to come along and look at science experiments. Well, we’ve got an obligation as scientists to continue that and let people share in the excitement and joy of what we do.

To round off, what do you feel is the most pressing issue in science today?

Actually I think it’s a little bit what we’ve been talking about; it’s getting our voice heard and getting the value of science acknowledged. At times when being able to secure budget and investment is very pressing I think we need to make people understand that investment in science is an absolute necessity, it is not a luxury.

Taking advantage of all our talent [is another issue]. I’m particularly concerned about gender issues and any minority issues; we need to get full excellence and creativity; we need to be pulling from the widest possible spectrum of people. We need the best.

And the last thing—maybe it should be the first thing at the moment—is how are we to protect our science excellence in the UK, which is so important for our future if we have a Brexit? And that requires all our creativity to think about possibilities and continued collaboration. For science is an international language, an international pursuit. We can’t do it as the UK on its own, it’s just not possible.

Encapsulating 2016: an interview with the founder of Light Work

Miriam Nemmaoui
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Encapsulating 2016: an interview with the founder of Light Work

A few short years ago, a grassroots fashion phenomenon swept through social media, challenging the mainstream perceptions of who can be a designer, and who can own a label. I’m referring, of course, to the rise of independent streetwear labels. The reverberations from this movement have since impacted both mainstream and high fashion; think not only of Yeezy and Rihanna x River Island, but of Givenchy and Chanel producing streetwear style t-shirts and tracksuits. Jack Morrison, second-year History and Politics student at Oxford and founder of the streetwear brand ‘Light Work,’ was among the first to ride on the wave of social media hype.

Although he had always had a keen interest in fashion, Jack almost stumbled upon the idea of starting a clothing label. He describes the conception of Light Work in characteristic humble terms: “In sixth form me and my mate didn’t have any money, so because we were both interested in fashion we just started off creating t-shirts in my mate’s school – we used to sort of break in after school to use the heat press to print them.” After the first batch sold out immediately on Facebook, Jack realised the label’s business potential and created a website, after which, he says as if still in shock, “it just grew and grew” – since then production has increased tenfold. 

“There’s lots of similar brands that do what we do, selling through Facebook. But we were one of the first brands to do it, at the same time when Wavy Garms and Basement first took off. That helped us because we were able to get initial promotion for free, reaching a huge audience straight away.”

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Excerpt from the Light Work ’16 editorial for Cherwell Fashion

Creating a website early on was a smart move – the Facebook wave eventually broke, and it now befits the brand’s image to use the platform of a sleek website. Jack is the first to admit that the democratisation of streetwear fashion by social media, which allowed the brand to incubate and flourish, has also been a hindrance in some respects. There is a glut of products saturating the market, making it difficult to stand out. I ask whether, like in mainstream fashion, there is a need to keep up with, or set, new trends in order to keep afloat. “It’s not really about trends, it’s about building the brand name and making it visible through lots of channels. You have to make the name desirable, so people want to wear it on their shirt.” There are many layers to cultivating this desirability, it seems – from the aesthetics of the website and photography, and the artist names associated with the brand, to that coveted je ne sais quois which it manages to exude.

 

Slightly dizzied by Jack’s knowledge of an industry which laypeople like myself can only glimpse from the peripheries, I ask him who his audience is. “It’s evolving at the moment. Initially Light Work was targeted at people aged 15-25, because that was what we knew. But the only problem with targeting them is that they have limited incomes, and that limits what we can produce. Now, by targeting a higher age range, we can challenge ourselves to produce better quality stuff, because if we’re asking the customer to spend more money, we have to produce something which is reflective of that price tag”.

As the aims of Light Work change, so too do its methods of promoting itself, which have matured and expanded considerably since the brand’s conception. As well as conventional promotion through magazines and their own social media channels, Light Work’s exciting collaboration with artists opens up many possibilities. Although he plays an active role in design concepts, Jack admits that he is “no good at art”. This led to the decision to foster relations with local artists. By commissioning art from young creatives and promoting their talent, Light Work functions as a social enterprise as well as a business. They are supported by UnLtd, an organisation in London, who provide mentoring and funding to social enterprises: “We work with artists in order to give them experience in the fashion industry, promote them, and advise them on the best ways to promote themselves. So, when we work with an artist or a photographer, we’ll tell them to create a website before we release the collection, so that when we do release the stuff people can follow you up and see what you do.”

This approach has led to an impressive lineup of collaborations, with artists such as Mr Phomer, Rebel Yuth, and Joe Monroe showcasing their work on Light Work’s garments. I ask Jack how collaborations benefit his business. “It is mutual gain. These artists find it difficult to get publicity for their work, especially because many of them are primarily using Instagram.” It is, Jack says, much easier to sell artwork if it is printed on a marketable product like a t-shirt. In return, the artists channel their thousands of fans and followers onto the Light Work website, giving the brand direct access to an audience already invested in the art, and, therefore, the garments. 

This ingeniously simple model not only allows Light Work to stand out in the saturated online streetwear market, but also creates the possibility for an interesting artistic and political edge in the clothing it produces. When I ask him about the political potential of fashion, Jack’s answer is unpretentious: “We know we’re not going to change the world or anything with a t-shirt. But it is all about spreading ideas and reflecting on things that are happening around us.”

Although the brand doesn’t take itself too seriously, the artwork in the new collection deals with some heavy themes. “The capsule collection coming out right now is a collection of t-shirts on the theme of political events in 2016. We thought it was a crazy year, so we really wanted to create something which commented on it.” He shows me a selection of t-shirts, emblazoned with satirical cartoons and slogans on the theme of 2016 – Nigel Farage, the EU, Black Lives Matter, Donald Trump. The work is both subversive and iconic; if it were buried in a time capsule, it would capture the disillusioned spirit of modern youth, perhaps as the sarcastic use of the Union Jack captured punk.

To mark the release of this collection, Light Work staged an art showcase in London, showing the extent of its progression since its conception on Facebook: “It was a day where all of the artists and photographers we have worked with came together and showed their work. We had a photographer, and then, at night, a musical showcase. The theme of the day was 2016, and all the money raised went to our chosen charities, Black Lives Matter and Refugee Action.’ In addition, all of the money raised from the sale of the Black Lives Matter t-shirt will be donated to the charity. I ask Jack about his reasons for doing this and, not one for speechifying, he says “because that’s just what we believe in”.

What is the future, then, for a young brand which has grown so much already? First, they will focus on their exciting new cut and sew collection, which is increasingly conscious of the ethics and quality of production. “We always wanted to do cut and sew stuff from the outset, but we didn’t have the skills to do it, as we’re not fashion students ourselves. We moved into it this summer after I worked at Port magazine, where I was able to interview lots of designers to better understand the process we need to go through.” So, it’s kind of like the brand is maturing as you are? “Yes, exactly. It’s about building our own skill-set as we move into new things. All of the new collection will be handmade from scratch in London.”

With the exciting new collection launching this week, it is difficult to see what could stop Light Work’s momentum. Maybe Jack’s Finals next year? (Yes, he’s only a second year student – it’s sickening isn’t it).

For more on Light Work’s new collection, check out Light Work ’16, an exclusive editorial for Cherwell Fashion, or go to their website, http://www.lightworkclothing.co.uk/.

The Beauty of Reserves Sport

Adam Hilsenrath
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The Beauty of Reserves Sport

College reserve team football is not exactly seen as the pinnacle of sport in Oxford. When the topic of sporting participation comes up and I mention that I play for the college, the first reaction is usually incredulity (since I do not exactly look like an athlete, and first team college football is well-respected). The second reaction, when I reassure that I only play first team football when injuries and tutorials mean they lack a full team, is slight relief on their part that the universe still makes sense but also slight bemusement, which increases when I point out that whilst I lead a team, it is actually the college thirds.

The perception carried by some that college reserve sport is not to be taken seriously carries weight in some regard. We do not enter the field of play fired up with adrenaline intent on claiming victory at all costs, willing to hack down and injure opponents to cynically stop play development. Nor are we a well-drilled organisation that trains regularly and has tactical meetings.

In last week’s LMH Men’s 3rd team fixture, two members of the team turned up less than sober and then had to leave at half time, leaving us with ten men, whilst the game was occasionally broken up because neither of (both blue-shirted) teams had a full set of kits and some of those without looked too similar to each other and had to change. Formation was decided on by a raising of hands for each position and who wanted to play where, including a surprising lack of desire from anyone to play up front resulting in a regular defender making his first start as a forward.

Inasmuch as serious means professional, therefore, it is a fair point to look at reserve sport in Oxford as some kind of lesser playing arena, something for the more casual if still enthusiastic players. Indeed, it is often the bane to our reserve teams when we come across a player insistent on loudly complaining to the referee about every call, or dangerously throwing themselves into tackles without any kind of apology, seemingly intent on harming their fellow students (one of them rather aggressively once admitted that it was his intention to do so).

However, to judge such levels of football on such grounds would be to entirely miss the point of why they bring such entertainment and joy, and why so many people still play (even if it was not quite enough for us to have a full team in the second half). It would be like saying that the lower down the English football pyramid you go, the importance falls, when in fact the importance merely changes. For lower league or non-league football the purpose is in part to act as a feeder system for the elite tiers, and in some ways reserve teams are a platform for players to demonstrate their worth to the first teams.

More importantly, at least in my opinion, reserve team football brings about the same amount of entertainment, passion, emotional release and energy as first team sport, but without the stress or disappointment that taking the sport too seriously can bring.

As an example, the noble LMH 3rds team did not exactly have the most successful of seasons last year. Finishing the season with a 4-4 draw against Teddy Hall’s 3rd team represented the only point of the season, with the other nine games all lost (and only two by a margin of less than four). One defeat was even as distant as 8-1. Yet, the team kept drawing in players, week in and week out, who kept enjoying themselves and getting stuck into the spirit of the sport, and the love of the game. After that 8-1 defeat rather than glumly despair, one of our regulars merely piped up that it was the close ones that hurt the most, and we all trooped off chuckling, ready for the next one (which we lost 6-1).

All that brings us up to last week, which was above all a demonstration of the ability for reserve college sport to bring as much joy, as much passion and energy as any other level, even in the lowest tier of the reserve divisions. In our first league game of the season, the LMH 3rd team claimed its first win since November 2014, with a stolen winner in the last ten minutes having put up a ridiculous defensive performance and survived unscathed (with the aforementioned 10 men) a second half onslaught after a half-time score of 3-3. The game had everything you could want: some very fine goals from both teams including a lovely dinked finish that saw us fall behind 3-2 in the first half; intensity and passion with both teams fighting hard right to the death; a pretty fast pace to the game; chances and shots galore, and even a penalty just to add a bit of drama if the late winner against the run of play was not enough.

That is the beauty of reserve sport here in Oxford, and the beauty of amateur sport everywhere. It contains all the purities and all of the beautiful elements of sport at all levels of the game, without any of the negative distractions. Sport at its finest, even if not at its highest quality.

The State of English Management

Adam Hilsenrath
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The State of English Management

The sacking of Francesco Guidolin, on his birthday, represents somewhat uncommon ground for Swansea City as of late. It is a club that saw its rise from the lowest tier of English professional football through a series of managers well-chosen, given time and patience. Kenny Jackett oversaw promotion into League One back over a decade ago, before Roberto Martinez took the helm for two years, Paulo Sousa for over a year and then Brendan Rodgers’ near two-year stint led Swansea into the promised land of the top flight. Even Garry Monk, a loyal servant to the club but untested as a manager held the post for nearly two years, as did Michael Laudrup before him. Yet, Swansea has seen its latest head coach dismissed after 25 games, but importantly only nine games into the current season.

Even then, one might argue that to sit 17th in the premier league after seven league matches, and to have failed to win at all in all competitions since playing Peterborough in late August might be just cause for the sack. However, this overlooks the fixture list. Swansea have, realistically, suffered one seriously disappointing result this season, that of the 2-0 home defeat to Hull on the second day of the season. Aside from that, their losses had been away to champions Leicester, away to Southampton twice at home to Manchester City, and then again to Liverpool. They even managed a respectable draw against Chelsea in amongst those defeats.

Whilst Swansea’s return has been poor, their fixture list has been mightily unfavourable, and Guidolin might have been looking ahead to upcoming fixtures against Watford, Stoke, Everton and Crystal Palace as far more winnable affairs. It is not, after all, as if Swansea were gunning for the top four last season.

It might just strike some as odd, or at least disappointing, that Swansea have seemingly succumbed to the kind of impatience that has destabilised managerial appointments of late, but it is undoubtedly a well-known trend.

After Arsene Wenger’s 20-year spell, the next longest serving Premier league managers are Eddie Howe and Sean Dyche of Bournemouth and Burnley respectively, each nearing the end of their fourth years in charge. However, there are only six managers who have held their roles in the Premier League for more than two years, and nine who took up their posts within the last twelve months. The Championship makes for even dire reading. Ipswich’s Mick McCarthy and Preston North End’s Simon Grayson are the only managers to have been serving for more than two years; seventeen were installed within the last year.

Yet the picture changes. If one examines the lower tiers of English professional football, the problem remains but to a lesser extent. Between League One and League Two, fifteen managers have held their roles for over two years, almost double that of the top two tiers combined. Seven of the eight longest-serving managers (Arsene Wenger being the exception) in England are from League One or League Two, with all seven having served over four years.

Furthermore, that issue that many have of stifling English talent through the constant hiring of overseas managers becomes less apparent, particularly amongst longer-serving managers, and also in the lower leagues. Amongst the 34 longest serving managers in the four professional leagues of English football, two are Irish (Mick McCarthy and Chris Hughton), two Scottish (Alex Neil and Gary Caldwell), two Welsh (Mark Hughes and Tony Pulis) and three foreign (Frenchman Arsene Wenger, Spaniard Aito Karanka and Argentinian Mauricio Pochettino). The other 25 are all English.

Contrastingly, of the 21 most recently appointed managers, just five are English, with a further five from Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland. For the statistical aficionados out there, that means a slim majority (25 of 49, but a majority nonetheless) of English football league managers are in the top third or so of managers in terms of time at the helm, whilst almost half (11 of 23) of non-British managers are in the most freshly appointed posts.

Of course, there is no shame or negative to any one team hiring a foreign manager. The issue, as Sam Allardyce drew attention to back in May, then as Sunderland boss and yet to engage in his ill-fated England career, is that the trend is pointing towards a smaller and smaller number of homegrown managers, particularly in the top of English football. This becomes increasingly worrisome when coupled with the fact that no national team has ever won the world cup with a foreign manager, and that the only team to win the European Championship in such a manner was Greek in 2004 with German Otto Rehhagel at the helm.

In the same way that the lack of playing time for English players at the top levels of football would and does hamper the prospects of the national team, so too the lack of opportunities for English managers hampers our choices at the international coaching level – something we are desperate for now more than ever – and our ability to produce our own top managers.

Guidolin’s departure might represent Swansea starting to join the raft of teams at the top of English football burdened by impatience, but it also highlights the increasing desire to look abroad, rather than down to the lower tiers of English football, where plenty of talent is waiting too long to be snatched up.

The Sporting Don?

Jack Harrison
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The Sporting Don?

As discussed in my first column – Why does sport matter – ‘we (humans) always try to simplify, quantify and break down life.’ Sports largely satisfies this in its winner versus loser nature, but nothing quite exemplifies this human instinct as much as our love for lists. Type ‘Top 10’ followed by any category into google somebody has probably made a list for it. The questions we most like to ask, and the lists we most like to compile, are the ones without obvious answers. The big questions, ‘Is there a god?’, ‘What is the meaning of life?’ occupy the biggest proportion of time as there is the most scope for debate, there is no single objective answer and therefore never a knockout blow.

Returning to the sporting sphere, while perhaps never reaching the levels of questioning the purpose of existence, there is no shortage of big debates – the largest potentially being, who is the greatest sportsperson of all time?

Many different people make a case for many different sportsmen and women alike to be heralded as the greatest of all time, the GOAT. Posing the question to a few people last week was met by a multitude of differing answers; Federer, Woods, Ali, Jordan and Pele all got numerous mentions, yet there was no one stand out overriding winner. The reason behind this is, clearly, that it is a subjective question.

People qualify greatness in different ways. Probably the most commonly cited man when discussing the award, Muhammad Ali, did not own a perfect boxing record like many others, but is known as ‘The Greatest’ for wider reasons – his role in the Civil Rights movement, his refusing to serve in Vietnam, as well as winning two of the greatest boxing fights of all time, the Rumble in the Jungle and the Thriller in Manila. Roger Federer, another of the most popular people in this debate, is not only valued so highly as having won more tennis slams than anyone else, but also for his style and grace, both on and off the court. Perhaps the most interesting answer a received when posing the GOAT question was Don Haskins, not simply a college basketball coach, but a man who is largely credited with the desegregation of the sport in southern USA. It is easy to see how his greatness can be valued over someone who could simply could run fast or scored a lot of goals.

A statistician at heart, when pondering the GOAT conundrum myself, numbers are my first port of call. While I do not believe you can ever crown one individual as the greatest, the figures can help paint a decent portrait, and despite the issues of comparing across generations and sports, one man stands out as the greatest statistical anomaly of all time.

2,827 people have batted in the history of Test cricket. Of those who have played over 20 matches the man with the second highest batting average (runs per dismissal) is Graeme Pollock, who averages 60.97; number one – Don Bradman, averages 99.94. The histogram of individuals test batting averages is one of the most remarkable graphs in sport. Bradman is arguably the only sportsperson whose inclusion or exclusion in a data set can alter an axis to such an extent. He is nearly 64% better than his closest rival in test cricket.

Some may argue, Michael Phelps’ 23 Olympic gold medals (more than twice the amount of anyone else) is as statistically impressive, but what people typically fail to recognise is that winning an Olympic gold medal is a binary event, the person who comes first gets infinitely more accreditation than the person in second. In Bradman’s case we are staggeringly dealing with averages.

Sport is a game of fine margins; little differentiates the great from the good. When Phelps won the 400m Individual Medley at the 2008 Olympics breaking the World Record, he did so by 2.32 seconds, swimming less than 1% faster than his closest opponent. At Tiger Woods’ peak in 2000 he achieved the lowest ever scoring average on the PGA tour with 68.17, Phil Mickelson in 2nd place averaged only 1.7% more with 69.35. Michael Jordan holds the record for most points per game in the NBA but his record (30.12 PPG) is only marginally greater than Wilt Chamberlain (30.07 PPG). While Pele’s goal scoring record is truly frightening, it is now being matched by Messi and Ronaldo. Even, Wayne Gretzky, owner of 61 NHL records upon retirement in 1999 only averaged around 2% more points per game than his closest competitor.

We have to be careful comparing different statistics, but even so Bradman’s 64% seems truly unrivalled. Even if you dock him a third of his career runs he would still possess the highest batting average of all time by a distance. It is impossible to objectively determine who is the greatest, but in terms of determining an individual who has statistically dominated a sport by the greatest amount we have a pretty good idea. The greatest statistical anomaly of all time, the GSAOAT, the Don.

Historic Mistake: Art History consigned to the past

James Lamming
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Historic Mistake: Art History consigned to the past

First art history. Then archaeology. Now classical civilization. A-level by A-level, Justine Greening, the Education Secretary, is steadily removing key points of cultural access from Britain’s education system. The reason? The government would prefer that students keep away from such “soft” humanities and instead look to the allegedly more rigorous and economically potent STEM subjects—science, technology, engineering, and maths. The words of Harold Wilson evidently still echo down the corridors of Whitehall—the future of Britain will be forged in ‘the white heat of technology’. Nicky Morgan, Greening’s predecessor as Education Secretary, summed up this credo neatly when she announced that a child’s choice to study humanities at school “will hold them back for the rest of their life”. What Wilson could not predict (and what Justine Greening is now ignoring) is that technology alone, in the form of STEM subjects, cannot preserve Britain’s seat at the table of global superpowers. Rather, our technological innovation must be coupled with Britain’s immense global resources of cultural ‘soft power’. This comes both from our artistic heritage—Shakespeare, the Beatles, David Hockney—and our cultural present—the BBC, the British Museum, the Globe and a host of others. In other words, Britain’s future power and success will be defined not just by our progress in science and technology, but also by the future prominence of our cultural icons in the global market. For every Hawking, we will need a Hirst, and for every Higgs, we will need a Hitchcock.

Very true, you might say, but do the humanities really foster the atmosphere required for Britain’s cultural soft power to flourish? Will art history A-level really promote future creativity amongst the youth of today? The answer, I believe, is a resounding ‘yes’. The arts and humanities, much like scientific research, rely on the invisible accumulation of generations of research and creation. Fine art, poetry, prose, music, and film all require careful study of their genre and tradition before anything new can be written or drawn. What better way to study the tradition and ages of fine art than with an A-level in the history of art? By offering humanities at A-level, not only do we allow prospective artists to flourish, we also build a national culture in which the study of art and of the humanities is recognised as an important pursuit. With these A-levels, Britain announces its commitment to the importance of culture. The government’s worrying tendency of promoting STEM at the explicit expense of the arts and humanities is foolish. Britain must balance technological innovation with its traditional brand of cultural excellence and commitment to the arts and humanities. If we do not preserve our artistic heritage, Britain will devalue its cultural ‘soft power’. For this reason alone we must fight to preserve the study of a wide range of culture in Britain’s national curriculum and, in this regard, the proposed axing of art history, archaeology, and classical civilisation would be a significant step backwards.

One thing I’d change about Oxford… Cars

Alex Oscroft
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One thing I’d change about Oxford… Cars

Oxford has been around a long time, and it got by for centuries without cars. What has changed to make them necessary now? Why do we give up our precious road space for things that just want to kill us? I would give roads back to the people and their bicycles, improving our mental and physical health and saving countless lives from the torment of trying to cross St Giles on a Friday afternoon.

There would be real benefits to health. How many times have you been caught behind a bus cycling up Cowley Road, unsure of whether to go for the overtake or not, and then, just as you decide to take the plunge, a mini comes the other way at 600 mph and honks because apparently you’re in the way? This exact scenario happens to me every day of the week, and it’s severely stressful. On top of my two essays a week and mountain of reading, none of us has time to be killed in a road accident.

Yes, it does mean you’d have to walk back to college from Bridge rather than get a cab, but think of how fit you’ll be! And a long walk home allows for a much more extended period of social bonding with your peers than a short taxi journey where you’re trying to make awkward small talk with the driver to distract them from your friend vomiting out of the window. We would be better friends and better people without cars.

How many car accidents were there in Oxford in the 17th century? None. Were we still one of the best universities in the world? Yes. I don’t think we would lose anything from outlawing vehicles from the roads, and we’d be saving countless tens of minutes per person by not having to wait to cross the road.

Oxford’s best centuries are behind it, buried beneath screeching rubber and blaring horns and a never-ending stream of Brookes buses. Students are a persecuted people preyed upon by hungry vehicles with no concern for the welfare of us hard-working pupils, and this tyranny must end.

Trump’s trump card: a twisted tale

Louis McEvoy
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Trump’s trump card: a twisted tale

Trump. That simple, thudding, monosyllabic surname perfectly capturing the singular, elemental force of personality which has changed everything forever. He is the man who is one step away from becoming the most powerful person in the world, and he got there simply through brazen self-confidence and determination (talk about fulfilling the American Dream). Whatever issues his ascendancy might raise pertaining to matters democratic, Trump has single-handedly rendered political satire redundant, shattered the American Right and been the star of the greatest reality show on Earth. Politics is performance, and Trump is its Brando. Rolling Stone recently put out an article suggesting that Trump was simply there at the right time: a time of peak distrust and polarisation. Yet while the stage was certainly set, this plot has been driven in unprecedented directions largely thanks to one man.

It’s funny—for the last year, he has been the most ubiquitous and discussed issue, one which has been dissected and analysed with all manner of hot takes, and yet he continues to mortify and repulse. Every time one might think he’s peaked, he goes one better, happily defying every prediction in the process. We were first assured that by denigrating Mexicans, he proved himself a clown who would have little impact on the race. We were then told his comments on McCain would be his undoing, but despite his willingness to be openly racist and generally unelectable, Trump allowed himself to attain his party’s nomination. Next was the popular expectation that Trump, reformulated as a canny political operator, would pivot to the centre after winning the nomination. He could have done that. He did not. Is this, then, one man’s epic mess of neuroses and insecurities? Is Trump being himself, stumbling from one absurd twist to the next, desperate to preserve his ego? Tempting and possibly true, but not exactly true.

Laurie Penny tells us Trump represents a crisis in masculinity—the view that he is the disempowered white working man’s protest against a society in which his job is being outsourced, his religion sneered at, his traditional values unravelled and, most infuriatingly for him, where women are granted equality. Then there’s the argument put forth by leftists like Sanders that Trump is a form of economic desperation, the fury of the left-behind at poverty and inequality, turning to extremism due to the failure of moderates. Most common is the view that he is simply the “inevitable” conservative counterrevolution to globalisation, lambasting free trade and the weakening of the nation. These are popular explanations because they reinforce the existing beliefs of those who espouse them and because they comfortably explain scary things.

Yet although Trump is repugnant toward women, as far as traditional values go, he remains to the left of Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio on abortion and gay marriage. His character is certainly misogynistic, yet until the scandalous 2005 tape was released, he did comfortably amongst the same white married women who had backed McCain and Romney. Viewing him as the Men’s Rights Activists candidate is too simplistic. Moreover, the notion that he is an expression of penury is untrue, not simply because he had wide support in the primaries amongst all socioeconomic groups, but because those most in tune to him are not the poorest, but what we in the UK might term the lower middle class, especially in communities which are predominantly white.

In a sense, Trump is not so much the riposte to actual decline, although outsourcing and wage stagnation presumably play a part, than to perceived or anticipated decline. Although it is understandable to view him in terms of his sexism, Trump’s rise is much more down to racism. His is a demographic born popular protest, one built upon foundations laid by the Tea Party and Republicans going back decades. What do his supporters chant about? Tariff proposals or tax plans? They chant about the wall. Some, not least Trump himself, seem to object to the very existence of black and brown people. When racism is expressed not merely by the poorest but by the comfortable Republicans too (and even now, Trump’s support amongst the core Republican vote is resilient), can we really ascribe the American culture war to economics?

There is another problematic component to Trumpism: authoritarianism. Although comparisons to European dictators are crass, the strong-man ideology is blatant, repeatedly making the case that “I”, not “we”, will restore greatness. The policy proposals, bombing, banning, building, are potent and physical, appealing because they are grandiose gestures of power, something precious for those who feel powerless.

But third and most importantly, Trump is just a brilliant comic performer. He concluded his Republican National Convention speech with, “We will make America great again—thank you and goodnight!” Trump is so much closer to resembling George Carlin than he is to Hillary Clinton. Audiences have long crowed with delight when a sneering stand-up comedian “destroys” politicians with some simple populist critique. Trump has simply taken this facile political commentary to the next level, injecting it into the political sphere. It is perhaps this, more than his racism and authoritarianism, that forms Trump’s great innovation. He does not care for such etiquette as the party line: he happily speaks of special interests and retweets conspiracy theories; he makes a joke about his genitalia to mock Marco Rubio’s pathetic attempts to look tough. Although culture has worked tirelessly to reflect him, the most accurate representation of Trump predates his rise: the Black Mirror episode “The Waldo Moment” encapsulates the nature of this ingenious innovation. It’s political satire gone mad.

The final twist, then, is for the Trump moment to survive, it has to lose. What would have happened if he’d won? Disappointment and failure. Wish fulfilment fantasies break upon impact with reality. And so, November is not the end. Any Republican who believes they can simply go back to the old bread and butter of faith and free market fundamentalism is in for a fright. Whether he will maintain his campaign through a new media network or some other venture, Trump’s mobilisation of the “deplorables” who share his worldview has astronomically expanded his audience. Trump went into this election to attain a raised profile and grow his fanbase. He’s won.

Should subfusc remain mandatory in Oxford?

Daniel Villar and Tess Leyland
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Should subfusc remain mandatory in Oxford?

YES: Subfusc may be anachronistic, but it is one of the many traditions that make the university unique

Daniel Villar

It isn’t every day that you find a Wadhamite defend tradition. Indeed, most of my fellow members of Wadham College would likely disagree with what I am about to say, considering that a few years ago when the continuing use of subfusc for exams came to referendum, within Wadham it lost. Thankfully it won in the university as a whole. But there you go, odd things do occur. I am a Wadhamite for subfusc.

Subfusc is one of those myriad of odd details which separates Oxford from other universities. Like formal hall, tutorials, and the Union’s No Confidence Debate, it is a tradition which harkens to an age when Oxford was a rather different institution than it is today. Which is no doubt why many students would like to get rid of subfusc.

The subfusc is a tad anachronistic. It is a sort of robe that we all have to wear, which has no apparent use other than to make our Facebook feeds look pretentious (especially when we wear it while punting down the River Isis and drinking Prosecco). Yet anachronism isn’t a reason in and of itself to remove something from usage.

Think of how dull life would be if we were to tear down every anachronism around us. The medieval structures of many Oxford colleges would have to go, since they aren’t as efficient in housing students as modern cement blocks would be. Many of the libraries would have to have bonfires of their collections now that they can have their collections fully digitised—why, perhaps this whole university is an anachronism, in this internet age where anyone can learn anything with access to the world wide web.

Anachronism is no argument for abolishing the subfusc. But by the same token things shouldn’t be blindly defended because they are anachronisms. Indeed, there are two sorts of anachronisms; there are harmless anachronisms and there are pernicious anachronisms.

A pernicious anachronism is one of substance, which can have an actual palpable effect on life. Examples of such anachronisms would be the ancient public schools, the electoral college, and the House of Lords. In each of these cases the defenders of these institutions call upon a Burkean defense of tradition to defend institutions whose influence on society is, on the whole, negative. Respectively, they lead to a system whereby the school your parents could afford to send you to dramatically alters your life chances, or create a system whereby the looser can win the presidency and subvert the ideals of democracy.

But while pernicious anachronism ought to be done away with, things aren’t so simple for all anachronisms. Issues of style are harmless anachronisms, which aff ect the veneer of life. These include formal hall, printed books, and subfusc.

Each of these is a relic of the past, and in some cases is superfluous. After all, ebooks could replace printed books, we could all just have dinner in cafeterias, and we at Oxford could do as other universities do, and not have subfusc. But in doing so we would be throwing away a beautiful tradition.

Traditions such as subfusc serve a myriad of purposes, but one of the most important is to ground us. When we all walk into the Sheldonian Theatre, dressed in subfusc, we become grounded in the history of our university.

Generations of students at Oxford have done as we do, wearing subfusc, and hearing Latin phrases. It reminds us that no matter how long we spend here, we are just moments in the history of this university. It is at that moment that we become equal to the greats who stood as we do, dressed as we do, who went here.

Yes, subfusc is a bit anachronistic. Yet so is most of what makes life worth living. Live showings of Shakespeare, an old edition of the Oedipus Rex, bow ties, all these things are a tad anachronistic. Yet who would want to abolish them all? Subfusc should be kept in order to keep Oxford being Oxford. Getting rid of it would just be one step towards making Oxford like any other university, making it duller and less interesting. Subfusc is unique to our university: we should be proud of that fact.

So next time someone complains of having to wear subfusc, just tell them that if it annoys them so much, there are good universities in American without such traditions!

 

NO: Subfusc reinforces the view of Oxford as an institution that is selfimportant and out of touch

Tess Leyland

Everyone has their pre-exam ritual. Some people go for a run, some go to breakfast, others read over their notes. Desperately hunting around my note-ridden bedroom for a ribbon is not, I hope, something that will continue to be part of my ritual.

Some argue that wearing subfusc for your exams is a helpful part of the process. It allows you to enter the right frame of mind, to do the best that you can. I would disagree with this position. Rather, I found the process to be intimidating and patronising. Other than prelims, the last time I had been required to wear a uniform for exams was during my GCSEs. I find this makes the whole experience significantly more intimidating; memories of my sixteen-year-old self nervously filing into the exam hall, desperately trying to remember basic physics, reared their head. Not thoughts that are particularly steadying when you are about to take an exam at one of the world’s leading universities; confidence is, supposedly, key.

But it seems as though the university is intentionally trying to diminish that all important confidence on exam-day. Not only are you treated like a teenager facing their first exam, but you are presented with a fresh set of elaborate worries that have not been dealt with before. Where’s my ribbon? My mortarboard? Am I meant to wear it during exams? It is true that some colleges demand varying levels of academic dress for collections—but the fear of being turned away from your examination due to incorrect dress is an unnecessary stress.

Yet the trials of subfusc do not end there; rather, the Oxford student is faced with another humiliation before arriving in their exam hall. Walking down High Street. Exams are taxing enough without hoards of tourists lining the streets to gawp at you, to take photos and point. I remember the feeling of being a performing monkey, a crowd pleaser. Leading me to wonder, is subfusc really anything more than another piece of the ‘Oxford’ show? Something to keep the tourists coming back?

Not only are there practical issues with subfusc, but more fundamental ones too. Subfusc takes away your choice. Examinations are stressful, and students should be allowed to feel as comfortable and relaxed as they possibly can. They should be allowed to control something about their situation. If they wish to wear academic dress, then great, but if not, they should not be forced to do so. Individuals are comfortable with different things, and to enforce a compulsory academic dress is to disregard that. We have all proven that we are more than able to work well in our own clothes; through tutorials, lectures and labs. We are all adults, and have been able to dress ourselves for a long time—the university should be concerned with our essays, not our outfits.

Furthermore, Subfusc is simply one more element of Oxford life that serves to alienate the institution from the rest of the world. Whilst most universities have academic dress for graduation, few demand their students to purchase it upon arrival. Yes, these quirks may have their charms; I am not denying that walking into the Sheldonian Theatre in your subfusc on matriculation is quite the experience. But this compulsory dress simply serves to further reinforce the view of Oxford as a self-important, out-of-touch, elitist institution. We strive to separate ourselves from other universities based on our dress; a dress that is intentionally anachronistic. We have to remind the world that we are different, that we are better.

Oxford has recently been confronted with its problem with access and admissions, with the Sutton Trust releasing a survey this week stating that 4 in 10 state school teachers would advise against applying to Oxford or Cambridge. But while traditions such as these still exist, why are we surprised by such statistics? They simply service to perpetuate the image of Oxford as a posh, public school haven, a world that is only for the select few. An image that students are forced to conform to during their time here, whether you wish to wear such uncomfortable formal wear or not.

Subfusc is one of the most visible signs of Oxford’s ‘unique’ nature that simply serves to consolidate the idea amongst state schools that ‘Oxford isn’t for me’. What may seem a tradition that is at best comic, and at worst inconvenient to many, has far reaching implications.

Subfusc is not an element of Oxford life that is crucial to our experience. Rather, it is one we would do better without.

Backstage with Claudia Graham

Sapphire Shoferpoor
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Backstage with Claudia Graham

What does working in production involve?

A lot of people think that producing is just about the money side of things, because you do have to put together a budget, and that is a large part of the role. You have to get the money and decide how to distribute it between set, costume and venue. But there is also an element of logistics, setting up meetings and making sure that everyone in your crew knows what they are doing and getting on with the tasks. It can be creative as well: you need to work out what you want to do versus what is possible, and you have to get around budget problems. I enjoy seeing something through from the very beginning to the end product.

Which shows have you been involved in?

Last year I produced Thark, Pripyat, and The Weir and I production managed for A Christmas Carol which was a non-student production. I was also the co-producer on XX which we took to Edinburgh Fringe!

How do you secure funding for a production?

There are a few different funding bodies, some of which are specifically for student drama. So you have to put together a bid, which includes mini biographies of your team, your vision for the show, some set designs, and why it is financially and logistically viable. You bid for a venue and you’re in competition with other shows, and once you’ve got it, you send your document to the funding bodies and ask them for money.

What’s difficult about your role?

Being the person that says ‘no’. Directors sometimes have outlandish ideas, and you just have to say ‘that’s not going to be feasible’ or ‘we can’t afford that’. Which is really hard to do, especially when you think that it’s a good idea! You have to be the realistic one. For example I’m part of a theatre company called ‘Poltergeist Theatre’ which I set up with Jack Bradfield. He’s a great director, but he’s definitely someone that I have to rein in… (laughs)

What did you expect when you started producing?

I started accidentally so wasn’t expecting all that much. I underestimated how close you get with your cast and crew. You become such a team because you spend so much time rehearsing together and everyone feels so proud of the end product.

Is there anything you are currently producing which we should look out for?

Much Ado About Nothing in 7th week of Michaelmas. There will be a Christmassy feel to it. We are focusing a lot on what the characters see and what they misunderstand, which is where a lot of the comedy comes from. We also have some surprises instore with the set which I won’t divulge now – it’s going to be very exciting!

Do you have any advice for people wanting to get involved with drama?

People shouldn’t be put off by how insular it seems. People look at the drama people as separate, but they’re all nice people and you should get stuck in if you’re interested!

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