Friday 10th April 2026
Blog Page 964

Atheists among the least afraid of death—Oxford study

Lucy Enderby
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Atheists among the least afraid of death—Oxford study

A study conducted by Oxford anthropologists has revealed that although the very religious are among the least afraid of death, so too are atheists.

The paper was published in the journal Religion, Brain and Behaviour, and challenges the view that religious believers are those who fear death the least.

The paper examined the relationship between death anxiety and religious belief. It involved a systematic review of 100 relevant studies, from between 1961 and 2014 around the world. examining the relationship between death anxiety and religious belief.

They found that the more religious, in terms of those who believed in God and an afterlife, were not necessarily less anxious about death.

However, some of the relevant studies they used made a distinction between extrinsic religiosity and intrinsic religiosity, with ‘true belief’ being driven by intrinsic religiosity. Their analysis showed that those who were intrinsically religious were among the least afraid, whilst the extrinsically religious had the highest levels of death anxiety.

The range of different studies examined showed variation. Over half the research showed no link between religiosity and fear of death, whilst 18 per cent of the studies found that religious people were more afraid of death than atheists.

This indicates that the relationship between religiosity and death anxiety may vary depending on the context. The majority of the studies involves took place in the United States, with just a small number from Asia or the Middle East.

Researcher Dr Jonathan Jong of the Institute of Cognitive and Evolutionary Anthropology said: “This definitely complicates the old view, that religious people are less afraid of death than non-religious people. It may well be that atheism also provides comfort from death, or that people who are just not afraid of death aren’t compelled to seek religion.”

The ageing face of fashion

Francesca Salisbury
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The ageing face of fashion

Earlier this year at London Fashion Week, a group of models aged 47 and above took to the streets to protest the lack of age diversity represented on the catwalks. Bearing signs reading “Fashion Has No Age Limit” and “Fight For Real Age Models,” these women vehemently opposed the idea that fashion should be targeted at those under 25, as part of their #GrowUpLFW initiative. The concept does seems absurd when numerous surveys provide evidence that older women make up as much as fifty per cent of consumer spending. 63-year-old campaigner Jilly Johnson said, “People seem to think that once you reach 40, you’re not interested in clothes and you don’t buy anything but that’s simply not true. A huge percentage of clothes are bought by older women so fashion is making a huge mistake by ignoring that grey pound.”

However, in recent weeks the industry does seem to have paid more attention to the so-called “grey pound”. The Simone Rocha catwalk at London Fashion Week featured four models over the age of 50. One model, Jan de Villeneuve, 72 years old, said to the Telegraph, “Life doesn’t end when you start getting a pension. Older women love fashion too. I’ve always thought it would be nice if people of all ages, shapes and sizes were included because that’s more relevant to day-to-day life.”

Moreover, to mark Dries Van Noten’s 100th show, three supermodels who had walked in his first catwalk in 1993 were welcomed back alongside the usual fresh-faced teens, and 43-year-old Amber Valetta was the star of Isabel Marant’s Paris show.

The older woman has made an appearance in lesser-known labels, too. Lonely Lingerie’s latest campaign features 57-year-old model Mercy Brewer, photographed in a variety of sumptuous lingerie pieces and underwear sets. This is an important campaign, not just because it recognises the need for age diversity among models and acknowledges the older woman’s presence as a consumer, but also because it allows someone classed as ‘middle aged’ to be powerful, sensual, and sexy. Lonely Lingerie—a brand also known for promoting body and ethnic diversity—is a world away from the typically drab collections aimed at the “grey pound”. What’s important about this campaign is not just the fact that it includes older women, but also the way in which it demonstrates that older and younger women do not need to be viewed as separate consumer markets at all.

Of course, these age-blind movements are niche. As the #GrowUpLFW campaign illustrated, older women still feel shut out from the industry, and there is a long way to go before full diversity—in terms of age, ethnicity, and body types—is recognised in the fashion world. That said, it is undeniable that progress is starting to be made; older women are becoming increasingly accepted and moreover, represented, in the fashion world. Better late than never.

Marvel’s Netflix universe is going badly wrong, and it’s the writing that’s to blame

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Marvel’s Netflix universe is going badly wrong, and it’s the writing that’s to blame

When the first season of Daredevil launched in April 2015, it seemed to signal a fresh beginning for superheroes on television. Following the explosive success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, various shows had attempted to cash in on the superhero craze. The CW was laying the groundwork for its own interconnected universe with shows such as Arrow and The Flash; Gotham, Fox’s Batman prequel, had debuted the previous September; and even Marvel were getting involved, expanding their universe to the small screen with Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD and Agent Carter on ABC.

But Netflix’s Daredevil was the first show to truly capture the magic of the superhero genre and bring it to life on television. It was an uncompromising take on one of Marvel’s most famous heroes, brutal, violent, and unrelenting. This was a superhero show for the Golden Age of Television, marrying an exciting premise to killer visuals and consistently impressive writing, respecting its source material while creating something accessible for a wider audience. It was far from flawless: it was slightly too long, and its writing could be too obvious at times. Nonetheless, there was real potential there, and the prospect of an interconnected set of Netflix productions running alongside Marvel’s big screen offerings seemed tantalising.

And now we are here. Iron Fist, the latest instalment in the Netflix Marvel saga, sits at an abject, dismal 17% on Rotten Tomatoes while Luke Cage – last September’s offering – attracted a torrent of criticism despite its promising start. How has the Netflixverse – an endeavour with so much promise – ended up in such a sorry state?

The problems afflicting Marvel’s Netflix Universe are manifold, but some issues seem to recur across its catalogue of shows. Most notably, each series seems significantly too long, incapable of sustaining its thirteen episode run. Designed for binge-watching, this bloat undermines the fundamental appeal of the show, stretching out what should be high-octane superhero action to unnecessary lengths. No show seems to have escaped this problem entirely: even Jessica Jones and Daredevil’s first season fall into a rut in the middle before regaining momentum in the last couple of episodes.

Both Daredevil and Luke Cage attempt to resolve this issue through a mid-season shift of plotline: in each series, the arc of the first half is put on the backburner in order to make room for a new, greater threat; in each series, this device results in a catastrophic failure. Daredevil’s four-episode Punisher arc, replete as it is with violence and difficult questions about the role of the vigilante, stands head and tails above the first season. However, as soon as the Punisher has been dispatched, the show deflates, desperately piling on new plotlines and threats and twists in an attempt to regain some semblance of the magic it previously had. The result? An exhausting, limp, borderline nonsensical run of episodes concluding in a finale which inspires nothing but a sense of relief at having made it to the end.

Luke Cage, meanwhile, descends into an even larger mess: its introductory episodes position the show as one which wants to discuss the black experience in modern America, linking Luke’s struggles to those faced by young black men in general, and connecting the battle between Luke and Cottonmouth to the battle for the soul of Harlem. This novel take on the superhero genre – enriched by an amazing soundtrack and by stunning performances from Mahershala Ali and Alfre Woodard – is promptly discarded in favour of an increasingly ridiculous, generic superhero story.

Instead of the unpredictable, challenging villain Cottonmouth, the viewer is saddled with the ludicrous Diamondback, Luke’s Bible-quoting, rage-filled half-brother. This change in direction did not have to be such a failure: the discussions of Diamondback in the first few episodes paint him as a powerful, successful, merciless crime lord. Such a villain would have been a brilliant foil for Luke and a welcome change from Cottonmouth’s visceral emotionality. Instead, he turns out to be a man driven by inexplicably petty emotions, whose conflict with Luke can be linked to the black experience in only the most agonisingly contrived ways. When, in its finale, the show attempts to backtrack and claim that the second storyline has maintained a profound discussion of Harlem’s role in black culture, it is difficult to do anything but laugh.

Setting aside the failures of the individual shows, one might hope that they at least contribute to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, expanding its horizons while introducing new characters of which the movies can make use. Damningly, the shows do not even work as complements to the wider project. Rather, the movies seem to want to ignore them, to shrug them off: the Netflix series are not a meaningful expansion of this beloved franchise, but parasitical entities leeching off its popularity to plaster over their own increasingly apparent flaws.

These devastating problems hint at the fundamental flaw of these productions: the more content that Netflix produces, the more it seems utterly inessential. The shows run thirteen episodes because they have to, not because they have thirteen episodes of story to tell; the shows exist not because they ought to, but because Netflix’s plan demands it; this section of the MCU keeps going because it has started, and not because it has anywhere to head. Four seasons in, it is hard to see how this Netflix Universe is shaping into anything cohesive, or how The Defenders – the upcoming crossover series – can be anything other than a mechanical conclusion to an inessential story. Each series feels increasingly disposable, one piece of a story which seems to perpetually defer gratification without ever delivering it. This criticism – often unfairly levelled at the filmic components of the MCU – is utterly justified when it comes to these shows.

This is not to say that the Netflixverse is unsalvageable or without redeeming qualities. Both Daredevil Season 2 and Luke Cage have incredibly good beginnings, beginnings which demonstrate that their showrunners are capable of producing excellent television.

Jessica Jones has been largely absent from this discussion because it largely manages to sidestep these pitfalls. Despite being a couple of episodes too long, the show is an impressive example of quite how good female-led superhero shows can be, with Krysten Ritter’s sensitive portrayal of Jessica as a hardened, damaged rape survivor making for powerful viewing. David Tennant’s Purple Man, meanwhile, is simultaneously despicable and compelling, a repulsive, captivating presence onscreen. Unlike the series which followed it, Jessica Jones feels unmissable, feels essential, not just in order to keep up with a rapidly expanding universe, but on its own merits as a television show.

The Defenders may very well succeed, imbued with new energy by having such a diverse set of characters interact for the first time. I truly hope that it does. I write this not as someone revelling in the Netflix Universe’s failures, but as a huge fan and lover of superhero stories. If the creative teams manage to get their series back on track, they have the opportunity to create an essential bastion of superhero shows, the prime example of how to create an interconnected universe on television. All they have to do is not squander such a golden opportunity.

Six Nations hints at future Lions XV

Theo Davies-Lewis
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Six Nations hints at future Lions XV

This year’s Six Nations was a mixed bag of fortune for its contestants. England, who were dominant throughout the tournament, succumbed to the drive of Ireland last weekend, while Scotland have enjoyed success over the last few weeks. Italy had yet another disappointing tournament, whereas Rob Howley’s Welsh squad will be wondering why they didn’t perform in 2017.

For some, the Six Nations was an opportunity to see who would make the cut for the British and Irish Lions squad, and even who would be included in the starting line-up for the tour to New Zealand. It is a difficult XV to pick, and Warren Gatland will find it tough to choose a team that can topple the New Zealanders, who are arguably the best sporting team on the planet. Nonetheless, fans, players and coaches are excited: Lions forwards coach Graham Rowntree, for example, said this year’s squad would be “the best squad for the last 30 years.”

With the Six Nations over, here’s a likely Lions XV:

15 – Stuart Hogg (Scotland)

The Scottish fullback has been a match winner for his country this tournament, thoroughly deserving the player of the tournament award. With agility and pace, the Scot will be useful in challenging the strong New Zealand defence. Gatland may side with Leigh Halfpenny – if he is selected – on occasion during the series, and while his defensive and kicking game is stronger than Hogg’s, the Scot’s attacking prowess will surely see the Toulon man left out of the squad.

14 – George North (Wales)

While there are many contenders for this position, it is difficult not to start with North in the backline. He has regained form in this year’s championship, and has immense international experience. 110kg North will go up against fellow heavyweight Julian Savea in a battle which may decide who scores the most tries in a few test matches.

13 – Jonathan Joseph (England)

Another athlete hard to ignore in the middle of the pitch, Joseph was an impressive figure in England’s championship win and can forge a strong relationship with Farrell in New Zealand. He may have been absent in the defeat to Ireland, but the 25-year-old’s performances against the likes of Scotland in the championship show how lethal he can be on the park.

12 – Owen Farrell (England)

Almost a certainty in the starting line-up for club and country, Owen Farrell will be a key player in this year’s tour. Good pace, defensive skills, a kicking game – what more do you want from a centre? He can also perform his duties as fly-half if needs be, showing how crucial Farrell may be in the summer of 2017.

11 – Elliot Daly (England)

Perhaps one of the highlights of the 2017 tournament, Daly is an agile and dangerous winger. His pace was clear in the dying moments of the Welsh game, and may be why he is chosen over other similar players such as Liam Williams for the starting line-up.

10 – Jonny Sexton (Ireland)

All you have to do is read the back pages of any newspaper and look for what journalists are saying about Sexton chances in this year’s squad. Almost every rugby pundit favours Sexton at stand-off, and they are right to do so. Despite being targeted by English forwards in the emotional victory earlier this month, Sexton was relatively unscathed. However, the biggest issue for Gatland is whether he decides to play Sexton in the warm-up games of the tour, as he may be a target for some teams.

9 – Conor Murray (Ireland)

While it is likely that Rhys Webb and Ben Youngs will also be included in the Lions squad, and perhaps play more minutes than Murray before the test matches, Gatland would be wise to favour an-all Irish partnership at half-back. Arguably the greatest scrum-half in world rugby, Murray will likely play a key role in his second Lions tour after his selection for the 2013 squad.

1 – Mako Vunipola (England)

Despite being placed behind teammate Joe Marler at times during the Six Nations, the pace and skill set of Vunipola is badly needed against the New Zealand pack. Strength at the breakdown and ability in open play will be a huge asset to the side, but some pundits suggest he would be brought on as an impact sub.

2 – Dylan Hartley (Captain, England)

Jamie George and Ken Owens may be on the plane to New Zealand, but Gatland should opt with the experience and aggression of Hartley to face the New Zealanders. While the England captain’s form has been up and down recently, he is Eddie Jones’ main man for a reason. Alun Wyn Jones may rival him for tour captain, but if the Welshman does not start, Hartley may be the man to captain the team against the ferocious New Zealanders.

3 – Tadhg Furlong (Ireland)

Another favourite of the pundits, the 24-year-old is almost guaranteed a starting position for the Lions. Dominant against every front three he played against in the Six Nations, and thoroughly deserves the honour of being given a seat on the plane and starting in the test matches.

4 – Joe Launchbury (England)

Launchbury is a workhorse. He does not stop, ever. He is needed against a New Zealand side which has props that can finish off tries. His pace, stamina and strength will be vital to contain the All Blacks.

5 – Maro Itoje (England)

Perhaps a controversial decision to select Itoje in front of the omnipresent and experienced Jones, but his all-round qualities may make the difference in the summer. He could probably kick for goal if we needed him too. Alongside Launchbury, the lock’s in the side may be a young and exciting pair ready to challenge the might of the All Black pack.

6 – CJ Stander (Ireland)

Is there even doubt that the Irishman will start? Described by The Telegraph as a “wrecking ball”, and that’s exactly what he is; he can break tackles, stay on his feet, and get over the gameline. He can play No. 8 too, so is a versatile player that will add value to the squad.

7 – Sam Warburton (Wales)

Since the Welsh captaincy was taken from him, he has recovered his old form. Moreover, he has Gatland’s respect and support after overseeing him captain Wales and the Lions previously. He is an option at six or seven, but he needs to start.

8 – Billy Vunipola (England)

While his impact in this year’s tournament was restricted due to an injury, it will be hard for Gatland not to start with one of the most destructive forwards in world rugby. Vunipola’s potential match-up against Kieran Read is would also be a spectacle in itself.

The Lions will begin their tour in early June, and have a 10-game schedule which will see them play at grounds in Whangarei, Auckland, Christchurch, Dunedin, Rotorua, Hamilton and Wellington. The Lions will be hoping for their first victory against New Zealand since the 1993 tour in Wellington, and to better their overall record against New Zealand – which shows six victories, three draws and 29 defeats.

 

From another Bridge: On the Westminster attack in London

Carolina Earle
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From another Bridge: On the Westminster attack in London

You can smell the dirt and the blackness as you descend into the depths of London’s underground. Banjo drums and saxophone notes shake in the air as you move with the crowds that bring life and sound to these endless tunnels. There are some who cannot face the heat, the lurching, and the narrow spaces but for me, like many others, this is nothing but routine. There have been moments when the train stops in the dark, or as a you sit alone late at night with just one other lone figure at the end of your carriage, that an unheeded burst of adrenaline forces up your guard. And yet, those small bursts of angst would usually fade within moments. It was only on Wednesday—as the details surrounding the Westminster terror attack were rapidly released—that, for the first time, I had to rationalise the thoughts which were urging me against taking the escalator ever-deeper to catch my train.

Looking at me, you would not have known it, but my heart was beating fast. I was too aware of the screeching of the tracks—I hated the sound and I wanted to be above ground before the train had even begun to move. At that point, all I’d known about the attack in Westminster was that a man wielding a knife had been shot dead. I’d seen the police stringing up barriers at Trafalgar Square, men hauling massive cameras running back towards the bridge, and the standstill traffic. It was all made clearer as the texts asking if we’d seen what had happened in Westminster, ‘where are you,’ and a missed call from home came through. The reality was that I was fine. I didn’t particularly want to stop moving as I crossed another bridge to Waterloo, but I was safe. Just like the people who occasionally looked out from the passing buses, I took futile glances across the river to where we knew people had been mauled, to people were lying dead… But you couldn’t see a thing. For all the chaos those mere few hundred metres away, the steady stream of people kept moving, with the usual intermittent group stopped here and there to take a picture of the view.

Despite a few more policeman in their yellow high-vis jackets at the station, nothing had really changed. The horror of the car and the attack was reserved for the next day’s news: it was Emma Watson who smiled from the front pages of the free papers. And then I was on my train, quickly moving away. Westbound to home, and to dinner. Despite my initial fear, I was in the vast majority who really had nothing to worry about. Alive, well, and undisturbed in our comings and goings throughout our city—we were, and are, the lucky ones. But it is evident even from our position of great fortune, that terror and its victims are the realities which we cannot ignore. These are realities which we must all face, even if this time it was not us. That fear of ‘who next,’ of ‘when next’, is like the fear of the dark which we all harbour suppressed somewhere deep within. It is easy for us to ignore until we find ourselves faced with flickering lights and the creeping sensation that we will soon find ourselves cowering, engulfed in blackness. For others, there is no warning, and the world goes dark in seconds. They are not afforded the luxury of having their fears invalidated and disproved.

And yet, this fear and this terror seems to be a periodic reality. I remember 7/7: being told–as we sat in my favourite bagel shop after the last day of school that there had been bombs on the tube. My mum was stuck in traffic and, though I know I didn’t understand, I remember wanting her there in that moment. I remember running down and hugging her incredibly tightly as she walked in. There was another moment a few years ago as I was sitting with a friend in Costa that, a few seats away, a deserted phone started ringing. Somewhat naively but purely instinctively, I had said I’d wanted to leave. The phone eventually stopped ringing, was picked up by its owner 20 minutes later. Nothing happened. There was no explosion, and yet this seemingly “irrational” fear is part of our modern conditioning.

Behind any fear is the reality: the victims of Wednesday’s attack were brutally and abhorrently murdered. An eyewitness described seeing a pair of Chelsea boots hit the windows on the top floor of a double decker bus, of then seeing the bare feet of a woman crushed, chest-upwards, beneath the bus wheel. He described seeing a man in shock sitting slumped and unable to speak for minutes, before it was discovered that his girlfriend had been thrown over the side of the bridge and into the Thames in the attack.

Hearing these reports from the back seat of my car, I feel torn. At times, I have felt like a fraud—banging on through watering eyes and frustration at the maxims of peace and the sanctity of life which I add to a long virtual list of hashtags, Instagram captions and Facebook posts from the comfort of my room. Yes, I believe in the power of the virtual world. The messages we share form a very real, very powerful, and incredibly strong wall of solidarity which surpasses borders and strengthens nations. Yet, when the images of the London skyline fade back into memes, the devastation still remains. It only fades from our screens.

We do not forget these events. I believe there are few who are not pained by Wednesday’s events or go unshaken by scenes of similar horror throughout the world. And yet, for many, these events can seem removed from our own reality. They are forever present in our subconscious, but are relegated to a past time as we heed the calls for life to go on as ‘normal’. Our memories of these events will resurface as the lone phone rings and, though life must go on and we must not allow the terror to define us, we must not acclimatise ourselves to these macabre attacks. We must fight against terror by all means possible. The solidarity and unity which came in the aftermath of the attack at Westminster on Wednesday is the sentiment that must persist and prevail. For all that is uncontrollable in the world, this is an ideal that we can all work to achieve and for which we are all responsible.

London is my home, and that darkness and heat on the tube is ‘mine,’ and we will not buckle. I mourn those who lost their lives here on Wednesday, and I mourn the victims in Syria, Paris, Turkey, Belgium, and throughout the world. It pains me–all the blackness in the world. Yet, despite this darkness, we cannot ignore all the light.

 

Martin McGuinness is dead, but Northern Irish politics must go on

Eimer McAuley
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Martin McGuinness is dead, but Northern Irish politics must go on

The death of Martin McGuinness in the early hours of Tuesday morning has left Northern Ireland in shock. In our increasingly uncertain political landscape, he was the enduring factor.

He summed up his contribution to the peace process himself when he said he brought a “steadying influence” to Stormont. In less humble terms, his undeterred commitment to the future of Northern Ireland gave hope to a government that seems always on the brink of collapse. His belief that a better future lay ahead for Northern Ireland seemed for some like a guarantee that there would be.

McGuinness was born in Derry’s Bogside, where poverty, underemployment, Gerrymandering and every day discrimination were the consequences of being an Irish Catholic. When the civil rights movement turned to the violence of the Provisional IRA McGuinness rose quickly through their ranks. On Bloody Sunday he was the second in command of the IRA in Derry, aged just 22. From 1978 to 1982 he was believed to be the IRA chief of staff, committed totally to the campaign of violence. Even on being elected in 1982 he promised that only “the cutting edge of the IRA” could bring freedom to Ireland.

There’s been much talk of ensuring we don’t ‘whitewash’ history in the last 24 hours. It’s important to recognise that whilst to Gerry Adams McGuinness’s death meant ‘Ireland lost a hero’, to many victims of IRA violence we lost a terrorist who took the truth of murdered relatives to his grave. Despite coming from a Nationalist background, I could never ask the family of Patrick Gillespie—the man who was forced to act as a ‘human bomb’ by driving explosives into a British Army checkpoint—to pay tribute to McGuinness as an architect of the peace process.

Yet extraordinarily the relatives of some victims have. Jo Berry, whose father was killed by an IRA bomb in Brighton’s Grand Hotel, yesterday said “Martin McGuinness’s work was absolutely essential in securing peace. It’s because people like him have sat down with their enemies that we have peace today.”

Perhaps to ensure that we don’t underestimate the contribution that Martin McGuinness made to peace in Northern Ireland we have to accept that for some it is a contradiction in terms.

To my parents who lived through the troubles, at one point in time it would have been inconceivable that Martin McGuinness would describe himself as an “unapologetic republican” who “values very much the contribution Queen Elizabeth made to the peace process.” They certainly never thought they would be watching him shake the Queen’s hand on television or act as Deputy First Minister alongside Sir Ian Paisley in a partnership so successful they were known as ‘the chuckle brothers’.

However it is this transition between what is for some two irreconcilable roles in Irish politics—IRA leader to peacemaker—that made McGuinness a personification of the peace process itself. Perhaps that’s why it feels so surreal that he is gone, and that Stormont will go on without him.

I was born in February 1998, the same year that Martin McGuinness signed the Good Friday agreement. I experienced none of the violence that makes him, for some, unforgivable. However to use the eloquent words of Tony Blair, his “quiet insistence that the past should not define the future” meant that I could live Derry’s Bogside without the conflict that dominated the lives of my parent’s generation.

For me his legacy consists mainly of what he did when he was in government: scrapping the Eleven Plus, opposing the gay blood ban, calling for same-sex marriage, opposing welfare cuts and collapsing the government over the RHI scandal and the DUP campaign against the Irish language. These are the actions that have affected me, not bomb attacks. Perhaps then Ian Paisley Jr.’s sentiment that “it’s not how you start your life but how you finish it that matters” holds true.

Moral judgement on the life of Martin McGuinness isn’t mine to make, and in the coming weeks that shouldn’t be the focus of Northern Ireland’s politicians either. The parties of Stormont have a few more weeks left to negotiate a new government, and what we need in the negotiating room is the kind of leadership and capacity for reconciliation that makes up so much of Martin McGuinness’s legacy.

Though his death will have undoubtedly shaken the politicians of Stormont, there’s an important job to be done, and McGuinness would have been focused on getting on with it.

 

Oxford tops student survey for academic experience

Priya Khaira-Hanks
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Oxford tops student survey for academic experience

Oxford has risen to the top of mainstream universities in the academic experience category of the 2017 Times Higher Education Student Experience Survey.

The University is seventh in terms of overall student experience, dropping three places from last year.

Harper Adams University, located in Shropshire, specialises in the agricultural sector and tops both the academic experience and overall student experience rankings. However, Oxford is the highest ranking mainstream university for academic experience.

After Harper Adams, Loughborough University comes top for overall student experience, whilst the University of St Andrews is second to Oxford for academic experience.

Cambridge dropped 10 places to 29th in the overall student experience rankings, and comes sixth in terms of academic experience.

More than 15, 000 undergraduates took part in the survey, which involved rating their university across 21 measures, giving a ranking on a seven-point scale from “strongly agree” to “strongly disagree”.

Oxford came seventh for student social life and 13th for student facilities. Out of all the categories, it ranked lowest in student welfare, coming in at 19th.

A representative from the Oxford branch of Student Minds told Cherwell: “This reinforces our concern that structural welfare care at Oxford is sorely lacking. Students are largely unaware of where to turn during times of welfare crisis, or of the resources at their disposal. There is also very little focus on ways of maintaining student day-to-day mental health and welfare during term time.”

This reflects some student opinion, as fears persist that Oxford pursues academic excellence at the expense of pastoral care. A second-year St Catherine’s law undergraduate told Cherwell: “Academically, Oxford is really great with attentive tutors and well-known lecturers. But that doesn’t make up for the high-pressure environment that lacks a serious support system.”

Another St Catherine’s law undergraduate criticized the teaching system itself, stating: “Oxford’s lectures are good, but for some subjects badly planned in correspondence with the material studied by students.”

A second-year St Hugh’s history undergraduate commented in a similar vein, telling Cherwell: “I’ve been very fortunate with tutors here who are top of their game and genuinely so interested in their specialist areas, but I do often feel that they’re more invested in their own research than you.” However, she did note that Oxford students often forget how lucky they are seeing tutors almost one-on-one each week.

The University of Oxford has been contacted for comment.

Live-action ‘Beauty and the Beast’ is a ‘dose of weaponised nostalgia’

Jonnie Barrow
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Live-action ‘Beauty and the Beast’ is a ‘dose of weaponised nostalgia’

Disney’s current spate of live-action remakes of their own classic animated movies can be seen as a money-printing exercise, but most of these films have convincingly justified their own existence. Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland explored new 3D technologies and dug into the source material, while Maleficent fully embraced the darkness at the heart of Sleeping Beauty by borrowing ideas from Wicked. Cinderella was actually about Cinderella rather than a family of mice, and The Jungle Book, which is the best of the bunch, enriched the mythos of a familiar world by keeping some classic elements of the original, while still resolutely carving its own path. So how does Beauty and the Beast fare among such company? We all love the original, but is the new one any good?

I’ll try and illustrate the main issue the film has by comparing it to 2015’s Cinderella, which is probably its closest forbear. It is 25 minutes longer than the original, and most of that extra screen time colours in the backstories of Cinderella and the Step Mother, enriching the emotional arcs of the story surprisingly effectively. By contrast, the new Beauty and the Beast is a full 40 minutes longer than the original, even though it basically follows the original’s story beat-for-beat.

Where does all that extra time go? Well, firstly the songs themselves are literally slowed down—particularly egregious is the falteringly slow finale of ‘Gaston’. ‘Be Our Guest’, even though it’s the best Disney song ever (yes it is, you know it is), ironically outstays its welcome. As for the script, the screenwriters try to add extra plot to everything—it feels like they’ve just chucked material at a wall to see what sticks.

In particular, lots of extra time is paid to Gaston and to the cursed inhabitants of Beast’s castle. This serves to sideline Belle as a main character, despite the little bits of extra backstory she’s given. Emma Watson is certainly beautiful as Belle, and throws herself into the role admirably, but her singing voice is auto-tuned beyond belief and she simply isn’t given much to do. Yet her chemistry with the Beast is very sweet, and Dan Stevens does a fine job in the role.

The rest of the incredible assembled cast are also mostly wasted. Ian McKellen barely registers as Cogsworth, and Emma Thompson is an oddly irritating Mrs Potts—though neither of them are helped by their unattractive designs.

In fact, the production design for the whole film is frankly uninvolving. The sets feel incredibly artificial, the costumes even more so, and the omnipresent CGI highlights the falseness of the world more often than it convinces or delights.

Surprisingly, Ewan McGregor is pretty great as Lumière, however he is outshone by Luke Evans’ Gaston. In a stellar performance, he takes one of the original’s most problematic elements and makes him both completely believable and also an absolute hoot to watch.

Beauty and the Beast is ultimately a serviceable dose of weaponised nostalgia, as Disney pull out all the stops (in the most expensive movie musical ever made) to try and tug at your heartstrings and drain your wallet. My advice? Stay at home, and watch the original: the best thing this remake does is remind you how great the 1991 classic is.

My town and my gown: A Tale of (cycling, in) Two Cities

Rosa Thomas
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My town and my gown: A Tale of (cycling, in) Two Cities

I miss the peace and tranquillity of Oxford. “She doesn’t even go here”, someone heckles. I know, “peace” and “tranquillity” are not exactly the first words you associate with an Oxford degree. In fact, after eight weeks at Oxford, ‘home’ is a serene oasis. A magical world where deadlines don’t exist, fridges are filled with food and baths are something to be enjoyed as opposed to feared (anyone who has a bath in their accommodation that isn’t home to a small family of spiders is lying). But there is one aspect of life in which Oxford remains defiantly in the slow lane, cycling.

Cycling is the exception to the Oxford student experience, infamous for its intensity and speed. Only on a bike does it become the city of dreaming spires. English students meander on pastel-hued bikes, a laptop bag nestled in their basket, biologists cycle next to each other in oversized puffers and Adidas, and Phd students wheel their bikes along the pavement, Tesco bags swaying on the handle bars.

Having never cycled before going up to Oxford, when I returned home for the holidays I was eager to put my new cycling skills to the test and become a true London cyclist. How naïve I was I was.

Mark Twain once said of cycling, “Get a bicycle. You will not regret it, if you live.” In London “if” becomes the operative word. Cyclists in London are not just “people with a bike”. It isn’t just transport—it’s a way of life.

It’s not just that cyclists in London look different, and they do, sporting the latest fat-burning, stream-lining, techno gear. For one thing, cyclists in London have no mercy. They will mow you down. They won’t even hesitate.

For another, in Oxford, pedestrians, drivers and cyclists live in relative harmony. There are even cycle paths on the pavement where cyclists and pedestrians happily coexist. In London such kinship is unheard of. Pedestrians, motorists, and cyclists live in a perpetual state of pent up mutual antagonism.

That’s before you even consider the competition between cyclists themselves, their helmet mounted video surveillance primed to capture evidence of a crime yet to be committed. In Oxford other cyclists either almost apologetically overtake me or make their peace with a “leisurely” ride in my wake as I crawl towards the Radcam. In London seemingly everyone is a not-so-secret Tour de France wannabe. Streams of cyclists whizz past me, moving as a silver shoal, each fighting for the coveted yellow jersey.

Why is it that the cyclists of London act as competitive animals, trying to survive in a dog-eat-dog world, whereas those in Oxford adopt the air of a sunbathing cat, or in my case a mildly energetic sloth? It is certainly not that Oxford students are uncompetitive, or even unpractised. The 2015 Active People survey highlighted that twice as many Oxfordians as Londoners cycle at least three times a week. Is it then, that Oxford’s improved cycle-pedestrian relationship is a result of the fact that many pedestrians are also cyclists and therefore more sensitive to cyclists needs?

Perhaps instead it is that the life of the Oxford student is condensed into eight week bursts, so intense and busy that some might accuse us of letting the subtleties of life pass us by. I would argue that instead of numbing us to the outside world, we are forced to adapt, to grasp every opportunity we can to relax and destress, including our time spent on wheels.

Perhaps this is getting overly philosophical. Indeed, it seems near heresy to talk of the “relaxing” nature of Oxford. I’ve certainly never heard of anyone pinning for the calm of Oxford life. But one thing I do know is that my foray in to cycling in London definitely has me yearning for the streets of Oxford. Come April I’ll be looking forward to living life, quite literally, in the slow lane.

Why AFC Wimbledon is the people’s answer to modern football

George Steijger
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Why AFC Wimbledon is the people’s answer to modern football

“Where were you when you were us?” was the chant that resoundingly echoed around South-West London last Tuesday night.

15 years ago the Football Association approved the relocation of Wimbledon F.C from the London borough of Merton, 70 miles up the M1 to Milton Keynes, making this rivalry one of the most emotive in English football. It is also a pertinent reminder, not only of the insidious corporatisation of football, but of the responsibility of those who love the game to stand up against it.

This was no usual football match. The front of the matchday programme omitted all reference to Milton Keynes, the board members of Milton Keynes were shunned and recognition of the word ‘Dons’ in their name was refused, even by the scoreboard. These seemingly petty provocations were in fact a war-cry on behalf of all football fans.

The supporters of the old Wimbledon, betrayed by the owners of their club, have avenged this injustice, through the formation of AFC Wimbledon, a fan-owned club, which at the time was denounced by the F.A as being “not in the wider interests of football.” The club has since experienced a meteoric rise through the leagues, maintaining the ‘one member one vote’ system. Tuesday was the first meeting between Wimbledon and MK in London, with the hosts emerging as the 2-0 victors. Their victory over ‘the franchise’ must be understood as a victory for football.

The footballing world is in crisis. The tyranny of billionaire owners, absurd transfer fees and spiralling debt has turned fans into lucrative customers and their once-proud clubs into toys for the rich. The collapse of Sepp Blatter’s corrupt dictatorship as president of FIFA merely revealed the tip of the iceberg: money is destroying the beautiful game.

Whether this be the Arsenal shareholder Stan Kroenke’s remark that the willingness of supporters to travel far and wide for their team demonstrated “customer loyalty”, enabling the Gunners to maintain the highest season-ticket prices in the Premier League; the mismanagement of sides like Leeds United and Portsmouth that precipitated their falls from grace; or even the increasing success of many franchise teams, including Red Bull Leipzig who have undermined the principle of sustainability at the heart of German football. From Leipzig to Leeds, money talks.

In this dire state that modern football finds itself, both financially and ethically, it is refreshing to witness fans taking a stand against corporate despotism. Indeed, AFC Wimbledon are blazing a trail through the footballing wilderness, demonstrating that clubs can be run successfully, sustainably, and most importantly for their local community.

This worldwide confrontation between commercial interests and supporters was played out in microcosm by two mid-table League One sides in South-West London.

For the first time since the formation of AFC Wimbledon, in 2002, the ‘real’ Dons defeated their bitter rivals Milton Keynes in a league fixture, at their West London home ground, Kingsmeadow.

The intense animosity between the two clubs demanded a footballing spectacle on the pitch, but fans were disappointed by nervous, lethargic performances from both sets of players in the first half. At half-time the talking-points were few and far-between.

As the whistle signalled the start of the second-half, Wimbledon emerged the dominant team; buoyed by a fervent home crowd, they were the first to every ball and produced a dynamic display. This second-half dominance was finally translated onto the scoreboard, as Dons midfielder, Jake Reeves, struck just after the hour mark. Moments later, forward Lyle Taylor slotted in a second. Wimbledon goalkeeper James Shea then produced some smart saves, allowing the Dons to see out the match comfortably and secure a 2-0 win. The home fans were jubilant: their club sat six points ahead of the franchise they hate so vehemently.

The success of AFC Wimbledon is hugely encouraging for the many of us who have become increasingly disillusioned by the modern game. Here is an example of a club once decimated by debt and corporate greed, now run by a dedicated contingent of supporters, rightly claiming their league position over those who have tried to buy it. Clubs across the globe should learn from this ‘pub team’ and realise that supporters are its lifeblood.

After the final whistle and the jubilant fans had left their seats, there remained unfurled in the home end a banner which read “In The Wider Interests Of Football”, parodying the now-infamous remark of the F.A. from fifteen years before.

Wimbledon is the people’s answer to modern football.

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