Thursday, May 8, 2025
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Review: The Merchant of Venice

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★★★☆☆

This classical Shakespearian performance holds a lot of promise but also leaves much to be desired. The promise stands in the guise of strong talent especially from the female leads of Portia, Maureen Lenker, and Nerissa, Dina Tsesarsky. Their grasp of Elizabethan language and close relationship was so natural and strong, that their performances lent credence to those alternative literary theorists who see Shakespeare as an early feminist.  This was reinforced completely by Lenker’s later turn as Balthazar, Antonio’s advocate in the court room scene.

For those unfamiliar with the play, Antonio, a merchant and the titular character, loses all his wealth in shipwrecks, thereby faulting on a loan to Shylock, a vehemently despised Jewish money lender. In revenge of Antonio and friends callous taunting, Shylock then demands penalty in one pound of Antonio’s flesh. James Golding’s Antonio was strong at first, drawing on the characters wisdom to create audience sympathy but by the final scenes his lack of fear and distress made me almost ambivalent to his fate; bloody or not.

The numerous racist remarks of the piece fit almost effortlessly within the rest of the performance, highlighting again the strength of the general cast’s hold on the dialect, albeit with such distressing subject matter. The religious divide is made greater still by Ben Margalith’s remarkable Shylock. His mannerisms alienate him from all other Christian characters and he pours passions into his best lines; “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?”

Some elements however are ineffective. The secondary romance between Jessica and Lorenzo feels hollow as disappointingly does the central relationship of Portia and Bassanio. They stand on unequal footing both in performance ability and sentiment; Henry Wong’s Bassanio is too comical in his courtship and their kiss lacked passion of any kind.   

The play’s greatest fault was a lack of harmony. Every scene transition was slow and stilted even though there were barely any props, giving the impression of a series of GCSE drama pieces. It was clear the first act could’ve used more run-throughs although some redemption arrived in the farcical Princes of Morocco and Aragon both played by Charles Dennis, in different hats of course, whose accents and swordplay drew much laughter. With a marvellous Shylock and female leads it was ultimately a fine stab at Shakespeare, just not an outstanding one. 

 

Interview: Raymond Blanc

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Speaking to Raymond Blanc is a bit like speaking to France itself. Except, as he’s only too eager to point out, he has a sense of hu­mour. “I can laugh about myself, zee French cannot laugh about themselves, zee English can.”

I like him already.

And it’s a sense of humour that’s infectious. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from one of the most respected chefs in Britain whose Michelin-starred country manor in Oxford­shire, Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons, has been attracting culinary enthusiasts from all over the world for almost 25 years. From TV series to bestselling books, Blanc has had his finger in lots of pies, despite being entirely self-taught. My stereotypical preconceptions of Blanc as a Frenchman prepared me for him to enter with baguette proudly in hand, beret firmly on head and body buried beneath a sea of red, white and blue. In reality he was sporting none of these colours and I was greeted with one of the most optimistic and energetic 63-year-olds I’ve ever met.

So Raymond Blanc doesn’t seem to be too much like the French stereotype – until he opens his mouth and a thick accent fires out with full force (despite his somewhat dubious claim that somebody once mistook him for a Liverpudlian). He’s romantic, though more in his love of family and people than in the sen­sual sense of the word (in fact he’s probably one of the least pervy Frenchmen I’ve ever encoun­tered, though he does state with confidence, “I love sex”). For him food is about sharing and reconnecting with nature, with “terroir.” His passion for these values seems genuine and it’s contagious as he bounces around in his talk at The Union like there’s no tomorrow. Except to­morrow is exactly what he has faith in. “I’m an optimist and I believe in people.”

So what is it about France that first inspired Blanc’s passion for food? “There’s this deep un­derstanding about seasonality, about produce, about creating a moment for the family. Food was a totally integrated part of life for me from a very early stage. It was about family, about joy. It was the greatest introduction to food I could possibly have had.”

And there’s the difference between France and Britain. But Blanc believes, sadly, that this is changing; “We are losing a great heritage. Women are working now; they have to be every­thing – the lover, the carer, the cook, so now there’s very little cooking done at home. France would do very well to look at Great Britain and the nightmare that it’s caused us, so as not to make the same mistake.” At first I think he’s referring to France when he speaks of the “nightmare”; he is, of course, quick to correct me. “No no, in Britain!” Excusez-moi, Mon­sieur, a nightmare?

“Malnutrition, a terrible food chain, ill health, chemi­cals everywhere in food, a food chain you cannot trust. Look what’s happened with the contamination of horse meat.” Okay, point made.

I can’t resist asking about the reaction to this whole scandal by a nation hardly averse to tucking in to the odd bit of horse themselves. Suf­fice to say that Marie-Antoinette’s well-known cliché “let them eat cake” has now become, he tells me with a smile, “let them eat horse. Let them laugh a bit at your expense, it’s part of L’Entente Cordiale you know.” Well, I said he had a sense of humour.

So what’s the worst thing Blanc’s ever eaten? Fish fingers. “I will remember it all my life. I wanted to taste first hand some British gas­tronomy. So I ordered my fish fingers and it ar­rived in about 40 seconds. The waiter poured some vinegar onto my chips and I started to cough. My chips were grey, like the weather outside.” And even worse? “The fish was square! In our fish you have the head, the tail, it looks like a fish”. Fish that looks like fish? A bizarre concept indeed.

Yet Blanc is optimistic about the future of British cuisine. “I think the future of the top gastronomy is exciting. Because what the French have is a heritage. Whereas Britain doesn’t.” So this is where the real difference lies between France, home to frogs’ legs, and Brit­ain, home to fish fingers. “But what Britain has is a multi-cultural approach to food, and that is its strength. I think in the long term Britain is going to be an even more creative country, because it doesn’t have that notion of tradition which you have to drive along. Now the British are understanding the true values of gastrono­my, produce, seasonality, so now it’s exciting. I see the pubs becoming the hubs of localities.”

When I ask him more generally about cul­tural differences he goes off on one about the Normans and the Latins and the Anglo-Saxons and all of a sudden I feel like I’m in a history lesson. “In every good British person there’s at least 50 per cent of a Frenchman.” He’s clearly more than a little proud of his heritage; yet he’s forthcoming in admit­ting their weaknesses. “The English can listen but the French can’t. I think the French have a stronger pride. T h e French are much more outspoken…the Brit­ish are more prudish.” And then in a flash he’s back to his more patriotic side: “of course we play very good rugby, but you do as well, although you keep losing at the moment.” Again, it seems 30 years in Britain has provided him with a sufficient command of dry British humour. Blanc knows how to take the piss.

Fortunately he knows how to do so to him­self too. I ask him how his career began, ex­pecting glamorous tales of being spotted by a world-famous chef who just knew Blanc would make it big. Not quite the case. “I didn’t be­come a chef, I became the best cleaner, then I became the best glass washer, then I became the best waiter, but then I told the chef who I saw as a colleague that his sauces were a bit too salty, and he smashed a frying pan in my face, which broke my jaw and my teeth and I ended up in hospital. So at the age of 21 I’d lost my job, my teeth and my ego, and I was exiled to Great Britain.” Blanc is noth­ing short of hyperbolic. “So obviously I didn’t come here to conquer!”

Yet his “exile” gave him the chance to get nimble in the kitchen. “From the moment I took up the frying pan I knew where my destiny was. The same frying pan which knocked me down was really the one which was instrumental to my own success.”

So what, for Blanc, is the key to success? “Talent is im­portant, but hard work, dedication, total con­sistency – and of course working with people, and curiosity; ask questions until you’re exhausted!” I take it that’s the go-ahead to carry on grilling him.

I’m interested to know how much input Blanc actually has on his restaurants these days. “Quite a lot, I as­sure you.” He’s proud of his work on Le Man­oir. “I designed all my rooms, I designed my gardens. I’m a control freak really. There’s this com­plete investment in creating some­thing beautiful, which of course is going to make money. After all, it’s a business. But there’s a very power­ful ethics within it. Everyone must not only share it but own it; because if you own it, it’s so much easier for me as well, because it’s yours.” In fact Blanc is anything but your standard businessman, railing against the corporate life with almost utopian dreams of a better world.

However, this didn’t stop Blanc from launch­ing a TV career with his series The Restaurant in 2007. But Blanc claims he wasn’t keen. “The BBC’s idea was to choose the worst possible misfits who couldn’t possibly cook, so at the end I had to open a restaurant with two or three hundred thousand pounds of my own money, and to work with people who couldn’t cook. It messed up my life for about three or four years.” But a turning point came in the last series and he opened up a cocktail bar with the winners. Blanc has since starred in two other series, Kitchen Secrets and The Very Hun­gry Frenchman which sees Blanc returning to France to show us the country that inspired his love of food.

I’m aware that Blanc missed his daughter’s wedding in Barbados because he was too busy with work. How hard is it to balance personal life with public life? “Well I’ve had two divorces and two strokes. It’s tough, it is tough, of course it is, yeah.” Blanc swiftly tries to shift the con­versation away and moves onto talking about his passion for people.

“When I do an interview, I connect with some­one and hopefully the interviewer is listening. If you weren’t attentive I’d walk out. You know if the interviewer is listening and if they’ve done their homework.” Bloody good job I’d done my homework!

So gastronomy for Blanc is a means of con­necting with others, it is a “people business.” It should be inclusive (though I’m a little du­bious as to how far a student overdraft would stretch during a weekend away at Le Manoir). “Gastronomy is as much a beautiful, simple tomato salad as a three star Michelin meal. Gastronomy is fundamental to good life, to better society, to better sharing, to better com­munication, to better health. It connects with everything, and if we start to value food better in this country we will have maybe 50 billion fewer problems than we have at the moment.”

So it turns out gastronomy is more than just a question of shoving a sausage in a frying pan; it is a question of enhancing quality of life and, for Blanc, achieving a moment of perfection. “If you’re very lucky like I was, then after hav­ing built something up, layer upon layer, day after day, month after month, you may reach intensity, you may touch it for a few seconds, and that’s the most intense moment of your life. And you will know it yourself; you do, you truly do, whether it’s an interview or a piece of writing or whatever.” Now I may not be experi­encing the most intense moment of my life as he says this but I am nevertheless feeling posi­tively inspired.

Blanc tells me about the Art de Vivre Festival he is planning for Le Manoir, a way of giving people a chance to reconnect with the environ­ment and encouraging young people to speak out. The festival is Blanc’s own way of helping to promote change; he has a strong vision for the future and he’s not afraid to voice it. “I see things becoming more ethical. I see people embracing things, discovering technologies, forming dynamism, and we have to listen very carefully to food. Two million young kids are dying every year. Is it acceptable? Is it really ac­ceptable? It’s not, it is not.”

It seems Blanc’s vision extends far beyond the borders of the kitchen. It is about changing the way we perceive food. Yet I can’t help think­ing there’s something slightly contrived in all this – does he really believe in all these phrases he’s churning out? Can one of the most success­ful businessmen in Britain really claim to be anti-business? Then again, maybe I’m just be­ing a British cynic. In which case, Britian, we’ve got a lot to learn from Blanc.

Give me horse meat any day

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We all drank milk from a boob at one point so why all the fuss about a bit of horse meat? They eat it all the time in France, and besides, we Britons eat a lot of things that other nationalities find bizarre. Ever tried ex­plaining a sausage roll to a visiting American student? After explaining the definition of the word “stodgy” you then have to get them to un­derstand why it is a good idea to wrap up some ground up grey pork in pastry so flaky it re­sembles eczema. There’s a reason why Marmite hasn’t made it across the pond.

And what about the British obsession with ridiculous names for tasty food items, so that they make sound as appetising as licking an old man’s toes. Spotted dick, anyone? Toad in a hole?

Yet everyone is going crazy about digesting some equine. Maybe we’ve just been missing out on a perfectly tasty animal? And why end with horse meat? Let’s expand our taste buds to embrace all the other wonderful food that the world has to offer. With food prices rock­eting and arable land being overworked, we should all open our horizons.

Don’t worry if you’re not sure where to start, though. Here at Cherwell, we’ve compiled a list of the planet’s delicacies that might not have made it to the white cliffs of Dover.

EUROPE

First stop – continental Europe. We already know they’ve got some weird stuff over there, because they already eat horse meat, so it should be no surprise that the bizarre delicacies don’t stop with Black Beauty.

SPAIN: CALAMARES EN SU TINTA

“Hey honey – what’s for dinner?” “Oh just some squid stewed in its own ink. Nothing special.” “Mmm my favourite!” Said no British couple ever. But who knows – maybe next week we’ll discover that blackberry juice was actually just flavoured squid ink and we’ve been eating it all along. Calamares en su tinta looks like worms wallowing in crude oil and yet it’s all the rage over in Spain becuaes of the salty fla­vour and dark colour that the ink adds to the squid. Don’t worry if you’re not sure where to buy squid ink from. You can harvest it yourself if you don’t mind squeezing it out of a whole dead squid. Yummy! It’s often served with rice, so could be an alternative to the Friday Indian takeaway… or not. Let’s go with not.

GERMANY: WEISSWURST

How to explain weisswurst? Well, the descrip­tion of this white sausage doesn’t sound too bad on the surface. It’s a mixture of ground veal and bacon, flavoured with parsley and onion that’s rolled into a sausage shape. Nowt wrong with that. Until you then see that they encase it in something that can only be adequately de­scribed as a condom. Supposedly it is a form of clear pig skin, but it looks like a condom and it feels like a condom. It’s wrapped round the sausage and is brought to the table where the end is cut in a special condom opening ritual, before the sausage is sucked out through its skin/condom.

GERMANY: LEBERKASE

A special mention should also go to the other Bavarian treat of leberkäse. It literally trans­lates as ‘liver cheese’, which is very misleading as it is essentially a slightly congealed pork loaf that tastes of neither liver nor cheese. It’s nor­mally had with a bread roll and is surprisingly tasty, but I still don’t expect Subway to start selling liver cheese any time soon.

NORWAY: REINDEER

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny nose, and if you ever saw him you should butcher him and boil his flesh in a soup. Rein­deer is all the craze in Norway and let’s face it – deer are just horses with stupid hats. It prob­ably isn’t long until Britain follows suit and Magdalen’s deer park will stop being a tourist attraction and start being a place where peo­ple flock to choose their dinner like lobsters in a tank. It turns out that reindeer is a very ver­satile meat. Norwegians have reindeer steak, reindeer stew and even reindeer pizza. Ru­dolph better watch out next Christmas…

ICELAND: COD LIVER OIL

Iceland the supermarket has been involved with the horsemeat scandal, and when it comes to dodgy food, the country closely fol­lows its namesake. We’ve all heard about the health benefits of cod liver oil, but the Icelan­dics take this even further and pour the stuff all over their breakfast. Aside from the fact that it tastes like re-digested vomit, cod liver oil has been linked to increases in IQ along with a huge variety of other health benefits. I’m not saying you should pour it over your Shreddies like milk, but if you want a taste of Iceland it could be a good place to start.

ICELAND: DUNG SMOKED FISH

Iceland is also home to another delicacy that must surely be destined for our shores some­time soon. Dung smoked fish is a fine fresh fishy treat that is famed for – believe it or not – its dung smoked flavour. There’s only so much time that us Brits can continue with the luxury of smoking salmon over oak chips. Dung is where it’s at… apparently.

ITALY: CASU MARZU

We’ve all been there – that expensive piece of cheese you bought a couple of weeks ago has started to grow its own colony of bright green mould and rather than throw it away you just scrape it off and continue munching. Well, imagine if instead of scraping off mould you are brushing off maggots and – hey presto! – you’ve got the Italian speciality, Casu Marzu. Despite tasting quite similar to pecorino, it is made by actively encouraging worms to make their home among the cheese. As they begin to decompose the cheese, the best flavour is re­leased. It gives a whole new meaning to cheesy spaghetti.

ASIA

Far away and known for bringing spiritual expe­riences to middle-class, over-privileged teenag­ers on a gap year, the different environment and culture makes for some very different food.

THAILAND: DEEP FRIED CHICKEN FEET

In today’s recession, more people are buying chicken thighs and legs as opposed to the hugely more expensive chicken breast. Mean­while in Thailand they’re one step ahead of the budget game and eating crispy, breadcrumbed chicken feet. Think of all the chicken feet we must throw away as a country every year? Who knows. Maybe this time next year we’ll be buy­ing the Chicken Feet Bonus Deluxe Box from KFC for that extra crunchy bite.

INDONESIA: CIVET CAT COFFEE

Everyone likes filter coffee, right? Well, would you still like it if it was filtered through a cat? No? Well then civet cat coffee isn’t for you. Pound for pound, these are the most expen­sive coffee beans known to mankind. The cats eat the coffee beans, then some poor soul has the job of going through their delightful drop­pings in order to remove the beans from the poop. You can rest assured that the beans are cleaned before being put into a hot drink, but all the cleaning in the world will never undo the knowledge that it has been inside a cat’s anus.

VIETNAM: BALUT

How do you like your eggs in the morning? If the answer to that question isn’t “fertilised”, then we could have a problem. In Vietnam, they leave a fertilised duck egg to grow for up to 21 days until the little duckling is at optimum tastiness before it is cooked like a hardboiled egg, cracked open and eaten with a pinch of salt and pepper.

THE BEST OF THE REST

Outside of Asia and Europe, there’s still plenty of food to feast on.

MEXICO: CUITLACOCHE

Corn! The Americans love it! It makes popcorn! You can have it on a barbecue! And don’t you love it when it starts to go off and develops that dark black, potent mould that’s just so great with a meal. It’s so tasty you just want to keep it in a can.

Oh wait – no. Black corn mould in a can is one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever heard of. Why would you want to eat that? Sorry Mexi­co. Burritos are great and all, but even the com­parison with horsemeat isn’t going to make this sound appealing.

CONGO: FRIED GRASSHOPPER

There are plenty of reasons as to why we Britons should start embracing the afternoon snack of fried grasshopper. Firstly, the fact that it’s fried means it’s dead before you eat it, because nothing’s more annoying than when you’re trying to eat something and keeps jumping off the plate. Secondly, grasshoppers are green so it probably counts as one of your five a day. Thirdly, the Congolese have tons of them so they probably they wouldn’t mind exporting a few to our shores at a reasonable price. I’m sure the streams of gap year students would revel at the chance to have fried grasshopper arriv­ing in their care packages from mummy, as it reminds them of the time they were volunteer­ing in an undiscovered African tribe.

EGYPT: GOAT’S BRAIN

Egypt have got the double whammy here of unfamiliar foods. Despite goats being a popu­lar feature of our petting zoos, they are a rare feature on our plates. Given that people seem incapable of telling apart horse and cow, I’m sure most people would have no issue eating goat if they were told it was lamb.

The brains part might be a harder sell. Of­ten served in a hollowed out skull (of the goat, I should add), it is more the lack of taste that proves a problem, but it coulds still probably be a very popular budget option amongst the student population one day. Who knows, may­be digesting some brain cells will somehow undo the damage done by last night’s trip to Wahoo.

AUSTRALIA: CROCODILE

Humans eating crocodiles is a good thing. How else will those snappy post-modern dinosaurs know their place? The main problem with get­ting crocodiles to feature on the menu in Eng­land isn’t their taste (they taste like very tough beef/horse) but they’re rather difficult to hunt and kill (it’s something to do with their man-eating tendencies). Still, as we human beings get better at hunting, crocodile steaks (along­side fabulous handbags) will surely find their place in the British home in no time.

Try it out?

Forget everything I said in the beginning – the rest of the world is just crazy. It would be great to be able to see something positive come out of this whole horsey experience and say that from now on we would all expand our taste buds and embrace all the other wonderful food that the world has to offer, but no. Just no. Let’s face it – horse meat isn’t that bad. We might have been eating it for ages without anyone no­ticing, but I can’t see how anyone would not no­tice if their Eggs Benedict had been made with an unborn duckling. Scotch eggs and haggis might be a bit weird, but at least we don’t drink coffee that’s come out of a cat’s rear end.

There is one good thing, though – now if ever the worst does happen and there’s a worldwide shortage of bangers and mash, we know ex­actly which countries to avoid in our hunger-driven quest for food.

Preview: Princess Ida

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Cherwell’s verdict: “A tight, fun blast from the past”

My first impression, when I walked into the rehearsal for Gilbert and Sullivan’s Princess Ida was that all involved have not only put a lot of work into their production, but it has definitely paid off. Not only that, but it’s even made them closer. The responses are quick and the cooperation and synchronisation are almost without fault, even at this early stage. The three male characters who disguise themselves as women to gain entrance into Princess Ida’s university have established a repartee which allows them to have fun with their material. Then the Princess appears and the interaction, again, is fluid and relaxed. The opportunities for comic effect are used to their full extent.    

What is also extremely important is the cooperation between actors and music. Pleasant and clear voices, at least to a layman, and accurate colourful musical accompaniment seem to be characteristic. Most importantly, the synchronisation between the singers and the pianist was tight and the conductor’s interpretation of the pieces appears to be spot on. Similarly, the act of combining acting and singing – which can often be quite difficult, especially in a performance which relies so much on physical comedy – is done well and with apparent ease. 

After the preview I was asked, “Do you know anything about G & S?” and I had to shake my head in the negative. I was, however, left with the sentiment that I didn’t need to in order to enjoy this production. The group seems to have created a performance which can appeal to anyone with a sense of humour. This in itself is an admirable achievement by the Oxford University Gilbert & Sullivan Society; as a production put on by fans could easily have turned insular. At least the atmosphere of a well-oiled theatre troupe, if not true potential to be an exciting production, has made me curious to see what their creation will be like when complete. 

It is going to be performed in the Corpus Christi Auditorium, which is a beautiful venue and one fully suited to the needs of the production. We have also been promised – or as good as – elaborate costumes, which will be fully in keeping with the comedic, even farcical tone of the work.

A princess and a radical

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When Her Royal Highness Basmah Bint Saud first enters the Gladstone Library of the Oxford Union, where we are to meet before her speech, I’m surprised. The dissident Saudi Princess, human rights campaigner and women’s activist is small and bird-like, glamorous, wearing stiletto heels and a leopard-print scarf. She is being told about the college coats of arms that decorate the ceiling. None of the all-women colleges are up there, her guide says. “Why?” There’s a pause. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” she laughs.

Despite being 115th daughter of the former King Saud, and niece of the current King, Her Royal Highness grew up far from the Court of Al Saud. Her father was overthrown by his brother Prince Faisal in 1964, and the Princess’s mother“fled with her children to Lebanon. When civil war broke out in the country the family moved again to England, where the young Princess was educated. She later studied in Switzerland, before returning to Beirut to take a degree in Medicine, Psychology and English.

Since then, HRH has been a vocal advocate for reform in Saudi Arabia. Ruled by an absolute monarchy, the country takes Islamic law as the basis for its system of governance. Corporal punishment is still practised, with flogging regularly imposed as a sentence by the courts. Male guardianship is the norm, and tribal customs prizing namus (honour) underpin the treatment of women in society. In 2009, the World Economic Forum ranked Saudi Arabia 130th out of 134 countries for gender parity, though there have been limited reforms in recent years. In 2011 women were finally granted the right to vote.

As a young woman, HRH spent time in rural Saudi Arabia observing, and writing about, women’s rights on the ground. She is keen to point out however that women’s inequality is not specific to that country. “Everything hits women hardest, even here.” She points to gender inequality in France, Britain: “Women are women everywhere. We are second-class citizens, everywhere. It is a global issue.”

But is it not particularly bad in Saudi Arabia? “Look,” she tells me, pausing. “A Muslim man in Britain who keeps his woman veiled keeps her at home. Can British law bring her out? So what is the difference between her living here, and in Saudi Arabia? At least we know we have no laws, nothing to protect us. At least we know we’re not free on the street. But you don’t.”

What she offers is a radical solution. “At the end of the day, matters are not resolved by doing speeches. Everybody just shakes hands, and I go back home, you go back home, and nothing changes – there’s no implementation of anything we say.

“I think if the ball starts from the top of the mountain, by the time it rolls down to the bottom of the valley it will be so huge it will cover everything. Like an avalanche. It has to start here, at the top,” she looks around at the oak-panelled library of the Oxford Union. “It will roll down to our country. It has to be global. It has to be a global pressure.”

She is wary of focusing particularly on the problems of Saudi Arabia, wary of directly criticising the monarchy. Asked about the possibility of revolution, she says: “people think Saudi Arabia is immune from revolution. Everyone thought the whole Gulf was immune from revolution – but nobody is.” But she moves the topic onto a global scale, as with France and women’s rights, telling me how she had just come from Edinburgh, where she got into a conversation with a shopkeeper: “he said, ‘where are you from?’ and I said, you know, Saudi Arabia, Beirut, Jordan, etc. and he brought up revolution. He said, ‘you know, we’re looking for our freedom, too – our independence!’ And I looked at him, and thought I keep hearing of revolution everywhere. And now I hear it in Scotland!”

Her voice grows quiet. “It’s a global feeling. It’s a global status. Nobody’s happy.”

Initially her uncle, the Saudi King, encouraged her to write, she says. Out on the street, with the people. “I started shedding light on so many problems that he wasn’t aware of. I was like a tool, like a flashlight. The people around him weren’t transmitting that message.” But in recent years she has begun to be more heavily censored by the state as a result of becoming increasingly outspoken. “I became a nuisance to everybody, and then… And then I said I would come here, and relieve [them].” There is a pause. “I really don’t want to disturb the equilibrium in Saudi Arabia,” she says.

She is highly critical of conservative Imams, however. A scholar of Islam, she believes that the Quran “just hasn’t been interpreted by the right people.” Saudi Arabia’s legal system is based on Sharia law, which is interpreted by individual judges and the Council of Senior Religious Scholars, who all exercise sizeable discretionary power. HRH bin Saud argues that education is central to the people’s willing acceptance of what she feels is often essentially incorrect interpretation of the Qur’an. “The Qu’ran is written in very traditional and old language. To be able to translate it into a common language…” she pauses, and changes tack. “You have to write books, and educate children in schools.” The emergence in the past 20 years of an “intolerant” education system has taken Saudi Arabia to “a completely different corner of the world”; a world of intolerance that she says “doesn’t exist in Islam”.

She blames extremist factions for bias in the Saudi education system: “Everything has moved towards religious extremes.” She mentions September 11th. “Mr Bush said to crusaders, ‘battle’. He made that speech which set the tone, and everyone hung onto it. Otherwise, we would never have gone down that road.”

In the course of our interview, the Princess flows rapidly from radical to conservative; from respectful of the status quo, to contemptuous of the sluggish pace of reform. Sometimes it seems that she’s sticking to a script, a set of phrases and thoughts that have been pre-approved. It’s a tricky balancing act, between what I imagine are her real inclinations, and the relative conformism she has decided to adopt.

At the picture session before our interview, the Princess whips on a headscarf, “for the sake of the media”. This exemplifies her approach to activism. I can’t help but wish that this incredibly intelligent and powerful woman before me would just leap off the tightrope and take a stand.

She doesn’t say anything that will upset too many people, and when we come close, she deftly steers the conversation away from anything too heavy. In our final moments, I ask what keeps her awake at night. At this point my stomach rumbles loudly, and I apologise. She laughs: “What keeps me awake at night? Other people’s stomachs rumbling, when mine is full.”

Walls of Jericho

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Oxford feminists in publicity drive

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Throughout 6th week, St Hilda’s College is hosting its annual Gender Equality Festival, during which a wide range of free events will be hosted at the college.

The festival was established soon after the college became mixed in 2008. St Hilda’s Women’s Officer Alice Holohan describes it as “a way to celebrate the college’s inclusive history in a progressive and positive fashion”.

Daytime speakers include Dean Vivienne Faull, Dean of York Minster and the first female dean in the Church of England, who will speak on the position of women in the Church after a measure to allow women to become bishops was rejected in November.The college will also host evening events such as a life drawing class, a stand-up comedy evening and a JCR v MCR debate.

Helen Reid, a St Hilda’s student assisting with the organisation of the festival, commented, “It’s a chance for students to be confronted with questions of gender and sexual politics which we are all, perhaps often subconsciously, confronted with and which affect us on an everyday basis.”

Reid continued, “I hope the festival will spark thought and discussion about gender equality within the student body, through showcasing successful and intelligent men and women who believe in the principle and understand its complexity.”

Another recent student-run feminist campaign to attract media attention is the ‘Who needs feminism?’ campaign, organised by WomCam. Participants completed the slogan, “I need feminism because…” in whiteboards, and were photographed holding their responses outside the Exam Schools, Radcliffe Camera, Radcliffe Science Library and at a Wadham based WomCam meeting.

Following the success of the first event on the fourth of February, a second was held on the seventh, bringing the total number of photographs taken to just under 500. WomCam officer Rebekka Hammelsbeck, who organised the campaign, told Cherwell, “WomCam organised the “Who needs feminism?” campaign because we believe that feminism is still important – and not just in some abstract sense but important for us right here and right now. Feminism is a broad and diverse movement as well as positive and empowering, and that is exactly what the pictures show.”

Hammelsbeck detailed the “huge response” the movement gained online, adding, “On Facebook we “reached” about 200,000 people in the week after our photo-shoots, Mary Beard was tweeting about us and a couple of pictures circulated on Tumblr with over 70,000 notes.”

The ‘Who needs feminism?’ campaign was also staged at Balliol College as part of the JCR Welfare Week; women’s officer Alice Beech estimated the number of participants to be approximately 30-40. She noted, “There was quite a variety of people there – not just students who speak out regularly about feminism or sexism, but also some who might have unfairly been assumed to have no interest in the matter and that was especially encouraging”.

Emily Troup, also a women’s officer at Balliol, commented, “Additionally I think what the campaign exposed was the backlash feminists sometimes experience, particularly from other women. Feminism isn’t a dirty word and the movement itself affects everyone, regardless of gender; I think almost the unwillingness of some students to write a board showed more than those who did.”

During the JCR Welfare Week, Balliol also hosted an all-women’s self defence class titled, “Doughnuts in the Dojo”; Troup explained, “We all celebrated afterwards with a large amount of confectionery.”

Classics Mods become less intense

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Classical Honour Moderations, the tests which second-year classicists face in Hilary of second year, are widely known as some of the most gruelling examinations in Oxford. Yet this year, for the first time, Mods will take place over ten days, rather than the usual eight. The change in the exam format may spell the end of Mods’ reputation as the hardest set of exams in the world. 

Candidates will sit between 10 and 11 papers in the period spanning Monday of 7th week to Friday of 8th, with a break over the weekend, rather than between Wednesday of 7th and Wednesday of 8th with a Saturday exam, as in previous years. 

Last year’s Examiners’ Report explains the rationale for the change: “A number of candidates were identified as having Specific Learning Difficulties; markers were instructed to note this (explicitly, in their notes) in reaching their judgements. The Examination Schools has requested that the examination timetable should in future be extended, to avoid SLD candidates having two papers on one day; the Faculty has therefore agreed that from 2013 Honour Moderations should begin on Monday rather than Wednesday of 7th week. 

Apart from the entrance exams to the Chinese civil service, Mods were traditionally held to be the the most intense exams in the world. The New Statesman claimed in 1999, “There is some debate over which is the hardest exam in the world. Honour Moderations in Classics, again at Oxford, were the holders of the title for years, with their 12 three-hour exams over six days. They were usurped this century by the Chinese civil service entrance examination, a ten-day, all-day ritual.” 

The new extended time frame for the exams further weakens their claim to be amongst the hardest in the world. Charlie Greig, a second year at Exeter about to sit the newly altered Mods, expressed his disappointment, saying, “It would have been nice to have done ‘the hardest exams in the world’, simply for bragging rights.” He also pointed out that having more time is not necessarily better, as “It will make a shit time even longer.” 

Camilla Simpson, another second-year, expressed her relief at the changes: “The format change is such a relief for everyone doing Classics. As impressive as the claim to being the toughest exams in the world is, I shouldn’t think there’s a single second-year Classicist who would rather maintain this title and not have the extended exam period.” 

Simpson’s greatest concern with the format is that the exams end on a Thursday rather than a Wednesday. “We’re being deprived of the last Park End of term, something which I’m sure will be more upsetting to most of us than the loss of the title,” she explained. 

Classicists who have already sat the exams were split in their opinions. Ronan Magee, a third-year classicist, said he had “No particularly strong opinions except that I’m very very glad not to be doing them again!” 

Tom Painter, in the fourth year of his Classics degree, commented, “I don’t think the extension of the period makes a huge difference; Mods are still very, very hard! One thing is sure, that objectively speaking 10 or 11 papers is still more than any other subject.”

One third-year classicist commented, “This is a sad development and will sap Honour Moderations of much of their rigour and prestige. Then again, I suppose tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.” 

Tutors have also pointed out that the exams remain extremely difficult. Professor Stephen Harrison, a tutor at Corpus Christi, concurred: “The extension of the timetable of Classics Moderations this year does not mean they are any less challenging for our students. There is still no longer or denser undergraduate examination known to me. I wish all the candidates (especially my own students!) the best in what Image: Ieva Maniustye remains a highly demanding test.”

Edwina Currie steals bell during Union debate

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Last Thursday’s debate at the Oxford Union took an unusual turn when Edwina Currie, former Conservative MP and Junior Health Minister, removed the Union Secretary’s time limit warning bell as she refused to end her speech. 

The debate, which dealt with the motion ‘This House Believes That We Are All Feminists Now’, in commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the admission of women into the Union, ran smoothly until Mrs Currie’s speech, which lasted longer than the time permitted for debaters. 

Union rules dictate that speakers during debates may speak for a maximum of 12 minutes, after which they can request extra time. An exception is made for speakers who have been invited personally by the President, who are allowed to speak for a maximum of 30 minutes. 

Hannah Dewhirst, a Mansfield student who was present at the debate, said, “It was evident Edwina Currie wasn’t quite ready to finish her speech as she ignored the first bell, told the secretary to shush when it rang a second time and when it was rung for a third time went round the desk, took the bell from the secretary and placed it on her own bench.” 

However, Dewhirst insisted, “The incident was more amusing than insulting though. Most of the chamber was laughing.” 

Currie returned the bell to the Secretary after her speech, and the incident was received with humour. Other speakers at the debate included Dame Tessa Jowell and Cindy Gallop, founder of IfWeRanTheWorld and MakeLoveNotPorn, who both spoke in Proposition. Opposition speakers included Laurie Penny and Green Party Leader Natalie Bennett. 

Edwina Currie has been a  controversial figure  throughout her political career, best known for claiming that “good Christians” do not contract AIDs, among other  inflammatory comments. She resigned from her post as Junior Health Minister in 1988 after claiming that most British eggs contained salmonella, a comment which earned her the nickname ‘Eggwina’. 

She also featured in the 2011 edition of Strictly Come Dancing, and sung in a cover of Wham’s ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go Go’ with Declan Donnelly. 

Dan Hosegood, a PPE student at Magdalen, told Cherwell, “It seems clear that time is called for Edwina; she curries favour no more. To be perfectly honest I’ve always thought she was a bit of a bell-end.” 

Another Magdalen student, Graham Atkins, added, “The bell tolls no more thanks to her actions in the debating chamber.”

Catz rejects secret ballot motion

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A JCR motion calling for the introduction of an anonymous online voting system was voted down at St Catz. 

The motion appealed to change the current procedure of voting at the open meeting into “a vote via the JCR website” and to extend the voting period into a full day from “9am on the day after the meeting until 10pm the following day.” The JCR IT rep would be responsible for supervising the online vote and the results would be “posted on the JCR website and emailed to the JCR by the secretary or IT rep within 48 hours of the poll closing.” 

Ashleigh Ainsley, St Catz Access Rep and proposer of the motion, told Cherwell the motion aimed to combat “low attendance at open meetings.” He explained, “It was prompted by discussions with members of the JCR body who are unable to attend open meetings because of work commitments or other reasons. It also stemmed from controversial motions where people have felt pressured to vote because of their friends asking them to vote for or against.” 

The motion itself was voted on via secret online ballot. 84 votes came through the internet, compared with the 35 votes made at the open meeting. Within the 84 votes, there were 50 for, 33 against, and 1 abstention. The motion failed to pass because a constitutional amendment demands a two-thirds majority of votes. 

Opposition was mainly centred on the inefficiency of the system. Benson Egwuonwu, an ex-JCR President and third-year Law student, criticised the unnecessary slowdown of JCR affairs posed by the motion, stating, “By waiting at least 48 hours for voting results after every Open Meeting, JCR officers could miss the opportunity to raise concerns at various meetings with college staff, some of which are held before the voting results would even be released.” 

Egwuonwu continued, “There is a place for secret online ballots, for instance to consult students’ opinions about certain topics, or where the subject for debate is too complicated to frame in a motion. Otherwise, online secret ballots should be the exception, and not the rule. It is absolutely true that a JCR needs consent from students to function legitimately, but a JCR also needs to operate efficiently, and in this respect, the compulsory secret ballot motion would have been an encumbrance, rather than an advantage.” 

Another contentious issue is whether online voting would affect the attendance of Open Meetings and the quality of debates if people were not required to show up to have their votes counted. 

Mike Livesey, who seconded the motion, told Cherwell, “I am unsure whether allowing online voting for JCR motions would reduce turnouts and debates at Open Meetings. He conceded that “there is some credence in the fear that voters might be less inclined to vote upon an informed standpoint. The minutes of the Open Meeting would be circulated prior to voting, but that does not guarantee that every voter will read them. However, I believe the benefits of widening participation in the life of the college for Catz students vastly outweigh this comparably small pragmatic point.”