Friday 4th July 2025
Blog Page 166

How can we make the most of Oxford’s eight-week frenzy?

Nina Naidu
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How can we make the most of Oxford’s eight-week frenzy?

There’s nothing that irks me more than non-Oxford students complaining about a ten week term, weekly lectures, and measly seminar reading. It’s not like they even go to those anyways. And let’s not forget about the reading week spent skiing in the Swiss Alps. So when my non-Oxford friends ask me whether I’ve ‘caught up on my lectures’ (not that I have any), I really need to spend some quality welfare time with the college cats. Let me put it this way: we have a different lifestyle over here at Oxford. A lifestyle that I can barely even keep up with myself.

I am often told how lucky I am to only have eight week terms. I’m not even here for half the year, so what’s the big deal? I had no idea that at other universities, summer terms are spent for revision and exams. I remember only too well the stress of juggling Prelims revision and Italian language classes hoping for even a moment to sit in Gail’s and contemplate life. We may have 0th week — but it’s hardly the same when you’re busy moving back in and cramming collections revision. The work is compressed into two months in which you find yourself jumping over essay hurdles, praying that your chatterbox tute partner diverts the conversation away from that pesky reading you never got round to doing. There is not enough time to do so many essays, and sometimes I feel like I come away from tutorials knowing nothing. Yet, I have friends from home with only two essays a term. Two! And here I am with two essays a week if I’m lucky. The mental marathon that is expected of you far outweighs a genuine interest in your reading list, for that information will have to be stored deep within the recesses of your brain until those final exams. Whether or not that’s a good thing, I couldn’t say. Somehow I just know that I have been conditioned to the Oxford lifestyle.

But maybe other universities have it right. At my boyfriend’s university for instance, their Uni glossary includes words such as ‘academic calendar’ and ‘collusion’, whereas we have to define the word ‘Commoner’ and ‘Bulldog’ (which I myself still don’t really understand). And don’t get me started on the College family system. While I have found Oxford’s collegiate system to be a welcoming support bubble, I have been met with some serious side-eye when discussing ‘college parents’ and ‘sub fusc’ to my friends back home. College families are a sweet welfare idea in your first days as a fresher, but once you mention how your college made you marry your own college sister…it does get just a bit too ridiculous. Even the Oxford bubble is constricted between colleges. Our lives are incongruous to each other. I couldn’t imagine life at another college, let alone another university. Since we all slaved so hard to get here, we might as well romanticise it. The only thing universal about university is the struggle. But at least I get an Oxford degree out of this, right? All this hard work will certainly be worth it.

The university experience is one bound by the restrictions of time. If only we had the time to enjoy the weekly formals, college bops, and annual balls — though this is still a sore subject for my fellow Hughsies — maybe I would not feel bittersweet jealousy when I see others living an ‘easier’ university life. We have found ourselves in a place where we are surrounded by tradition and glamour, yet we have no time to enjoy it. Certainly, one could say that such pressures exist at all universities but with the distinct experiences presented to Oxford students, it’s almost a shame that participating feels like a guilty pleasure.

Reflections of an Oxford Union reporter

Freya Jones
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Reflections of an Oxford Union reporter

For better or worse, I’m known around town as a journalist who reports on the Oxford Union – something I’ve done for both Cherwell and national newspapers over the last two years. Now, before I leave the country on my year abroad (putting as much distance between myself and the historic debating society as possible) I wanted to write a bit about my experiences of reporting there. 

The Union’s place within Oxford is interesting. An initially inconspicuous gothic building in the town centre, some students manage to do their entire degrees without setting foot in it. Maybe they’re put off by the £300 life membership fee or avoid it for ideological reasons. Maybe joining never even occurred to them. But knowingly or unknowingly, they live alongside several thousand current students who own a life membership and others – like 6 former Prime Ministers – for whom a place on the Union’s committee is a defining part of their time at Oxford.

Typically, Union committee members (“hacks”) are held in some level of reverence or disdain by other students. My friends in college, who seem bored by the Union’s very existence, often ask me how and why I have the will to report on these people. Let’s start with “how”, because there are a number of tricks to the trade…

  • Be available: any aspiring Union reporter should live on Facebook Messenger and be prepared to put their evening on hold to hear the latest gossip if necessary. Most hacks are so self-obsessed that they’ll give you a lot of information if you’re patient enough to listen. That said, it’s always worth having multiple sources as a means of cross-referencing, to help distinguish the facts from the half-truths and self-serving agendas.
  • Read the Union’s atrociously dull Standing Orders (read them and understand them!): seeing as the majority of recent committee dramas have been driven by “infringements” of these regularly-updated constitutional clauses, it’s worth having working knowledge. One of my more down-to-earth sources recently told me: “this entire year in union politics is built on hacks not knowing rules” and it’s true; the constitution seems to exist less as a foundation for running the society than as a means for angsty twenty-year-olds to perpetually screw each other over. So, with political prospects pivoting on the contents of this immense PDF document, paying attention to its language in your reporting will do wonders for the Union’s perceptions of your competence – and, in turn, how much committee is likely to tell you.
  • Live in the buildings: I can’t stress this one enough. Making yourself part of the scenery is important, not only so people can sidle up and slip you secrets, but because it’s amazing how much you can observe about the place just by sitting in it. Also, as it stands, committee doesn’t seem to have addressed the fact that the walls are very thin, and their conversations are consequently very audible. Only last week I was working in the Union, completely minding my own business, when I suddenly became privy to an officer’s frenzied attempts to write a speech using ChatGPT after Peter Tatchell pulled out of the pride debate. And sometimes you learn things which are really interesting…

Beyond these ground rules, dress well and speak politely; apologise profusely for covering stories the hacks would rather you didn’t (while covering them anyway), and make sure your caffeine dependency is slightly more visible than theirs (they’ll respect it). It’s really just a cultivated way of putting your sources at ease, by looking as if you could almost be one of them… 

Well, as someone who spends most of the year running around town in Barbour jacket with a non-stop rota of coffees, there’s certainly a world in which I might have been a hack – and the same could actually be said for several of my old colleagues at Cherwell. But as it is, I like writing a little bit too much, which led me to the realisation that demographic overlap and the ability to think like a hack might be helpful when trying to report on them.

But why would anyone want to spend their time in this way? My answer here is ever-evolving, and my relationship with the Union is complex. For my first term in Oxford, I didn’t make it to a single event and bought a membership because I wanted to use the library. (I memorably got lost when I was trying to find the place and had to ask Michael – the then-Librarian – if he happened to know the way. Fortunately he did, although I had no clue who he was.) However, a week later I found myself reporting on his landslide election victory and in Hilary 2022 I started a writing column for The Oxford Blue on the weekly chamber debates. The real fun had started.

Now, every term the Union puts out a marginally updated version of its “How to get involved” guide for any fresher who might be tempted to join committee. If this had been better advertised, I might have made the requisite number of speeches in time to sell my soul and run for election, having been thoroughly taken in by the white-tie extravaganzas I’d witnessed from the press bench every Thursday. As it was, however, I found out more about the practicalities of being on committee when a series of articles called The Union As It Is fell across my desk for editing.

All of this happened in the run up to HT22 elections, and if you weren’t in Oxford at that point, it’s worth reading up on your Union history. After the results were announced, allegations of misconduct on committee sent the Union into a period of higher-than-average turmoil, which only concluded with Ahmad Nawaz’s loss of the Presidency in MT22.

This largely explains why I stuck around so long: for the few members of the student press and the Union who were made aware of said allegations upfront, the captivating, horrible, and educational nine-month build-up to what ultimately happened was difficult to escape.

It was also an opportunity to learn a lot about journalism: the news team covering the Union in TT22/MT22 handled everything from source protection and police reports to the guidelines for reporting on sexual assault allegations. 

I also learnt the technicalities of getting people “on record”. In fact, since my article “Authoritarian and Impulsive: Union officers speak out against Ahmad Nawaz as members prepare to vote” was published, I’ve quite regularly been asked why I included so many named quotes from members of committee, given that the Union Standing Orders explicitly prohibit them from speaking to the press without presidential approval. 

Well, to answer quite simply, I was up to eyes in “senior union sources” by that point last Michaelmas, and frankly sick of committee members who expected to hide behind student journalists and let the papers do their dirty work for them. 

If they had strong opinions about the Michaelmas president, our editorial position at the time was that they should put their names to it. Subsequently, my article has been described as “groundbreaking” and “kingmaking”. Personally, I just hope it sets a precedent for Union officials being a little less spineless. 

I still take a dim view of those who tried to retract their comments after knowingly providing them on record; but fortunately, a number of committee’s smarter individuals reached the sound conclusion that it would be good to put free speech into action, for a change, and the rest is history.

Setting the woes of the Nawaz episode aside, however, most of committee’s routine interactions with the student press are downright weird. 

Some of them are terrified: A hack strutting pompously around the bar in full tartan once froze on seeing me. “Oh no! It’s a member of the press!” he squealed, his voice rising half an octave, before scarpering upstairs faster than I’d thought possible. 

On another occasion, a dejected-looking officer wolfing down his Maccies in the courtyard replied to my offhand “hello” with an imperilled cry of “No comment!” 

Then there are the ones who try to be charming: some hacks have invited me to taste hummus, review their biohazardous boats, skip queues, or drink unlimited free wine in the Union bar. Most of them exuded ulterior motives and were routinely atrocious at hiding their misguided expectations of favourable coverage in return.

Still, things seem to have come full circle in my time here: last year there was a phase where most of committee didn’t refer to me by name, but merely as “press” or, if I was lucky, “a reporter from Cherwell”. These days (I was alarmed to discover) I only need to walk into the buildings and mention that I could do with a coffee before a seccie runs off to get me one, while I bemusedly try to remember who they are and wonder if I’m losing my touch. I don’t know which of these instances is less embarrassing.

But the hacks you genuinely warm towards are undoubtedly the most problematic. Luckily for me, most of these individuals are now “semi-retired”, “hack-adjacent”, or cleanly out the other side, but the overlap between social and semi-professional settings in a place as small as Oxford is never without difficulties. Unsurprisingly, cordial relationships can sour when the time comes for you to write something less-than-complementary about your previously co-conspiratorial coffee buddy. One moment you’ll be photoshopping the doomed hack’s face over a picture of the debate chamber to create an image for your article, telling yourself it’s purely work and that they’ll understand; the next moment they’re phoning you up in tears, threatening you, or reminding you how much fun you had at their party a week earlier.

Of course, the easiest way to avoid situations like this is not to get too close to committee, period. Working for a publication with a strict editorial policy will help with this, and sometimes you can also rely on a tedious Director of Press to kill the vibe. The worst of these have completely aired me, making my job ten times harder by going AWOL when I needed urgent statements on the Union’s behalf. Others have provided me with flimsy laminated press passes or snazzy personalised lanyards in turn, while being equally sluggish at issuing any “official” information. The current one had his personality beautifully summed up in The New Statesman last week, and there’s nothing more for me to add there at present (but please can I bum a cigarette sometime?).

Lacklustre DoPs or otherwise, good sources can obviously help to bridge the gap by supplying information in a timely manner, but the more cards you hold in a place like the Union, the more potential you have to become a political actor yourself, instead of a neutral reporter. This can be dangerous – while it may appeal to any personal desire for a power-trip, it’s rarely conducive to good journalism. 

Indeed, the moment hacks start asking you to campaign manage them (no, thank you!) or asking you to spill the tea on their potential opponents and running-mates in exchange for drinks (yikes), then you know you’re in trouble. 

Flattering though it is to know you live rent-free in some hacks’ heads, as they worry about how many files of dirt you might have on them – it can sometimes backfire on you. For example, I was very nearly denied entry to a recent Union event when it transpired that someone “on high” had tried to ban me from the chamber, allegedly out of fear for my paranoia-inspiring journalistic intent. Thank goodness a couple of sensible committee members reversed this, reaching the sound judgement that  – even in circumstances as sticky as last week’s – such action was, perhaps, a little steep.

Strange relationships aside, I wouldn’t change my experience of reporting on the Union for anything. Helping to oversee the John Evelyn gossip column in Michaelmas was definitely a highlight, and although these anonymous features in the back of every Cherwell print should be consumed with a large pinch of salt, a good Jevelyn will sometimes include some helpful pieces of Union intrigue for the editors’ eyes only – sometimes to be removed at their discretion.

Now, in the spirit of this, I believe the Union can expect a typically tempestuous time ahead. I’ve heard enough about the gathering storm-clouds to suspect that – while the leaking roof might make it through Michaelmas in good shape – the same might not be said for certain committee members. Anyone who’s still in Oxford and feels inclined to take up Union Watch can expect as much of an interesting time as I’ve had.

Cowley Road Carnival cancelled after fundraising shortfall

Rebecca Powell
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Cowley Road Carnival cancelled after fundraising shortfall

The Cowley Road Carnival is Oxfordshire’s biggest public free event and was anticipated to return for the first time since the Covid-19 pandemic. However, failing to raise the £20,000 required to go ahead, it has been cancelled. 

It was hoped that with Covid restrictions lifted, the event would return with the theme of “Our Nature Our Future” on Sunday 9th July. But even after Cowley Road Works’s Just Giving appeal raised £2,329, the organisers announced “with deep regret” that they would cancel the carnival due to “several significant challenges”.

In their statement, Cowley Road Carnival organisers point to unforeseen financial obstacles, with quotes for certain “crucial Carnival services” having increased by 177% this year. 

They also cite time constraints, infrastructure costs, a reduced grant from Oxford City Council of £7000 which they claim is a reduction from the usual £25,000 as well as an unsuccessful application for £29,000 from the Arts Council.

The carnival, which normally takes place on Cowley Road, usually included live music and DJ performances as well as processions, Eco Floats and House Floats. Known to bring in 50,000 spectators, the event has been Oxfordshire’s biggest public free event.

The organisers, Cowley Road Works, say “the Carnival is inclusive: it brings together all ages, and all ethnic, social and economic groups and is the culmination for our cultural outreach programme.”

The Carnival had planned to include 1,000 artists and 700 procession participants. Its overall estimated cost was £130,000.

Carnival Trustee Sarah Connor explained, “we understand the immense disappointment this announcement may bring to our community, stakeholders, and supporters who have eagerly awaited the return of this cherished event.

Hope remains as two pubs, James Street Tavern and Black Swan, have announced that they are planning “mini festivals” in lieu. The organisers of the Carnival say that “we are already planning for an amazing Carnival in 2024.”

Bumps, Banks, Blades and Spoons: Summer VIIIs 2023

Cherwell Sport
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Bumps, Banks, Blades and Spoons: Summer VIIIs 2023

Summer Eights have come and gone, and the highlight event of the Oxford rower’s trinity term card has left us for another year. A staple of Oxbridge culture, Bumps racing, coined due to the narrow rivers forcing a more unconventional form of racing to be adopted, is simple. Make contact or “Bump” the boat ahead of you to take their position. Conversely, all boats fight hard not to be bumped. If you neither bump nor are bumped by another boat you are considered to row over. Boring definitions aside, how did the regatta unfold?

John’s M1 and M2 are unstoppable?

Gaining 3 positions on Wednesday by getting the over bumps on Somerville, then bumping Christchurch IIs the next day and Mansfield 1s on Saturday, to say SJBC’s Eights week went well for John’s M1 is an understatement. Almost identically Johns M2s who overbumped Corpus Christi’s M3s, rowed over the next day and then gained a position each day for the final 2 days. Johns’s w1s bumped on all days but the first two added three extra places to the aggregate. Across all crews, a total of 11 places gained for John’s, making it the most successful club on the river this year. 

Worcester W2 Blades! Again?

Back-to-back Blades in Torpids and summer eights this year, Is there any stopping the Worcester W2s? 

Brasenose

Brasenose’s M2s gained blades this year with an impressive campaign. Alongside them, the rest of the crews put on great performances making this club the third most successful down the isis this year. 

Exeter: Tale of two fates 

Let’s see – the Women’s crews did excellently. Exter W1s got the over bump on Somerville, on Friday, and gained 5 positions over the competition. The W2s and W3s also had a great campaign, gaining lots of positions. The men however did not manage to share the same fate, and in fact, suffered the very opposite, the worst of which being the M3s who were very much on course for spoons but kept place on Saturday avoiding it. 

Wadham: worse for wear 

Wadham College Boat Club had a particularly tough time. Not one of the crews gained a position and the W2s lost five positions across the week, so perhaps not a week to remember. Times like these warrant a special shout-out to its W3 crew, in a week where WCBC looked hit by a bad case of Murphy’s law, and each crew sunk like stones, this crew managed to stay afloat, gaining back on Friday the place they lost the day before. 

Somerville: it was not great

Better luck next time to the Somerville crews too, they sit at the bottom of the table in places lost this year with an aggregate of 14 places. With only 3 competing crews this year, this number is put very mildly, quite bad. That being said, all hope is not lost, perhaps they’ll come back with some vengeance next year. 

Image Credit: Nikola Boysová

Protesting with Pride

Jui Zaveri
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Protesting with Pride

On a grey and characteristically dreary Oxford afternoon, Bonn Square was transformed into a place bursting with colour, light and life. Students and staff from all walks of life came together in order to protest the Union’s platforming of the notoriously controversial philosopher, writer and apparently “gender-critical feminist” Kathleen Stock that evening. The trans rights protest, the counter-protest and the conveniently timed release of Channel 4’s controversial documentary Gender Wars, starring Stock herself, all coincided on Tuesday 30th May. Since then, national and even international media has been awash with coverage of the events leading up to, during and following this day. Somewhere along the way, the issue has devolved into a discourse on free speech. Stock’s supporters rail vehemently against the alleged conspiracy to subdue their trans-exclusionary opinions. For those of us on the other side – dubbed the “woke mob” by the Daily Mail – this has never been about anything more radical than the freedom to exist. 

For weeks, tension had been brewing. The Oxford University LGBTQ+ Society first issued a statement criticising the Union for their invitation of Stock.  In a statement posted online, the society said it was “dismayed and appalled” by it and urged the historic debating society to rescind their offer. Many JCRs and MCRs followed suit. 44 Oxford dons signed an open letter in her favour. Over 100 signed one against. The media leapt at the scent of a sensationalist story. Billboard Chris –  a vocal gender critic- spent a day around the Radcliffe Camera with a provocative sign saying “Children cannot consent to puberty blockers”. Even Prime Minister Rishi Sunak weighed in with the warning that “a small but vocal few” should not be allowed to shut down discussion and debate. Everyone had an opinion. 

On the day of the Stock event, the LGBTQ+ Society organised and promoted their own – ‘Oxford Trans + Pride’. The day consisted of two panels hosted at Lincoln College titled ‘Between Free Speech and Hate Speech’ and ‘Trans+ Joy Across Generations’, followed by a ‘mass rally’ at Bonn Square, then a march to the Oxford Union in order to stage a peaceful protest outside. During the rally, two-minute speeches from speakers such as Max Van Kleek – an associate professor – were interspersed by a trio of organisers teaching the crowd some chants that would be used during the protest. Our voices were heard: it is reported that the “fracas” was easily heard within the Chamber. The media coverage of the protest has been laughably self-contradictory – singing and dancing to Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ or Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’, waving rainbow flags and wearing flag capes, handing out leaflets and bottles of water, organising welfare spaces in the nearby St. Peter’s College and Frewin Annexe is somehow simultaneously the behaviour of violent “militants” and, according to Stock herself, “actual babies”.For those of us protesting, the emphasis was very much on the peaceful celebration and amplification of trans voices and joy rather than the hatred and bigotry Stock and her followers thrive on. 

Freedom of speech is not synonymous with the right to a platform, just as misinformed ignorance and blatant hate speech are not the same as scientifically proven facts. TERFs like Kathleen Stock will always have a platform in the digital age. This was never about her right to speak, it was about the privilege of speaking at the Union – a prestigious space with weight behind its name. In a world where trans discourse is constantly weaponised, the Oxford Trans+ Pride protest was a joyful though impassioned assertion of our power, our unity and most importantly, our simple right to exist.

“That’s not misogyny, babe”. 

Violet Aitchison
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“That’s not misogyny, babe”. 

If I were born four hundred years ago, I’m pretty certain I would have been burnt at the stake for being a witch. Being told to “shhh” and how “scary” I looked by a six foot-two, mullet-sporting man on Mayday morning at Magdalen Bridge reminded me of this fact. I forgot how ‘scary’ a woman with an opinion could be. 

Today we live in a society where the dialect surrounding misogyny has been transformed into something more clandestine. Whilst I cannot literally be condemned to death for possessing the qualities of a witch, I can still be condemned socially for the same reasons. If a woman is confident, passionate, or independent, it’s not uncommon that these traits will be translated by some men into ‘cocky’, ‘bossy’, or ‘overbearing’. Through these covert changes in language, misogyny is able to slip through the cracks. 

Four hundred years ago my left thumb might have been tied to my right toe before I was tossed in the moat surrounding the Oxford castle and prison. Had I sunk and drowned, I would have been innocent. Had I floated, I would have been a witch, fished out, and burnt at the stake. Not the best odds. The man on the bridge on Mayday looked like he’d have quite liked to toss me into a body of water, although he probably wouldn’t have gone as far as burning me. The reasons why a woman could be accused of witchcraft four hundred years ago were many and spurious. Watch out if your neighbour’s cow died or a child fell and hurt themselves outside your house or a man had impure thoughts about you. Also watch out if you lived alone, didn’t have children or were outspoken. The man on the bridge identified my ‘witchiness’ on similar grounds – I was wearing red eyeliner, which apparently made me look ‘scary.’ He repeated this word many times when I called him out. 

As I stood on the bridge being berated for being ‘scary’, I realised just how helpless these women must have felt when on trial. How does one prove they did not curse their neighbours’ milk? How could they show that their cat was not the devil incarnate? How would I respond to the allegations of sinisterness? When someone shouts something at you enough it starts to feel like your reality. After the fifth time, I began to wonder whether I should have spoken up in the first place, whether I was being unnecessarily provocative. It made me wonder whether, if a man in my town told me that I was a witch enough times, purely because of my stubbornness or because of the mole on my neck, I would believe it. I feel lucky to have been brought up to stand up for myself and for other women around me when faced with similar situations; however, this is not the case for everyone at Oxford, let alone across the world. I could not help but think of all the women stuck living with men such as the one on Magdalen Bridge, who have to take daily jabs at their intelligence, or have to make sacrifices in order to protect men’s fragile egos. Of course, encounters such as these may not seem like such a big deal in the grand scheme of things and, to an extent, they aren’t. Women across the world are still facing extreme persecution not dissimilar to, if not exactly like, actual witch trials. My experience with the casual misogyny on Mayday morning is incomparable. However, it is also important not to become complacent in the face of these types of interactions, as these casual, misogynistic behaviours will and have begun to become commonplace amongst young men. We must stop accepting misogynistic jokes in order to set an example for future generations. What does it say about modern society if men are allowed to start calling women ‘scary’ for speaking up. Is this not exactly how the witch-hunting craze started in the first place? 

Most astonishing was how the man in question began to back his claims with evidence, by pulling up a photograph of a witch on his phone. It was in this moment that I most sympathized with accused ‘witches’ of times past, not least Rachel Clinton, a Salem ‘witch’. Her accusers professed that she showed “the character of an embittered, meddlesome, demanding woman—perhaps in short, the character of a witch.’’ I felt as though the picture on the man’s phone was the modern-day equivalent. Fortunately, the absurdity of this man’s actions was enough to settle any anxiety I might have otherwise felt about being too ‘outspoken’. I told him that, had he just told me that he was misogynistic in the first place, we might have saved ourselves from the ensuing back and forths. At this point, his girlfriend felt it necessary to inform me that “that’s not misogyny, babe”. I found the misogyny pretty blatant in this interaction. A picture of an actual witch had been shown to me. However, it did make me think about all the small ways in which boys and men are able to belittle women without being called out or, in this case, by being defended. Even when I was clear in my mind of my ‘innocence’, I couldn’t convince him or his friends. Though we may no longer risk being tied to a cucking stool and dumped into the river Cherwell, we are nevertheless still tested on our ability to conform with standards set by men centuries ago. I did not fit his paradigm because I was not willing to accept his casual misogyny, so he used his physical dominance to shout down at me, I suppose in the hope of my surrender.

I suppose being a witch is a slightly self-fulfilling prophecy, one that I’m fond of myself. But whilst I might be able to laugh at my own ‘witchiness’, we must be careful that the road to casual misogyny doesn not become a slippery slope. Just consider how you might have reacted five years ago, had someone told you that Roe vs Wade would be overturned. Fairy tales, even the most sinister ones, can always turn out to be real. 

Image Credit: Robert Benner//CC BY 2.0 via Flickr

Hertford announces changes to bursary scheme

Jakub Trybull
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Hertford announces changes to bursary scheme

Hertford College has announced changes to its bursary scheme, involving a cut to those receiving the Crankstart Scholarship. A range of changes have been announced, including increases in eligibility, the form of compensation, and distinguishing between Crankstart scholars and non-scholars.

With the aim to “provide improved levels of support, in a more targeted way, to a wider range of students”, the upper limit of household income required to qualify for an automatic award will be raised from £53k to £63k, the first time it has been raised in many years.

Furthermore, the standard award will be raised from £1,000 per annum to £1,500. However, this compensation will be applied in the form of discounted rent and free meals at the College Hall, as opposed to the current, direct lump discount on battels.

This has caused some contention among the student population, with a preference for direct compensation. The College, however, have affirmed this as part of their intention to “encourage greater use of hall and communal dining in College.” Although some students have told Cherwell that they fear they will not have enough evidence to support exemption requests, and that such a process might be invasive. In addition to this restriction, students have brought up concerns that those wishing to live privately will struggle with such changes.

The biggest point of contention is the halving of the award granted to Crankstart scholarships, with scholars being awarded £750 rather than the current £1,000. This reduction will only affect students who will matriculate from 2023 onwards.

Hertford College told Cherwell that: “No student will receive less support than they do now”, adding that the College “takes into account the University’s extension of the Crankstart scheme.”

JCR Treasurer, Amrit Ark, reassured students that throughout the rent negotiation process, efforts have been made to keep the bursary scehme inclusive and to “expand its value”, without making any current students worse off.
One student at Hertford told Cherwell: “I support the spirit of this, as I believe there is a middle squeeze where those on the very lowest incomes get lots of support, and those with high ones get support from families, [but a lack of support for those in the middle]. I think this will help with smoothing.”

Alcoholism at Oxford University: A Perspective

Anonymous
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Alcoholism at Oxford University: A Perspective

I can still remember the first time I got drunk. I was around 13 years old. A friend had stolen some of his dad’s whisky, and we got through half a bottle together. The experience wasn’t particularly extraordinary, apart from one thing: even then I was astonished, terrified, by just how much I enjoyed being drunk. The rush, the feeling of the alcohol coursing through my veins, the way it made my worries and anxieties dissipate for a few blissful hours. I subconsciously realised something that, years later, I would spend countless hours grappling with; whatever joys I could experience sober, they would be even better with a bottle in hand.

The next few years went by relatively normally. The lack of independence borne from still living at home meant my alcohol use was kept in check. All that happened was that every week or two when me and my friends were out drinking, I’d always end up getting absolutely shitfaced –  far more than anyone else.

Then I arrived at Oxford University. It only took a few weeks for my alcohol use to absolutely soar. I was 18 at this point, and without my parents breathing down my back, I was free to drink as much as I pleased. In the Michaelmas and Hilary just gone, I drank an average of around 100 to 150 units a week. I drank virtually every day – and I mean drank, enough that almost every night ended with me stumbling up the stairs to my accommodation and collapsing in bed, drunk out of my mind. I spent well over a thousand pounds on alcohol, leaving less than half of my money for other expenses.

There are probably very few environments worse for would-be alcoholics than Oxford University. The atmosphere of constant stress, the omnipresent ‘work hard, play hard’ undertone, the fact that almost every society runs countless boozy events, combined with virtually every college having a cheap and accessible bar, meant that I stood little chance. It’s true that, regardless of where I went, alcohol problems would have probably arisen. Of the three factors often leading to alcoholism – a family history of alcohol abuse, beginning drinking at a young age, and past mental health problems – I tick every one.

But Oxford undoubtedly exacerbated my issues. It doesn’t have much of a drug culture (in my experience, at least), but it has one hell of a drinking culture. Very few people seemed to notice how out of hand my drinking was getting. In a society where getting drunk regularly is a common occurrence, it’s hard to differentiate between someone who likes to drink and someone who needs to drink. When I finally began the long and painful process of seeking sobriety, the lack of support provided by the university was shocking. My addiction advisor suggested I  seek out alcoholic support groups within the University. As far as I can tell, no such group presently exists.

The solution isn’t, however, some sort of puritanical clamp down on drinking among students. The vast majority of you reading this article will be perfectly capable of drinking healthily and in moderation – and I am deeply envious of you. College bars and drinking events provide most with a hugely enjoyable social space. Some alcohol free alternatives would be nice, but that’s all. Instead, the University needs to do more to assist those students who are struggling; and we all need to be more ready to look out for the warning signs of alcohol dependency. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to drink; but when we start noticing that ourselves, or others, need to drink, alarm bells should be raised.

The writing of this article marks the two month anniversary of my sobriety. These past few weeks have been tough, much tougher than I could have ever expected. But they’ve also been incredibly rewarding. Getting over an addiction requires a complete life reset; it requires reconnecting with the friends and passions that you lost to booze. The constant urge to drink still hasn’t left me, if it ever will. Knowing that you can’t under any circumstances do the thing you want to do more than anything else is torture. But finally, for the first time in many months, I’m able to appreciate the beauty of our world, the simple joys of friendship, without the distorting lens of the bottle – and that makes it all worth it.

But if there’s one piece of advice I want anyone who relates to this article to take to heart, it’s this: don’t go cold turkey. Alcohol is one of the few drugs whose withdrawal can be fatal. For me, it was so bad that I was rushed to the John Radcliffe emergency unit, suffering from delirium tremens – a condition arising from alcohol withdrawal with symptoms like tremors, delirium, hallucinations, and even seizures which could potentially lead to death. Talk to your doctor, or any other NHS resources, so you can withdraw with the help of medications to protect you.

Drinking in moderation can be great fun, but if you notice yourself or anyone else unable to put down the bottle, becoming dependent on alcohol to get through the day, it’s time to take a break. And if that’s too hard, speak to a pastoral adviser or counsellor. Alcohol nearly ruined my life. For many years to come, I think, I’ll still be grappling with its consequences. I don’t want it to ruin yours.

Hannah Edwards wins uncontested Union election amidst low voter turnout

Maggie Wilcox
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Hannah Edwards wins uncontested Union election amidst low voter turnout

Hannah Edwards has been elected Union President for Hilary 2023 and her #Impact slate swept all officer positions. The election saw some of the lowest voter turnout in recent memory and few contested positions.

Ebrahim Osman Mowafy and Julia Maranhao-Wong won their uncontested elctions for Librarain and Secretary respectively. Finlay Armstrong beat out Leo Buckley for the position for Treasurer by 284 votes to 175. All officer positions also received on average 121 Re-open nominations (RON) votes.

All candidates who put themselves forward for Standing Committee positions were elected. Chloe Pomfret, Charlotte Fallon, Caleb van Ryneveld, Peter Chen, Robert McGlone, Ana Rosca, Oliver JL, Ashley Cheong, Charlie Chadwick, Devon Darley and Aimee Adey have been elected to Secretary’s committee.

This term’s election saw only 590 votes cast, a steep drop down from the 910 cast last term or the 779 cast in last Trinity’s election.

“I’d rather have regrets about not doing something, than regret doing it”: In conversation with Game of Thrones star, John Bradley

Deborah Ogunnoiki and Freddie Evans
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“I’d rather have regrets about not doing something, than regret doing it”: In conversation with Game of Thrones star, John Bradley

John Bradley West is an English actor famous for his role as Samwell Tarly in HBO’s massive global hit fantasy TV series, Game of Thrones. Since then, he has starred in Patient Zero, Moonfall, and the romcom Marry Me, alongside Jennifer Lopez and Owen Wilson, and he has also been cast in the TV series North Shore.

Freddie: How did the overwhelming success of Game of Thrones impact your life and career? How did you handle the immense fan response both positive and negative to your character and the show?

“I think people who were in it from Season One, like I was, saw a gradual build of its success. It’s not like those who joined later on in the series, who would join what was already a huge show. For us, it always felt a little more manageable. It wasn’t an overnight thing where you would join something that already had a lot of pressure from the second you joined. It was a level of fame that was actually quite manageable, as people who watched it, loved it. People who didn’t watch it would have no idea who you were, especially for somebody like me, who wasn’t on the posters, like Emilia or Kit, for example. That led to a level of recognition that was really nice. Everybody was always very polite and respectful. We all love the show as well; there’s nothing worse than having people talking about a project that you’re not invested in yourself. So, in terms of career, it’s a mark of approval that you can act. If people in charge of a show like that trust you with it, then in regard to the negativity it’s just about shaking it off – it was such an all-consuming thing. Now we just want to show that we can do other things, but even if it’s the only thing you do in a career it’s still been a good career.”

Freddie: Looking back on your time on Game of Thrones, what aspects of the show do you miss the most?

“It’s all about the people. The fact that we got to work together as a team for nine years is so rare. It’s like a family. When you do movies you get to know people extremely well for a few months and then you may never see them again, but we always had the last six months of the year with each other, and the friendships that developed were special. There’s something very unique about that. The hardest part for someone naturally shy like myself is making all those friendships quickly. However, every time we went back it was like putting on comfortable clothes. An artistic acting rapport naturally developed between us. You can’t manufacture that. It just happens. We were incredibly lucky to not have a single bad personality or toxic energy within the entire cast. That’s rare.”

Freddie: I actually went to Split and Dubrovnik to see where some Game of Thrones scenes were filmed. What was it like filming abroad?

“That’s a great thing about it as well. Iceland was the one for me because I did a couple of consecutive years in Iceland. It wasn’t even in Reykjavik, but a glacier, hundreds of miles away from Reykjavik. In a situation like that you think, “Well, if it wasn’t for this show I’d never be here. Not only am I here but I’m with people that I really like and I’m doing work that I’m really proud of”. Those were pinch-yourself moments which were a real privilege. I’ll never forget them.”

Freddie: What would you say contributed significantly to the success of Game of Thrones?

“It comes from the books, but it gained such wide recognition when the show came out; that is, the risks that it takes getting rid of characters. I think George R.R. Martin had written so much for TV where the rule of TV is – don’t kill your lead character too early. He became sick of that restriction and so wanted to write books that broke all of those rules and which led to his lead characters being killed off at the end of the first book. When that was made for TV they were stuck with the fact that the lead characters were now killed at the end of the first season. It’s how constantly surprising it was. Once you get to a level where people are expecting to be surprised, how do you then surprise them? The whole show was based on surprise. In terms of surprising moments, they executed those brilliantly, time after time.” 

Freddie: How do you personally relate to your characters, such as fantasy-based protagonists such as Samwell Tarly and in other roles, in more real-life-based roles such as Max in North Shore?

“You should always try to establish a connection between yourself and your characters. Humanity and life are all about grey areas. If you look closely enough, you will find something in common, even with the most extreme characters. Who you are as a child really influences who you are as an adult. And so, from my own therapy and self-reflection, I’ve taken this approach with characters, trying to find glimpses of who they were at six years old, even if they’re portrayed as 30 years old in the film. It gives you motivation for their actions as adults. It’s tempting to think that a character doesn’t exist until they first appear in the film, but if you delve into their childhood you will discover an incident or a moment in their life that connects with something in your own life. Then you might see the parallel between the two of you.”

Freddie: How do you handle criticism? You recently starred in Moonfall, a so-called “box office bomb”, and yet your performance was “the best thing about Moonfall” according to critics, such as NMEs James McMahon.

“It’s tricky because nobody shows up to do a job, anywhere, trying to do something that won’t take off. Everyone is giving their best effort to make it work. It’s a lesson really. I think it may be the most expensive independent film of all time, around 150 million dollars. It had an Oscar winner, Halle, who was awesome, and Roland Emmerich, who knows his way around a disaster movie. I had a great time on it, and it’s very flattering that James McMahon said that. It just goes to show that sometimes, during a pandemic, there are some things you just can’t plan for, but it’s about having a good experience, and I’m glad I did it.”

Freddie: What has been the most valuable lesson you’ve learned throughout your acting career so far?

“It’s about not being afraid to turn things down and not do them, if you believe you’re not doing them for the right reasons. In an industry where uncertainty is so prevalent and you’re never sure if you’ll work again, it’s tempting to grab hold of everything. However, if your gut instinct is telling you that something feels off or that it’s not a character you want to play, or there are problematic elements to it, then simply trust your own instincts and choose not to do it. I’d rather have regrets about not doing something than regret doing it.”

Freddie: What does the future hold for John Bradley West?

“Theatre, definitely, because I trained in theatre but never pursued it professionally. When I finished Game of Thrones, which was such a significant part of my life, the idea of doing movies where you only commit for a couple of months and then move on to something else was really appealing. However, my former Game of Thrones bosses, David and Dan, approached me with a show they had written for Netflix – their first project after Game of Thrones. They asked if I would like to join them and be a part of it. I think I have had a long enough break in-between to go back into series now so I’m doing the Netflix show with them. It’s nearly finished so that will be out towards the end of the year!”

Freddie: What advice would you give to aspiring actors who are just starting out in the industry?

“Enjoy it for as long as you can possibly enjoy it and while the stakes are low. As soon as something becomes your job; as soon as there are 200 people filming you and there’s a budget of tens of billions of dollars – that’s when the pressure’s on. You still love it, but you develop a slightly different relationship with it after that. So, enjoy it while you can. If a mistake happens just forget about it. You’ve got a long life ahead of you to make things right.”

Deborah: Is it weird being a Northerner in a sea of posh, privately educated actors? As someone from Essex myself, I always have people questioning my accent, did you have the same experience?

“I went into the industry expecting that to be the case. And I think maybe I just joined the industry at a time when that was on the decline a bit. But I know that attitude was prevalent for a while. But I think that’s a great thing about acting, it’s that you’re dealing with humanity, you’re dealing with telling stories right across the board, especially now. It’s getting so much better with telling diverse stories, and stories from different voices that you wouldn’t have heard stories from before. So, it’s kind of a level playing field where all stories are treated with respect. And if you want stories to be told authentically, you have to get authentic people to do them. So now, if you’re a posh actor, you’re at a disadvantage if the role on the table is somebody working-class or somebody from an ethnic minority background or something like that. You’re now not the right person to play that part and you never were, but now you’ll never get a chance to play that in a million years, and that’s only right. Because of that more voices are being amplified, and everybody’s having their say, everybody’s earning their place at the table. I think it’s a good thing.”

Deborah: I mean amazingly I am going to see The Little Mermaid tomorrow. It’s one of the big benefits of how the acting industry is becoming more diverse and now amplifying different voices at the same time. It’s giving so many more people a chance to play characters that would typically just be given to the same old people.

“Of course. That’s what it’s all about. And, you know, there are people who have a problem with that, and I’m not quite sure what their problem is. Because the people do have a problem with that now didn’t have a problem when it was people playing out of their race, when it was white people playing in ethnic parts in the 60s, those people don’t really talk about that the same, but that’s just all agenda pushing. It’s never about that. It’s all about how they see the world. And hopefully, the voices of those people who have a problem with it will get more and more marginalised, and the next generation won’t even think about it.”

Deborah: So was being on TV alongside Kit Harrington’s character strange? Because Samwell was quite a cheery and funny character, and then Jon Snow it was like gloom and doom. I mean, that’s why Sam was, my favourite character, I wasn’t a big fan of Jon Snow.

“Oh, nice! Thanks, I’ll tell him! Yeah, I think that’s what made it such an appealing watch, the fact that it’s such a broad spectrum of characters, all of humanity was there. And if it was just the serious side of things, if it was just the brooding hero, you’d just get sick of that tone. You have to have people in there to break that open. I think that was why Sam and Jon’s relationship was so effective because they are so different. But at different times, they were exactly what the other person needed. Sometimes, you know, Sam needed a protector physically, and sometimes Jon needed some sage advice. And so, between them, they make up for each other’s shortcomings, and they become a complete person between them.”

Deborah: That’s actually quite beautiful. But landing a big role fresh out of drama school must have been quite daunting. How did you cope with suddenly acting alongside big names, as well as being suddenly thrust into the limelight?

“It was really scary. Because as I said, I come from a very theatrically centred training. So we didn’t really have a lot of camera training at all, we have the three hours across three years, so it doesn’t really prepare you for that job. And the thing that saved all of us, I think, was that it was myself and Kit Harrington and Emilia Clarke and Richard Madden and others, who were going on that journey for the first time all together. Kit had done some plays, Emilia had done theatre and a few telly things, but none of us had ever done TV on that scale before. And I think that when you’re with people who are feeling the same way as you are, you sort of cling to each other. So we didn’t necessarily feel intimidated because when I was doing scenes with Kit, we were both feeling our way through it. And the friends that you make when you’re scared are the friends that you tend to bond with for life, I think.”

Deborah: Well that definitely describes Oxford ha! I mean you’ve kind of spoken about how different TV acting is from theatre, but how different is acting in a fantasy show compared to any other genre?

“Even if it is a fantasy show, I always try and make it as real as possible. I don’t think I ever made my performance in Game of Thrones, a fantasy performance. I tried to make it real because there are a lot of heightened performances going on. So, the stuff that I did, I tried to make as real, and as small, and as credible, and as unshowy, as possible. And I think I always bring that to it. So, the way I went about performing it doesn’t really differ. For example, when you take someone like Martin Freeman in The Hobbit movies, he’s playing a quite natural character. He’s not really playing the world; he’s just playing a person. That’s exactly what I’ve always tried to do as well. So, the characters differ, but my approach to it and what I try and bring to it is always the same.”

Deborah: Speaking of previous questions about actors sometimes not being able to say ‘No’ to some scenes in the acting industry. With Game of Thrones having very high sex content, was it weird acting alongside that? Was anyone really uncomfortable with some sex scenes, and what was that environment like for those actors?

“I think everybody’s on this journey of enlightenment and education all the time. And they all seem to happen way too late. These moments, whether it be Black Lives Matter, or whether it be Me Too, and that kind of thing. They all happen way too late in history. But it’s just all about how we learn from them and how we make amends. Before those movements, you wouldn’t even have thought about how they can be seen with a different light shined on them. And I’d like to think that everybody on our show felt safe and looked after. I’d never really heard of any otherwise. Everybody involved in it are still friends, it doesn’t feel like there’s any bad blood but you know, if there was then nobody should have any compunction about speaking out about it.”

Deborah: And what do you think happened to Samwell post-Bram-as-king, did he get his happily ever after?

“It feels it, when you leave Sam in that chamber with Davos, and Bram, and Tyrion and all of those people, that he’s finally in a position where the skills that he has, and his expertise are finally being valued. And he can actually have an impact on the wider world. He was never going to be able to influence things on the battlefield or in the military, or any of that stuff. But he’s found a place where what he brings to the table is respected and valued. And that’s all he ever wanted.”

Deborah: And are you comfortable with being known as the guy who played Samwell in Game of Thrones, or do you wish to kind of branch out from such an iconic role?

“Yeah, I think that’s the thing about having your first role be one of the biggest things you’ll ever do, if not the biggest thing. Because not only do people think you can’t play anything else, but they also think that is actually what you’re like because they’ve got nothing to reference the real you. So now I find myself playing characters that are more similar to me, but people think that’s acting, and they think I am Samwell, and that when I’m playing close to myself, that’s the big transformative part. But I think it’s always good in a way because I think everyone, whether you’re an actor or not, everyone’s got one part in them that they can play better than any other because it speaks a lot about your life. It’s just about trusting yourself to play other parts. And it’s also about other people in the industry, trusting you to play different parts and hoping that people will believe it. So, it’s a long process. But, you know, if that’s the only thing that you get judged by for the rest of your career, nobody’s complaining.”

Deborah: And would you join in a sequel of Game of Thrones? Or is that chapter of your life closed?

“I was thinking about this the other day, actually, I don’t think I could play him anymore. It’s weird. The sort of, you know, I’ve spoken before about what was happening in my life immediately before Game of Thrones. And I think as Sam grew, I was growing as well as a person as I was playing in my private life. So the Sam that ended the season wasn’t the Sam that started at the beginning of the series, and I wasn’t the same person either. So if I did play him now, I could probably play him, but it wouldn’t be the Samwell that everybody knows, because he’ll have moved on, as we all have. Whether I’ve got the sort of will to do that, I’m not quite sure. But some things are just best left alone.”

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