Saturday, May 17, 2025
Blog Page 467

University losses to cost economy £6bn and 60,000 jobs, while Treasury resists bailout

Imogen Duke
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University losses to cost economy £6bn and 60,000 jobs, while Treasury resists bailout

The COVID-19 pandemic and consequent recession will lead to a steep reduction in student numbers, causing a £2.5bn funding “black hole” with dramatic impacts on the wider economy, warns a new report.

Meanwhile, the Treasury is opposing a sector-specific bailout of UK universities, in face of calls for doubled research funding among other detailed measures from Universities UK. The Financial Times reports that this has caused “division in Whitehall” and “objections from senior figures in the university sector,” but that the Treasury is “not receptive to what is viewed as universities’ special pleading.”

The report, by London Economics for the University and College Union, estimates that 30,000 university jobs and a further 32,000 jobs in the wider economy will be lost. The “total economic cost to the country” from direct and indirect changes is expected to be more than £6bn, and “may be much worse… unless there is significant government intervention to support universities through this crisis.”

It estimates that 111,000 fewer UK first-year students and 121,000 fewer international first-year students will start university this year. This means 47% of international first-year students are expected to delay or cancel plans to study in the UK.

The analysis predicts that 91 institutions will be left in a “critical financial position where income only just covers expenditure.” It warns that Universities UK’s recent proposal to allow institutions to recruit up to 5% more students would shift the financial impact onto less wealthy institutions.

The report states that the University of Oxford and the University of Cambridge are “assumed to be the least negatively impacted” when modelling the impact of an economic recession and the pandemic on institutions.

In an economic recession, Oxford and Cambridge are assumed to face the “relatively largest increase” in the number of full-time students and the “smallest decline” in part-time students and international undergraduate students. Deferral rates from UK and international first-year students due to the COVID-19 pandemic are also predicted to be lowest for Oxford and Cambridge.  

However, Oxford is predicted to have a negative net cash inflow from operating activities in 2020-2021, which means a deficit-based on day-to-day operations. This does not consider cash flow from investing and financing activities.

36 institutions, out of a possible 125, are expected to similarly have a negative net cash inflow from operating activities. 91 institutions, almost three-quarters, are expected to have a net cash inflow of <5%, which puts them in a “critical financial position.”

Oxford and Cambridge are predicted to see an average loss of 255 jobs each: similar to the average 240 job losses per institution, but much fewer than the predicted job losses for the second tier of institutions (the 22 other Russell Group members and some other older universities).

The report states that: “While the analysis assumes relatively optimistic outcomes for higher education institutions, in reality, the potential financial impacts may be much worse than those presented here unless there is significant government intervention to support universities through this crisis.”

The UCU says the government must act to protect the income of universities, otherwise it risks inflicting damage to “a sector which will be crucial to the national recovery.”

The Financial Times reports that a cross-departmental meeting last week showed “broad support for a bailout” for the higher education sector, but that “the Treasury refused to be drawn.” The Treasury’s opposition was “confirmed by officials from three Whitehall departments.” A Treasury official said: “We are working with our colleagues at the Department of Education to come up with a sensible and targeted solution.”

UCU general secretary Jo Grady said: “This alarming report shows that university staff and students are now staring over the edge of a cliff and desperately need the government to step in and protect the sector. The government’s own analysis puts universities most at risk of financial pain from the current crisis and this report does not take account of other income losses, such as accommodation or conferencing.

“Our world-renowned universities are doing crucial work now as we hunt for a vaccine and will be vital engines for our recovery both nationally and in towns and cities across the UK. It is vital that the government underwrites funding lost from the fall in student numbers. These are unprecedented times and without urgent guarantees, our universities will be greatly damaged at just the time they are needed most.

“Even with the current unfolding crisis, universities are still itching to compete to recruit students. This analysis shows how Universities UK’s student recruitment proposal simply shifts the financial pain around the sector. What students and staff really need at the moment is the government to stand behind their universities and for institutions to work cooperatively in the wider interest.”

Dr Gavan Conlon, partner at London Economics, said: “Many institutions have a very considerable exposure to international students, and the pandemic will result in a very substantial loss in enrolments and income. Government support of universities is crucial to protect students in the short term and institutional research and teaching capacity in the longer term.

“The proposed student numbers cap will not be enough to avoid an overly competitive market for the remaining pool of applicants, with the impact of this actually being worse for some institutions than the effect of the pandemic itself. Given the expected financial losses across the sector, the government’s response clearly needs to be sufficiently well funded and well planned.

“The vast majority of universities do not have the cash reserves to cover these losses and we would expect no university to exploit the crisis. They need to work with us to protect jobs and the sector.”

Tim Bradshaw, Chief Executive of the Russell Group, said: “The whole Higher Education sector – like almost all others in the UK – is at risk at this unprecedented and challenging time. There are no simple solutions and while our universities play their part in responding to the immediate crisis through research, testing and practical support for the NHS, they are also taking steps to make savings and deliver the best value for every pound they spend.

“To secure long-term sustainability for students and for the UK’s vital research and innovation base, sector-wide support across both teaching and research will be needed to help universities mitigate the disruption caused by COVID-19.”

Oxford University has announced measures to save costs and preserve income streams, including a recruitment freeze, a pilot furlough scheme in six departments, and continued engagement with the government to seek funded extensions to disrupted research.

A Taste of Honey Today

Jade Calder
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A Taste of Honey Today

A Taste of Honey, a play by the Salford-born writer Shelagh Delaney, debuted in 1958 and is widely considered to be a landmark work of 20th century British literature. With the back drop of bleak, working class society in post-war Manchester, and the themes of single mothers, pregnancy out of wedlock, abortion, interracial relationships, and homosexuality (a decade before it was legalised in Britain), it is difficult to think of a literary work, the rest of the oeuvre of ‘kitchen sink drama’ included, which was more against the grain than the accepted social norms in contemporary British society. In particular, the enduring aspect of the play is the sheer realism of the characters, including the strong mother-daughter character duo who dominate the play’s story. This achievement was made all the more remarkable when one considers that Delaney was a mere nineteen year old factory worker when the play was released into the world.

A Taste of Honey would go on to have a seismic and readily identifiable impact, not least with the repeated National Theatre revivals and its place as a regular fixture of provincial local theatres (or so it would appear in the north). Morrissey, the lyricist of the iconic Mancunian band The Smiths, notoriously plundered lines from Delaney’s works with wild abandon for his songs in the 1980s.

Elsewhere, it was a formative inspiration for the Salfordian television soap Coronation Street, and other works in a similar vein point to how important the stage and screen can be with regards to challenging social values. Like Delaney, Bradford’s own playwright Andrea Dunbar had much made of her ‘unconventional’ (read: working class) background as a writer, but was another teenage prodigy whose play The Arbor followed similar themes of class, motherhood and race at a time when one of the most popular figures in British life was Enoch Powell. It, like A Taste of Honey, was an instant success. For another example, Cathy Come Home, although a product of those from more comfortable backgrounds, provided a sympathetic illustration of poverty and homelessness which catalysed founding of the homeless charity Crisis in the 1960s.

And so, at least for a brief time in the hazy days of post-war ‘meritocratic’ Britain, theatre could have been a vanguard of change in cultural attitudes. Thus, I cynically arched my eyebrows at the recent suggestion by the stage director of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s hit Fleabag, Vicky Jones, that the show ‘felt like a tipping point for feminism’. Once I had recovered from my automatic aversion to middle class ‘peak Guardian’ social commentary, however, I began to realise that it is difficult to think of a stage production (and television show, of course) which has captured the public’s attention quite as much in recent years. Perhaps there are reasons for this.

As improbable as Delaney’s success was in the 1950s, a similar success story is difficult to envisage today. It has been often repeated elsewhere that the costs of training in the creative industries can mean that an artistic career can be untenable for those from lower income backgrounds, leaving cultural milieus to be populated by more economically secure classes. State schools, when faced with ever sharper cuts to funding, have to focus their efforts away from the ‘softer’ creative arts when faced with difficult decisions. Furthermore, the London-centric nature of the media, coupled with insufficient Arts Council funding for communities compared to those in continental Europe, is hardly fertile ground for creative output throughout the country. All of this adds to the enduring (no matter how much we try to pretend otherwise) notions of class which pervade our habits of cultural consumption. Whilst my friends and I would regularly attend music concerts and art house cinemas relatively cheaply, the theatre was a much less obvious choice of venue for us to visit, perhaps due to some unspoken belief that the theatre was a more ‘middle class’ setting. The Rocky Horror Picture Show aside, we would only tend to step foot inside a theatre if we were on a school trip. Being exposed to A Taste of Honey in my early teens, however, proved to me that this preconception needn’t be the case, and that theatre could be open to everyone.

I do not doubt that there are countless working class, female, ethnic minority, queer (and so forth) would-be writers with stories to tell, but we need sympathetic figures throughout the creative arts industries who can give these writers a fair hearing and take a punt on their work. Sadly, however, our television screens are more likely to have a gamut of reality TV and ‘poverty porn’ programmes which intend to exploit and demonise working class people, largely because they are a proven formula for popularity.

So perhaps the Fleabag director was not wholly misguided when she stated that her production had initiated new conversations about feminism; it represented a white, middle class world perspective which could easily be accepted by the cultural establishment, and thus became an obvious focal point for public feminist discourse. Of course, it goes without saying that the artistic merits of the show are not at all diminished because it has represented that perspective.

That being said, the progress since the 1950s in diversifying and extending the parameters of what could be considered to be a critically and commercially successful work has not been as great as it could have been. There remains an inherent snobbery and numerous financial barriers against writers from minority or non-traditional backgrounds. And Fleabag will never speak to me and my life experiences as much as A Taste of Honey was able to (as awkward as that comparison is), but I suspect that for many people the opposite is true. That is fine, obviously, and I’m sure I could watch the show and appreciate the talent behind it. But we all benefit when theatre is a platform for creatives from a wide range of backgrounds.

Say So, TikTok, and the ‘Viral Sleeper Hit’

William McCathie
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Say So, TikTok, and the ‘Viral Sleeper Hit’

TikTok makes me feel old. Upon booting up the app, I am immediately presented with a short, confusing video made by some pre-pubescent enacting some reference I do not get to the soundtrack of a song I do not know. Gone are the familiar, comforting menu home screens of Twitter, Facebook, or YouTube, with their immediate slew of options before dumping you headfirst into a deluge of content. And, as you likely already know, TikTok is massively popular.

The app must be commended for its creative features; it provides a wealth of easy-to-use content creation tools. Amongst these tools is the very popular option to add a short clip of a song to the video to make up the audio content. Paired with some visual element, often a popular dance or jump-cut effect, TikTok has time and again rocketed previously overlooked songs to the upper echelons of the pop charts through its regular bandwagons of trend-following teenagers. The impact is often felt far beyond the digital walls of TikTok and its target audience – the mega record-breaking success of ‘Old Town Road’ last year was in no small part started by a TikTok trend. To lesser extremes, TikTok does the same for many songs every month. Lil Dicky’s ‘Pillow Talking’ was released in 2017 with a near-million-dollar music video but failed to really gain traction. Skip ahead to 2020, and no-budget videos by ‘tiktokers’ and their phones have brought the song more public attention than it ever previously had. ‘Sketchers’ by DripReport has seen inexplicable virality too. TikTok, then, has brought ever more prevalence to the idea of the ‘Viral Sleeper Hit’ – a previously unsuccessful song brought into the mainstream by an online trend.

It helps that TikTok is a new platform. As a social media platform matures, it has the tendency to become stuffy, formal, and unrelatable as more and more of your Baby Boomer relatives get their mitts on it. Older platforms gain a sense of etiquette and standard practice, with seasoned audiences whose eyes glaze over at any attempt of sneaky advertising or artificial virality. Younger platforms have fewer unwritten rules and a more naïve audience, allowing for more experimentation, and, more cynically, greater ability to exploit an unwitting audience and manipulate their behaviour into pushing the trend you want them to. If the ‘Harlem Shake’ were to have become big in 2020, it would have been so on TikTok, not the now more mature YouTube.

Whilst not all songs that trend on a platform dominated by ‘eBoys’ are going to be hidden gems, some are, and the publicity received from TikTok that would have otherwise not existed can prove invaluable in giving us another chance to keep hold of the best tunes from the last few years of music. ‘Pillow Talking’ may not be a very good song, and probably deserved to stay in the dumpster. We would likely have been better off if iLoveFriday’s diss track ‘Mia Khalifa’ (better known as ‘Hit or Miss’) had remained in obscurity for all of time. But Lizzo’s emergence into the mainstream was generally well-received and critically lauded. As much as it was overplayed, ‘Old Town Road’ was actually a pretty good song (that was also massively pushed along by controversy surrounding its being booted off the Billboard country charts). And right now, down to number 8 on the Hot 100, Doja Cat’s ‘Say So’ would have never achieved its deserved popularity and become Doja Cat’s far and away most popular song on Spotify without TikTok.

This is success the song absolutely deserves – indeed, I believe I have become addicted to it. Despite its repetitiveness, it fails to become boring. Despite unconventional vocal processing in the chorus, it is unbelievably catchy without being the least bit cheesy. The retro elements work very well, and Hannah Lux Davis, whose work I usually approach with scepticism, brings in a genuinely good, fitting video accompaniment to the song, even if the visual and promotional donkeywork had already been fulfilled by TikTok by the time the video dropped. Best of all elements here, however, has to be the production. Dr Luke, working under the second pseudonym of Tyson Trax, does a flawless job of weaving together a stunningly crisp track that’s bliss to the ears. It’s only a shame that the same cannot be said for the rest of Doja Cat’s library. It goes to show the ability of the TikTok community to isolate and promote the absolute cream from a broad selection, even if their efforts in doing so can be… hit or miss.

In an era where we are increasingly getting our music from personalised sources, the idea of large, cultural behemoth hits that create a strong central thread for contemporary pop music culture seems threatened. Such threats are continually abated by new social media platforms with weird names like TikTok that are instrumental in cultivating pop hits more massive than ever. I doubt TikTok will endure in its popularity as much as other popular social media services. Its userbase will age and grow tired of it, whilst the incoming 13-year-olds will latch onto some new heavily advertised music-centric social platform with a strange gimmick, likely with an even more bewildering layout. But platforms like it and the audiences it attracts will likely persist for years to come, and as long as they do, long may they be provided with the community tools they have that helped dig up such undiscovered marvels as Say So.

Pro-Vice-Chancellor for Education clarifies Trinity examinations arrangements

Felix O'Mahony
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Pro-Vice-Chancellor for Education clarifies Trinity examinations arrangements

Following concerns raised by a number of students surrounding academic arrangements for Trinity term, Cherwell reached out to Martin Williams, Pro-Vice-Chancellor for Education for an interview. Emphasising the importance of open communications in the lead-up to examinations, the Pro-Vice-Chancellor agreed to an interview on all matters from examinations arrangements to teaching methods for next term.

Has the University decided on the structure of the safety net policy which will prevent students from performing markedly more poorly than expected?

(Please note that these questions were posed before the safety net was published earlier this week)

The University has now published its safety net policy, which aims to reduce the risk of students being disadvantaged by coronavirus, or circumstances surrounding the outbreak that are beyond their control. The policy applies to subjects where remote assessments take place in Trinity term (either open-book exams or longer pieces of assessed work).

Further detail about the policy and how it will be applied to individual courses will follow in the near future from departments and faculties. Given the diversity of Oxford assessment regimes, it’s been necessary to give subjects some local autonomy to do something that works for them, but divisional offices have worked hard to ensure a reasonable degree of consistency. We will not use Prelims performance or tutorial grades as safety net measures.

The University has referred to an “honour code” as well as “specialist software” to protect against cheating. What exactly does the specialist software entail, will it be anti-plagiarism or surveillance? Given the gravity of the results of final examinations, is the University concerned about students cheating in exams?

As part of our honour code students will be asked to confirm that they have understood and are willing to abide by the University’s rules on plagiarism and collusion. Further details available here.

We will also continue to make extensive use of plagiarism checkers for submitted work, and we reserve the right to conduct follow-up viva voce exams to check students’ understanding of the examined material.

A lot of thought has gone into planning the exams, and phasing them in a way that ensures the overwhelming majority of our students have no opportunity to view the paper beforehand, and that all students are aware that doing so is cheating – as is facilitating ways for others to see the paper. The penalties for cheating are extremely severe and given how hard our students have worked to get to Oxford in the first place, cheating at this stage would undercut all their efforts and jeopardise their future plans. So, the short answer is no, we are not worried about it, but we are prepared for it.

Although Oxford does account for mitigating circumstances, the examinations announcement does not seem to recognise differences in students’ working environments. Aspects like noise levels, internet connection for open-book examinations etc. will naturally impact a student’s attainment, will the University take these smaller differences into account in awarding grades for examinations?

The University is sympathetic to students experiencing difficulties studying at home and appreciates that these are unprecedented circumstances where everyone is doing the best they can. Students were asked to complete a readiness self-assessment which will really help to inform our understanding of their individual circumstances, and therefore our response to their needs. We aim to best support those who are in need of equipment to complete assessments as best we can. All students will have a further opportunity to set out the circumstances in which they sat their exams shortly after they finish, and these will be taken into account by examiners.

If students are unable to sit their examinations this summer and are unable to return to sit examinations next year, they automatically graduate with “Declared to Deserve Honours”. How will the University protect this degree classification from damaging students’ career prospects, particularly since this classification is likely to be awarded to those students who are the most disadvantaged by the COVID pandemic?

DDH has been modelled on the long-standing award which is available at Cambridge for students experiencing exceptional circumstances. Our colleagues there have shared very positive experiences of how the award is recognised for employment and further study, and we are confident that Oxford students taking this option should not be negatively affected. DDH students will also receive an enhanced reference stating their expected result, and both documents will include wording referring to their circumstances making it clear that they are in this position through no fault of their own.

We expect the vast majority of students to take the remote assessments as scheduled, unless extreme circumstances like illness or caring responsibilities, prevent them from doing so.

Students have raised concerns that the alternative assessment arrangements defer much of the decision-making to individual departments. Certain departments have reduced workloads and examination demands on students while others have maintained high workloads for this term. What guidance specifically was given to departments to direct them in adapting teaching and examination policies this term?

All subjects were asked to consider whether they could make reductions in the Trinity Term assessment load in response to the exceptional circumstances. However, the decision ultimately has to be left to individual subject boards – they have to balance workload concerns against the need to assure themselves that the course learning objectives have been met, a task that requires understanding of the subject and how it is taught and assessed. Failure to do so would reduce the value of Oxford degrees. Besides our own internal regulation of standards, we are answerable on this to external examiners, to regulatory bodies such as the Office for Students and to professional standards bodies for degrees such as Law, Medicine and Engineering.

College libraries currently have varying policies on postal loans, and the Bodleian is shut for the foreseeable future under government regulations – for certain subjects, independent study and reading constitutes a large part of regular degree work. For students carrying on with ‘normal’ but remote study, what central effort is being made to give access to materials online? For those students carrying out research that is limited to physical copies (e.g. manuscripts, archives), will missing a term’s worth of access to these materials be taken into account in next year’s final exams?

While it’s true that the Bodleian Libraries are closed in a physical capacity, and that the loss of access to archive materials irreplaceable, I think that the team are doing a fantastic job of delivering e-resources in their thousands to fill this void. There are 1.4 million resources currently available on SOLO and 60,000 eBooks in their online catalogue now, which is a phenomenal amount.

Students also have access to new webinars to support their learning and research and a Browzine feature of comprehensive journal references including over 2,700 articles.

Of course, we will not be able to make every single library resource available online, but those with a specific need that has not been met should contact the library team and see what else is available – likewise with the college library set-up. If vital texts are not available this will of course be taken into consideration in their assessments.

Accessorizing, not so accessory

Robyn King
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Accessorizing, not so accessory

With the rippling brims of Givenchy’s millinery and Moschino’s pearl charms, accessories took the spotlight of Fashion week 2020.

Beyond their obvious practical function, belts, bags, hats and scarves all have a power. With a few simple touches they can tie disparate pieces together, dress a simple look up or cut through sombre tones with a splash of colour.

Accessories are often depreciated, regarded as the “useful extra” of Fashion clothing. Yet, the industry tells us different; look on the runways, flick through the pages of any fashion publication and you will be surprised to see as many purses, jewellery, sunglasses as they are garments. Unbeknown to many, some of the country’s leading art schools, UAL included, offer undergraduate degrees solely in fashion accessory design.

The importance of accessorizing goes far beyond aesthetic enhancement and practicality. Accessories offer a window of expression amidst clothing restrictions and expectations, particularly in a working environment. In the sharply cut world of business dress, a pair of earrings and a necklace are means of self-adornment just as much as they allow for personal distinction. I remember (with some embarrassment) agonizing over different school bags every September before the start of each term. I was conscious that, amidst the bleak swathes of grey and white uniforms, this was my only chance for self-expression, my way to stand out.

Furthermore, accessorizing allows us to be allusive and subtly echo of different styles and epoch. A recent trend brought back the headband of the 60s, in the winter, Roman coin and Egyptian jewelry injected a hint of the glitter of decayed empires into our daily outfits. Because of its tempered nature, accessorizing offers a unique degree of creative freedom. With accessories, extravagance is bold and not wild and we take more risks than we would with a top or pair of trousers.

Moschino’s gorgeously opulent Autumn/ Winter 2020 show was among the most memorable of the Milan runways. It daringly featured a black leather jacket with paniers: think Marie Antoinette meets biker. More strikingly, a pearl belt which spelled out “Moschino” was draped around the model’s hips.  On top, dangling earrings; one a peace sign and the other a capital M. Here, audacious accessories allowed to create a new level meaning.

In popular culture, brand signatures tend to be accessories rather than garments: Louis Vuitton’s flocked bags, Gucci’s adorned belts and Hermes’ Birkins are the most iconic examples. They have become a matter of status and lifestyle, featuring in rap music as much as they do on magazine covers. Indeed, accessories offer an accessible path to the lavish world of high fashion.  Vivienne Westwood’s signature orb earrings is far more feasible than a garment and easily conjugates with a wardrobe of high-street brands.

Accessories bring fantasy into our daily lives, in a way that clothing cannot do so easily. On the 2020 runways the power of accessorizing was duly acknowledged.

A Note on Self-Forgiveness

Elsie Gray
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A Note on Self-Forgiveness

TW: disordered eating, suicide

In quarantine, where rooms are small and walls are thin, it’s very easy to become aware of the expanse of space inside your own head. Social media makes it particularly easy to fill this space with self-criticism and comparative thoughts of those who, unlike yourself, are occupied with home workouts, DIY renovations, learning mandarin, doing a thousand-piece puzzles or baking banana bread. In what, for many people, is one of the most de-motivating environments imaginable, the pressures of being “productive” can be overwhelming at the best of times. Instead of cheffing up some sushi, I’ve been spending most of my time in the company of my own thoughts. Whilst this can seem like the very opposite of “productive” (and I’ll admit, at times it isn’t), it has in fact been one of the most useful things I’ve been doing. The self-improvement and inner growth plastered all over the internet for the last month does not necessarily have to be found in taking up yoga; you can learn a lot when you allow yourself the time and space just to think. 

One of my realisations? There’s something that people forget to tell girls when they reach the age of sixteen or seventeen: puberty isn’t just suddenly getting your period and a new pair of boobs. For quite a few, its changes in metabolism, flareups of acne, bigger thighs, bigger bums, tighter jeans and looser belts. 

For me, it was during Christmas of Lower Sixth: my metabolism had begun to slow, my appetite had begun to shrink, and I had grown acutely aware of the fact that the size of my waist had begun to grow. Alongside this, the spots on my face were growing in number, and I developed an inability to leave the house in the morning without a full face of foundation. Desperate to get my braces off, I quickly grew reluctant to show my teeth in photos. In Snapchats to friends I would pull the neck of my jumper up over my chin and my hair over my cheeks to hide as much of my face as possible. In brief, I was steadily constructing an opinion of myself that was less than complimentary. 

In February of Upper Sixth, I developed tonsillitis, and went on a two-week course of antibiotics. In March, this happened again.  The pill I had been prescribed– both for contraception and my acne–sent me up two bra-sizes. I began to experience bloating, and saw little difference in my skin. By May, I was out of my relationship. By June, I was off the pill and onto a third course of antibiotics in a second attempt to get rid of my spots. I was unaware of the fact that not only was my self-esteem being damaged, but by fluctuating, experimenting with, and placing strain on these various aspects of my body, my health was being damaged too. So, whilst I went through a second bout of puberty, I also started to see early symptoms of IBS. The two culminated in an impression that changes I was seeing in the size and shape of my body were not a good thing; I was juggling with various aspects of myself that I had quickly grown to reject, with each taking their turn to sit under my own personal microscope. The reality of it was that I was in fact just growing up; for me, that meant slightly bigger thighs, a bit of a bigger bum, and a not so tiny waist.

With my final year of school came a hurricane of UCAS, personal statements, the ELAT exam and an Oxford interview. Already incredibly self-critical of my physical body, I began to be ever more critical of my academic and mental capacities too. I began looking at past papers at the same time as diet plans, ‘introductions to intermittent fasting’, carb-free meal ideas, and calorie-tracking apps. By mid-September, I had lost my period. And it didn’t return for ten months. I started to skip breakfasts, skip break-times, and only have a smoothie for lunch. I was making sandwiches with lettuce leaves instead of bread, and I developed a fear of eating bananas because of the amount of carbohydrates they contained. By the end of October, I began to withdraw, as the care I was giving myself diminished. People were asking me more and more often if I was okay, whilst I was counting more and more often the calories that I had consumed that day.

But despite all of this, within the first two weeks of 2019, I had received an offer from Oxford University, earned myself 4 A*s in my mock exams, and was representing my county for cross-country. I had everything going for me, but inside it was all going downhill. Jumpers, floaty blouses and high-waisted trousers had become a staple of my sixth-form uniform. It had reached the point where I was crying so often, I stopped being able to pinpoint why. At my absolute lowest point, I had a split-second thought of ending it all. It’s difficult to comprehend just how little credit I was giving myself. I couldn’t see past all the ways in which I considered myself to be failing, or past the risks of failing that I saw laid out in front of me. I was harbouring an obsession with the size and shape of my stomach; breathing in as hard as I could in every photo and mirror I saw myself in. I recognise it now as body dysmorphia, but at the time, I was failing to recognise it at all.

It turned out that my IBS– finally diagnosed in the June of my final school year–had worsened my restrictive eating, and the restrictive eating had worsened my IBS. Both had resulted in a chronic case of low self-esteem. In order to help my gut recover, as well as to learn how to best manage it all, I had to spend three months being gluten-free, dairy-free, red-meat-free, high-fibre-vegetable-free, seafood-free, and basically anything-that-isn’t-chicken-rice-eggs-or-spinach-free. But as my body began to heal, I did gradually get to reintroduce them all. And as I did this, I was also re-introduced to my old friend Aunt Flo, and to a confidence that I had been estranged from for a very long time. 

It is now April 2020, and a lot of what I lived with in the past three years still keeps me company today. I still pull my jumpers up over my chin when I take a photo on Snapchat, and I still choose baggy t-shirts over satin slip dresses. I still get spots, I still get bloated, and I still cry. More recently, these tears have been even easier to invalidate and punish myself over, when I compare them to the tears being shed by others around the world. But the most significant thing that I have come to understand is this: 

There is not a pair of glasses that you can put on, to see the things that people see in you. No one has 2020 vision when it comes to their body; mirrors and photos only leave space for so much, and they often leave out the things that are most important. And so I ask, if you could stand in a hall of mirrors, with everything but your body, what would you see reflected? The way I see it, what would be reflected in the mirrors is what you’d see through the glasses, were they to exist. Family and friends don’t love us for our bodies. They love us for all the other bits. So you would see all the other bits, like they do. This won’t be ended on the generalised note of ‘love yourself’, because I know just how hard that can be on a good day, let alone in the confines of quarantine. What I’d like to end this on instead, is the note of ‘forgive yourself’, because a lot of what we punish ourselves over, are things that we don’t deserve punishment for in the first place. 

“Superstition ain’t the way” – did Stevie Wonder get it right?

Isobel Merriman
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“Superstition ain’t the way” – did Stevie Wonder get it right?

On my left wrist sits a tiny silver star on a chain. On my right hand, a ring my mother was given by her first serious boyfriend, to replace the one given to me by mine, after we broke up last November.  Around my neck rests a blue topaz crystal on a vintage chain.  

It’s my superstitious nature that makes all these things meaningful to me. The bracelet is a permanent replacement for a lucky charm that I wore from my mock A-Levels to Results Day, by which point both my nerves and the string bracelet were hanging on by a thread. The blue topaz is a healing crystal, meant to inspire creativity, making it the perfect crystal for writer’s block and arguably the reason this article met its deadline. I’ve always found these little charms to be a source of comfort and reassurance, but it’s hard not to consider the often insidious nature of superstition. Whilst there’s nothing wrong with some meaningful jewellery or the odd ritual, is it dangerous for us to put too much faith into the unknown? 

We all have our quirky superstitions, from lucky numbers to little rhymes about pennies – harmless fun that raises our spirits, or just things we grew up with. I still find myself looking out for pairs of magpies, sidestepping ladders and avoiding cracks in the pavement. I’ve always loved the idea that there are small signs that the universe really is on our side. Not only do silly superstitions from my childhood take me back to a more optimistic time, they can have other advantages too – if someone you fancy sneezes twice in front of you, you can inform them that you’re cosmically obligated to give them a peck. (“Once a wish, Twice a kiss.”) 

It can be comforting to see signs that the moves we’re making are the right ones, to believe that wishes can come true and that the universe has a master plan for us. Especially now, putting your faith in the cosmos and turning to the oracles for answers is more tempting than ever. What I’m suggesting therefore isn’t a detachment from your spirituality, but an avoidance of the more insidious elements of ‘cosmic faith’.

For example, I have very little time for companies such as Paltrow’s ‘Goop’, which deliberately generate anxieties and promote expensive pseudo-solutions. After a quick peruse of the ‘cosmic health’ section of Goop, I was slightly horrified to see that both her ‘Chill Child Calming Mist’ and her ‘Psychic Vampire Repellent Mist’ had completely sold out after retailing for £27 each – a bizarre side-effect of the circumstances we currently find ourselves in. ‘Calming Mist’, a mixture of rose water and essential oils like lavender and chamomile, has been referred to as “a mix between a humidifier and a riot cannon” by comedian Richard Ayoade, so it’s not hard to see how it might appeal to a home-schooling parent during a global pandemic. But whilst the benefits of aromatherapy are scientifically proven, most brands with similar products retail for about half the price as they don’t claim to possess the paranormal powers Goop peddles. 

What makes Goop so insidious is what it’s really selling:  a superstitious superciliousness (try saying that quickly) – a cosmic superiority that suggests benefits above and beyond the product’s scientific properties. This is a dangerously enticing idea and a risky way to search for reassurance as it often comes at the cost of rationality and faith in medical science. The danger of this is that it introduces new anxieties, such as the fear of psychic attack and emotional harm, and then suggests that this alternative cause for unhappiness must be solved by alternative (and expensive) means. Being emotionally exhausted, stressed or drained at points in our life is normal and shouldn’t be catastrophised into a ‘psychic attack’ as an exploitative marketing ploy. Creating an incorporeal enemy to blame these emotions on deters from scientific solutions to struggling mental health that have their basis in psychological study rather than psychic intuition and for which there are plenty of free resources! Meditation that aims to alleviate anxiety can still be supported with the burning of calming essential oils or a focus on healing crystals, but oils and crystals alone can’t singlehandedly solve the problem and it’s dangerous to suggest that they can. 

Another response to the uncertainty that surrounds the coming days, weeks and months has been a determination to find the answers in oracles, crystal balls and tarot card packs. Kim Kardashian, (an undoubtedly reliable and well-informed source) recently shared an extract from the 2008 book ‘End of Days’ by the psychic Sylvia Browne, in which she predicted that a “severe pneumonia-like illness” would spread across the globe this year. Browne was a convicted fraud, with a string of failed prophecies (according to Browne we should also all have robots by now) and yet after this post went viral her book once again became a bestseller. Others have been citing Nostradamus and his warnings of plague in his book ‘Les Propheties’, however his predictions are penned in vague terms and are often creatively interpreted by those searching for answers. 

When these resources fail to provide answers, some even turn to contemporary energy healers and fortune tellers for guidance and comfort, trusting their extortionate prices to be an indication of their success. The average ‘energy healer’ costs £200 an hour and their new remote healing services in response to social distancing measures seem particularly sketchy. After a brief phone call about your particular concern one healer will hang up and then call afterwards to discuss the ‘energy transmission’ she’s just supposedly performed. I can’t help but imagine her hanging up the phone, making a cup of tea and curling up with the telly on before calling again, but maybe I’m just a cynic. Meanwhile, my nearest psychic centre is currently offering clairvoyant telephone readings for £80 an hour, with the website stating that “our psychics are ready to provide validation about your life.” And they probably will provide at least superficial validation, but at a price. 

They do this through the use of ‘Barnum statements’, general characterisations attributed to an individual that could apply to almost anyone. Similarly to how when we read a horoscope we actively seek a correspondence between what it says about our star sign and our perception of our own personality, this is how psychics convince you they have paranormal powers. They prey on vulnerable people using this effect and whilst their clients may leave feeling validated, it’s only a temporary fix. Meaningful validation ultimately comes from within, and not every question in life can be answered. Psychic predictions of the future may make us feel more prepared, but ultimately they are an empty comfort. Part of coping in this current climate is learning to accept uncertainty and embrace it. 

But I’m still going to read my Cosmopolitan horoscope once a month. Maybe when I do eventually meet that ‘tall, handsome stranger’ I’m told I’m due it’ll be nothing more than my own confirmation bias, but otherwise I might have missed him. I also refuse to part with my lucky charms and, if you sneeze twice in front of me, watch out. There’s nothing wrong with a little superstition, as long as it’s a positive force in your life and you know that, ultimately, only you can decide your fate. 

Old Faith, New Tricks: Catholicism in the time of Lockdown

Tom W. McGrath
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Old Faith, New Tricks: Catholicism in the time of Lockdown

Catholic Masses with congregations are suspended, Holy Water has been removed from church entrances, the flock has fallen sick and been scattered. But the Church shows its resilience; all is not lost. Catholic communities all over the world have responded to the Covid-19 crisis by finding new ways to practise their old faith. But how can the faithful discover new meaning in these difficult times?

Parishes now meet for a virtual Mass. Oxford’s own Blackfriars, for instance, are live-streaming Sunday Mass at 9.30 on YouTube. Pope Francis has been delivering powerful sermons livestreamed across the world. In his Easter Address, the Pontiff memorably underscored the need for unity and action: ‘Indifference, self-centredness, division and forgetfulness are not words we want to hear at this time. We want to ban these words forever!’ (we’re assuming this is not to be taken literally).

The Pope also gave his Extraordinary Blessing ‘Urbi et Orbi’ – ‘To the City and the World’, which is normally reserved for Christmas and Easter. In this Blessing he again emphasised that believers should take an active response to the crisis: ‘it is not the time of [God’s] judgement, but of our judgement: a time to choose what matters and what passes away … It is a time to get our lives back on track with regard to you, Lord, and to others.’ 

So, the faithful must think and act with new clarity in the midst of turmoil. Many are. They gather in their homes to watch the Mass from afar. Parishes have reported an increase in the number of people attending (virtual) Mass, with some viewers returning to Mass after long absences. In Ireland, where religious divisions run deep, Catholics and Protestants prayed together, virtually, on Palm Sunday. Pax Christi, the international Catholic movement for peace, held an online prayer service in solidarity with Extinction Rebellion Faith Communities, including prayers for those affected by the virus. 

Believers have also been urged to give charity. Last month the Bishops’ Conference suggested in their letter to Catholics in England and Wales that they should be ‘attentive to the needs of our neighbour, especially the elderly and vulnerable; contributing to our local food banks; volunteering for charitable initiatives and organisations; simply keeping in touch by all the means open to us’. Far from shying away, this uncertain time is the chance for the Church to prove and reinvent itself. 

In this, it has many advantages. The Church is an entity which in some ways is custom-built for helping its followers overcome difficult times. Christianity’s strong track record of resilience in crisis is a trait which comes from the very nature of its foundations. This history begins with the Hebrew Bible, and its account of ancient Israel’s endurance of mishap and toil, from Assyrian invasion to exile in Babylon, without losing sight of its Covenant and God’s salvific purpose. Centuries later, Christianity was born into a world of persecution in the Roman Empire. It grew, initially against a backdrop of torture and execution by emperors, notably Nero and Decius. Thus began a tradition of martyrdom, which infused into Christianity a spirit of resilience in dealing with oppressors and times of struggle.

Today, one may look to the narratives of the New Testament which mirror in some way our present, self-isolated living, for guidance or inspiration in lockdown. One may remember the story of Peter, sitting, isolated and alone, in Herod’s prison, who kept praying for rescue (which arrived in the form of an angel). One may think of the Apostles, hiding in the Upper Room after the death of their leader. They must have faced trials similar to those which we face, which have been brought on by our (sometimes-fearful) social distancing and self-isolation. The Apostles could not leave their room, and they had no idea what the future held for them. The life of Christ is also, of course, a case of perseverance and courage in the face of uncertainty, danger and anxiety. This fact has influenced the whole Christian tradition. Important theories of salvation, like that of St. Augustine, centre on the hardship faced by Christ as the active ingredient which brought about salvation. Contemporary scholars now tend to focus on Christ’s participation in human suffering, emphasising Paul’s metaphors of Christ as sacrificial victim, as when Paul wrote that ‘our paschal lamb, Christ, has been sacrificed’ (1 Corinthians 5:7). Through his suffering, it is said that Christ demonstrates the failure of violence. The Christian, then, does not have to look far for exemplars of great resolve in times of difficulty. 

Christianity is in the business of making sense of hardship. The Church gives its followers a framework for times of crisis. In addition to injunctions to give charity, Christianity offers stability and certainty, which are both at a premium in lockdown. It urges a rule of compassion towards others in the community, encouraging gentle persuasion of others that they should follow rules for the general good, rather than the harmful shaming which has been witnessed from some quarters. It encourages frequent ritual and practice, such as routines of prayer or charity, which can give structure to one’s day in the absence of going to work. There are three particularly important traditions of relevance here: monasticism, silence, and prayer.

First, one may look to the tradition of monasticism for inspiration, as the life of the self-isolator is not so very different from that of a follower of a monastic rule. We, like them, must plan our days in an enclosed environment, deciding at what times to do this and that in order to feel motivated, productive and, for the believer, in communion with God. Self-isolation is not monastic in the mould of the communitarian Benedictines, but in that of the solitary lifestyle of the Carthusians or Trappists, enclosed off from the outside world. Monks live without frivolous and non-essential items (many without any private possessions), just as many of us will likewise have to do without non-essential items for the time being. 

Secondly, the Catholic tradition of silence is of interest. Silence is a spiritual necessity – or so say many Catholic spiritual writers. In monasteries, conversation is limited to the necessities, to prevent idle talk and help one in speaking with God. Although alien to many, this thought is a fruitful one, easily applicable to the days spent in lockdown. Regardless of one’s faith, withdrawing, even in part, from the noise of the 24-hour news cycle can give one space to contemplate and be restored. And perhaps believers can view less conversation among each other as an incentive for more conversation with God? Chapter 6 of the Rule of St. Benedict emphasises the need for silence for listening to God when it suggests to its disciples: ‘since the spirit of silence is so important, permission to speak should rarely be granted even to perfect disciples, even though it be for good, holy edifying conversation’, and again: ‘the disciple’s part is to be silent and to listen’ (trans. Leonard J. Doyle, Order of St. Benedict: archive.osb.org). This reflects Romans 10:17: ‘So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ’, among many other Scriptural passages. Silence is the means to listening to oneself and to God, and lockdown presents the opportunity for this.  

Lastly, the believer may pray for those who suffer from the virus itself, and for those who care for them, (in addition, of course, to giving charity). Prayer is as old as the Judeo-Christian tradition itself. It is used throughout the Old and New Testaments, among other things to cry out to God, as the ancient Israelites cried out to God over their enslavement in Exodus 2:32; to petition, as Paul recommends in Ephesians 6:18; and to intercede, as in 2 Corinthians 1:11. Petition, asking God for things, is perhaps what people think of first about prayer. When Christ gave the Church the Lord’s Prayer, he included this element in ‘Give us this day, our daily bread’ – which is a request for nourishment, and all entailed in this, like strength, health, worldly opportunity and so on. But petition is not all. The Lord’s Prayer itself includes these other aspects too: meditation, praise of the Father, a request for forgiveness, reflection on the coming Kingdom, and a request for strength. Prayer is said to effect a change in the one praying – helping the believer grow in love and confidence, and find courage within themselves. Bestowed with the gifts of prayer, perhaps the believer will be able to contribute to bringing about positive changes in the world. Perhaps the believer may pray for the courage and strength to face the challenges of their time – like those in the Christian story before them. This is affirmed in the Church’s official teaching, in which is quoted St. Thérèse of Lisieux’s insightful description: ‘For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy’. This last ‘embracing both trial and joy’ resonates in times like this – prayer is for good times and bad. 

What about those on the peripheries of the Church – those who do not normally have much by way of religious faith but who may turn towards religion in times of crisis? The aim of the Church should be to encourage them to engage with these three relevant traditions of monasticism, silence and prayer. It would be interesting to know how many of the new attendees at online masses which parishes are reporting are those who had joined in just to see what it was like – to see if a religious perspective could help them cope with difficult times. It would not be surprising if many were. The effect of the present crisis on Christianity will come down to whether or not people on the peripheries of the faith have been inspired to return to the fold, and whether the weeks-on-end without any physical church attendance will mean a downturn in attendance once the pews are re-filled.

Christianity has difficulties it has to face. But making sense of times of crisis like this is something for which it is well suited. Christian faith and practice can help make sense of events like this. As long as Christians make good use of their own tradition’s spiritual and practical resources, there is no reason why it cannot find new strength in a dark time. 

Image credit: https://pixabay.com/fr/illustrations/tous-les-saints-christian-sainte-2887463/

SATIRE: How to feel rich during quarantine

Emeliva Howawante
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SATIRE: How to feel rich during quarantine

The last few weeks has been an ordeal for many of us – there is little refuge from the constant barrage of bad news. However, we must try to create a semblance of normality whenever we can, which for me, Emeliva Howawante, has meant getting back to feeling rich.

It has been quite a trial. I cannot stop at Harrods for an amuse-bouche between meetings anymore, and shopping sprees at Changi airport are of course out of the question. All I have left are the happy hours in the queue outside Waitrose. From there I can see the world, and the world can see me – through the clear plastic bodysuit I wear at all times. It keeps both my health, and my birkin, safe from infection. As does my aerosol disinfectant that I have mixed with pepper spray. You never can be too careful with the hooligans.

I was half-way into the store the other day when I remembered an encounter I had with the celebrated ceramicist Jemima Gerriatric, who I met ten years ago at a Cartier event in Paris. What she said to me I will never forget: “The only way out of rock bottom Emeliva is to start collecting Picasso.” This is my battle cry, and I have taken it upon myself to discover and share with you ways that we can all achieve that elusive ‘I-really-do-own-an-island’ feeling, without leaving the safety of our own homes.

For starters, the recent drop in the stock market should be considered a fantastic opportunity. My husband reminded me that since 2008 there has not been a riper time for investment. So, why not while away a few hours cashing in some savings to the FTSE 100. The best part of it is that even if the market price drops, there is always more to put more in! If you invest for the long term (like myself) then you can spend the next few years watching it appreciate and thinking of all the lovely things you can buy with your earnings.

Nothing has brought me more joy in this horrible time than tapping the buttons on my bank app and looking up stock market trends. It’s so fun, like grown-up Candy Crush! I have decided that this could be considered a pastime in itself and, like all pastimes, it deserves a bit of luxurious elevation. After several weeks of virtual admiration I can announce that I have purchased an extravagant Hermès chaise longue with dark red leather upholstery and guilt dragon feet which I have informed my family is to be used exclusively for my own financial exploits. No greasy handprints on this fine beauty.

Last week was a flurry of interior design for me – a vase here, a buddha statue there, though what’s really transformed the entire mood of the conservatory has been the installation of a little Japanese sand pit in the corner. Every evening after watching the news I go to my zen room, pick up the delicate wooden rake and dust it through the sand, creating such calming horizontal lines that it takes all the worry away. It needs to fit the colour scheme of the room of course, so I have ordered 10 kg of black Tahitian sand from my dear hotelier friend – Ivan con Feshon-Tumake.

Digital meetings are of the utmost importance. I spend a good half-hour everyday styling my backdrop. A still-life tableau of grapes and oranges provides a roman resplendence to my drawing room. It has given me an excellent excuse to whip out the Louis XIV candlesticks that I nabbed at Christie’s last autumn.

The virtual experience has allowed me to see the intimate parts of my colleague’s houses like never before, what a treat! I like to rate their rooms on a scale from squalor to splendor. I even discovered that one of my peers has the most outrageous wallpaper – it depicts nude women doing various things with pineapples… Whoever would have thought that demure Kenneth would have such scandalous taste?

The fantastic article from FT’s lifestyle contributor Luke Edward Hall provided some excellent inspiration; he suggested sneaking a ‘plaster cast of a classical head’ into the frame of your zoom meeting. But I ask the critical question – is that enough? Last night I embraced my natural flamboyance and spent an hour styling a centrepiece for my morning Skype call. I have placed my husband’s terracotta bust of Margaret Thatcher directly in front of my iMac webcam, and tomorrow I intend to sit behind it doing my best impression of the late baroness. I hope it will surprise and delight them to see her brought back to life! You can get bronze busts of all sorts of prolific politicians – Stalin, Pol Pot, Castro, and I intend on purchasing a few and doing a sort of Punch and Judy show with them. Perhaps I’ll reenact the battle of Trafalgar, or JFK’s assassination.

There you are my darlings! I hope this has inspired you to take up your own ‘creative-wealth projects’ as I’m calling them. Don’t let the Lockdown get you down and remember that wherever you are in the world you must treat yourself to the very best.

Love, Emeliva xx

Image via jankuss on Photobay

The era of digital drama

Dot Foster
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The era of digital drama

When you imagine ‘going to the theatre’, an image of you in your dressing gown, sitting on the sofa and eating popcorn probably doesn’t come to mind. When I watched the NT Live recording of One Man, Two Guvnors, it was an experience of theatre that fought with these expectations: free, easily accessible online and available globally for anyone to watch. In an age of Covid-19 with our communities affected at every level and the world facing an unprecedented amount of human loss, the arts have become essential. They allow us to creatively immerse ourselves, escaping momentarily from the challenges of everyday life: but above all, to do this knowingly, together. In an interview for The Stage, the NT’s executive director Lisa Burger said the new NT live screenings were intended to “lift the spirits, bring people together and become something to talk about”. Chris Whitty, the government’s Chief Medical Officer, said that he expected society to cope with the coronavirus with “extraordinary outbreaks of altruism”. It would be fair to say that providing world-class theatre for free is a significant gesture of goodwill, especially as venues for an NT Live screening charge roughly double the price of a normal cinema ticket.

Britain’s National Theatre Live, or NT Live, is an initiative established just over ten years ago that, on its most basic level, broadcasts live theatre productions directly to cinemas across the world. Unlike earlier forms of theatre recording, it represents an attempt to recreate the typical experience of seeing a play performed, with camera angles following the drama live as it plays out. According to a 2011 report by the National Endowment for Science, Technology and the Arts (NESTA), “until NT Live…it was felt that theatre could never benefit from the transition [of theatre to film], that acting for the stage and screen were different disciplines, and that previous examples of live recordings had been cold and static”. According to NESTA’s survey, this was not the case; “eighty-four per cent of NT Live cinema audiences ‘felt real excitement’ because they knew that the performance they were watching was taking place live that evening.” The popularity of NT Live, and other initiatives like it such as The Met: Live in HD, is not unique, nor only due to the current crisis. Many such schemes are well established and globally successful. According to The Stage, the streaming audience for the coronavirus broadcast of One Man, Two Guvnors was 209,000 people, four times the initial cinema audience for the first-ever NT Live screening of Helen Mirren as Phèdre. But the fundamental difference now is that there is no longer ‘liveness’ in watching these productions; NT Live has, for the first time, made the decision to make some of their previously closely-guarded recordings accessible, releasing videos of productions every Thursday at 7pm BST for the next two months.

These recordings – distributed via Youtube – are prefaced by the statement “theatres around the world are closed and facing a devastating impact from coronavirus. Theatre and the arts are a positive force for our community in turbulent times. As you enjoy this recorded performance, please consider a donation to support this great industry.” This made me wonder whether such large – national – theatres have any kind of moral duty to make such recordings of shows accessible, or even free. What’s lovely about student theatre is that in a world of comp tickets, low-budget costumes, and learning lines at the last minute, productions usually have less at stake; those involved are not relying on the play as their sole source of income. But being a professional in the theatre industry, whether an actor, stage manager, costume designer, or any of the other workers involved in a production, inevitably comes with managing unstable earnings. For audiences, it is often also the financial difficulty that prevents theatre from becoming a more pervasive cultural presence. With online streaming services rising in commercial power, with content instantly available and at affordable prices, how can the mass cultural value of theatre compete? Netflix charges a minimum of £5.99 per month for access to “unlimited films, TV programmes and more”. In comparison, to watch a show at the National Theatre audience members pay between £15 to £70 a ticket, depending on the quality of the seats. When NT Live first started broadcasting productions, the primary focus was expanding financial accessibility. According to the NESTA report, “NT Live appears to have drawn in larger lower-income audiences than those at the theatre…A quarter of the [NT Live] cinema audience earned under £20,000 per year’. Twice as many people earning over £50,000 per year saw shows in the theatre rather than via NT Live. More than a decade later, it seems that many of the aims of NT Live remain the same in a world affected by coronavirus. Alice King-Farlow, director of learning at the NT, said that “given the unprecedented challenges we are all currently facing across the globe, we want to ensure that pupils, teachers and academic institutions are supported during this time and can continue to have access to a range of learning resources during the school closure period.” In a statement on their website, NT Live announced that “the National Theatre Collection, including 24 full filmed plays, will now be available to pupils and teachers at state schools and state-funded further education colleges.”

NT Live is not the only initiative that aims to make theatre freely, and digitally available during the Covid-19 Crisis. In terms of theatre now available for free, according to Chris Wiegand, “Hampstead theatre and the Guardian have teamed up to stream a series of acclaimed productions for free” available to stream on the Hampstead Theatre’s website, and Emma Rice’s adaptation of Wise Children is available on BBC iPlayer for three months “as part of the Culture in Quarantine programme.” Even though Shakespeare’s Globe has rentable recordings on its ‘Globe Player’ website, Wiegand reiterates that on the Globe’s YouTube channel, the theatre is broadcasting “a series of free streams, each available for a fortnight”. This is significant, as the costs of producing material for broadcast, securing rights to distribute it, and covering marketing and satellite broadcast fees are substantial and out of reach to all but a few international companies. This type of charitable response is not feasible for all theatre companies; some smaller, independently funded organisations are struggling to respond to the economic damage caused by coronavirus that threatens its future productions and staff. Despite this, some venues are committed to the financial safety of their artists. As well as furloughing the majority of its staff, the Cambridge Junction, an urban arts centre, is attempting to compensate artists who would have been performing: “we remain committed to supporting artists and as far as we can we will be paying fees to them for cancelled performances.”

It is inspiring that as a response to the virus, many big-brand theatres and organisations, like NT Live, have offered up their creative content freely (or at least at low costs). This generosity, often funded by philanthropy, not only ensures that theatre and the arts remain relevant in an era critically dependent on scientific and medical advances but that by using new technology, often represented as a dominant threat to the arts, the internet can become an instrument to allow everyone, regardless of financial status or previous knowledge of theatre, to experience high-quality drama risk-free, from the comfort of their homes. It is hard not to imagine the cultural benefit to us all if this access was the theatre’s usual role in our lives.

Image credit: Marc Brenner

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