Sunday 5th April 2026
Blog Page 552

Uniquely comforting consolation: a look at Netflix’s Tiger King

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A desire for escapism is one of the most common reasons people seek media. The circumstances in which we are currently living, and the fact that there is literally no excuse not to be watching Netflix right now, means that regular reality TV or standard binge-worthy true crime just aren’t cutting it anymore.

Enter Tiger King, helpfully and aptly subtitled Murder, Mayhem, and Madness. Other nouns you could add include Bleached Mullets, Ex-Drug Lords and Country Songs About Brutally Murdering Your Spouse. The show blazes in all its absurdity, smoking like a motorway car crash, while thirty-four million people slow down to take a better look.

Emotionally, the show is the polar opposite of stuff like Queer Eye or Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, but it fulfils the same need. While the latter can make you feel better about the chaos of your own life by pointing your gaze upwards to an aspirational vision of colour-coded cabinets and Tan France’s immaculate fashion sense, the lure of true crime is that it can do the same while making you look downwards and outwards into the gutter and fringes of society.

That’s what has made it so incredibly popular. There’s something deeply comforting in knowing that, as much as your life might be slipping off balance in self-isolation, you’ll never end up as a white-blonde, gun-toting, mulleted polygamist facing two decades in prison for hired murder and nine violations of animal protection laws. Probably.

The show also does so well because of the absence of truly sympathetic victims. In more grounded true crime series, like Making a Murderer or Abducted in Plain Sight, significantly more attention is paid to the victims’ pain. It’s difficult to fully lose yourself in the story because you are rightly reminded, often by their testimony, that actual, innocent people died or suffered violence at the heart of the story the producers are telling.

In Tiger King, the primary victims are – depending on who you believe – Carol Baskin’s late husband, the workers, and the animals themselves, whose stories the documentary was never truly interested in telling. You get, in short, the release and the disgust and the adrenaline of true crime, without being weighed down by the realities of the people and animals who are hurt by it.

And on the topic of sympathy, Tiger King also does well because of the type of person it chooses to mock. You couldn’t really have a show like Tiger King featuring a traditionally marginalised minority – not without facing an intense social media backlash. But younger and more liberal viewers are willing to uncritically accept the caricature the series offers, of the lower-class, redneck, hillbilly, gun-toting white American, garlanded in leopard print and covered in spray-tan. Which is why it works. A show perfectly designed to offer release has to do that without troubling itself with the burdens of social responsibility.

That isn’t to say that culture critical media analysis is a bad thing; for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial, and a deeply necessary project in the ongoing task of making the art we consume conform to the values we hold. But it does take effort. The liberation of watching something like Tiger King is that it demands nothing from you but your instincts.

In a time when everything is anxiety-inducing and exhausting, Netflix has created something that can wrench your attention away from the twenty-four-hour news cycle without making you do anything more than keep looking at the screen. And, for better or for worse, that’s what most people need right now.

NHS staff and rough sleepers offered college accommodation

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Several Oxford colleges have made rooms available for homeless people and health workers to combat the impact of the COVID-19 crisis.

University College and Pembroke College are part of a council-run scheme which has given 121 rooms to vulnerable people. University College has made twelve rooms in its Banbury Road annexe available to rough sleepers. The annexe will be run by St Mungo’s, a homeless charity, and is available free of charge. The College has offered a further six rooms to people displaying symptoms of coronavirus.

In addition to providing accommodation, Pembroke is contributing to the Council’s food delivery scheme which provides 100 homeless people with three meals a day. Drivers deliver two hot meals and a cold breakfast to people housed in temporary shelters in Oxford. “Everyone in college is immensely proud of our catering team who are once again putting in extra effort to show the meaning of being a caring community,” says Dame Lynne Brindley, the College’s master.

The Saïd Business School, the YHA, and commercial hotels are also part of the scheme which the Council initiated after government advice said it was “imperative that rough sleepers and other vulnerable homeless are supported into appropriate accommodation.”

“Our housing team and partners old and new have worked incredibly hard to protect homeless people from coronavirus”, said Councillor Linda Smith. “We’re exploring options to provide a wider range of accommodation that will help ensure nobody should have to sleep rough in Oxford during these unprecedented times.”

The Dean of the Saïd Business School said the School was “glad to offer support to our wider community at this time of crisis. Once the emergency is over, we look forward to opening our doors to our students and colleagues once again.”

Other colleges are facing pressure to make unoccupied rooms available. 149 people have signed an open letter calling on more colleges to offer “whatever housing facilities they can”. The letter says: “The University of Oxford and its Colleges, with their stock of currently unoccupied housing for staff and students, are in a unique position to be of service at this time.

“More self-contained rooms are needed, though, and we urge other colleges to get in touch with the Council. We must—as a community—find ways to cope with the present need, supporting the most vulnerable amongst us.”

Several colleges have also offered accommodation to NHS workers who need to self-isolate. Wadham has offered 30 rooms in its Merifield site in Summertown. A spokesperson told Cherwell: “We have organised contract cleaners and a laundry service and a team of Wadham students and staff have volunteered to welcome and guide newcomers to their rooms while maintaining social distancing.

“We are waiting to hear from NHS representatives if and when the accommodation will be required.” The college has also donated surplus gloves and aprons to the NHS to help deal with shortages.

St Anne’s and Exeter have confirmed that their accommodation is available to NHS workers. St Anne’s has offered rooms in north Oxford, whilst lodge manager Peter Burden used the College van to deliver 40,000 items of personal protective equipment to local health services.

A St Anne’s spokesperson told Cherwell: “As an outward looking and collaborative College we are keen to play our part supporting the City of Oxford, particularly key workers, at this challenging and uncertain time.”

An Afternoon in Late Autumn

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Dormant warrens thronged and gasped in the clay;
Trees groped empty space, hung with wilting flesh;
A pond sat stagnant, scummed, long rid of joy –.
Autumn’s slow coil had caught me in its crush.

Yet, for all the shapes of decay and grief,
No wails or groans gave sound to the pain,
Not even a twitch told the slightest strife,
All writhings were locked in an ugly mien.

They were locked – diseased limbs and drawn faces –
Near their sad drop’s end, on the verge of lull.
Withheld was death’s allaying catharsis.
Preserved was agony, silent and still.

And I was all the warmth and life around
To breathe and beat against the frozen air,
Except for a rabbit with matted eyes
That fumbled and fell in the mud.

* * *

Above, the ailing sun had drooped and spewed
Its sickly amber on the sky; a cold,
Quiet blast of waned might, gathered and heaved,
Before its final fall below the world.

And I was all the warmth and life on earth.
Bright cities of gardens and art, crowds thrilled
On their victory march, my homely hearth –
All dropped before the sun and left that mould.

Pushing into my ears, the grim coil closed,
And I was all the warmth and life that was;
Childhood games, old flames, cooed words memorised
Did their colour, voice and likeliness lose.

So, I stood alone on that lonely plain,
That scrap set to sink with the sun’s last moan,
That waste that was all that ever had been,
Expecting the end and wanting it soon.

* * *

Then all illusions, high and low, were cracked
When, from a hedge-hid road, a yob’s car hacked,
Enforcing plain old truth, neutral and slacked,
And my next meal tapped at my brain.

Image Credit: Francesca Nava

Comfort Films: What We Do in the Shadows

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Niche is one way to describe a dark comedy about a group of vampires muddling through day-to-day life in Wellington suburbia. However, Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement’s 2014 horror mockumentary secured its place as a familiar favourite, if one with a bit of a cult status, through its bizarre and banal satire. Both gag-fuelled and gory, it’s a film that will keep you smiling throughout its entire 97 minute run – frankly a better way of using your quarantine time than messing around with a sour-dough starter.

Filmed by a small group of camera men provided with crucifixes and full immunity from their subjects (of course), the mockumentary depicts the nightly activities and bickering of four centuries-old vampires. Dandyish Viago (Waititi) laments the state of the sink whilst Deacon, the 183 year old “rock star” of the group, maintains “vampires don’t do dishes”. Meanwhile Vladislav (Clement) explains his tardy appearance at flat meetings citing mass demonic orgies as an excuse and 8000 year old Peter is left in the basement with his chicken carcass.

The film is ostensibly about a group of “man-children” and their immature gags and petty feuds. There is a well meaning idiocy to the hypnotic tricks they play on their victims that can also be found in their rigorous traditions. The characters relentless pandering to their documenters is reminiscent of a host of mockumentary sitcoms. Waititi and Clement have painstakingly fleshed out their characters, and the friendship and tensions that exist in the household feel comfortably and humorously familiar. 

Yet trouble arises when one of the coven turns Nick, an intended food source, into a vampire, and suddenly the house dynamics must deal with an excitable and egotistical addition. As the youngest member of the house, Nick brings an even greater level of ridiculousness to the group, but also a self awareness regarding the contemporary cultural associations of vampires; the others must confront him over his keenness to tell every club-er in Wellington “I am Twilight”.

When Nick invites his friend Stu (a human) into the house, the group begins to form a bizarrely touching attachment to him, despite their admitted desire to eat him. He becomes an additional house member and the resident technology guru, teaching the archaic vampires some new skills such as Skype, web surfing and DJing. Despite the lack of action, the film maintains a sharp and fast paced humour, which makes up for the occasional feeling that the plot is somewhat sparse.

It truly is the script and performances that stand out in this film, and for the most part, these features are left to speak for themselves. In line with the mockumentary style, the cinematography and the role of the camera are fairly simple. On the rare occasions when special effects are used, such as in examples of the film’s gore based humour, they end up leaving the intended comedy slightly flat. You wouldn’t define What We Do In The Shadows as “uproarious comedy” by any stretch of the imagination. However, it is a delightful blend of utter ridiculousness, sharp puns and continuous gags, and it’s cheerful enough to make for perfect quarantine viewing. There is definitely solace to be found in watching a group of people muddle through their own endless boredom with a level of remarkable idiocy and genuine enjoyment of each other’s company.

Daunting, but rewarding: introducing Oxford’s caving scene

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First things first: let’s get our bearings! What’s caving, what’s pot-holing and what’s spelunking, and difference between them? 

Caving is one of the most unusual sport clubs you might find at university! It’s a team activity that involves walking, crawling, climbing, and abseiling through underground passages. The sport’s main appeals are the sense of embarking on an adventure in a team, the variation of the underground architecture, and the incredible formations that uniquely grow in caves. There are lots of opportunities for those seeking to challenge themselves physically and mentally. Crawling in confined tunnels or abseiling through lofty chambers can certainly be daunting, but it’s also remarkably rewarding.

Terminology-wise, “caving” tends to imply going through horizontal underground passages while “potholing” usually refers to ascending and descending vertical shafts. Most cave systems have both vertical and horizontal sections, so the activity of going into them is usually referred to as caving! Spelunking is an American term for caving.

It seems like there’s a long history of caving in Oxford. How did the club get started, and where have been the traditional go-to locations? 

Geology Professor Marjorie Sweeting started the club in 1957 with the help of some students who had some caving experience. The first trip for the club was to a cave in Somerset called GB. This is a cave the club continues to visit today.

Over the years, the club has thrived, and during term time, we do a rotation of weekend trips to the main UK caving areas: Somerset, South Wales, Peak District, and Yorkshire Dales.

What’s the social scene like at OUCC?

During term time, we have weekly pub catch up socials, which are also used to refresh on skills such as knot-tying, rigging, and to plan which caves we’d like to visit on the next upcoming trip. Alongside this, we host talks about caving and expeditions that members have been on. We also have an annual dinner and a Summer BBQ and punting day, which are always fun events.

How much scope is there for competition, then? Do we just have to take your word for it that you’re better than Cambridge?

We usually run a varsity match of caving-related games on our joint trip. I am happy to report that we shoed the Tabs at the last varsity 4-1.

It looks like one of the big things the club has got up to over the years is exploring, and mapping out new networks of caves, both in the UK and abroad. Can you tell me more about this, and about any projects you’re working on at the minute?

OUCC ran expeditions to the Picos de Europa in Spain from 1962 – 2014 where the club found extensive caves that are among some of the deepest in Europe. The current depth of the cave system is 1.2 km. The Club does not currently run any expeditions, but members are very welcome to join the expedition that still runs to the area ‘The Ario Caves Project’, which is a great experience. There are also many other expeditions that students can get involved with using the skills that they learn with the club to places such as Austria, Borneo, and China.

Do you have any recommendations for caving-related books and films to introduce people to the sport while they’re locked down?

There is a film about the OUCC’s exploration in Spain called ‘The Ario Dream’ which can be accessed at https://vimeo.com/ondemand/ariodream, and there’s a book entitled Beneath the Mountains available on our website, http://www.oucc.org.uk, which are both excellent introductions to caving.

How did you get into caving? What’s the beginners’ scene like in Oxford, and how do you get involved?

The university Caving Club is probably the easiest way to get into caving that there is. Nearly all of our weekend trips are suitable for complete beginners and on most trips there is at least one person who has not done it before. We have all of the gear that you need for caving in our hut, so you don’t need to buy anything to come along. To get involved, you just have to rock up to a weekly pub meet or email a leader. Weekend trips cost £40 which includes accommodation, food, transport, and caving kit.

For more information on what OUCC is up to, or if you’d like to get in touch with them, check out their instagram page (@oxford_uni_caving), their Facebook (Oxford University Caving Club) or their website (http://www.oucc.org.uk/).

This introduction to Oxford’s caving scene was written with contributions from Rory Rose, Amelia Steane, Nick Adams and Rebecca Miller.

Image Credit: Thomas Leung, 2019

Shorts: The world after Covid-19

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1. Jed Burkat (Brasenose)

Slavoj Zizek, beloved pop-culture icon and philosopher, has called Coronavirus a ‘perfect storm’ which ‘gives a new chance for Communism’ in Europe in a series of writings and interviews. Unfortunately for the sniffling Ljubljana Marxist, I must disagree.

If anything, the aftermath of the pandemic will strengthen the invisible hand’s grip on our lives. The high street, already struggling from the rise of online shopping, will suffer a premature death as we shop virtually again and again, out of concern for our safety. In corona-world, such shops thrive; ASOS warehouse staff have been deemed ‘essential’ and Amazon has gone unpunished in firing union leaders under pretext of safety. Neither small businesses nor the actual workers benefit from this, and it does not bode well for the future (for the love of God – pause your online shopping!)

When we finally do leave the house, social distancing – now social code – will make it difficult for small restaurants, cafes, bars to just go back to how things were. The pub around your corner does not have the same safety net that Wetherspoons can fall back on. And what will happen to climate justice and holding corporations accountable? Unless you are willing to risk a fine, you will probably sit those protests out too.

More online, broke, and physically separated than before, we are vulnerable to erosions to our freedoms, big and small – luckily, they won’t happen unless we stand idly by. As quarantine drags on, the real risk is that we become forgetful.

2. Carlotta Hartmann (Trinity)

Imagining the world after Covid-19 is, to be honest, a grim task. It is not like the mess that we were in before the pandemic will be any easier to fix – remember climate change? The when and how of this strange world are hazy, and the projections for the next few months look anything but rosy. Still, there is some joy in this dark mist of such a scenario: Coming back to Oxford in October, seeing our friends and – what? Bear hugs and cuddles when we have all just come from different continents? Even after the worst of the pandemic has passed, that doesn’t seem too plausible. I am looking forward to more creative displays of affection: handshakes are back! Not the boring ‘nice to meet you’ kind, but the Zac and Cody ten-second rituals. The added difficulty of not actually touching? Think pantomime, lots of waving at each other and running in circles. Plenty of time to practice before October.

3. George Phillips (Brasenose)

As the pandemic spreads we are consuming more news than ever before, but Coronavirus may well have sounded the death knell for print journalism.

Almost all local papers have ceased operations, many with little hope of resuming post lockdown. Nationally we have seen print runs cut drastically and major publications ask staff to accept pay cuts.

Traffic to news sites, on the other hand, is through the roof, and so too are subscription rates; the Financial Times reports a tenfold increase in paying users over the last three weeks for example. Some new customers will, of course, revert to buying a physical paper once circumstances allow. A large portion, though, will doubtless realise that an online subscription is not just more convenient, but also better value for money and richer in content.

Suddenly, the thought of an entirely digital news landscape seems plausible. The state of the industry this time next year is anyone’s guess. We can rightly assume, however, that as people increasingly look to the web for their news fix, print newspapers are well and truly on their way to becoming extinct. After all, it was only a matter of time.

4. Amelia Wood (Balliol)

Once this is all over, the Conservatives will find themselves in a sticky situation. Having left the responsibility of the last global recession firmly at Labour’s door, they will struggle to do the same with this one. The opposition already has plenty of ammunition, from the failure to deliver large-scale testing to the government’s initially cavalier approach. What would have been the right tack is a question that will take years of inquests and articles to unpack.

The Tories would be right to be concerned. Look at Corbyn’s trials with anti-Semitism, or Hilary and her emails, any story that lasts is a story that does lasting damage. From the highs of his election landslide, Johnson will find his term dominated by this pandemic and the slow recovery from it.

As for the planet, there are crystal clear waters in Venice for the first time in living memory, animals across the globe have reclaimed the land, and air pollution has plummeted. But the healing will not last. When the virus has receded, we will return to our normal lives, the waters will muddy, the animals will retreat, and the air will be replaced by smog. Stasis is always easier than change, and the changes we need to make are impossibly hard. My guess is that the coronavirus will leave its impression on the political landscape, but not the actual one.

5. Natasha Voase (Keble)

We are clapping for our carers every week and demanding that they be given a pay rise. The Conservative government is promising to borrow billions to underwrite people’s wages and Boris Johnson put the nail in the Thatcherite coffin by saying that there really is such a thing as society. An optimist might see this as a turning point for the establishment of a fairer, more compassionate, and more unified society.

However, those who are convinced that a smiling socialist utopia is around the corner waiting for us are mistaken. The 2008 financial crisis, which revealed the cracks in the global capitalist order did not usher in an era of socialism and nor will this. As with the austerity imposed by Conservative governments since 2010, the carers we cheer for this week will be those hardest hit next week. Tory MPs cheered when they blocked pay rises for nurses in 2017, and the quiet decision to give these same MPs £10,000 to cope with the hardship of working from home proves the inclinations of our leaders. The current crisis will not be a great leveller unless we force our leaders to make it so.

Coronavirus vaccine may be ready by autumn, Oxford professor states

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Sarah Gilbert, the Oxford Professor leading the research team working towards a vaccine against the coronavirus at Oxford’s Jenner Institute, has stated that a vaccine could be ready by autumn 2020. Co-leader of the Oxford team, Professor Adrian Hill affirmed that “the aim is to have at least a million doses by around about September.”

This contrasts the consensus among experts that the vaccine could take between 12 to 18 months to develop.

The Oxford Vaccine Centre states: “The best-case scenario is that by the autumn of 2020 we could have an efficacy result from the phase III trial”, however it warns that “these best-case timeframes are highly ambitious and subject to change.”

Professor Gilbert told The Times she was “80% confident” the vaccine being trialled will be effective and successful. She continued: “I think there’s a high chance that it will work based on other things that we have done with this type of vaccine. It’s not just a hunch and as every week goes by we have more data to look at.” Similarly, Professor Hill expressed his “confidence that this vaccine should work”.

The clinical trials for the ChAdOx1 nCoV-19 vaccine developed in Oxford have already begun. They have finished recruiting 510 volunteers aged between 18-55 for Phase I of clinical trials, and they aim to have trialled the vaccine on all of them by mid-May, commencing next week.

The Oxford team has already tested the vaccine successfully on animals.

Phase II aims to recruit 500 people aged 55-70, with the final phase aiming for a pool of 5,000 volunteers. Prof. Andrew Pollard claimed the Oxford Jenner Institute “should have all our volunteers recruited through all three phases of the trial over the next few months”, because of its previous experience with similar viruses. Pollard noted this process “usually takes 5 years or more.”

The Oxford team, led by Prof. Sarah Gilbert, Prof. Andrew Pollard, Prof. Teresa Lambe, Dr Sandy Douglas and Prof. Adrian Hill, started work on the vaccine in early January 2020. The Jenner Institute was selected for its previous work developing vaccines against viral diseases such as Ebola, Malaria, HIV, HPV and Hepatitis B and C.

Prof. Gilbert also emphasized the Jenner Institute’s previous work with so-called “Disease X”, which she described as a hypothetical “unknown disease that was going to come and cause a pandemic at some time in the future, and we needed to plan for it.”

She stresses the similarities between the new and progressing coronavirus vaccine and previous vaccines developed by the Jenner Institute which have already been tested and are in circulation. The Insitute’s previous research allows the team “to move faster” in the development of a vaccine, according to Gilbert.

The team was granted £2.2 million by the National Institute for Health and Research and UK Research and Innovation in March. Beyond this, Prof. Hill stated that “tens of millions” or more is being spent on their vaccine research and future manufacturing.

Yet, Hill expressed concerns over Oxford’s limited funds and means, stating “manufacturing is one of the biggest challenges if this vaccine works.”

“We’re a university, we have a very small in-house manufacturing facility that can do dozens of doses. That’s not good enough to supply the world,” Hill told the BBC World Service.

Nevertheless, Hill stated that “the aim is to have at least a million doses by around about September”, emphasizing that “a vaccine is the exit strategy for the pandemic”, whilst warning that “we are very likely to need vaccines in future years because it is unlikely we’ll be able to eradicate this virus.”

Recently, Merck Millipore, a leading science and technology company, has pledged to help Oxford’s Jenner Institute with the rapid development of a large-scale manufacturing process for their vaccine once it successfully passes the clinical trial. Gilbert stresses the need to “start vaccine scalar early” through working with other organizations like Merck Millipore.

Udit Batra, a member of the Merck Executive Board, stated: “This is an important step in treating Covid-19 and other diseases that impact global public health. This work marks a milestone in the vaccine manufacturing development journey, as clinical testing continues to advance.”

Over 70 coronavirus vaccines are being developed worldwide, according to the WHO. Prof. Gilbert’s team is the first to enter their coronavirus vaccine into clinical trials. Following them, 3 other teams have begun human testing: CanSino Biological Inc./Beijing Institute of Biotechnology, Inovio Pharmaceuticals Inc., and Moderna Inc./National Insitute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases.

Professor Gilbert emphasises the need for international collaboration in vaccine research. She told The Lancet: “the WHO is in the process of creating a forum for everyone who is developing COVID-19 vaccines to come together and present their plans and initial findings.

“It is essential that we all measure immunological responses to the various vaccines in the same way, to ensure comparability and generalisability of our collective findings. Work is continuing at a very fast pace, and I am in no doubt that we will see an unprecedented spirit of collaboration and cooperation, convened by WHO, as we move towards a shared global goal of COVID-19 prevention through vaccination.”

The Kitchen as a Political Space

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In the famous words of Betty Friedan, “No woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor.” Friedan is spot on, not only for stating what should be a rather obvious fact about female pleasure, but more so for defining the kitchen as something beyond a place where food is cooked: the kitchen is a political space. 

Designed principally as a means of carrying out housework, the kitchen has become closely tied to the creation of an idealised kind of femininity, one that teaches women that domestic labour is a labour of love. It is not just food, kitchen appliances, worktops and dirty dishes that make a room a kitchen – but the difficult, often boring, undervalued physical and mental labour of our mothers, carers, girlfriends and sisters. The kitchen is a site of specifically gendered tension, a room that both symbolically and literally prevents women from leaving the world of the domestic.

This is not to say, of course, that men don’t cook. Anyone that knows me well will be familiar with my love for Yotam Ottolenghi, whose recipes I read religiously in the Guardian every week. But the cultural understanding of men occupying the kitchen as opposed to women occupying the kitchen differs. Men are ‘chefs’, women are ‘cooks’. Men tend to ‘enter into’ the kitchen whereas women are understood to be already there. When a man cooks, it is because he wants to ­– when a woman does, it is because it is expected of her. 

In other words, we understand the kitchen to be a woman’s space, or, perhaps more accurately, a woman’s responsibility. Despite my dad being a proud feminist, it is my mum who organises what meals we will eat every week, what food we need to buy, who will cook and when. The cultural and political significance of the kitchen extends far beyond the mere act of cooking – even if my mum is not preparing the food, she still carries the mental load that domestic labour brings with it. 

The kitchen, then, is fundamentally connected to gender inequality at home. Despite this, I don’t think that it is an entirely oppressive space. But there are some changes that I think need to be made in order for us to realise its liberating potential. The first of these is that we need to re-evaluate the work that goes on in the kitchen. Cooking should not only be a means to an end, but an enjoyable and fulfilling task in itself. Taking time to prepare food can be incredibly relaxing. It makes us connect with the food that we eat in a way that is not always possible; it can be a therapeutic act. 

I’m not saying, however, that women should think differently about cooking but that there should be a societal shift in the way in which we collectively understand the process of cooking. Alongside this societal shift should come an appreciation of the difficulty of cooking, or a recognition of cooking as a form of labour. If we pay attention to the process of cooking (rather than viewing it as a necessary precursor to eating), then we pay attention to the time and effort involved in preparing a meal. The skill required to dice an onion, for example, or the physical strength needed to carry a week’s worth of shopping back from the supermarket. These things should not be overlooked, nor should they be undervalued. 

Alongside a rethinking of our perception of cooking, we must also rethink the way in which we value it. Recognising domestic labour as labour means an appreciation of the fruits of that labour as exactly that: a result of hard work, not something that appears magically as a by-product of love or femininity. In her polemical essay, Wages Against Housework, Silvia Federici advocates wages for domestic labour, not as an end in itself, but rather to eschew that work and labour are natural to women…admitting this, according to Federici, is the first step in refusing the labour that was forced upon us. Regardless of whether we agree with Federici or not, it is important to note that recognition of domestic labour is not a justification of it, but rather a means of opening up debate, a means of challenging and questioning how domestic labour is carried out and to what effect. 

These kinds of debates are exactly the kinds of conversations that the idea of ‘the kitchen as a space’ can facilitate and instigate. They do not need to take the form of highfalutin political discourse; in fact, quite the opposite. The simple act of cooking together, for example, can lead to relatively trivial conversations which carry large consequences. Eating together, too, can provide a platform for discussion of domestic labour, or at the very least confronts the topic. A lot of the time, actions speak louder than words. Every time a man washes up, chops some vegetables or lays the table without it being viewed as something abnormal, then the political role of the kitchen changes.

The real challenge, however, is to take the lessons learned in and from the kitchen to the outside world. Federici states, “Women have always found ways of fighting back […] but always in an isolated and privatised way. The problem, then, becomes how to bring this struggle out of the kitchen and bedroom and into the streets.” The kitchen does not exist in isolation, and whilst it can be a powerful tool for achieving gender equality, it cannot be separated from the system that it is a part of. We must use the kitchen as a sanctuary when we need it to be one, as a place that allows us to nourish, care for and look after ourselves. But we must also use it as a political springboard, as a space in which we can educate ourselves and others on the role and impact of domestic labour and which can lead to broader societal change.

Genetically Modified Foods: Friend or Foe?

The EU has not approved any genetically modified (GM) fruit or vegetables as safe for human consumption and in the UK they are mainly used to feed animals. In contrast, genetically modified organisms (GMOs) are present in up to 70% of foods on the U.S. supermarket shelves. So is the EU being pedantic in choosing an organic approach?

GMOs are organisms that have their DNA altered to include genetic material from another organism. This is done by isolating the gene that codes for the desired protein (such as one that codes for pesticide resistance) then inserting it into the crop or livestock’s germline. New gene-editing technology such as CRISPR has the potential to make genetic alterations even easier. GMOs are not commercially grown in the UK, but imported GMOs such as corn are used in animal feed. There is no general restriction on growing GMOs in the UK, and the 1990 Environmental Protection Act 1990 allows the Secretary of State to control the release of GMOs in England.  They are subject to a risk assessment and there are strict labelling rules requiring producers to disclose if GM products have been used.

The UK public have their reservations on GMOs – in 2016 a Food Standards Agency survey highlighted that 27% of the public were concerned about GM foods and in a poll in 2017, 61% of Conservative voters wanted to ban production of GM crops post-Brexit. This scepticism highlights some of the fears of the potential damaging effects that GM foods could have on our health.

A fear that resonates at a time like this is that GM foods could be facilitating the creation of superbugs. Whilst GM plants contain genes that allow for pesticide resistance, they utilise marker genes which can be resistant to antibiotics, such as the marker gene in Bt corn which is resistant to some penicillin-type antibiotics. It is therefore no surprise that in 1996 the EU banned Bt corn for this very reason. They have the potential to transfer to microbes in our gut, making some pathogens resistant. Although there has been no evidence as of yet that dietary DNA can be transferred to bacteria in the gut, this could change, with a potentially worrying consequences: we could be allowing disease-causing microbes to become resistant to antibiotics, making medical treatment less effective and fuelling the race against antibiotic resistance.

One other potential negative effect of GMOs is the creation of ‘superweeds’. Some organisms can be altered so that they are resistant to pesticides, allowing farmers to spray the whole field without the worry that the crops will be damaged, saving both time and money. However, gene transfer may allow these GMOs to cross with wild and conventional crops or other neighbouring plants, thereby spreading the genes that allow for such resistance. Gene transfer could create weeds that are resistant to herbicides, rendering the use of herbicide-resistant GMOs useless. There is also a general ethical issue of whether humans should modify and interfere with the integrity of another organism.

There are clear benefits to GMOs, as modifying crops allows them to be resistant to herbicides which allows for more effective pest control leading to higher crop yields. This can reduce the risk of famine. For example, Ugandans eat, on average, more bananas a day than any other population; they account for around 30% of an average Ugandan’s daily calorie intake. However, a bacterial wilt has decimated whole fields of the crop and it is thought that between 2001 and 2004 the infection had cut total banana yields by as much as 52%. To combat this, researchers have found that by inserting a gene from a green pepper, the modified banana is able to kill infected cells and continue growing. This is clearly a significant success of GM foods because they have the potential to solve issues of widespread hunger. Increased crop yields could also increase income as farmers simply have more produce to sell, which would be of most benefit to rural households living below the poverty line.

GMOs can also address health issues, evident in the success story of golden rice which has been claimed to provide 60% of the recommended daily intake of Vitamin A. This is rice that has been engineered to include β-carotene which the body can convert into vitamin A. Vitamin A deficiency can lead to blindness and an impaired immune system, but golden rice has the potential to prevent this. GM foods could to treat diseases and allow for more crop yield, which could become a useful tool to fight world hunger – currently affecting nearly 1 in 8 people globally. Foods can also be modified to provide flexibility in how they can be used, and fruits such as tomatoes and apples have been altered to reduce browning and bruising. In a time like this it is clear that long-lasting fresh produce can be useful as it can reduce the need of going out for groceries. It also means we can enjoy out-of-season fruits for a longer period of time, and potentially reduce the need for importing such foods, thereby reducing food miles.

Although there are fears that GMOs may have unforeseen consequences, they have been in use in the U.S. for over 25 years. By holding GM foods to the same safety standards as organic foods, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration has introduced GM foods into the market, successfully reassuring consumers that they are not more likely to cause allergic reactions or have long-term health effects. The U.S. have even taken the labelling approach in the National Bioengineered Food Disclosure Standard, requiring bioengineered food to be labelled so that citizens can make an informed choice and avoid GM foods if they wish. Despite strong opposition to GMOs from some green NGOs, scientific evidence does not seem to suggest there to be any substantial health risks.

However, with the withdrawal from the EU, the laws governing GMOs in the UK are retained – for now. The ongoing health crisis may exacerbate fears over GMOs and their potential resistance to drugs, and public opinion is unlikely to change any time soon.

Image attribution: https://pixabay.com/fr/photos/pomme-de-terre-sur-le-terrain-1628500/

Titian behind closed doors: the ethics of an erotic gaze.

“Anybody who loves painting loves Titian.” With these bold words and the familiar, if rather flat, echo of Einaudi’s piano, the BBC streamed, digital rendition of the National Gallery’s ‘Titian: Love, Desire, Death’ opens. 

Undeniably, the exhibition was a historic event. For the first time in more than 400 years, since they were hung together in Prince Philip of Spain’s palace, Titian’s seven paintings (or ‘poesie’ as he preferred them to be termed) interpreting Ovid’s Metamorphoses are once again reunited in one room, to be viewed together as intended by the painter. In an exceptional stroke of bad luck, the occasion was, as we are all keenly aware, inaugurated by a global pandemic, and two days after opening its doors to the public, the paintings are locked away until further notice. So, enter the BBC to distribute Titian to the nation.

The structure of the one-hour episode seems to be in a continuous process of slippage. The linear procession of walking through an exhibition breaks down, there is little overarching narrative; the beginning, middle and end blend together into a confused and confusing smoothie. Credible academics are interspersed in syncopation with random Titian aficionados who happen to inhabit the buildings where the painter once lived, a qualification which apparently renders them eligible to impart valuable contributions to the field. At first, this seems to be done for comedic effect. Julia Panama, the current resident of the multi-million-pound Venice property which used to be Titian’s home, bristles with excitement as she is given a good 5-minute chunk of airtime to explain how her choices of painted wallpaper and plush teal ottomans are infused with the essence of Titian. Later, she whips out her phone, showing anyone who will listen pictures of herself on the cover of Cosmo back in the 70s. She introduces a friend to the camera too, an artist apparently, who now paints in the studio where Titian once worked. He too is keen to whip his phone out, explaining in broken English laced with Italian that:“Sono un galantuomo… ti faccio vedere le mie donne” (I am a gentleman…I’ll show you my women), a statement he uses to preface scrolling through pictures of his multiple, and noticeably much younger, girlfriends. “Better than Casanova,” he smiles charmingly, no hint of an apology. In these moments of surreal chauvinism, I wonder if conscious parallels are being struck between the sexist male gaze of the artist today and that of the 16th century but am left unsure if enough thought has been invested to even do that. 

I had never been to a digital art exhibition before this one. Sure, art history programmes I’d seen a-plenty, but the dynamics here are interestingly different. As well as showing the paintings, which to be frank they do precious little of, interviews and footage from the exhibition’s trailer are woven in too. They have the head curator, leaders in the field, art critics. They even rope in Mary Beard. This programme bustles with discordant voices struggling to quite align, and what feels like rushed editing does little to alleviate this problem. Everyone seems keen to mark out their patch on how best to do the viewing, on what story is being told. “These are pictures about desire, about looking,” says Matthias Wivel, head curator, but the direction of where, and how, to carry out this looking is very much left open to debate. 

Rupert Featherstone and Alec Cobbe, art conservators, form a different, rather more grotesque comedy duo than Julia and her painter friend. They gaze at the nude: “It’s a very erotic picture, with the back view, where so much is, sort of… left to the imagination,” the former says, making sweeping hourglass figures with his gently folded hand “but you’ve also got this: her very prominent bottom!”. A flash of a grin, surely the most naughty fun he’s had since school, but he’s not done yet. “There’s a variety of bottoms, there’re different forms…I like the pressure of sitting.” No one steps in to criticise.

The problem really with the programme is the staggering lack of sensitivity. Titian’s Poesies, for all their vibrancy of colour, the complexity of texture, and importance as cornerstones in Western art, are without exception scenes of violence perpetrated against women. True, the stories are age-old Greek myths, but the subject matter remains. These are men gazing on unconsenting bathing women, women chained up nude to rocks, women pregnant and victims of rape being publicly shamed, women abducted by male gods to be assaulted. To titter lightly over the pleasantness of ‘bottoms’ pushed down by the weight of sitting is not a matter for academic disagreement, but what feels like an insult to content and viewer.  

Jill Burke, author of the monograph ‘The Italian Renaissance Nude’, comes across the best in the programme by far, along with Mary Beard. Forty-five (painful?) minutes in, Burke is allowed finally to criticise the absurdity of failing to engage with content: “we don’t look at the subject matter, we look at brushstrokes and genius… the art world colludes in this objectification.” There is bitterness in her tone, and rightly so; there is a great male privilege in being allowed to gaze on paintings of violated women’s bodies, with no need to consider the ethics of the erotic act of gazing. 

I am not suggesting that Titian’s work, along with some of the stuffy scholars who have been interviewed, ought to be binned overnight. Mary Beard is right to say that these paintings are important, even crucial, cultural points that provoke discussion. Titian’s paintings are painted with extraordinary skill. They might tell us things too: about how ideas of beauty and eroticism have been shaped over time, about how military and political power has historically been enmeshed in male notions of power over the female body. Let us be clear though; these images do not, in any way, speak to an authentic experience of violence against women. These images are laced with a smoke-screen of what has been consistently convenient for a male-centric, patriarchal society to perceive a woman in pain to look like: scantily clad and beautiful, objects of desire. These fetishized nudes should not be pointed to as ways of understanding rape or the gendered disparity in power dynamics. If they were, they would not have hung on the walls of oppressive kings. 

“Anybody who loves painting loves Titian.” Perhaps, right at the start of this rather disappointing programme my heckles should have risen, wary of anything trying to universally pin down subjective opinion as a constant and unshakable marker of what is beautiful, important or greatI am reminded of Terry Eagleton, defining the act of labelling something as beautiful as colonially establishing hegemony. A hegemony of the aggressive male gaze is replicated not only by Titian but far more troublingly by so many of the talking heads in the programme. “To demand that art be morally pure is basically to demand that art not do what it has always done. That’s what art helps us do, art is not there to provide a moral example, art is there to ask us questions, or make us ask questions of each other,” crows Wivel, rounding off the programme. Quite possibly, he is right. However, if we are to ask ourselves honest questions and have open honest conversations, we must first learn to see Titian’s nudes clearly, and not simply through the hegemonic gaze of the sublime, erotic and aesthetic.