Saturday 2nd May 2026
Blog Page 681

Fiddling while the planet burns

Felicity Victoria Graham
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Fiddling while the planet burns

The year is 1960, and Charles Keeling begins his ‘Keeling Curve’, following a prediction in 1959 which stated that CO2 would rise by 25% by the year 2000 with potentially ‘radical’ effects on the climate.

Fast forward to 2019 and, even sixty years later, such vague predictions are still regularly being put forward by the world’s leading scientists. Yet, many doctors are now diagnosing their patients with ‘eco-anxiety’ due to the imminence of the climate crisis, and eco-rebels have taken to the streets. The most recent rebel group, Extinction Rebellion, is one of the most popular revolutionary movements the UK has ever seen. However, it seems that action on the street is still far weaker than words on a sheet.

With more than 20,000 scientific publications each year with key words of ‘climate change’, it is no overstatement to say that climate change has become one of the most over-intellectualised issues of our current world. Whilst I do believe that this renewed focus on climate change is something to be celebrated, over-intellectualisation is by no means a good thing.

Intellectualisation is by definition a defence mechanism we utilise when wishing to revoke emotional stress. We, as students at this university, are extremely prone to falling into the trap of intellectualisation. The emotional turmoil of a break-up or a fall-out with friends may be easily forgotten about by delving into revision, or getting stuck into a good book which combats emotion indirectly. Even staying on to do a Masters’ degree can sometimes act as a sort of intellectualisation; to escape the real world and the prospect of having to find a job, each year thousands of students decide to keep themselves within the relatively comfortable borders of higher education. In all three of these examples there is a common theme; avoidance.

But how is this relevant to climate change? Prior to last week, I had always been proud of myself for committing to my studies of climate change at school, constantly discussing the topic with my friends, and attending the lectures of the Oxford Climate Society regularly whilst at university. Yet, it was one of these very lectures that made me realise that my understanding of climate change, and the narrative I apply to it, was in fact an immoral one.

The lecture I attended was led by Mike Hulme, a Professor of Geography at Cambridge, and the author of the renowned book Why We Disagree About Climate Change. Hulme became a climate sociologist after years of work within the field of climate science, interested in the way humans view the issue of climate change from various different perspectives. In the lecture, he applied the framework of different ‘narratives’; he argued that some may view climate change as a left-wing conspiracy, some as a tale of moral growth, whilst others may even link their narrative to religion. Hulme discussed these variants on the assumption that anyone with a ‘narrative’ was not questioning the actual facts of climate change, and I was intrigued by the framework he was giving this global issue. Yet, whilst sat in this lecture, feeling intrigued and vaguely perplexed, I felt a sudden pang of anxiety at the utter triviality of everything Hulme was saying. Nobody in that room was actually doing anything about the issue at hand.

At this point in the lecture, I had a horrific moment of anagnorisis; I realised that I enjoy learning about climate change. The climate crisis is an issue that combines my love for physical geography and tragic drama into one captivating screenplay; one that I appear to be all too happy to re-watch. Yet, somewhere within my learning about climate change, I seem to have misplaced the most important fact; that this screenplay can’t be re-watched. The finalé is the extinction of the human race and the end of all life on earth.

For years, I have deflected my guilt onto national governments and TNC oil-companies, who laugh their way out of the climate crisis with ineffective, localised schemes, rather than utilising their global platforms to promote large-scale change. But who am I to judge? What have I actually been doing to combat the climate crisis? I have merely been indulging in the intellectual essence of climate change, retreating into the facts and statistics, and, ironically, believing that I have been ‘spreading awareness’ through writing short articles for Cherwell. Now, like national governments and international organisations, I am increasingly beginning to realise that this simply won’t do anymore. I must break out of the cycle of over-intellectualisation and remind myself of the reality of the tragedy that is about to ensue.

Such a change of heart, and indeed of mind, also needs to occur within Oxford. The University continues to be an important research centre within the global effort to tackle climate change, yet its findings often simply state facts, and show no interest in actual involvement with mitigation and adaptation methods. The University and its findings demonstrate an unquestionable example of over-intellectualisation; our scientists work with the issue of climate change, yet are entirely detached from the direct emotional and physical consequences that this issue might bring. Scholars such as Mike Hulme are no longer relevant in the discussion of climate change – we need action, and we need it immediately.

Love will tear us apart

Jamie Johnson and Helena Peacock
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Love will tear us apart

Following Georgia limiting abortion to the first six weeks, in effect making it illegal, Alyssa Milano has called for women to participate in a sex strike. The actress and #MeToo activist tweeted “Until women have legal control over our own bodies we just cannot risk pregnancy”. Should women join this strike, or are its effect more damaging than helpful for their cause?

Yes: Jamie Johnson

We should not understate the significance of recent developments in Georgia. American lawmakers have found and successfully implemented a work-around to Roe v. Wade, the main protection of women’s choice in America since the 1970s. Measures to decrease the number of weeks after which abortion becomes illegal to six is an effective ban for many women.

Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez noted this week that six weeks amounts to a full menstrual cycle plus two weeks. Many women will pass the threshold without even knowing they’re pregnant. This is an assault on the rights and dignity of women that comes as part of a broader problem. The problem of having a man like Donald Trump as president. The problem of having abuse perpetrated systematically by men in positions of power. The problems of limited freedom and unlimited violence that regularly cause women misery across the world.

The potential solutions to this are a constant talking point whenever women’s rights are threatened. Potential legal changes, potential changes in the workplace or even in our political systems themselves are regularly proposed, and of course are often valuable. But the solution proposed by Alyssa Milano is a novel one, and at least in principle worth considering. She argues that ‘until women have legal control of our own bodies we just cannot risk pregnancy’.

This so-called ‘sex strike’ seems radical, but the principle behind it is a sound one. Men have no right to sex, to use a women’s body in any way and so in that sense there is every right to act this way. Moreover, men in general bear some collective responsibility for these laws; not only are men disproportionately responsible for making these laws, but for voting in the conservative lawmakers who push them.

But more fundamentally, political constraints of this kind which are regularly placed on women are only ever the consequence of patriarchal structures all men are, to a greater or less extent, complicit in. The ‘sex strike’ is, on the most basic level, a universal punishment and potential vector for change. But more than that, it could function as a symbol of change, of the power women have even in societies still dominated by men.

And of course, the practical implications of this kind of shift being adopted widely are hard to predict. The coverage would likely be negative in many instances. Moreover, the increasing trend towards political polarisation within romantic relationships, which in other words means conservative women are more likely to date conservative men, means that the actual impact might be limited. But in reality, of course, a symbol needn’t alter views all on its own – the main problem in modern day America, as in many places, is one of awareness.

All too often, we turn a blind eye to the suffering of women and the consequences they face at the hands of ill thought out or straightforwardly cruel changes in our political system. If this strike can address that wrong, even if it’s only partially, that is worthwhile.

No: Helena Peacock

It was in an ancient Greek comedy, written almost two and a half thousand years ago, that Aristophanes’ Lysistrata encouraged the women of the Greek city states to renounce all sexual pleasure until the men ended the bloody conflict of the Peloponnesian War. The women were frustrated by decisions being made without their contribution, frustrated that their voices were not being heard. In May of this year, Georgia became the sixth U.S. state to sign a ‘heartbeat’ bill into law which effectively banned abortion outright. The response, surprisingly, recalled that of the ancient Athenian woman, with actor Alyssa Milano assuming centre stage and proposing a sex strike of her own: ‘Until women have legal control over our own bodies we just cannot risk pregnancy’ she wrote, ‘join me by not having sex’.

Milano indirectly invoked Lysistrata’s ancient actions, but she does not, it appears, acknowledge any problem with utilising literally ancient practices, borrowed from societies in which women’s voices and actions outside their roles as domestic and sexual objects were, undeniably, deemed irrelevant. However well meaning, she inadvertently recalls a time when such reduction was unapologetically commonplace, and subscribes to the misogynistic idea that a woman’s contribution to society must be purely sexual. She demands respect, but only for a woman’s sexual capabilities. The person, the voice, is ignored. The strike fails to recognise that our power is not one derived from or confined to our reproductive organs.

Suggesting that women exist solely to engender sexual pleasure in men, the sex strike demands that we reclaim control of our bodies, while simultaneously refusing to see that part of that control should encompass sexual autonomy. Sex is framed as something to which women are subjected. Such characterisation is demeaning to both parties, and structures sexual engagement within a dangerously heteronormative framework.

Feminist activists have long fought, and continue to fight, for the acknowledgement that sex does not exist solely for male pleasure and women can be and want to be active participants in sex. They have been able to rewrite the false narrative that men are like the desperate chorus of Aristophanes’ comedy, baying at the gates of the Acropolis, threatening to raze it to the ground if their needs are not satisfied. Such a victory should not be so easily relinquished.

So yes: reclaim our legislatures from the men who dominate them and who seek to tear our hard won liberties from us, reclaim the bodies upon which they infringe, reclaim our right to choose – but not like this.

Alyssa Milano knows that ‘the stakes are never higher than right now’, but she must utilise the privilege of her position and her platform to transcend the superficial and enact genuine change, to protest, to demonstrate, and even to strike, but not to tell women to refrain from having sex until abortion laws are changed. She must demand that those in power transform the stage on which we are forced to perform. It is nonsensical to sacrifice autonomy of one kind in order to gain another; we deserve both.

Trinity’s Welfare Turmoil

Amelia Horn
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Trinity’s Welfare Turmoil

Serious concerns have been expressed by Trinity students about the performance of the College’s welfare provisions in Michaelmas, according to survey results obtained by Cherwell.

An emergency JCR meeting called just days after the survey was published led to the College launching an independent review into their welfare provision. A new member of the welfare team was also appointed to help improve the college’s welfare capacity to deal with welfare concerns.

The minutes of the meeting record how: “[the JCR Secretary] emphasised how JCR members can share their concerns about either the temporary measure or the longer-term review of the welfare system with the Exec Committee and the Welfare Reps, who will respect confidentiality.

“It was also emphasised how this temporary measure is by no means all that is being done to reform the Trinity welfare system – and the review will help to usher in further changes for the new academic year.”

On 29th January 2019 an Emergency JCR Meeting was called in which the results of the survey were discussed, having been sent out to JCR members via email. The survey was a volunteer sample of 93 members of the JCR. It was made clear that because of this: “the figures should not be taken to be a completely accurate representation of the JCR at large, however they shall give an indication of general feeling on certain key issues.”

One section of the survey asked respondents whether they agreed or disagreed with the statement: “Trinity is a place that cares about its students’ welfare.” The results concluded: “Out of the 93 responses, 30 students either disagreed or slightly disagreed, with a further 13 having no clear opinion on the matter, suggesting that nearly half of all JCR members do not feel that Trinity is a college that strongly cares about its students’ welfare. This is particularly striking given that only 16 students fully agreed with the statement.”

When asked “How confident would you feel approaching a college staff member about a mental health issue?” half of students said they were not confident, rating the college either one or two on a scale of one to five. Only three students gave a rating of five. In contrast, for confidence in approaching a JCR peer supporter about a mental health issues the average response was a 3.2.

Another question asked “If you have approached a college staff member about a mental health issue, how satisfied were you with the way the issue was dealt with?”. In response to this, 9 out of 31 students said that they would rate their satisfaction as a 1. On the other hand, none of the 19 students who responded rated their encounter with JCR welfare representative peer supporters as a one.

A section on sexual harassment asked respondents whether they thought there was a clear way of reporting harassment issues in college. Only 8.8% of those who answered gave a response of “yes”, with 34.1% answering “no”. Asked whether they would feel comfortable doing so, only 10% of people answered “yes”.

The survey also found issues with the JCR’s welfare positions, namely Peer Supporters and Welfare Reps. It stated: “The main barrier to improving the approachability of the JCR Welfare Representatives and Peer Supporters was that as these roles are filled by current students… in turn, JCR members may feel this is a less confidential means for support, due to its greater informality, particularly if you know the peer supporters socially.”

However, it was also emphasised that the lack of an “approachable system” provided by College put a “huge strain” on the JCR welfare team who were not qualified mental health professionals and are “limited in both training and power.”

The minutes record the response of the JCR President: “This is also a really important issue that needs to be recognised and should not be overshadowed by the other findings of this report. He stated that the new Equalities Fellow Maria is extremely willing to deal with these problems and promote a more inclusive community.”

Another student was reported to have “expressed confusion about the way [College President Dame Hilary Boulding] and Anil (then the Equalities Fellow) were surprised by the findings of the report, given that from their experience, a multitude of issues have been reported over the past year. This suggests a major issue with lack of transparency of where information goes from the initial point of contact.”

The JCR Secretary responded by telling attendees that she had been “encouraged” by the meeting with the College President, and stated that “she does seem to really recognise the issue” but has to be “pragmatic” when carrying out changes.

The College President later announced, in an email on 28th February, the Governing Body’s intention to conduct an “independent welfare review” of Trinity’s welfare provision, which will be carried out this term. Deputy Head of the University Counselling Services Maureen Freed was announced to be conducting the review, which was to start at the beginning of Trinity term.

In light of the review, a new member of the welfare team has been appointed. In an email from last week, the President said: “Please note that we have slightly different welfare arrangements in place for this term. In order to create some additional Welfare capacity, we are pleased to welcome Mark Bezerra Speeks who will be available to students on Mondays and Fridays.”

The results of the survey prompted a series of proposed solutions, both in terms of JCR and College welfare. The JCR’s action to be taken included urging College to recognise “the extremely low levels of confidence students generally have in approaching college staff members about mental health issues” and creating a Google Form to allow JCR members to submit anonymous complaints or concerns about specific Peer Supporters, whilst also creating a more thorough screening process for candidates who wish to become Peer Supporters.

In response to the reportedly “shocking” statistics on the handling of sexual harassment, the JCR has urged the College to create the position of at least one “Harassment Officer/Women’s Officer” among the Fellows that was separate from both the Dean and the Welfare Dean. The JCR also stated their intention to “make both Trinity’s stance on and processes of managing claims of sexual harassment clearer to all students” and to “formally increase the number of sexual harassment responders in Trinity.”

The minutes of the emergency meeting state that Trinity College “seemed to take the findings very seriously” and confirmed that various plans which were presented to the Governing Body.

These proposals include a revising of the College safeguarding policy to clarify the route through which students can be referred to outside agencies, a College policy on sharing information to solve confidentiality issues, consideration of the provision of Mental Health First Aid training for key personnel, and a regular review of the College Harassment policy. The results of the survey were also shared with the Dean and Welfare Dean.

A spokesperson for the College told Cherwell: “Ensuring Trinity’s welfare provision is as effective as possible is an important priority for Trinity – the JCR welfare survey raised important concerns around provision, which we are committed to addressing in a positive and decisive way.

“As a next step, the College has engaged the Deputy Head of Counselling at the University to conduct an independent review of welfare at Trinity; she is an experienced organisational consultant who has worked with other colleges on similar reviews.

“It is our goal with this review to get underneath the general impressions of welfare at Trinity and understand specific instances where support was needed and how the college responded. These will be used to develop appropriate responses to the issues raised.

“We are grateful to students for working with us and hope to continue working positively and constructively to ensure our welfare provision is robust in serving all students who need support.”

Last term, as reported by Cherwell, an email on behalf of Trinity’s JCR President was accidentally leaked, revealing sensitive information about welfare to the JCR.

The email stated: “out of 12 people identifying as Black/African/Caribbean/BlackBritish (4) and Mixed/Multi-Ethnic (8) (some people however also said prefer not to say) 9 people said in the survey that they “faced any specific issues or incidents” at Trinity with regards of race/ethnicity and 5 people said that worries/issues about race have a detrimental effect on their mental health.”

Trinity JCR, the Trinity Welfare Dean, and the college’s President were contacted for comment.

Polarising the free speech debate

Brian Wong
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Polarising the free speech debate

Recent debates over no-platforming have become both increasingly emotional and polarising. One side claims that no-platforming is a weapon of last resort against fascists, extremists, and racists. The other side outdoes this side in hyperbole and takes to framing the issue as one concerning freedom of speech; add to that a healthy dose of self-obsession and a disproportionate sense of self-importance, and you end up with the arguments presented by the likes of Allan Bloom – that speech and debate are the solution to any and all bigotry and hatred.

Indeed, if we are to look at some of the speakers that have been purported to be no-platformed in recent years – from Peter Singer to Peter Tatchell, or even Richard Dawkins – it appears that there are rather curious episodes of no-platforming seemingly stifling debate and shutting out discourse where it could be conducive. In truth, the reality is probably somewhere in between the two extremes (not necessarily right in the middle, however): yes, there are cases where no-platforming has gone too far, but to employ this as a weapon to characterise no-platforming as itself too far or erroneous would be a deeply misguided strategy.

No-platforming is justified on several grounds. The first, and perhaps more negatively quasi-defeatist argument, is that debate simply does not work (or is incredibly difficult) in many instances. Certain speakers – such as Jordan Peterson – enjoy employing deliberately obscurantist phrases and terminology to lend credence to his pseudoscience, and to convince the audience that behind his veil of impenetrable jargon lies a guru in fields of study concerning God-knows-what (his psychology research itself is reasonably high-quality, but his views on alleged ‘Cultural Marxism’ and the contemporary progressive movement are deeply outlandish, to say the least).

Others adopt conniving speaking strategies or hire skilled PR teams to design the Q and A sections such that questions (due to the short time constraints) come across as hurried, rushed, and easily defeasible. Still, many of those speakers who are no-platformed are unpleasant to the extent that few other than their most ardent supporters rock up to these events. This reinforces a (false) sense that they are universally endorsed and strengthens the social and emotional barriers for those brave enough to take on these ‘renowned speakers’.

Finally, many reporting on (or spinning) the speaker events are likely to pick out particular soundbites and take them to be resounding signs of the speaker’s alleged victory (see, “Ben Shapiro Destroys Liberal!”). Now I do not think these reasons are exhaustive – there obviously are cases in which speakers are rightly and adequately challenged; yet the upshot of the above is that there will be instances where the challengers ‘win’ logically, and yet still fail to ‘defeat’ the speaker in the public’s eyes. The public’s views are shaped not by evaluating argument-response-rejoinder, but whose soundbite is more eloquent.

The further justification is that student-centric platforms often lend substantial credibility (and publicity) to these speakers. Universities and their student societies are endowed with an air of faux legitimacy that their counterparts – e.g. political societies or newspapers – tentatively do not possess. A hypothetical platforming of speakers such as Milo Yannopoulos would lend their currently dwindling popularity a massive boost – both in terms of the prospective spinning (e.g. “University students debate and lose to Milo!”) and actual campus-centric publicity. Why lend these individuals more airtime and pseudo-academic credentials, when there are many better alternatives to platform?

Whilst platforming far-right speakers is certainly not the same thing as instigating far-right violence we must be cautious of the potential advances we grant to those who actively seek to undermine the fabric of society and the ability of others to speak. The final justification is a question of resource allocation. Student societies’ time, space, and publicity-associated privilege are scarce resources. Scarce resources must be allocated on a morally justifiable principle that can be reasonably agreed to by all (reasonable) individuals – I don’t need to relitigate Scanlon’s contractualism here. The gist is that no-platforming was never about stripping the ‘freedom of speech’ of a particular speaker, but the question of what metrics should we use (or not use) to allocate airtime in a particular space.

No one has the moral entitlement to speak ill of the dead at their funerals; no one has the right to blast anti-Semitic chants at Holocaust survivors nearby. The right to speech does not extent to all instances or cases. Even if speech does not cause harm, it can still be restricted on grounds of contextual inappropriateness. Robert Simpson and Amia Srinavasan aptly characterise no-platforming as compatible with the broader principles of expertise justice – academic spaces ration their resources and opportunities to speak on the basis of expertise. Speakers who have little to no expertise in the subjects they are to speak on (e.g. Ben Shapiro and reproductive justice) should not be allocated resources that they do not deserve. This has nothing to do with freedom of speech at large.

With that being said, no-platforming is obviously not always the ideal answer to any and all speakers with potentially controversial views. In many instances, no-platforming speakers also lends them greater legitimacy and publicity, providing them with rallying cries to frame themselves as the so-called martyrs and enemies of the “regressive Left”. Ironically, with the no-platforming outside the Union on Thursday night raging on, Katie Hopkins’ speech was met with (shockingly chillingly, for a person of colour like me) applause, even when she slid into her bad-tempered comments about Muslims halfway through her directionless tirade. The motion (in favour of No Platforming) was defeated by a landslide, perhaps the result of the fact that those who could have defended no-platforming and argued their case did not, in fact, go to the debate.

Finally, no-platforming precludes us from persuading and convincing the undecided or the uninformed, who may indeed attend these events with the hope of finding out more about the speakers. Furthermore, there must be greater scrutiny and accountability with regards to the processes which decides whether particular speakers are no-platformed. It would be, in the long run, rather perilous if we were to allow a small group of individuals running an organisation to decide whose speech is worth listening to and whose isn’t. There must be counter-majoritarian measures, of course, to prevent the tyranny of the majority. There should also be checks and balances on those whom hold such counter-majoritarian veto powers. I say this not with the intention of undermining or discrediting the no-platforming movements across university campuses; I say this instead with both respect and admiration for the courage of those who are willing to call out and take on the Establishment.

No-platforming is not universally bad, but we must recognise its limits and flaws when they crop up. Only then can advocates of no-platforming (as I am) withstand the scrutiny and disparaging of reactionaries – with pride, as opposed to evasion. Do not offer platforms to individuals who do not deserve it, but let us be very careful when arbitrating who does, or does not, deserve a platform.

Behind Closed Drawbridges

Emily Parker
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Behind Closed Drawbridges

Although the political power of the royal family is waning in our democratic modern age, their prominence in film and television is not. Indeed, in recent years, there has been a veritable flurry of media portrayals of royalty, encompassing a wide range of storylines and figures – with varying results. Success comes in many forms, as films like The King’s Speech have been successful both in terms of critical and audience reception, while others like The Other Boleyn Girl receive a slightly frostier response (Alex von Tunzelmann called it “Hollyoaks in fancy dress” – not exactly a ringing accolade) despite a warm reception at the box office.

On the other end of the spectrum, movies like Diana show that stories about royalty have an equal capacity to flop: even the film’s Wikipedia entry calls its reviews “overwhelmingly negative”, and with a Rotten Tomatoes score of 8%, the bleak facts are hardly contentious.

The appeal of a royal story is on some level irresistible. Movies such as the aforementioned, as well as television series like The Crown, are only a response to a modern audience with an evolving but persistent appetite for stories about kings and queens, princes and princesses. In an age where ‘relatability’ has been much touted as the most powerful currency in the market, it seems strange that narratives about the most exclusive – and thus least relatable – tier of society should have gained and retained such mass appeal. Yet perhaps, on a deeper level, these stories are relatable, and their force lies precisely in the thrill of discovering relatability in the most unlikely places.

From the complicated love-hate-forgive relationship between the Boleyn girls, to the portrayal of all-too-ordinarily-human conflicts and reconciliations in The Crown, behind the lavish costumes, the stories of happiness and pain are the same. From the point of view of the average person sitting in front of their screen on a Friday evening, perhaps with a take-away korma, it is well worth savouring, imagining, or better still, speculating how ‘they’ live. After all, is there anything more appealing than seeing that the elites of society are really just like us?

A film about royalty which is just a history book transmitted onto the screen would not, I venture, be a very good one. In fact, it would probably rival Diana’s Rotten Tomatoes score. As fascinating as the machinations and politics behind royal power may be, these elements alone do not make for entertaining and engaging movies. Instead, it is the human element that continues to fascinate and excite. The Other Boleyn Girl is a good example of this: while the movie (and the book it is based on) could have focused on many other interesting and unique aspects of the Tudor court life, it is the love triangle of Henry, Anne and Mary which is at the core of the film – the kind of dramatic conflicts which could be found in any part of society.

Humans are social creatures, and this is reflected in our viewing habits – we like nothing better than seeing someone else feel our emotions, live out our experiences, share in our sorrow, joy or love. What is appealing is not what makes the royals different from the average viewer, but the human relationships and personal struggles common to all – royal or not. The fundamental existential core of these stories is what pulls viewers back to films about royalty again and again.

Bagels: A Holy Food for Every Meal?

Ashley Lo
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Bagels: A Holy Food for Every Meal?

Bagels: Some of us have probably mistaken them for doughnuts. Those who did were probably disappointed. Not memorable enough to deserve their own shop, nor mediocre enough to be neglected entirely, most people overlook this circular alternative to the baguette, or at the very least confine it to the breakfast menu. Are they right to do so? I wasn’t sure, and seeking to answer this question, I embarked on a quest to discover the tastiest (and most affordable) bagels Oxford had to offer.

Breakfast from the Alternative Tuck Shop seemed liked on obvious way to start. Between baguettes, paninis, baps and five varieties of ciabattas, why choose the roll-with-a-hole for to begin the day? Maybe you shouldn’t: but I love pesto, I love chicken, I love bagels. Hence, I must love a pesto chicken bagel. The logic is sound. Premises true.

Yet somewhere in that little corner shop, my conclusion fell false. Sadly, even though the bagel itself was comfortably crispy, the chicken chunks were distributed so unevenly that it pushed the two half bagels apart. If my bagel falls apart, so do I. Are bagels really meant to be sandwiches?

After a disappointing start to my journey I turned to an organization more famed for its deserts than its lunch menu. I discovered that bagels at G&D’s work on a cheese-tolerance scale. Old and classy? Cream cheese. Tired of being average? Go with Meltz. Feeling adventurous or already drunk? Rich pizza bagels. Then decide what goes in between: Mediterranean, Greek or Bacon & Brie. Finally pick between plain, poppy seed and sesame bagels. Does it really matter? For aesthetic reasons, I suppose it does. Breakfast bagels are also served before noon, which is a plus.

To be honest, G&D bagels are like my tute essays, full of loose arguments and random musings, individually amazing, but heedlessly lacking in unity when combined. This time I got Tuna melt: first rate fillings, second rate bagel. Biggest turn-off was its density: too loose, not crispy and not chewy. I was also hoping that there would be ice cream bagels. There were no ice cream bagels. Disappointing.

In the final hopes of bagel salvation, I went back to a reliable old favorite of mine. The venue: Art Café. The tea-time snack: a classic salmon and cream cheese bagel, stuffed throughout with cucumbers. The cucumbers were a nice touch to freshen up the saltiness of the fish, balancing out creamy thickness of the fish and cheese. Bagelwise, it’s there, chewy crust and dense interior. Toasted to perfection too: just warm and crunchy enough to hold everything in place. Perfectly balanced, as all things must be. It also comes with salad and coleslaw on the side, which is a nice touch, and rectifies the error in over-filling made by Alternative Tuck Shop. The final verdict: a strong old bagel.

The View from Down Under

Jackie Brown
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The View from Down Under

Feeling flat out like a lizard drinking? Need some ‘Down Under’ café culture to get you relaxed? Or maybe you’re also an Aussie missing our classic brunches, baristas and arvo teas? Well, here are some solutions that don’t involve a $1000, 25-hour flight, but will get your coffee buds tingling and Instagram posts colourful. Although they can never be fully replaced, here are some Aussie breakfast classics that you can find hidden away among the dreaming spires.

If there’s one place that is an Australian’s second home, in equal positioning to the beach or ocean, it’s their nearest boutique café. The home of the ‘flat white’ is known for cafes with cute and artsy interior spaces, affordable bills, the friendliest baristas, and, most importantly, REAL coffee. In my opinion, the closest thing you’ll get to this is Jericho Coffee Traders (JCT), offering a viable alternative to the classic laneway Melbourne café. This hidden gem on High Street is the perfect go-to before, during, or after a grind in the RadCam or lecture in the Exams Schools. It surpasses the all-tocommon tendency among British cafes to serve excessively watery or milky brews, and instead provides a balanced blend of sharp flavour to pick you up from any revision-fatigue. You can really taste the beans!

Along with a wide range of coffee options, JCT also impressively boasts a wide range of milk options which, for someone who is both lactose intolerant and allergic to Soy, was a caffeinated dream come true. From almond, coconut, and oat milk to the classic soya and regular milk, JCT is the nearest thing to an Aussie café’s milk selection, satisfying every dietary requirement and taste bud. And, even if you’re not intolerant or vegan, why not give one of the alternative milks a try? Coconut milk will give your drink sweetness without sugar, while almond milk adds a richness with a little hint of sweet. Finally, Jericho Coffee ticks the Aussie café box of approval with its intimate setting which gives it is warm, welcoming character. While some might say it could be a little claustrophobic, it’s this kind of space that gives it its buzzing individuality and makes the experience of buying and drinking a coffee more personal – matching the sheer friendliness of the baristas!

If you’re looking for something a bit more substantial than coffee, the next best thing has got to be the classic avocado on toast. Although it may seem like the easiest brunch dish to whip up by anyone, a lot of nuance is needed to this Aussie fav; there perfect balance of softness, smoothness and chunkiness is required. Too soft, and it doesn’t have substance and the taste of bread becomes overpowering. Too hard or chewy, and it clashes with the texture of the sourdough. Therefore, this balance must be both delicate and accurate. Handlebar Café does this perfectly.

This cosy retreat is famously located beneath a bike shop of all places. What could be more Oxford meets the vibrant Newtown of Sydney? Labelled on the Menu as ‘Smashing Avocado Toast’, this explosion of taste balances the density of feta, spice of paprika, zest of lemon, crunchiness of almond seeds, the thick richness and funkiness of beetroot hummus, the texture of either tomato, poached egg, or bacon, with the perfectly smashed, but not chunky or liquid, avocado filled fully onto the freshest piece of sourdough bread.

Finally, the most Aussie of all breakfasts has to be the Health Bowl: the ultimate hangover cure. Probably the best alternative you’ll find to this Aussie staple is in George Street Social. With its open, aesthetic interior, this café offers you the refreshing environment and food you need. And their baked egg Shakshouka is a hearty feast that proves this. With a delicious and healthy mix of baked eggs, tomato, peas, spinach, edamame and feta, served in an aesthetic and insulating metal bowl with a side of sourdough, it is the perfect stomach filler, and guaranteed Instagram winner. My final piece of Aussie advice would be to avoid walking into the first big-chain cafe you see on a busy street, but instead, look around the little laneways. That’s how you’ll get a little taste of Australia.

Bush’s Family Tree

Ella Marshall-Shepherd
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Bush’s Family Tree

Every once in a while, a certain type of musical artist emerges: characterised by a crazily unique persona, often accompanied with distinctly exotic outfits and unwavering commitment to their art, they are often definable only by their name.

Kate Bush is undoubtedly one of these artists, almost inevitably mentioned alongside the likes of David Bowie for her commitment to reinventing herself and her music, in some cases even within the same song. Bush first captured the attention of the British public at age 19 in 1978 with her chart-topping single ‘Wuthering Heights’. This lead to her being the first female artist in England to achieve a Number One with a self-written song. Since then, she has gained a reputation as a musical pioneer for her music videos (such as the short film accompanying the song ‘Cloudbusting’), the narrative personas explored across her discography (e.g. the witch in ‘Waking the Witch ’), and her use of technology in the post-Fairlight era. 25 of her singles have entered the UK Top 40, and she has released 10 studio albums which have all reached the Top 10 album chart. She has only given two tours in her 40-year career, the most recent being in 2014. In 2018, she released a book containing a compilation of her lyrics called How to Be Invisible: Selected Lyrics. The title refers to her increasing absence from the popular music scene after her 1979 tour, in which time she focused on her music publishing company (Kate Bush Music Ltd), enabling her to release albums at her own pace (there were 12 years between her seventh and eighth studio albums!).

You would be forgiven for thinking that Bush, being the unrepeatable musical force that she is, is some sort of musical Immaculate Conception: born from God-knows-where, and free of inherited musical norms with her quirky mix of sounds. While a certain amount of free-spiritedness seems to be required, much of Bush’s music is self-admittedly a rolling-of-the-ball; absorbing and passing on tastes she inherited from her surroundings, especially those of her brothers.

Even on her first album, The Kick Inside, Bush’s musical innovation was apparent, but not unexplained. ‘Them Heavy People’, track number 11, acts as a letter of gratitude for musical and cultural. Lyrics like “They read me Gurdjieff and Jesu” probably sounded slightly less abstract during the hippy culture of the 1970s, but are references to her brothers introducing her to new philosophical approaches to life.

Further influences were inheited from her dance training under Lindsay Kemp; ‘Moving’, the first track of the album, is a tribute to his fluid sensuality which comes across in much of Bush’s choreography. He is an integral force in her videos and stagecraft.

Her exposure to literature, likely also to be a result of inherited familial habits, forms the basis of much of her lyrical work too: without a family-gathering around the TV to watch a BBC Adaptation of Wuthering Heights, we may never have heard the swooping calls of “Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy.”

It perhaps says something of the depth of Bush’s artistry to point out that so far, these inheritances have all formed part of only one album, and her debut album at that. Anyone aware of Bush’s works outside of ‘Wuthering Heights’, or indeed of any spoofs and parodies, will be indirectly aware of another colour within her music which she inherited from her brother Paddy.

Paddy, an original member of the KT Bush Band (the precursor to her solo career) features on all of Kate’s studio albums until Aerial in 2005. As well as playing an assortment of ‘normal’ instruments, he plays the mandolin, balalaika, sitar, koto, and digeridoo. It is no wonder then, that some of these instruments (and the musical cultures from which they originate) form the backbone of Bush’s musical landscapes. For example, ‘The Dreaming’, sang in an Australian accent, explores the stories of destruction of Aboriginal homelands by white Australians in their quest for Uranium and, naturally, features a digeridoo.

This musical shaping, exploring various cultures from near and far, was an inherited interest, supported and enabled by her family. This allowed for the creation of uniquely geographical pieces of music.

Bush’s artistry, gorgeously unique and shockingly innovative, is nonetheless inherited from various persons in her life. These ‘heavy people’, who shaped her musical individuality also, perhaps bizarrely, make her achievements more impressive. Inheritance enabled, but is not wholly responsible for, her success.

Is the band ‘shame’ just shameful?

Deia Russell-Smith
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Is the band ‘shame’ just shameful?

Often cited as Britain’s most exciting and upcoming post-punk band, Shame have pricked ears of alternative music fans across the nation. Yet few people can make up their minds on whether Shame are the next-big-thing, or repetitive drivel.

In the Guardian’s recent article,Shame’s feature leaves you with a mediocre and on-the-fence response as to whether these 20-something boys are making their mark in the right way. Michael Hann paints a picture of these five musicians who can’t even seem to decide on their future prospects, have extreme views on annihilating their fans, and are uncertain about what the term ‘rock’ really means in music today.

It seems that the band is trying to recreate a scene which moves away from the Britpop, lager-drinking and bucket-hat wearing indie crowds of the ‘90s and early 2000s. They appear to want to bring in more recent political motives and punk attitudes in a way that makes their anthems more meaningful and current. For example, their single on Theresa May and the Brexit deal clearly situates their anger and disillusionment at the system, safely placing their ethos in the compounds of the political punk scene developed by the likes of The Sex Pistols. They continue to address issues raised in first and second wave punk, such as the place of women at gigs and the experience of young people in modern society. However, this has led to the band advocating a move away from the laddish and masculine bravado of the post-punk and indie bands around them.

Their style seems ordinary and not at all shocking, with a slight resemblance to The Smiths. The 5-piece usually don shirts, trousers and jackets; far-removed from the style which traditionally signifies a punk identity. This visual difference is reinforced in their video for ‘One Rizla’ where they comically resemble young farmers, and couple this look with dry and stripped back, slightly off-key vocals.

Yet, talking of the laddish punk rock attitude that they claim to despise, lead singer Charlie Steen’s love of taking his top off on stage, casually smoking and licking the faces of members of the crowd seems to follow in the footsteps of Iggy Pop and, more recently, Isaac Holman from Slaves. Despite being perhaps the most important band in the current post-punk scene, one would assume that Shame would be against the larger-drinking duo. However, one cannot help but feel like they emulate in their performance and catchy, poignant songs. What seems to be the difference between Shame and Slaves is one of attitude and ethos surrounding the place of contemporary punk-rock.

Usually, I’d argue that Shame’s controversy has arisen for good reason: that no great punk band ever comes into existence without ruffling a few feathers. The issue is that they’re not challenging their critics, but instead their would-be supporters. The band’s concrete views on who their fans should be and that any rock and roll lifestyle is disgraceful seems to be alienating many. Really, no punk band has ever, or should ever, limit those who listen to their music.

This poses the question as to whether Shame have got it all wrong, and whether other artists are unlikely to support them with their aloof attitude which seems to be policing a scene that they’ve barely put a toe in to. So, should we ask Shame to stop trying to shame other bands – to say stop acting like you know it all already, and ‘well actually mate, I like my lager so f*ck off?’

The New Bridget Jones?

Oluchi Ezeh
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The New Bridget Jones?

Queenie Jenkins has just broken up with her boyfriend. Except not really, they’ve just decided to take a break. Which is fine. But also, is it? Because what does ‘break’ even mean anyway? Can they sleep with other people? Should she expect a phone call in which Tom (her boyfriend – or ex?) professes his undying love at any moment? These are the thoughts running through Queenie’s mind, which she also tries to juggle with her career as a journalist. Carty-Williams expertly handles Queenie’s difficulties in romantic, family and professional life in an emotional, hilarious and tender novel. 

The book has been dubbed the new Bridget Jones for millennials, and it’s not difficult to see why – a young woman has different romantic encounters of varying success while teetering on the edge of some sort of emotional breakdown. But this comparison betrays a lack of engagement with what Carty-Williams has created. While Queenie is indeed a young woman navigating romantic and professional changes, we mustn’t forget that Queenie’s experiences are defined, mediated and shaped by the fact that she is black. 

Carty-Williams navigates uncomfortable episodes in the life of a young black woman with the honesty and emotional depth that they deserve. The book is not afraid to deal with heavy themes, even as it makes you laugh out loud. But Queenie isn’t falling apart at every single racially charged encounter she has. She’s dropping them in the group-chat, picking it apart with her friends, getting rightfully angry, and moving on – an experience that likely hits close to home for many black women. The group-chat is the place to fall apart if you can’t in real life.

Carty-Williams’ exploration of female friendship is one of the highlights of the book. She creates women who feel incredibly nuanced and thoughtfully-crafted, even in their text messages alone. It’s through the group-chat that we see the girls share heartbreak, banter, and support. These women are an absolute triumph for the novel and in the moments when you don’t feel like a Queenie, you might feel like a Kyazike, Queenie’s best friend since childhood – who also happens to be one of the most dynamic characters in the text.  

Perhaps most importantly, Carty-Williams not only deconstructs the notion of the ‘Strong Black Woman’, she completely rejects it. We all know the type: the strong black woman doesn’t need a man because she has herself. But, like any stereotype, there’s no complexity to this, and that’s what Carty-Williams fights against. Queenie cries. Queenie needs people.  Queenie doesn’t necessarily need a man but she does need to be loved – which is perhaps the most important thread running through the book: reminding oneself that one is worthy of love.  

One of the most tender moments of the novel is just Queenie looking at her mother and thinking about all the silent sacrifices she has made to allow Queenie to become who she is, and thinking of the love they both deserve. Queenie inherits her mother’s, and her grandmother’s, struggles, but she also inherits the strength it took for them to be who they are.

So for the women who don’t see themselves in Bridget, who deal with heartbreak and racism and love and sadness and everything that comes with it, this is it. This is your book. Candice Carty-Williams has crafted the woman you need: her name is Queenie. 

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