Alex Payne - Misc.’s Editor. He is also Assistant Editor of the University Times and General Assistant Editor of the Trinity Journal of Literary Translation.
Aoibhinn Clancy - Contributing writer for Misc. She is also Deputy News Editor at Trinity News and a student of History and Political Science.
Ava Bolger - Contributing to Misc. for the first time, she is also the Executive Director of TN2 Magazine.
Mia Allen - Misc.’s Community Editor. She is also a member of the European Law
Serious complaints may be directed to chair@trinitypublications.ie or Chair, Trinity Publications House 6, Trinity College, Dublin 2.
Appeals may be directed to the Press Council of Ireland. Get involved with Trinity Publications through Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, or visit trinitypublications.ie.
Students’ Association.
Sacha Pavry - Having contributed to Misc. for the first time last year, she is now Misc.’s Science Editor.
Stephen Conneely - One of Misc.’s Erasmus co-Editors, he is also Deputy News Analysis Editor at Trinity News and is based in Barcelona for Erasmus.
Ivie Okomie - Contributing to Misc. for the first time, she is also Editor-in-chief of the Trinity Women and Gender Minorities Review and Chair of the Gender Equality Society.
Margot Guilhot Desoldato - Contributing to Misc. for the first time, she is
Want to contribute? We are always on the lookout for writers and artists! Email us directly at editor@miscmagazine.ie, send us a message on our Instagram, @tcdmiscmagazine, or head to our website, miscmagazine.ie, and ll in the online form. is publication is partly funded by the Trinity Publications committee. is publication claims no special rights or privileges.
also Photo Editor for TN2 Magazine and Deputy Head of Filming for TrinityTV. Indira Kelly - Contributing for the first time to any student publication, she is a First Year Geography and Political Science student.
Leah Downey - One of Misc.’s Copy Editors, she is also Deputy News Editor at e University Times.
Ellen McKimm - Contributing to Misc. for the first time, she is a proud Swiftie, a ird Year PPES student and has been President of the Phil.
Anon - A tunnelling and Pav juice fanatic.
ART
Isobel Mahon - Trinity Dining Hall (Front Cover)
Jared Reilly - Campanile; e Pav
Ellen Duggan - RESIST
Editor Alex Payne | Deputy Editors Emma Whitney, Tom Comer | Assistant Editor Phoebe Pascoe | Outreach Director Kate Byrne Political Editor Jayna Rohslau | Community Editor Mia Allen | Culture Editor Sarah Murnane | Social Editor Rose Slocock History Editor Jonathan Kelly | Science Editor Sacha Pavry | International Editor Buster Whaley | Erasmus co-Editors Stephen Conneely, Luca McVey Art Editor Sarah O’Donohoe | Social Media Editor Maeve Adams | Copy Editor Leah Downey 32 34 Tales From the GMB Ellen McKimm Tunnels? What Tunnels? Anon
Charlotte Moore - Seems to Mean a Lot to Me; View from skylight
Kate Moloney - I Make Silly Decisions Often
Foreword
Alex Payne
Welcome to Misc.’s second issue of our 130th cycle. is year our focus is to re-establish the magazine as the best reflection of the student experience.
Contained within you will find our contributors attempts to breakdown the all-too-present issues of Irish drinking culture, Trinity’s colonial past, and the Foundation Scholarship examinations. We also have some first-hand research into the political leanings of the student body.
However, if this all sounds a bit too heavy for you, do not fret. Our Erasmus co-Editors have been busy
collecting shocking anecdotes from students across Europe, an anonymous writer whisks you away down into the depths of the (very, very real) Trinity tunnels and 36 years into his tenure, the GMB security guard reveals all from his time spent catching glimpses of student life out of the corner of his eye.
e decision to expand Misc.’s team has also proved fruitful. Accompanying most articles we now have a micture of archival material, student opinion and campus activity. e aim with these more digestible portions of information is to not only provide
a more enjoyable perusal of our pages but also to ensure that those looking back at this copy of Misc. in the future get a sense of how you, the students of Trinity, stamp your mark on this university.
I hope you find a moment during this busy time of year to take a break and read some of the great writing that has found its way into this issue. Take it with you to the Pav and enjoy with an overpriced Guinness.
As always, we ask that you read the following pages with an open mind and critical eye, and we encourage you to share your thoughts with us.
Overheard
on
ampus
“I dunno who he is but I hate that guy with the big hair.”
“Who is that girl SUSI that everyone is talking about?”
“Does anyone know where I can buy pearl cous-cous?”
“Maybe all I can do is write poetry about boys now.”
“I can’t believe they haven’t been skiing. Skiing is a fundamental childhood experience.”
“Yeah these aren’t even skinny jeans, my legs just look like that.”
Heard something amusing, stereotypical and/or shocking as you’re making your way around campus?
Keep an eye on our Instagram, @tcdmiscmagazine, for a submissions box or email us directly at editor@miscmagazine.ie
Spotlight on: DUNeS
Leah Downey shines a light on Trinity’s newest Society
DU Neurodiversity Society (DUNeS) is a society that promotes “exploring neurodiversity” and “enhancing student lives”. e society was formed in 2021 after a lengthy campaign by chairperson Faolán Launders and Jordan Nevin.
Launders came up with the idea after spending time around other neurodivergent individuals and noting how much fun the experience was - and thinking about how enjoyable it would be to bring that to a larger scale. At first, the idea was somewhat of a joke, with the founding members referring to it as “ e Autism Society”. After realising that this was, in fact, a good idea that could bring students having similar experiences together, they decided to begin the process of being officially recognised as a society by the Central Societies Committee (CSC).
e Disability Service has been tantamount to the society being formally recognised in 2023.
e Disability Service provided a place for DUNeS to meet and begin hosting events despite not being an official body on campus.
This difficulty with the CSC came from their restrictions regarding forming new societies. ey must not serve purposes that are already under the umbrella of another society. Another issue came from inclusivity - after their original meeting with the CSC, they found the proposed name “Neurodivergent Society” too exclusionary as societies are obligated to be open to all members of the college. eir new name, Neurodiversity Society, has allowed them to become a space on campus for the neurodiverse and those looking to grow their awareness. As an official CSC society, DUNeS has seen a huge growth in their presence on campus and subsequent growth of their membership. e society’s flourishing existence
has allowed them to host events that are crucial to maintaining a social space for neurodiverse people on campus. DUNeS are especially proud of their ‘info-dumping’ event, where attendees have the opportunity to give a ten minute presentation on anything and everything they find interesting. ‘Info-dumping’ has been loosely defined as an opportunity to share what people have a special interest or hyper-fixation on. In neurotypical exchanges, info-dumping may be seen as irritating or excessive, whereas in a neurodiverse social setting, it is a form of community, knowledge-sharing and connection. In these events people have presented such titles as “Geomorphology and morphogenesis of non-siliceous, non aqueous fluvial systems of a titan: review”, “Spongebob Square Pants the Movie being a retelling of Homer’s Odyssey” and all the way to a detailed synopsis of an homemade Role Playing Game ending in a rendition of “I’m Just Ken”. Other events have entailed a cinema trip to the new Five Nights at Freddy’s movie, Board
Games Night and regular Coffee Mornings.
Another important element in DUNeS role is their contribution to the Trinity Sense Map. is exists as a pointer for places that are both sensory friendly or potentially over stimulating. is required using the old map as a point of reference and contacting 120 buildings to find out the opening times, closing times and what facilities are available. is has brought a heightened awareness to respite spaces and sensory rooms on campus that have gone otherwise unnoticed by most students. e map is a collaborative event that welcomes input from students, whether that be through tips or feedback.
DUNeS provides an essential space on campus for educating neurotypicals by breaking down stigmas and preconceptions on what being neurodiverse can be. ey principally follow the social model, which believes that people are disabled by the barriers present in society and not by their impairment or difference. ey are keenly aware of the diversity in needs that is required by each individual and accommodating to those needs, requesting feedback from society members on the events they have run thus far and the possibility of improvement.
TCD Sense Map
Pints Anyone?
Aoibhinn Clancy
It’s no secret that drinking is intrinsic to Irish culture. How we advertise ourselves as a nation only fuels a drunken Irish stereotype, with Dublin’s Guinness Storehouse, Irish Whiskey museum and Temple Bar — a known tourist trap for foreign pub-goers — being some of the most popular destinations for people visiting the island. It would appear that there is something inherently Irish about the ritualistic voyage to the local pub. However, one must query if our noble quest for pints is a pilgrimage that we as a nation should continue to embark upon.
Upon reaching out to my peers, I quickly discovered that our relationship with drinking begins at a young age. Between thirteen to fifteen years old was the majority consensus I received for when they began drinking.
“I was about 15 I’d say. I know some start drinking earlier, but as with many Irish youths, I think I really started drinking around/after the Junior Cert. I wasn’t going into pubs or anything, it would’ve been the classic cans in a field with your mates then into the teenage disco”, said Richie Rooney. Similarly, reflecting upon the age she started, Sarah O’Donohoe, who began drinking at 14, remarked how now “I’m older [it] feels insane, but I was a very curious teen”.
For students, a significant part of college life revolves around attending
events in spaces where consuming alcohol is the norm. Pav Fridays, Student Races and society organised club nights are all events where one is expected to partake in drinking, and to not do so can be seen as some radical gesture. “It’s hard to make friends if you don’t [drink] because every social event is centred around drinking”, my American friend
Hannah Boles said when I mentioned I was writing an article about Ireland’s drinking culture.
e darker underbelly of Ireland’s favourite pastime is something students seem to be painfully aware of: “ ere is definitely an over-normalisation of drinking as a hobby or a social pastime to partake in with your friends”, stated Trinity student Chloe McGing. She
continued by saying that due toher involvement with sport she didn’t drink until 19 but noted “there is definitely a pressure on adults and young people when socialising or out with friends to provide a valid reason for not drinking, as if alcohol consumption is our default state as Irish people, and anyone who doesn’t want to partake in that must provide valid justification as to why?”.
Avery Simoneau also spoke of “a normalisation of going for pints”, while Rooney remarked that for him, “‘Pint?’”, is a question he’ll ask and be asked multiple times a week. One student remarked, “I think there’s pros and cons to drinking because obviously if you’re on the session every week that’s not good but also if you’re having loads of pints everyday that’s also not good. I think if you drink responsibly it’s grand”.
Heavy alcohol consumption, however, can often be a means of escapism for students grappling with the ups and downs that come with college life. In a way, it is ironic, as more often than not drinking can lead to heightened feelings of anxiety or ‘hangxiety’. It is also a well known fact that alcohol is used as a clutch by many in social situations and it is not uncommon to hear people proclaim that they ‘loosen up’ after a few swigs. e innate desire students possess to fit in among their peers means many will drink, often in excess, due to the in-
Misc. asks students: How many units of alcohol do you think you should be consuming per week?
ternalised pressure they feel to conform and be a part of the homogeneous and dominant social group. “I used to rely on drinking to be more social when there was pressure to make friends and be social during first year because it made it so much easier to be social and fun. But now that I have a group of close friends I don’t feel I rely on it as much”, said Boles.
Drinkaware’s Annual Barometer for 2022 revealed that those participating in binge drinking — defined as consuming ‘6 standard drinks in one sitting’ — is on the rise, with 1 in 4 engaging with alcohol in this way. While you may be sitting there thinking you too are immune, usually maxing out at three or four pints, a standard drink measure of alcohol is half a pint. I know that I myself could easily nurse three pints over the course of a night out, which provoked a slightly uncomfortable feeling as I had never thought of how I currently engage with alcohol as excessive.
How can we remedy this culture of excessive drinking? It’s clear that there is an absence of sober socialising alternatives, with many viewing the call for pints as an opportunity to catch up with friends, rather than an innate desire to consume an overpriced cider. As encapsulated by Aoibheann Enright, drinking is “a casual social thing but realistically we don’t need to be drinking as often as we do”.
Speaking to a close friend of mine who is currently on Erasmus, she detailed how there is a clear difference between going for pints at home versus abroad.
Sophie McAlpin said how in Spain it is “very normal to be out all day drinking, but at home in Ireland, it’s like you’d be out for a couple of hours and be hammered”. She went on to say that in Spain, alcohol is viewed as simply another drink as opposed to something you drink solely for the purpose of getting drunk.
pecially when considering the ritualistic act of pre-drinking, a staple of Irish student culture. Pre-drinking or ‘prinking’ encourages fast and rapid consumption of alcohol in a short burst of time. is is done by many due to the extortionate price of drinks in pubs and clubs in Ireland. e logic is to arrive already inebriated to reduce the cost of the night. Participating in pre-drinking alone means many routinely engage in binge drinking as, realistically, nobody is measuring out their servings while getting ready in their friends room of a rented student accommodation. e act of prinking is a sacred custom for many young people, but maybe it’s time we start to reevaluate how we choose to consume alcohol. e myth that alcohol brightens one’s demeanour and makes them more palatable is a dangerous lie. Excessive alcohol consumption in social situations can lead to regretful outcomes, both for one’s mental and physical health. Reflecting on how you and your peers engage with alcohol can be an uncomfortable feeling. It is easy to normalise our drinking habits especially when those around us are parking in similar behaviours.
day. I thought the world was collapsing in. I’m not the only one, I know a good few people who have faced similar difficulties, and still do. I’ve moved on. I’ve made new friends and reconnected with old ones. But I’m always mindful of how slippery the slope can be. I think the poor quality of mental health services in Ireland, as well as the housing crisis and all that jazz plays into it big time. We, the nation’s youth, are struggling”.
Where does this leave us? Is there truth in the ‘Irish Alcoholism Gene’ or does our fondness for pints really come from living on an island and having nothing else to do? Having the second highest rate of binge drinking in the world, losing out on the title to Austria, the people of Ireland have proven, statistically, the elements of truth behind the drunken Irish stereotype. From speaking to my friends, and engaging in some self-reflection, I believe the problem lies in people’s distorted view on alcohol consumption, alongside a lack of spaces which facilitate socialising without alcohol.
Ideally, alcohol should be consumed in moderation. However, it is clear that as a nation, we are struggling with that. Only by being honest with ourselves can we truly begin to unravel the complex relationship Ireland has with our ‘turas chuig an theach tábhairne’ (trip to the pub).
This sentiment rang true for me, es-
“I’ve thought some of my friends might have a problem and, more importantly, I’ve thought I might have a problem”, said one of my friends. In his words, the combination of living alone and the new-found independence for students and young people leads to “a period of excessive partying”. He continued that he “blacked out a handful of times, was a bad friend, and my actions drove a wedge between me and some people I loved and still love to this
Fishing for Salmon
Ava Bolger
Iwas talking to a friend of mine the other day, a recent graduate from UCD, when the inescapable question of Master’s programmes came up. I was surprised to hear that she was staunchly opposed to following up her degree in Trinity College. “Why,” she asked me, “would I ever want to study in a place that has only let women and Catholics study there for the last 100 years?” I was shocked by her logic in that it was so fiercely opposed to my own. I always saw my position in Trinity as a Catholic woman as a source of pride, as a means of proving the misogynists of the past wrong. I enjoyed my position, in some ways, out of spite. But our conversation did get me thinking and I suppose it is a rather strange sensation to walk across front square every day under the beady eyes of a man who would have sooner died than see me at home in these our hallowed halls, to walk across front square under the gaze of former provost George Salmon, the man, the myth, the misogynist.
George Salmon, who presides over campus on his plinth beside the Campanile was Provost of Trinity College from 1888 until he died in 1904. He was a distinguished mathematician and theologist. He first entered Trinity College in 1833 at 14 years old and became a mathematics lecturer at 21, writing several key works in algebraic geometry. He was an ordained priest for the Church of Ireland and a Professor of Divinity. He was also one of the main opponents to the campaign for the admission of women to Trinity. e aforementioned campaign started in earnest in 1892, four years into Salmon’s tenure, when the Central Association of Irish Schoolmistresses (CAISM) presented a memorial of over 10,000 signatures of Irish women asking the Board of Trinity College to open their doors and degrees to women. However, the Board did not even acknowledge the petition until the following year and in 1895 the request was refused - proclaiming women: “A danger to the men.”
It is strange to consider Salmons’ refusal of the request when you consider his life outside of Trinity. Salmon was once a member of the council of Alexandra College, now a fee-paying girls’ High School but then providing third-level vocational training to women, and had supported girls competing on equal terms with boys in Intermediate examinations. His daughter had even acted as a coordinator for the Examinations for
Women and was a member of CAISM. And yet his words still echo infamously around campus: “Over my dead body will women enter this college.” It seems almost ironic, then, that immediately after his death in January 1904, Isabel Marion Weir Johnston became the first woman undergraduate to successfully register to study in Trinity. at year there were 40 other registrations which marked the Trinity’s first intake of female undergraduates.
Admission did not mean free study for women however, and Weir was not even allowed to attend lectures for the first few months. Women were not permitted to live on campus (Trinity Hall was established in 1908 to house female students) and they were forced to leave College grounds by 6pm. ey were confined to separate dining rooms and cloakrooms and the ‘Rules for Women Students’ required all women to wear a cap and gown when on campus, or risk being marked absent in classes as “academically naked”. Despite the fact that Salmon withdrew his formal objections to women entering Trinity in July 1903 he still remains the symbol of women’s tempestuous early relationships with the College. So, it’s no surprise his statue’s prominent position on campus has come under much controversy over the years.
e statue erected to commemorate Salmon was created in 1911 by Dublin-born artist John Hughes and has been displayed in several different locations over the years. Before it was placed in its current home in Front square it could be found in the museum building where it was vandalised twice in the early 1960s. In February of 1961 and March of 1963 the monument was defaced with red and black paint and creosote, respectively. After the first attack e Irish Times quoted a student as saying: “it was about time - and you can quote me on that.” It was moved to its current position in 1964, allowing Salmon to look out upon the different generations of students coming and going, and despite his many years committed to this college and to academics, the majority of students are not happy to be looking back at him, a symbol of our long history of conservatism.
question of whose voices and legacies we are forced to interact with has become unavoidable. ere exists a deep-seated dissatisfaction with such commemoration of historical figures with troubled personal lives and the attitude seems to be to rip it all down and start anew. is sentiment was vividly expressed in 2020 when the statue of Edward Colston, an enslaver, was forcefully toppled in Bristol and thrown into the city harbour during a Black Lives Matter protest. is incident was an incitement for change, igniting a nationwide discussion. is act catalysed an unparalleled public reflection on Britain’s entanglement with its history of slavery, leading to the removal or modification of nearly 70 tributes to figures associated with enslavement and colonialism. Simultaneously, efforts were made to contextualise and redefine the legacies of certain contentious figures, as seen in the addition of explanatory plaques to statues of William Beckford and Sir John Cass.
It is not so easy to remove all disputed effigies from the public sphere as the aforementioned toppling may suggest, especially if attempts are being made to do so diplomatically. is is particularly highlighted though the disputation surrounding the statue of Cecil Rhodes at Oriel College in Oxford. Rhodes was
a white supremecist whose actions and ideologies were part of the foundation that perpetuated the system of apartheid in South Africa. Understandably, monuments honouring his legacy of colonisation are unwelcome internationally and a global movement known as Rhodes Must Fall was founded in 2015 at the University of Cape Town, to challenge his commemoration. Last year, Oriel College also expressed its intention to remove Rhodes’ statue, a decision supported by an independent commission, yet the movement has come up against some obstinate obstacles and, despite protests and petitions for change, the College has refused to remove the statue for financial and legal reasons.
So, what to do about the elephant in the room or, more accurately, the statue in the square? While Salmon’s sins are not as stacked as Colston or Rhodes, some students have called for his complete eradication, much in the same stream as stripping the former Berkeley library of its title. Others, myself included, claim that the statue is a sign of how far we have come. Annie, a fourth-year European studies student, suggests that the college should not remove the statue but, instead, relocate it to a less prominent location. is sentiment is echoed in the words of Madison, a study abroad student visiting us from the States, who claims that she was not expecting to see
Misc. asks students: Should the George Salmon statue remain on campus?
We are living in an age where we are increasingly aware of how our public spaces engage with history, and the
Trinity campus dominated by so many male statues and argues that we should erect more monuments to honour the female students of our past and their struggles. What about Sydney Elizabeth Auchinleck who became the college’s first chemistry graduate in 1908? Or, Olive Purser, the first woman to be made a scholar at Trinity? Elizabeth Maxwell, the first woman to join the College’s staff, when she was appointed lecturer in modern history in 1909 or, even, one or all of the ‘Forward Five’ — Barbara, Maureen, Joy, ‘Pic’, and Maura — who dressed as men and stormed the
dining hall in 1931 to protest women’s exclusion from it?
Nonetheless, whether it stays or goes, the statue is merely a symbol. e eradication of a symbol can and will not eradicate the history. Honestly, who would we be if we wanted it to? While George Salmon represents a lot of things to a lot of students, especially to our female dominated population, his statue remains as a reminder of the big shoes we have to fill as students here. It is so easy to take for granted the accessible education we are all privileged to but allow yourself to feel the history of the campus
you move through every now and again, allow yourself to feel a part of something. When Salmon’s stare falls upon you do not cower, do not duck your head and run to class. Do not let the conservatism of the past alter the future that we’re making now. Walk tall, you have earned your place, you will never stop earning your place here. Smile in the face of those who said you’d never make it. Be a distraction. Be a danger. Above all, don’t break tradition. Be sure to get a picture with Salmon upon graduation — it’s what he would have wanted for sure.
Misc. asks its readers: Should prizes still be named after George Berkeley?
Editorial Reflections
Jonathan Kelly
The editorial of Misc. Magazine on the 24th of May 1923 was, even by the standards of the time, quite sexist and, frankly, outrageous. While women had been admitted to the College for 20 years by that point, sexism was enmeshed into the very fabric of college life. Even still, when the editor fired a misogynistic missile at his readership, it caused quite a stir.
e editorial reads: “June the 9th next will be the twentieth anniversary of the Senate’s decision to obtain Government consent to the granting of degrees to women in this University. Few, if any, still doubt the wisdom of that decision, but the question arises: Have the women students made the full use of their privileges and have they done their duty to Trinity?”
e Editor then proceeds to divide the “girls who enter trinity” into two types: the butterfly and the ant. “Work, to the butterfly, is of no importance;
to the Ant, the alpha and the omega of College existence”. e editorial laments the fact that the “training [of women students] is more a home one than that of their brothers, and esprit de corps is lacking from their vocabulary”. e editor ploughs on: “We should like to see a greater effort on the part of the women students to add to the fame and glory of the University to which, probably, their sex owes most; for Trinity has always been a pioneer in the matter of providing educational facilities.”
It is no wonder that many were justly offended by the editorial, which proved, even for the readership of 1924, to be out of pocket. Letters to the editor flooded in, in such quantities that there was only space for a handful to be printed.
One such letter reads: “your article last week has aroused considerable and justifiable indignation among the women students on account of its unwarrantable attack on them, and because it gives evidence of having been written
by one who has but a superficial knowledge of the inner workings of No. 5 and No 6 (the former headquarters of the Elizabethan society, the women-only discourse society founded in 1905).
She points out that unlike the male societies, women only societies and clubs “have to fight every inch of the way” for recognition and funding. She concludes: “Let me say that there is no lack of desire among the women in College to add to the fame and glory of their University, but, except from an academic point of view, there is a great dearth of opportunity.” Yours, etc. A public-spirited undergraduette.
Elizabeth Emmet, BA asks the Editor to “look at today’s issue and last week’s, and the week’s before that… [and he will see that] deprived of the women students as a subject your contributors would be dumb and Misc. would pine quite away”.
“We are squashed; further contributions from Elizabeth Emmet, B.A., will be welcomed – Ed.”
Liberty: At What Cost?
Mia Allen
As we near the end of a very cold Michaelmas term, with exams and assessments looming, imagining the Christmas break is, for some, a source of hope. e prospect of handing in those final assignments brings a glimmer of warmth, however, there is a cohort of second years who have a dark, mysterious and somewhat ‘culty’ ’path ahead of them. Some of them will win big in April, the rest will just go: “Sure it’s fine,
whatever, I literally don’t care.”
I am obviously talking about the Foundation Scholarship Exams, commonly known as ‘Schols’; perhaps one of the strangest scholarship awards in existence. It seems that there is no universal advice for those who may be sitting it. Some say it is “luck”. Engineering students just say “you won’t”. Some will even say it is easy. e discourse surrounding it is a mixture of complaints
about the classism imbued within, or how the very opportunity to sit it is a privilege. One must question if you need to give up every ounce of joy from your life to achieve it?
So what exactly is Schols? After Christmas, one sits four exams. If you average a first, get a first in two subjects, and do not get any mark below sixty-five percent you will be awarded the Scholarship. is includes free accommoda-
tion spanning five years, free tuition, two free years of post-graduate education and free entry to commons (average dinner…). You enter into a cohort of some of Trinity’s most prestigious alumni such as Edmund Burke, Samuel Beckett, and Mary Robinson, all with that Sch. accreditation. For anyone, this is a life changing prize, yet of course, it has its flaws.
My own Schols experience was summarised by trying to interpret the constitution in my own unique way twelve hours before the exam, accompanied by many shameful hours trying to operate a printer. Upon surveying many people who had sat it, and those who succeeded, a common running theme in their reports was that it was a “fucking awful experience”. For those who succeeded, the benefits have been endlessly empowering not just from a financial perspective, but a personal one. e ranges of advices, motivators, and individuals who sit it, alongside the absence of a marking scheme, leave the path to the achievement slightly ambiguous and unique. I decided to attempt to tackle this confusing tradition by talking to those who had sat the exams and the ones that got it.
Alongside this, a postgraduate qualification is made accessible to many people by these exams in second year. Seeing
equal playing field.
your family struggle to help support you, or the hours at work robbing you of a “typical college experience” is reason enough to sit the exams. Meanwhile, constantly hearing that it’s a personal choice, or even a “privilege”, sounds completely detached from the pressures and necessity that may surround it. e mantra “Prioritise your mental health” rings empty, when you are weighing up losing a couple months in comparison to years of potential financial worry. Protecting your mental health becomes staggeringly difficult in a circumstance like this.
Despite the obvious pessimism regarding Schols’ equity, the achievability and the experience it gives is not to be ignored. e reward is life-changing for anyone, the financial freedom it provides goes further than just academics, and living expenses. Ailill, a History and Politics Scholar, noted just how extensively empowering the experience was, both academically, and financially. e bells and whistles of the experience are also quite theatrical. You now get to wear a cloak around for a day, and listen to the strange Latin prayer, go to Schols’ Ball, and gawk at some of your lecturers as they eat trifle. Apparently there is a strange marble game too. In many ways it sounds as if you are being flown straight into the upper echelons of Trinity.
Why do people do this to themselves?
In something described as “demanding, complex and a gamble” by Kate, a History and Politics Scholar, the underlying duress of sitting the exams is shockingly apparent. She noted the indifference of people in response to her confusion about sitting the exams, one that involved plenty of stress when balancing work and her course load. Many people did not have a lot of sympathy as it was “her own personal choice” to do Schols. e “choice” to sit the exams was one that involved immense stress, a gamble made out of financial necessity. We cannot ignore the surrounding housing crises, and cost of living crisis, coupled with the socio-economic blindness of the Scholarship. e freefor-all entry into the scholarship and that pure academic merit retains this crudeness. at golden support Schols can offer can completely remove these real and prevalent financial anxieties.
The socio-economic aspect of the exam is something that is critiqued heavily. Success is possible for anyone in the exam, but it has never and never will carry the same risk or experience, in the slightest, for everyone. Studying in Dublin continues to become more and more expensive, and this struggle for certain students translates to the numbers applying for the exam. In a survey commissioned by the Irish League of Credit Unions, fifty-five per cent of students reported missing out on lectures in favour of paid work, a figure that sat at twenty-two percent just two years prior. Taking this into account, learning the course material at face value is difficult in the first place, let alone “going deeper” into the subject to the extent that is required for Schols. is disregard of the socio-economic aspect of the exams ensures that it is not an entirely
Is Schols an attainable goal for every course? e answer to that is enough to get anyone stressed. e general view is that Health Sciences and Law take home the majority of Scholars. For other STEM and applied Science courses, Schols can seem like a completely different challenge at times. ere seems to be a correlation between the different courses and getting Schols.. is absence of consistency or scholars for various courses makes the decision and experience even more daunting. Where do you turn to for advice? ere is plenty of speculation surrounding this – are certain disciplines harder to achieve Schols, or are they marked harder? Furthermore, the absence of a marking scheme for the exams keeps the allocation of Scholars mysterious. e fluctuating quotas can be nerve wracking, but at a certain point they do become futile to try and analyse. ere has even been some speculation regarding the funding of schools in relation to the number of Scholars. rough the varying inconsistencies throughout the years, the strange red herrings, and refusals to give anyone the scholarship in various disciplines this seems hard to pin down, and rather unfair. ere is no conclusive evidence unfortunately, just constant rumours and predictions. Some theorists even have claimed the selection is sometimes based on nepotism - a completely unsupported claim.
All of this chatter and confusion combined with the esteem of the exams, really only creates more stress. If you are planning on sitting the exams, it can all feel overwhelming, especially regarding the unknowable dispersion of scholars amongst schools. Give yourself a chance, inflate your ego, and have the confidence of someone who has to be told to be quiet in a tutorial group (multiple times).
Despite mercury being in retrograde for engineers last year, it’s probably better to ignore the quotas to a certain point. ere is tangible advice that can work; speaking to specific Scholars on how one gets Schols. Similarly, reconciling advice with your own situation and strengths will always help trying to navigate it. Succumbing to imposter syndrome is never going to help, and if you are thinking that Schols just is not for you, that imposter syndrome will arrest you to indecision.
that with a twenty to thirty-hour work week. Balance is tough enough even without extra exams.
W hat we are left with is an image of a Scholarship that is socio-economically neglectful, stressful, and with a mysterious allure. e risky decision to sit the exams and the economic and somewhat academic duress to sit it make it an extremely painful choice for some, often for those who need it most. In the future many have suggested it should be restructured to be more understanding to a changing college environment, by being means-tested according to a student’s socio-economic position.
Overheard
Sfrom
chols
“Fucking awful experience.”
“Complex, demanding, a gamble.”
This imposter syndrome coupled with the elitism of the scholarship, makes it feel unattainable for many. Its omnipotence makes it feel impossible. “I didn’t even realise I was that stressed about it until it ended,” said Hannah, a Chemistry student who sat the exams mentioned. Others across the various disciplines have noted that lingering, confused feeling, even if there was not a huge expectation of achieving the Scholarship. Furthermore, the advice I heard from scholars seemed extremely polarising. Some saw it as a stroke of luck, others said it single handedly ruined their Christmas
However, the experiences readily differed along socio-economic lines too. Many recall working through their Christmas, with a constant sense of looming guilt towards Schols, as they watched people lock themselves in the library, they were attempting to balance
However, on Trinity Monday, regardless of how it turns out, and no matter how disappointed you may be for yourself or your friends or indeed how deliriously happy you are, that excitement is infectious. I have never seen people so happy to be standing in the rain in Front Square, screaming with joy at names barely anyone can hear. For those who are not so successful, obviously there is disappointment and potentially some drastic changes to hopes for the next few years. Whether your Trinity Monday involves searching mindlessly to find any pub open at 10:30am (the River Bar) with twelve fellow shrugging disappointed students or sipping glasses of prosecco calling every relative you have, it all feels like a strange sort of annual pilgrimage. Whether you get it or not, Trinity Monday is always an opportunity to day-drink. Embracing the absurdity, and uncertainty associated with the Scholarship, and knowing the risk of “failing” it, will never alter the impressive fact that you did undertake this bizarre tradition. In the case you opted out, you will still feel its effect through the incessant complaining of your friends or through your own indecision, its strange presence on campus will never go unnoticed.
“Elitist, life-changing, weird.”
“Stressful, overwhelming, de-moralising.”
“Empowering, life-altering, a learning curve.”
“Fucking shit week.”
Heard something amusing, stereotypical and/or shocking as you’re making your way around campus?
Keep an eye on our Instagram, @tcdmiscmagazine, for a submissions box or email us directly at editor@miscmagazine.ie
This House Would (Maybe) be an Ecoterrorist
Sacha Pavry
Although not entirely new to Trinity, it took me until now to embark on the rite of passage that is a Phil debate. I saw that the motion for the night was ‘this house would be an eco-terrorist’ and, as a biology student, I thought it might be an opportunity for me to give my two cents and explore the artsiest of arts-block-goer activities. Upon entering the GMB, I felt overwhelmed. e last time I was here, it was the arts festival and this was very different from
that. Instead of bracelet making stalls, the place was full of heretics and people who like public speaking so much that they will do it willingly and regularly on a ursday. I’m not entirely sure what I expected, certainly more capes, maybe a cigar or two. ere were definitely enough moustaches; definitely enough moustaches.
I was lucky enough to be given exclusive access to what was described as ‘the wee room where the speakers are’.
is was so I could collect insightful comments for this article from Trinity’s brightest minds. Sadly, the guidance went straight over my head. I understood the ‘wee room where the speakers are’ to be the one full of people where music was playing and biscuits were on offer. As it turns out there weren’t any delegates there at all and so I did very little reporting at this point. I did have a nice time though. I managed to weave between the tweed jackets and sit myself
down on a sticky leather sofa to enjoy a custard cream before ‘the show’ - that’s what I was calling it in my head. Just before ‘the show’ I managed to catch one of our diamonds, an actual speaker, Amy Cox. I hit her with a burning question: “How’s it going?” To which she responded: “It’s a mess.” is is the only comment I got. As Amy said this, I saw someone wield a sword from the wall and the blade fell off making a dull thud on the afghan rug. I’d like someone to investigate what use e Phil has for this sword; if any apart from looking tough.
After that, I retired from my post as interviewer and sat myself down in the very last row of the big room where the debating happens. e Phil seems to call this ‘ e Chamber’, all very weird. e Registrar, Jonathan Kelly, took to the altar (call it a stand all you want) to introduce the speakers and recall a multitude of trivial affairs. I could just about see each of the delegates’ haircuts over the pews. In my notes I identified them according to trim; I have since learned their names. Behind the Registrar, the big guys loomed over e congregation. e ‘big guys’ consist of five students in blazers who call themselves the Council, one of whom was wearing a medal. I suppose he is the leader. ey were sitting in royal seats - they were also not that big. I zoned out for a minute and snapped back to reality at the word ‘pegging’. Not entirely sure of the context but I was definitely feeling scared at this point. e Registrar retired.
an ecoterrorist? Maybe by some. Jenny also mentioned the condescending advice Greta unberg has been receiving in the press. One person suggested she should just “see a good old fashioned movie with a friend”. Of course this is a comment that could only be made by someone who is too conceited and disdainful to do anything remotely useful for society themselves. I know, we all know, that Greta is well aware that she ‘should be in school’. Greta is only 6 months older than me and I think I can say with some degree of certainty that she doesn’t know what it’s like to hit a Lost Mary in the bathroom at small break. at’s what it’s all about. Instead, she’s sacrificing her younger years to create a better future for all of us. Power to you babe, couldn’t be me.
We have now entered the debating part of this article – prepare for my tone to change. A third year Law student, and UN youth delegate by the name of Jenny Salmon kicked off the night for the proposition. e term ecoterrorist was outlined by Jenny as the use of violence of any form to further environmental policy change. In her opinion, climate activists are labelled ‘ecoterrorists’ for very passive, non-violent views. I think she is absolutely right, every time I get the vegetarian option at lunch my (mostly male, engineering) friends look at me like I’m a pitiful hamster. Don’t worry, I always firm it and get the ratatouille anyway. Would I be considered
Another speaker, Rehan Haneef, took the radical view that “terrorism is bad” and reminded us that this debate is about whether they, as the speaker, would be willing to be an ecoterrorist. is struck me as ironic since throughout the whole debate, each delegate (including Rehan) stressed every reason why they should, would or could support radical activism but each in turn forgot to mention what they themselves would actually do about it. Another issue I had was that it kept coming back to us in our privileged lives. Haneef stressed that we should worry about “the little guy”, those working minimum wage jobs. It is not worth inconveniencing them for the sake of climate activism. I suppose he is referring to road protests. is was the worst thing he could imagine in terms of climate activists causing problems for society. Comparatively, the effects of the climate crisis could lead to flooding and famine, I would say that’s slightly worse. e issue of most relevance to us as citizens of a first world country is going veggie or whether we buy second hand. Maybe how many children we will be able to have. While fluctuating grocery prices and warmer summers may set us at an unease in our ivory tower, for others it doesn’t come so gently.
One of the guest speakers, John Gibbons, is an Irish environmental campaigner and the founder of the climatechange.ie website. Well seasoned in the field, he gave a realistic view of what we’re really in for as a planet, not as a niche societal group. He said it how it is; there will be hunger, mass migra-
tion, food shortages and ‘a great big war coming up’. I know, what a downer, let’s keep talking about tote bags. Outside of our little lives, instead of worrying about what it is we eat at lunch today, many will wonder if there will be lunch at all. Instead of wondering how many children is a sustainable amount to have, if Sub-Saharan farm systems collapse, children will die as a result of food insecurity. Our minor lifestyle changes are simply not enough to turn this around and we need to reject that notion. We are not the ones who are going to fix this. Largely, it is not what we as civilians do in our personal lives that will make a difference but rather those controlling the societal structure we are forced to live in. Many aren’t even in a privileged enough position to make these lifestyle changes anyway. Do we expect those living in the Nepali slums to recycle when Shein is still mass consuming oil to make virgin polyester? We cannot control the powers that be and at the end of the day, it is them who are at fault. ere are people who take the risk into account, the human cost, the loss of life and will in cold blood choose the profit. After peaceful protest, after lobbying fails, what is left but radicalism?
Eco-terrorism was never plan A. Activists did not see the first climate report by the IPCC in 1990 and pick up the pitch forks. It took decades of negligence and apathy from governments for it to reach this point. For our generation it is especially frustrating because we have been landed in this mess without ever choosing to contribute to the destruction. e slow, unresponsive approach to this crisis is the real terror. For this reason, it’s my belief that ‘terrorist’ is the wrong adjective altogether. ey aren’t terrified of activists, they’re not even scared. While on the contrary, we deeply fear for our futures. is indifference to the issue of climate change is evident even for us at a seemingly liberal college. If we speak in real terms - was the Phil debate ever going to make a difference? Was the audience ever going to be inspired to pipe bomb the oil rig? Or like most things, did it just provide us with some ursday night entertainment?
The term eco-terrorist would be more appropriately assigned to corporations which willingly fund planet-killing industries for monetary gain. Climate activism is an act of desperation to preserve the most valuable resource we have, which by the way, isn’t oil.
A New Homage to Catalonia
Stephen Conneely
“They have, there is no doubt, a generosity, a species of nobility, that do not really belong to the twentieth century”, wrote George Orwell about the Spanish people. e 21st century, however, may prove to shake this belief for, in a globalised and late-stage capitalistic society, even some Spaniards have hardened. In his 1938 book Homage to Catalonia, set partly at the front line of the Spanish Civil War and partly in Barcelona while on leave from fighting, Orwell lays bare his frustrations of war and politics, which would eventually culminate in his most prolific writings, and opens to the public intimate details of his routines during this tumultuous period of his life, and of European history.
Seen at the time to be the most pressing political question for the new generation of Europe, and now regarded as a rehearsal for the Second World War, Orwell acutely addresses the political heart of this conflict, and boldly diagnoses the failures and redemptions of the Republican Army, particularly his communist militia. e circumstances of his time spent in Catalonia thus couldn’t differ more starkly from my own. I have
often joked - to my mother’s disapproval - that Erasmus is the best holiday I’ve ever been on, and as I near the end of the first of two terms I am set to attend at the University of Barcelona, I believe myself to be fairly acquainted with the city, especially its most tramline-esque nightclubs.
However different our experiences of Barcelona and its surrounding countryside may be, reading Homage within my first month of arriving here provided me with not just a needed context of Spain’s socio-political history, but also a grounding in Catalonia’s personality and people. It was through this reading that I, too, could view Catalan society from a foreign, and distinctly anglophone,
perspective - particularly regarding the region’s politics, which often accurately represent wider European issues, and subversive cultures, namely the youth and queer communities of the capital.
“ is is not war”, Orwell was once told by his commander, “it is a comic opera with an occasional death.” is perhaps best exemplifies Homage’s view on its muse, the Spanish Civil War, and while Orwell does go into great detail about his everyday life at the front and his experience of street fighting in Barcelona, a major theme of the book is the political reasons behind it. He goes into detail about his frustrations of the lack of action in battle, the old and often futile weapons and ammunition that soldiers were given, and of course, the lack of an adequate supply of cigarettes.
He reserves an entire, substantial chapter to educate the anglophone reader on the political divisions that defined Spain at that time, in what results in a major literary catharsis for Orwell. is split, of course, acted as a prelude to Europe at war in the coming years, but its principles may still be applied today: a fragmented left-wing cause made space for the right and the far-right to
entice disillusioned or indifferent centrist voters. He further dissects the conditions necessary for such a grassroots revolution to be successful, he admires the Catalan working class in a considerate manner, and lambasts the foreign and Spanish press - which all serve as fruitful sources for his later works, 1984 and Animal Farm.
The socialist movement in Spain ultimately failed due to a military coup led by Francisco Franco, which was then followed by his near 40-year dictatorship. While the country gradually transitioned to democracy in the late 1970’s, and has been governed by a host of political parties (the current government being a democratic socialist party), Orwell’s experience of an idealised society where formal language has been abandoned and a gentleman is addressed as comrade has perhaps all but ceased to exist.
ponder if they share the same causes, too, despite them plaguing countries who are led by parties of varying political philosophies. Perhaps successive neoliberal governments (disguised as progressives) who have stalled to act on these societal issues in their respective countries may bear the responsibility for whatever major social, political, or economic upheaval we see in our version of the Roaring Twenties.
brooding, and more than questionable outfit choices. e Esade Law and Business school, on the other hand, would give a Blackrock graduation a run for its money with the amount of tan and light chinos (tight around the ankle, of course) that its male students boast. Much would be expected from a private Jesuit university charging close to €20,000 tuition per annum.
Dublin, the city in which I was born and have spent most of my life, no doubt has been plagued by social issues for decades - inescapable poverty, successive housing crises, lack of job prospects, just to name a few - however Dublin’s misfortunes pale in comparison to those of both mine and Orwell’s Barcelona. I admit that I have lived an extremely privileged life in whatever city I have lived in, and therefore wouldn’t know first hand the half of the daily struggle felt by my neighbours.
I recount a particularly troubling week in which I saw the same homeless man on my 15 minute commute to college every day. Walking towards me on Monday, I believed he was wearing normal trousers, but it wasn’t until my walk home a few hours later that I saw him from behind, and I realised that the back of his trousers were so ripped there was no fabric below his knee. e following morning he was effectively wearing shorts, and over the course of the next three days his trousers decayed gradually, so much that on Friday he was left in just his underwear. I don’t believe I have seen such a physical representation of societal neglect in Dublin, and it shames me that I played a part in it in Barcelona.
It is evident that these issues are shared across the continent, which leads one to
Aside from politics, Orwell goes to great lengths in order to describe Barcelona in intimate detail, a feature of the book which I highly appreciated. Much of one chapter recounting street fighting is based in Las Ramblas, which is now my daily commute to college. He shows a large appreciation for the city that he called home for a short while, in an attempt to portray the reality of this war in terms understandable to the anglophone world. I only know these intimacies of Dublin, but I now view her somewhat as a ‘Barcelona-in-waiting’that is to say that I can see my home city maturing and evolving into my host city, in manners that range from the European expats at the core of the ‘young professionals’ community, to the various neighbourhoods with distinct and defining architecture.
Both mine and Orwell’s Barcelona is known for its liberal views on nighttime activities, and although the infamous brothels have been replaced by ‘coffee shops’, the revolutionary spirit of the city reigns supreme once the sun goes down. is, of course, is a prime opportunity for a vibrant and ever-expanding underground youth culture to foster, and this manifests itself above all else in the visually distinct youth groups in the city.
These stark divides may stem from just over 100 years ago now, representing the affluent and the working classes, the left and the right wing, the native Catalans and the emigrating Andalusians, however they are doubtlessly representative of a city that has something for everyone, a probable reason for Orwell’s infatuation with it, and a redeeming quality that no doubt attracts me and others here.
Finally - oftentimes, the least interesting aspect of a book is what’s written on its pages. For a book profiling one of modern Europe’s most significant wars, my physical copy of Homage appears to have been in the wars itself. Its dog-eared pages coupled with various coffee stains, as well as the slightly sandy quality of the cover due to hours spent in Barceloneta, portray a life of its own. Gifted by a university friend of mine, Hazel Scott, for my 20th birthday, I then passed it onto a school friend, a nameless UCD student who I now live with in Barcelona - thus opening myself up to slagging for my incessant underlining of Orwell’s words, and an alleged question mark after an apparently ‘self-explanatory’ sentence.
e Trinity College Arts Block may have met its match when confronted with the University of Barcelona’s letters courtyard, populated with literature and language students with high degrees of
Nonetheless, Homage to Catalonia is an exemplar of noticing: from the smell of war and the sensation of getting shot, to the expressions on his wife’s face and the exactitude of historical retellings, Orwell painstakingly takes the reader through a particular moment in a particular place. While it’s fair to say that a great number of writers look up to him, our shared experience of this city, albeit in vastly different circumstances, has enabled me to notice the experiences I find myself in while on Eramus, and not allow these moments to flick by like a page in a history book.
Erasmus Tales
Costa Brava, Spain
“We took a group trip to Costa Brava and decided it would be a good idea to rent cars for the trip (without any insurance) following 48 hours of heavy drinking when it came time to drive home we took a pit stop at a beach. As we were parking, with five friends standing outside the car and confirmation from the passenger in the front seat that we had plenty of room we pulled into the space pressing the side of the car firmly against a pole making the body of the car compress inwards and creak as we reversed out.”
Barcelona, Spain
“Professor did gymnastics in the class to help us remember what he was teaching us. Used his theory in my essay ”
Menton, France
“I hate it here! Sciences Po is a shitshow of a university that claims academic excellence but has these banal classes that last two hours long. I feel as though I haven’t learned anything.”
Barcelona, Spain
“A Trinity Law student did the crab in the club and was so embarrassed she didn’t go out for weeks afterwards... little did she know this was one of her least messy nights out.”
Lloret del mar, Spain
“In the beautiful town of lloret de mar which is literally geordie version of Barcelona i proceeded to vomit in the macdonalds bathroom then walk out and mill a chicken burger for breakfast.”
Seville, Spain
“I was chatting to a guy for about a week on a dating app before he decided to enlighten me to the fact that he was actually in the US navy and currently deployed in Romania for the next few months. ”
Happy Hour Hopping: A Guide to Parisian Nightlife
Hazel Scott and Luca McVey explore the depths of Paris’ finest ‘happy hour’ offerings
One girl, one boy. A mission many said was impossible, as orange weather warnings blazed in the evening sky. Yet, we did not flinch - we persevered. We did the unthinkable: five Parisian ‘happy hour’ bars sampled and reviewed in a single sitting, noting the most important aspects of any fine establishment, including smell and general ambience.
We live to serve our readership and can only hope that this semi-definitive, extremely niche guide to Parisian nightlife (limited to the 5th arrondissement), inspires others to immerse themselves fully in the cultures of their respective new cities.
Location 1: Bazarik
Smell: Moist. A smell of damp, wet wood permeated.
Decor: Leaves a little to the imagination. An uninspiring man cave aesthetic. Featured a mystery ‘fridge of shame’, which has yet to be comprehended.
Ambience: Lumberjack personified. rash metal on the stereo. Could accommodate a family of bears.
Price: 8 Euros per cocktail. Overpriced considering the definitive lack of straws.
Taste: Hazel tried Rasputin, rating it a passable 6. e cocktail reactivated trauma from UTI episodes. Artificial and acidic.
Luca sampled 99 Luftballons, rating it a 6.5. Jojo Siwa in beverage form, causing syrupy heartburn.
Creativity: Some of the most unique cocktail names ever seen in this fine city.
Decor: A mature J.T. Pimms, placing a strong emphasis on bunting.
Ambience: e establishment would
pass a hygiene exam. Suitable for a young professional who appreciates the value of conversation, or a 26 year-old attempting to reconnect with their youth.
Price: An unremarkable 7 Euros per cocktail.
Taste: Hazel’s choice was Sweet Home Alabama, granting a rating of 6.5. Delectable at first, but building to an anticlimax. is cocktail was like sex for women.
Luca tried Teddy Blue, rating the cocktail a respectable 8. Dangerously drinkable.
Creativity: H&M Home glass design. Lacking in amusement. Not as strong as its fellow competitors.
Location 3: e Bulls Brothers
Smell: Transported immediately to a barn. Musty musk.
Decor: A collaboration between a farmhouse and a GAA club.
Ambience: Confusing but appealing. Strobe lighting combined with elderly men. Hazel boogied.
Price: Cheapest yet at 6 Euros. Bargain successfully hunted.
Taste: Hazel’s beverage of choice was Cuba Libre, receiving a rating of 8.5. Tantalising and tart.
Luca’s cocktail was entitled Orgasm, gaining the honourable rating of 9.
Baby Guinness in a glass. According to Hazel, it does what it says on the tin. Creativity: Orgasm strangely relied heavily on whipped cream. us, style over substance.
Location 4: L’After Room
Smell: Ominously nondescript.
Decor: Solitary confinement atmosphere, largely ignored by French society. Ambience: Lacking in any discernible character. Buzzing regardless. Clearly our opinion was sidelined.
Price: Fairly respectable at €6.50
Taste: Hazel chose a Margarita, rating it a 7. Concurrently harsh and watery. Luca tried a Piña Colada, bestowing an unbeaten rating of 9.5, as it delivered
on the classic crème de coco.
Creativity: Notably absent.
Half time sustenance was kindly provided by our newly favourite Maison de Gyros. Despite being gyros, Hazel declared it was the ‘best kebab I’ve ever had’, (4 cocktails deep), and Luca wholeheartedly agreed. eir signature chicken meat is incomparable in both taste and appearance. Additional applause is bestowed due to the presence of a skylight, which increased the enchantment of this establishment.
Location 5: Shywawa
Smell: Sweet and sticky.
Decor: Prominent use of strobe lighting and neon. Featured a show-stealing disco toilet.
Ambience: Paris loves it. Luca was recognised by the barman as he is a frequent visitor. VIP treatment in the form of free shots. Was this an attempt by the owner to gain favour? (Savvy business move). We became the object of several peoples’ desires.
Price: 8 Euros. Strangely expensive, but we were powerless to Shywawa’s spell.
Taste: Hazel attempted a Jack Daniels cocktail, rating it as a 5. Transported to another dimension due to immense strength. Dilution was necessary.
Luca tasted another Piña Colada, giving it an overall rating of 7, as crushed ice was a prominent feature. Where is the Shywawa sparkle?
Creativity: Outstanding. Chicest spot in town.
Thus concludes the results of our daring expedition. Although restricted to one arrondissement, we hope to you, our dear readers, that this review was anything but confined. As we trekked high and low through the wilds of the Latin Quarter to provide our loyal readers with this comprehensive, manifold view of true student nightlife in Paris, we encourage you to follow in our footsteps.
- Go forth and conquer!
Are Students Left-Wing?
Ivie Okomie
When people say ‘students’ and ‘left-wing’ in the same sentence, the image that springs to mind is of college campuses overrun by ‘postmodernist neo-Marxist’ professors, curriculums, and student protesters. Assuming this framing is true, it is important to realise that this phenomenon of far-leftist college campuses is neither new nor even a bad thing. In fact, university campuses have been at the forefront of progressive political thought and more importantly, social change. However, in an era of post-irony and internet performativity, it may be difficult to determine whether these leftist beliefs are genuine. Another question: if these findings are true why are students more left-wing? Addressing these questions, I conducted a survey asking students questions ranging from their degree choice to their political perceptions. e respondents were mostly female (52%) studying in the department of Arts, humanities, and social sciences (74%) and mostly between the ages of 18-24.
Before we begin, we must define what students mean when they refer to themselves as ‘left-wing.’ Broadly speaking left-wing values can be classified into politics that advocate for social, political, and economic equality. e further left you go, the more you hear calls for mass redistribution of resources, with the end goal being a radical restructuring of society. When asked what sprung to mind when they heard the term ‘left-wing’, one student responded with ‘Avant Garde’. Some students responded with ideas such as ‘liberation’ ‘equality for all’, ‘Justice’, ‘right to choice’, ‘gay rights’. Others had more specific goals such as ‘dismantling class structure’, ‘collective ownership of the means of production’ and ‘anti-capitalism’. Based on these responses, there are two things to conclude, the first is that students are clear about what they mean when they say left-wing. e second and perhaps more interesting conclusion is that there is a portion of students who have more revolutionary ideas of what ‘left-wing’ means. When asked to indicate the strength of identification with different ideologies, students identified, on average, the strongest with the Socialist ideology (82%), followed by Progressive (68%) and Communist (60%). is data indicates that students are not only left-wing, but they are significantly aligning themselves with socialist principles.
W hy do students identify themselves
as left-wing? Let’s look at three possible theories addressing this question. e first hypothesis proposes that due to their prevailing economic conditions, students have been compelled to align themselves with leftist causes that align with their interests. When asked about their greatest systemic challenge, 64% of students ranked cost of living as their greatest issue and ranked rising rents as their second choice. Simply put, students are feeling the pinch of inflation. Due to these conditions many students are working a number of part-time tedious and/or precarious jobs alongside their full-time study. According to a survey by e Irish Examiner, approximately 68% of university students work 17 hours weekly. After graduation, students are on course to enter a labour market flooded with ‘bullshit jobs’ as termed by the anthropologist and anarchist David Graeber. Of the students that voted in the last Irish general election in 2020, 20% voted for the Green Party, 20% voted for Sinn Féin, 20% voted for the Social Democrats and 40% voted for People Before Profit. Given the economic conditions, students are desiring an option that goes against the status quo - Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael.
The second analysis contextualises student politics with historical fact. Across the world, universities have always been the centre of leftist political discourse. is tendency is because universities create the spaces for coalitions between intellectuals, student unions and other activist groups. ese bodies have spurred on significant social change in more ways than one - the 1960s sexual revolution, 1980s Anti-Apartheid movements and more recently, the 2018 Repeal the Eighth Campaign. 63% of students said that they had participated in some form of a left-wing student organisation at college. It is clear that students have an appetite for protest. e question remains, do students have an appetite for voting? According to the survey, 33% of students voted in the last Irish general election in 2020. is falls in line with the other data sets that show that those in the 18-24 and 25-34 groups turnout less than average.
However, there is a new context to consider. Compared with previous generations, Gen Z university students are immersed in a digital panopticon,
where the expectation of online social performance is all consuming. When asked about their sources of political education, students ranked ‘in-person discussions’ as their top choice. Digital news sites were their second choice, with Instagram Reels and X, formerly Twitter, tying third place. For younger members of Gen Z, TikTok is becoming the dominant forum for student political consciousness. is has led to the emergence of clicktivism, a new culture of performative social justice. rough this performative internet culture, creators commodify leftist ideas. is commodification reduces left wing values down to a fashion statement - a badge, a type of boot, a haircut, a tote bag, a mere buzzword. ese styles operate as symbols that you are part of the ‘correct’ group. As such, brands are becoming aware of this and are capitalising on the growing political consciousness of students. In a sense being left-wing is becoming a consumer identity. We saw this with HipHop and Grunge. ey were both genres, cultures and movements that once had revolutionary left-wing beginnings. ey have since been co-opted by brands such as Marc Jacobs and stripped of their radical anti-establishment elements.
e final and less exciting hypothesis is that college is the space to be part of the countercultural, the ‘Avant Garde’ as one student put it. For some, college will be the only space where you get to be both intellectually, stylistically, and politically against the establishment. College campuses can provide a range of cultural enclaves and scenes for students to join to oppose the status quo.
Combing through the weeds of performativity, apathy, and irony to understand the true political psyche of a Trinity student is a task not for the weak. It seems in this new digital context; students emphatically support leftwing to leftist values. e data indicates that we should be sceptical about action beyond rhetoric and reposting. Despite this, there is a growing movement of students who care deeply about social change, who are genuinely angry about rising rents and the rights of the unhoused, the rights of queer people, who care about progress and as history has shown us, they change the world.
Some Phil Debates This Term:
“ is House Prefers a Sinn Féin Government”
In the most boisterous and tense debate of term, Minister Paschal Donohue, former BBC journalist Mark Davenport and Sinn Féin TD Martin Kenny were joined by numerous student speakers to debate the motion ‘ is House Prefers a Sinn Féin Government’. e proposition highlighted the problems facing the country and the drastic need for a completely new style of governance, while the opposition highlighted Sinn Féin’s lack of detailed and viable proposals and criticised their “empty rhetoric”. Were John Dunne to have lived to this day, he would have seen that some men are indeed islands, entire and of themselves - SU President, László Molnárfi (speaking on the opposition) claimed that SF are not left-wing enough and that the only solution is a new socialist order. In the end the House voted against the motion.
“ is House Regrets the Fall of Religion “
Veteran journalist John Cooney, head of the Muslim Students Association Hasan Ali and College Chaplain Fr Peter Sexton SJ were the guest speakers in what was a productive debate on the fall of religion - although, perhaps inevitably, it became more focused on the Catholic Church in particular. John Cooney provided an erudite (if rather long) sermon on John Charles McQuaid and the abuses of the church, while Eoin Ryan (auditor of Lawsoc) furnished the House with his personal and frequently negative experiences of Catholicism as a young person. Hasan Ali argued for the benefits of religion to society, namely the importance of order and hope - indeed, as chaplain of the College, Peter Sexton informed the House that it is his job to “radiate hope in front square” everyday. e opposition must have felt like Jesus’ disciples, namely sent out as “sheep amongst wolves” - they made a valiant effort, but it was not enough to sway the House and the motion passed.
“I Used to Dread Going Home”
Margot Guilhot Delsoldato
I’ve never thought of myself as a Patriotic person. I grew up in a small city in the north of Italy, in a family that was nowhere near traditional. I was raised by a very cosmopolitan mother who teaches Italian to refugees seeking a residence permit, a French-Bulgarian father who lived in the U.S. for most of my life (which brought on two amazing American siblings) and a very progressive, independent grandmother who divorced her husband when it had been legal for only a decade and went on to start her own business and travel the world. No one in my family is truly religious, most of them speak other languages and have lived in other countries. I attended a European public school, where language teachers are all native speakers and students are provided with extensive information about colleges all over the EU. By age thirteen, I already had my heart set on moving away.
W hen I moved to Dublin I was only seventeen. My last two years of school had been primarily online – I spent them focusing on college applications and losing track of everyone other than my closest friends, most of whom had also been brought up in mixed nationality households. As I was working towards a European Baccalaureate and not the maturità, my school syllabus sometimes left me with small gaps in my knowledge of general Italian culture that I was made to feel ashamed (if not outright stupid) for. I was in no way discriminated against, but for many years I felt a deep disconnect with Italy. I saw my home country retrospectively. I spent the entirety of my adolescence firmly holding on to the knowledge that I was going to leave. So when I got here, overwhelmed by the novelty of it all, my relationship with Italy was the least of my concerns. I did, however, make it a point to keep up with the news. Specifically Italian politics, which I was becoming really invested in, almost out of spite.
First, the Zan bill was killed off. e law, which came after a series of vicious attacks, would have recognised violence against members of the LGBTQ+ community as a hate crime, guaranteeing aggravated penalties. e far right parties Fratelli D’Italia and Lega opposed this law, claiming it was aimed at ‘enforcing gender ideology’ on children and that it represented an encroachment on freedom of speech. In the following weeks, stories of hate crimes and serious discrimination kept on flooding the news. e perpetrators were often teachers,
relatives, or parents of the victims. In 2022, the head of Fratelli D’Italia Giorgia Meloni arose as the likely winner of the upcoming general election. is is someone who got her start in politics in the neofascist Italian Social Movement (MSI). Her face, younger but just as determined, appears in videos from the 1990s, defending Mussolini’s legacy. She has consistently dismissed issues relating to gender inequality and climate change. roughout her years as head of FdI, she has led and continues to lead an incessant campaign against immigrants, purposely fostering xenophobic and racial hatred by cherry-picking news stories to use as political propaganda — weaponising each and every instance of violence in which a non-white person is involved while regularly disregarding crimes committed by white Italians. I could go on forever, but all of this is to say that when it hit me that she really might win, and that Italy was at the top of a steep downward slope in terms of civil rights, I felt a kind of heartbreak that struck me as completely new and unfamiliar. It felt surreal to vote from my room in Dublin.
Whenever I bring up Italy to my Irish friends, I realise I sound much more patriotic than I actually am. When I asked my friend Giulia, whom I met in Trinity, if she felt the same way she said yes. “I’ve never felt as Italian as I do here, and as little as when I go home” she explained, “but it’s a ‘practical’ patriotism rather than an ideological one, it’s selective. Italy’s political situation is cause for embarrassment. I’m always talking about how much I miss the food or the language or aperitivo but if you asked me would I want to move back it’s a no”. Her words could have come out of my mouth, and yet it hits a nerve when I hear people from other countries talking about Italy in the same vein, remarking on its backwardness. I was chatting to another Italian student once and when I started a conversation in Italian — we were alone — they replied in English, saying they preferred not to speak Italian unless necessary. I
don’t know this person at all, or the reasons for their preference, but it stirred a certain sadness in me, enough for the memory to stick.
I was the same, I used to dread going home. I felt as though the only reason I was doing it was to see my family. My friends would be around for only a fraction of the time that I was, but together we would talk about how much better our lives were since moving away – how it had opened the door to a myriad of creative, social, and career opportunities we never would have had access to had we stayed. We all picked up on this sense of disillusionment and hopelessness that so many young Italians feel. Not only is unemployment staggering among younger generations (the rate in June of this year was 21.3% for young people, 7.4% at national level, according to the National Institute of Statistics), but the fact that all these manifestations of hatred and nostalgia for fascism are going unchecked takes a toll. Giulia told me that what led her to leave Italy was the need for a social as well as cultural open-mindedness which she has yet to find at home. Another friend, Sveva, said that what she found most alarming was how pervasive misogyny is within Italian culture. I don’t disagree with either opinion, and I feel extremely fortunate to have had the chance to begin my twenties elsewhere, although it doesn’t come without sacrifice. Because she misses me and part of her wishes I still lived in Italy, every once in a while my grandmother will pettily tell me I’m not Italian anymore, that “all that speaking English” is making me less eloquent in my native language. Even though I know it’s not true and that she’s only joking, it still makes me feel as though I’m missing out on part of a specific cultural life experience, and that everyday that I spend away, I have less and less in common with people my age in Italy.
This summer, I sublet my room in Dublin and headed home, telling myself it would be the last time. I was convinced I could find a service job to put some money aside with the CV I had built up
in Dublin, maybe even a small unpaid internship. I found neither, and ended up having all this free time I wasn’t sure what to do with. I would just pack a small bag, take my dog, and travel back and forth between the two cities my parents currently live in and my hometown. I was prepared for all the loneliness and the anxiety of missing out on things in Dublin, but no one could have prepared me for the nostalgia I felt once I let myself enjoy what being home had to offer. I talked to strangers, I reconnected with friends I hadn’t spoken to in years, I went to the outdoor cinema by myself twice a week, I watched old movies by Nanni Moretti and Fellini, I wrote often, I took photographs of people. It all started as a way to keep busy and kill time, but at some point, I realised I was actually enjoying myself. I met a man who was heavily involved in the political activism of the late 60s and early 70s and listened to all of his stories. One day, when I was making my way out of the Santa Maria Novella train station in Florence, carrying two huge
bags as well as a cross-body dog carrier with Totò in it in forty-degree heat, I randomly ran into Sergio Mattarella, the President of the Republic of Italy — one of the rare figures Italians are unanimous in their appreciation of. e huge crowd parted in two perfect halves, like the waters of the Red Sea for Moses, and I found the reverence everyone instinctually addressed him with really touching. I visited my grandmother, who was staying in the mountains near Genova, and went hiking with her friends, who gave me advice on how to make the absolute most of my youth. ey all told me I was smart for leaving. I followed the work of young Italian writers and artists, which I hadn’t done in a while, and I realised there are people doing exactly what I want to be doing, something I didn’t think attainable in Italy. A couple of days ago, I met up with Mariana, a friend of mine who has been living in Dublin for fifteen years. She hadn’t been back to Brazil, her home country, in ten. is summer, she took a five-week trip to visit her family and
friends. We talked about patriotism and how our views of our respective countries have changed since moving away. “Being away can make it easier to be patriotic”, she said, “you’re free to enjoy whatever aspects of your country you please, without being afraid that people might jump to conclusions about you.” We agreed that some things, within specific cultural contexts, can become symbolic of values you aren’t aligned with, and she thinks that being away can become an outlet to freely express your appreciation for them without being misunderstood. e freedom that distance offers improved both of our experiences of being back.
At the end of August, I moved back to Dublin, resuming my normal life; a prospect that usually makes me beyond excited. is time, I faced it with an unknown calm. I still love Dublin just as much as I did before - only now that love is interlaced with a homesickness I didn’t think myself susceptible to. Does that mean I’ve become more patriotic? I’m not entirely sure. I’m still just as disappointed with Italy’s political situation, I still feel the same indignation for all of the injustice that is ongoing. But I do have hope for the future (which I want to be an active participant of), and I do believe in my generation. at hope has also made me believe, for the first time since I can remember, that I could be happy in my home country; and that just makes things all the more complicated and beautiful.
What do international students think of Trinity?
Hiberno-English
Indira Kelly
There is something nuanced about a “bye, bye bye” at the end of a telephone call; a profound difference between a gobshite and a dryshite; a duplicity behind “I will, yeah”; a great deal of substance behind the word “grand”. It is in these subtleties that an Irish voice is heard in the English language.
Hiberno-English is the dialect of English spoken in Ireland. Its origins, as well as Hiberno-French, began in Eastern trading ports in the 1200s. e Normans tried to integrate English at this time but were unsuccessful, and Irish remained the largest spoken language, especially in western regions where the greatest density of spoken Irish remains. It was During the 1600s that the British plantations of Ulster, Munster and Laois-Offaly employed the penal laws and other anti-Irish schemes to ruthlessly suppress the language. By the great famine 1846-48, Irish was in drastic decline. For many emigrants after the famine, adopting English became as much of a right of passage as the journey itself. Whether their new life commenced in England, the United States, or Australia, speaking English became a necessary token of exchange, given in return for cultural assimilation.
swap our “dees” for “these” and our “trees” for “threes”, in aims of speaking ‘properly’. Yet these examples of so-called improper English are remnants of our past. In the Irish language there is no “th” sound. So, our mispronunciations are really the whispers of our ancestors in our voices. Many international visitors find the Irish accent “charming”, with a surprising amount of variations for such a small country. Words like craic, banjaxed, manky, feck, and eejit remain the most uniquely Hiberno-English. As noticed by American students, other words like gas, class, and scarlet take a different meaning to the typical definitions. ere is also a marked emphasis on ease of exchange in Hiberno-English. German students in Trinity revealed they feel a kind sentiment behind the way Irish people talk, especially in validating phrases like “it’s grand”, “I’ll see you then” and “that’ll be all now”, that is not mirrored in other languages or dialects of English. Language is one of the most obvious separators in the world.
Commonly used Irish vocabulary to benefit the recently arrived or uninformed
“Craic”
‘Good’ craic refers to a fun or positive experience; “the party was good craic.”
‘Shite’ craic is the converse; “the party was shite craic.”
“Take the piss”
To mock or annoy; similar in concept to ‘trolling’.
“Relax, man, I’m only taking the piss!”
“Cop on(!)”
Used to express exasperation or dissatisfaction with one’s behaviour
“Wouldja just cop on for once?”
“Fair play”
A positive sentiment, akin to ‘good job’ or ‘well done’.
“Had to cheat on me exams. Got a 2.2 in the end.”
“Huh. Fair play.”
“Notions”
While Irish citizens now boast a ninety-nine per cent fluency of the English language, it is not spoken here in Oxford style. In fact, much of the way Irish people speak English is based on the sentence structure of Gaeilge. In many hidden ways Irish lives on in our grammar, accents, intonation and vocabulary. For example, in standard English we would say “he has started” but in Hiberno-English we say “he is after starting”. is comes directly from Irish structure, translated “tá sé tar éis a tosú”. It is as though we are to speak English within the parameters of Irish. Even my own phrasing “we would say” is an example of Hiberno-English, and reflects the prominent genitive case (would/should) in spoken Irish compared to English. As children we are conditioned to
It is a cultural signifier and barrier, much like religion. It is a reflection of the speaker and listener, a conceptual connection that relies on much more than the transaction of words. An indicator of the people and the land, the priorities and traditions that shape a nation. at is why in Irish there are thirty two words for field, one hundred and three words for rain and less than twenty related to the sun. For example, the word “bothántíocht”, meaning the tradition of visiting your neighbours for storytelling and music, has no English translation but still lives on in practice. Language may decline but the culture remains the same. Irishness remains in our small talk about the weather, sláintes in the pub, in our poetry and music. It is time for us to stop apologising and feeling embarrassed for the way we speak English as Irish people. While it may be our first language, it will never be our mother tongue.
A more conceptual phrase. Refers to someone with misplaced self-assurance, or who thinks they’re better than they really are.
“Jaysis yer man Bono’s got awful notions about himself.”
“On the lash”
A session of drinking, usually heavier in volume.
“He didn’t come home last night– sure he was out on the lash.”
“Gaff ”
A house or place of residence. “Gaffer” refers to a house party. “Crazy gaffer at Brian’s last night.”
about the last house place gaffer
Trinity in Books
Leah Downey
Ifirst attempted to read Sally Rooney’s Normal People as a college drop-out working in Dunnes Stores, but I could barely finish it. I decided to pick it back up after completing my first semester in Trinity. ere is now a handwritten note scrawled above the section where Connell buys Marianna a Frank O’Hara novel that reads: “I understand these literature references now!” My personal relationship with Sally Rooney is borne from escapism. Similar to Marianne, I had a less than superb experience in secondary school and reading the novel led me to invest my hope into the idea that college may be a time for me to bloom socially and physically. Of course, I was not entirely naive to the fact that there were massive class factors at play. I was commuting from Blanchardstown and did not have a house in the Southside to entertain guests or have dinner parties.
Breath. e structure of college grants the author a solid framework and imposes a limitation on how much of life can be examined. In fact, he pointed out that the “Trinity novel” is not a newfound phenomenon, drawing on J.P Donleavy’s Gingerman as an example.
I asked a beloved professor, Carlo Geblér, whom I have grown quite a companionable relationship with, why this may be the case. In his professional opinion, as the son of two writers and as a man with many of his own books under his belt, he believes it comes down to simple matters. Firstly, Trinity is a site of history, filled with potential whilst holding onto a historical legacy. Secondly, he believes the timeline of university works perfectly alongside the narrative sequence. Whether the text takes an entire four years, such as in Normal People, or commences over a single academic year like Eimear Ryan’s Holding Her
There is something more than escapism at work within the Trinity novel. Louise Nealon’s Snowflake was recommended to me by a lecturer in third year, and even when students are written to be struggling and in less bourgeois circumstances there is still a sense of disjointedness. What I believe this to be is that the characters in the novel are written to be exceptional and special without it ever being discussed how. Trinity is a prime location for this phenomenon to be excavated, with it being both Ireland’s highest-performing college and having an international reputation. It is entirely logical for such an institution to become the setting for characters who are effortlessly excellent.
I argue this is what has made Trinity novels so successful, they encompass the covert narcissistic belief within us that we are all special and unique in some way. e novels are character focused, specifically in how their relationships develop, making the plot a secondary
importance. Instead of having specific events propelling the narrative, following the academic calendar provides a coherent timeline against which progress can be shown. College is a foundational time in one’s life that allows for extensive character development within a reasonably short snapshot.
The particular archetype presented within the novels is also somewhat liberating for a number of reasons, primarily that they often represent a universal experience which is often undiscussed or taboo. is can be from the explicit depictions of sexual relationships to the stark and authentic portrayal of mental illness, borne from the familiar feeling of not belonging in new environments, think Debbie in Louise Nealon’s Snowflake.
In particular, being granted access into the inner dialogue and being privy to each emotion draws us further into the words on the page. Ultimately, the Trinity Novel (™) has risen to popularity not necessarily because of its location, although there is an argument to be made that many of these authors are trying to fulfil a void left by a substandard college experience,but because it creates a connection between the reader and the character that in a world that has become increasingly isolating.
Decoding Doyles
Donncha Murphy
Close your eyes and imagine. It’s 10:30pm on a damp Friday night. e once bustling Pav steps have become a sparse coalition of the most committed dregs. Amongst these poor souls, an inescapable, suggestive question is about to come up. e next course of action, the PPP ( the Post-Pav Plan). Stares and silence, until some brave sod eventually
mutters ‘…Doyles?’. No one even tries to stop it.
After a delirious trudge through the long runway from the Pav to Front Square eventually you greet that hellish black and red exterior. You all can’t help but wonder how you ended up here again. Why does it feel inevitable? Next week will be different, you tell yourself
emphatically. But really, you are all not quite so sure it will be.
From a plethora of online reviews, the Dublin Publopedia declares it as ‘charmless’, DublinByPub affirms that it is ‘truly… a pub’, and even Google Maps can only muster up the less than imaginative description of the ‘bare brick walls’ and ‘stripped wood floors’
that apparently define the place. ese shining accounts are abundant online, a testament to Doyles’ character, or lack thereof. However, almost all also reference this spot as the student haven, an idiosyncrasy in spite of its ‘typical pub’ nature.
Many Trinity students will attest that Doyles is an institution that is impossible to escape from visiting during the duration of your years at college. On late evenings, Doyles is transfigured from an old style bar to student locale, with wholly midDJ ‘beats’ transforming the upstairs into an almost claustrophobic boogie experience. I have yet to meet a student who has ended up there and doesn’t have some slight confusion as to why exactly they’re there…
change in the 70s to the ‘Oscar Wilde’. is borderline flirtatious yet explicit relationship through [the love language of] words of affirmations is no longer the case, with the name we all know and love of ‘Doyles’ relating to the current owner. To say Doyles is a student bar though, would be sorely misguided. Where are the cheap drinks, the student deals, the youthful touches? It’s more of a traditional public house that caters to all.
So what’s the pull to Doyles? Why are TN2 doing their launch party upstairs? Why do I agree to go to Doyles when I get bored during the night out? is internal monologue only inspires more questions: Is it actually good…? Is this the place to be as a Trinity student…? Does anyone even care…?
Some would say its location is key to its relevance among students. Doyles is one of the ‘bordering’ pubs around Trinity, alongside the likes of Kennedys, Lincolns Inn and Moss Lane. And yes, the simple hypothesis would chalk up Doyles’ popularity to a matter of sheer convenience. Doyles themselves even advertise their ‘stone throw’ location away from Trinity Front Gate on their website. But this Occam’s razor of an explanation simply won’t do - I mean seriously, WHO is going to the more campus-proximate Moss Lane over the ‘charmless’ pub where you will inevitably bump into someone you know? I can’t think of anyone, that’s for sure us, there must be more to the relationship between Trinity and Doyles than a simple matter of geography, something deeper.
Historically, the Pub has always had an intertwined history with its University next door, cheekily wearing this title on its sleeve throughout the decades; before it was Doyles, the premises was called the ‘College Inn’, until its eventual name
So let’s look at the more glaringly obvious question, Is Doyles actually… *shivers* good? Well, it’s complicated. e interior is hardly inspiring, evoking the colours of eternal autumn and the (dreary?) 70s. ink pale ginger walls, dark wood panelling, warm amber lighting. e well-trashed college student has been known to attempt to eat the ginger-bread like interior in deranged Hansel-and-Gretel fashion. Yet, for many, this aesthetic is snug and welcoming, especially during the winter. e circular bar downstairs prevents the typical rectangular squash of most bars and clubs, and while €6.40 for Guinness is daylight (or rather, night-time) robbery, it is unfortunately all too common a price in Dublin’s city centre. e bartenders are good craic if you treat them right. No comment on the bouncers.
e function of Doyles is where the mystery begins to unravel, as its three floors allow it to operate as some sort of insane Schrodinger’s pub. e upstairs transforms into a quasi-nightclub past 11 o’clock. A sizeable quarter of the room is partitioned for dancing and drinking, the house DJ plays a solid mix of pop anthems and nothing else. e rest of the room still retains the chairs and tables allowing for a very unique ‘Doylsian’ experience of people sitting down and having chats in between splits of drunken ferocity of the dance floor. Additionally, the Ruby Sessions downstairs in the basement attract a considerable Tuesday night crowd, and have been going strong since 1999. is weekly live music event has also featured some stupidly famous names over the years, such as Hozier, Ed Sheeran, and Paulo Nutini. Having experienced both, the fact that the same pub runs these two polar opposite events is wild, yet it caters shockingly well to the different spectrums of a low-energy vs high-energy night out.
Carrying on from this is the low stakes and daily variety that Doyles also offers. From night to night, the upstairs can resemble an immovable human sea or a ghost town. Birthday parties, a Trinity course night out or society event will generally render the upstairs dense with students . e opposite is true if there’s little to nothing organised. Many nights fail to pick up any steam at all, as a steady flow of people arrive, take one look at the gloomy and deserted venue, and hastily flee the building without a second thought: “Chaplins?” Doyles always seems worth a try at least for this reason - the anticipation of “is it any good?”. Who can resist taking that quick, wry look upstairs as you move from one location to the next?
So, in summary, what is Doyles? Well, it’s the perfect place when you don’t have a plan, when there’s no stable mood or group consensus. It’s the compromise between those who want to travel and those who don’t, between those who want to go to the George and those who just want to go home, between the sleep-deprived Ents organiser, and committee members that really want some insufferable karaoke. At its core: it’s good enough, it does the job, and ever so, you’ll rarely have an incomparably amazing time somewhere else. As long as Doyles still fills the gap that it does, I think its status as a Trinity hotspot is here to stay.
Tales from the GMB
Ellen McKimm
Jim’s first day in the GMB was on the 26th of November 1986. Since that point, he has seen generations of students walk through the doors of the GMB. He has witnessed various rivals and feuds between the Phil and the Hist. Jim has also met many remarkable celebrities over the years. I know Jim in my capacity as former Vice President and President of the Phil. Frequently chats with Jim made my day; like many, I always came away learning something new. Wanting more about his story, I sat down on a chilly October morning to learn more about Jim’s story.
C hildhood
Born and bred in Dublin’s inner city, right beside Phoenix Park, Jim’s stories in Dublin go way back. His mother and grandmother had grown up in his same childhood home which had been in their family since 1885. Bono’s mother lived across the road from Jim, and Jim’s neighbour often remarked that Bono’s dad was a great singer, albeit now slightly overshadowed by his son. Jim describes Dublin very differently from the one we know today, saying that “neighbours really knew each other back then” but only “meet each other now”, and we don’t go about our days the same way. From
1974, he went to Market Street Tech, where he completed his Inter Cert, now known as the Junior Cycle. Most people left after two years, but Jim stayed for three. He left school at 16 and had no thoughts of doing the Leaving Cert. However, he confessed he was unsure why he didn’t stay longer.
Soccer
Upon asking Jim about sport, his passion for soccer was evident: “What dominated my youth was football.” It was all he could focus on. Jim said he looked forward to going to school because it was his chance to play the game. He played on all the best junior teams and top teams. Jim rather embarrassingly admitted to having a cap for the Irish Junior League in 1987, adding quickly: “I don’t even like saying that.” It was clear that despite his humble nature, that cap meant a lot to him. He paused, then said: “ ere are footballers that would have many, many caps but if you have [just] one, it means more to you.”
In the Irish Junior team in 1987 Jim was featured in the starting 11 and played the entire duration versus Scotland. There was something about the solitude of soccer that appealed to Jim, and when the opportunity to trial for the Irish team came around he said: “I was absolutely determined to get it; for some reason, I really wanted it.” He also noted that he was “not usually that kind of person” and “competition was tough”. ere is something so typically Irish about how Jim told this story, which was very careful not to come across as ‘up yourself’. Ever humble, he reflected on his time on the pitch and said that
soccer “became a bit of a blindfold” for him and was wary that it made him “lose interest in other things”. While most of the people he grew up with didn’t keep up the sport, Jim admitted to just enjoying it a bit more than the rest. It was clear from how he spoke about it that his passion has never disappeared.
e first days in the GMB
Jim’s first introduction to the GMB caught him by surprise. Upon moving over from Hamilton, he noticed that “students do what they like here”, describing seeing students camped out in the GMB all day. is made Jim question “if they ever go to lectures” or if they simply knew who to get the good notes off. Many of the students from the GMB have gone on to huge success in the outside world. Alumni such as Ken Early, Maeve Sheehan, Paddy Cosgrave, Leo Varardkar, and Colm O’Mogan were just a few of the students Jim knew over the years. I asked Jim if he could predict who would move from the “BNOC” status in Trinity to fame outside the GMB bubble. Jim replied, “No, I’ve never been able to pick them out,” but he would sometimes see their names in newspapers. He remembered Leo Varadkar being very involved in Youth Fine Gael. Jim confessed, “I was amazed he went into politics” as “he had a quiet demeanour about him”.
Famous faces
Many famous faces have come to the GMB to receive awards for various societies on campus. While the place is often packed when a celebrity is making an address, Jim would sometimes share
some special moments with some world leaders. In his typical casual manner, Jim mentioned a list of celebrities so extensive that it would cause anyone’s jaw to drop. Jim talked briefly to e Edge, the lead guitarist of U2, whom he described as “very pleasant”. He couldn’t get over how small Sinead O’Connor was when she spoke in a Hist debate. Jim describes her as dressed in “an army kind of uniform”, “standing right outside the door to the left, having a smoke”. Jim “just got talking to her about religion and other stuff ”, but after about five minutes, she was called in. ere was a huge crowd that night, and it was clear that “she didn’t want anything to do with it”. Jim added, thoughtfully, “I don’t think she liked being the centre of attention.” Bill Clinton stood right next to Jim at an event at Trinity, and Martin Scorsese had a very friendly demeanour and shook Jim’s hand. When Jim told Kristen Cheworthe that the “room is packed for you”, she seemed genuinely shocked that people would come to see her talk.
Phil and Hist Rivalry e most significant difference Jim
When Misc. Blew Up
Jonathan Kelly
It is natural that Misc., like any student run publication, has in its long (and illustrious) history stepped on people’s toes. In 1964, for instance, the magazine was banned from campus and its editor sacked after it published a particularly “tasteless” article entitled: “Getting Married in a Hurry”. at same year, the Chairman of Misc. was dragged in front of the Board of Trinity after it published articles that strongly criticised the quality of food in Commons and published unflattering caricatures of staff members.
Learning nothing, in 1965 Misc. yet again ended up in hot water when it found itself being threatened with libel action. e Chairman of “YES” Charity Magazine, Simon Morgan, took umbrage to how his magazine was referred to in one of Misc.’s “Round and About” columns. When Morgan was asked what he thought the outcome of a potential legal action would be, he ominously declared – “eighty
witnessed over the years was the rivalry between Phil versus Hist. Whilst there can be some level of conflict today, Jim depicted a war between the two societies in the past. On Wednesdays at the Hist debates, the Phil council of the day would stand at the back of the chamber and hurl questions at the Auditor, and the same pattern would flow on ursdays. ey would be questioned on the rumour mill and would try to expose scandals. During a debate, Jim even shared a story of students cracking eggs over the then President of the Hist’s head. Jim was amazed when the President remained seated in the chair and did not move a muscle during the whole ordeal.
I asked Jim if students still cared about it like they did in the past or if there is more apathy towards societies on campus now. He said it was the same and that “ you all take it very seriously”. He thought more was put into the societies to cater to a broader audience (After all this time…buzz).
irty-seven years after he first set foot in the building, Jim is an integral part of the GMB and Trinity community.
His generosity of spirit and kindness know no bounds. With five kids and two grandchildren, he’s as busy as ever, showing no signs of slowing down, with his passion for cycling, reading and life ever-growing. It’s the people like him who make these daunting places seem a little bit more like home. When I asked Jim if he had any mantras he lives by, he simply said, “ e golden rule is do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and you won’t go too far wrong”. To me, that seemed like some excellent words to live by.
years seems to me to be an adequate life-span for a magazine of this calibre”. Perhaps not empty talk considering that while Misc. was busy lamenting the quality of food at Commons, that same year Simon Morgan would get to interview the Rolling Stones when they played in Dublin for his student “YES” magazine.
When the winds of change are blowing strongly, the busy workers in the publications room close the windows.
On the 6th of May of 1970, all hell broke loose when some disgruntled students took matters into their own hands and blew up the Misc. printing works! e controversy started when Misc., which had always been considered a cliquey and contrarian magazine, published a racist poem entitled “Paki Poem”. e staff of Misc. and the students who were offended at the poem had a mediated meeting with the Junior Dean, Dr.
Brendan Kennelly. No resolution must have been found as on the Wednesday the printers of TCD were burned out while the next day, a typewriter worth £250 was destroyed by a homemade bomb consisting of a six-inch copper tube filled with sodium chlorate and sugar. Trinity News reported that the Chief Steward, Mr. McCartney, was called to the scene and was lucky not to have been killed himself when he unknowingly picked up the copper tube to inspect it. Had anyone been in the office at the time of the attack, they would have been killed.
e Gardaí were called to the scene, but the culprits of the attack were never found.
Misc. may have been at the centre of many controversies and it may even have been blown up. Our editors may have been dragged to the Boardroom of Trinity and even, indeed, to the Four Courts – yet still, 128 years later, Misc. does not just survive but it thrives.
Tunnels? What Tunnels?
Scour Trinity News, or the internet, and a carefully curated image of the trinity tunnels will emerge. For decades, if not centuries, if not days, if not hours - you have been convinced, hoodwinked and lied to. Try to find information, and your curiosity will no doubt be sparked, and will have grown into a delicate flame only to be blown out with a damning: “ ese are all myths of course”. Listen closer, my own firsthand evidence stands in stark contrast to those closed-minded enough to believe the institutions that be. e Trinity tunnels not only exist, but they’re real. ey’re not only attainable, but accessible. Not only splendid, but superb!
I recently visited one such tunnel. Upon wrangling open the gate at the leg of the campanile (turn the handle clockwise, then anticlockwise), I plunged deep into the gut of front square. I was immediately greeted by staff, who grumbled as I passed by them. ey paid no heed, clearly, I had earned their respect by gaining access to this less-than-sa-
cred sanctum. I hurried down a steep spiral staircase only to find myself at the beginning of the longest, most vacuous and expansive tunnel I had ever laid my eyes on — and I have seen at least three tunnel systems.
The tunnels themselves are around 32 feet tall, and curved at the top - similar to a wine cellar. It’s funny you mention wine cellar, because this was one. ere was an abundance of wine of all sorts stored in large red brick rooms lining the tunnel - perfectly illuminated with yellow glowing overhead lights. On both my left and right, these large rooms lay. I ventured into a room on the right and plucked a bottom from the nearest rack, on the wall to my left. All the bottles are ancient and covered with dust, I quickly wiped one down to reveal it was the infamous 1962 Chateau Rothschilde. I put it back, I don’t drink, and have no need for money. I perused many shelves of the darkest maroon chardonnay, the lightest sparkling merlot and small barrels of spirit and mixer. As I walked from
chamber to chamber, it struck me that I was possibly the luckiest student at this college. Above, shuffling feet skated over cobblestone in transit to tutorial, or other such menial activity. Whereas I was browsing the best wine collection ever assembled (I can only assume - I don’t drink).
After what could have been days (I ended up missing 17 assignment deadlines, I might have to repeat a year), I arrived at the end of the tunnel. ere, before me, sat the largest casket I have ever seen. Proudly, the wood bulged forward like a silverback’s chest. Its sides groaned with indignation, the liquid inside begging shamelessly for release. At its base, around hip level, sat a small tap. It reminded me of a maple syrup tap, in Canada (if that’s real). In my arrogant, unlucky pride - and perhaps hubris, I decided to commit the error of sampling this large elixir. I squatted down until eye level with this gleaming, silver tap. What could you contain? Who sampled you last? Why won’t you re-
spond? My questions echoed around the tunnel, bouncing off walls and returning after a short period, quieter than before. I placed one cupped hand beneath the tap and the other atop, so as I could turn it. A small stream of pink liquid poured out. Its temperature shocked me, ice cold. Despite not drinking, I am fond of a bi-weekly six pack of druids - and recognised the distinct berry tinge at once. But there was a more subtle, yawning sweetness in the background. It occurred to me, here lies Pav juice!
I was left unimpressed and disappointed with this discovery, and resolved to depart from the depths once more. Before leaving I scrawled my initials on the walls, and wrote a short series of poems, hopefully someone will discover them one day. Hopefully they may share my writings, never intended to be published. I ran back to the entrance, bounded up the spiral staircase and found myself, shock, underneath the campanile once more.
The bell tolled, and I cursed and cried!
I was now set to fail my exams! I fell to my knees in anguish… how could this happen! Upon later reflection, the fault of my academic performance did rest solely on my lack of assignment submission. However, I maintain I could have attained my requisite 300% in Ancient Mariner (not that one) studies to pass by compensation, if it wasn’t for that cursed bell.
I have given you but a side-eyed glance at the extent of the tunnels. I wrote this article in Hilary Term when I was in JF, and have now moved on. I have explored every corner of Trinity campus, every book and brandy. A conservative (but socially liberal) estimate puts the number of tunnels at a cool 400. Having explored every one, and possessing an aptitude for counting, I attest this to be the truth. I encourage you to explore yourself.
You may read this short account and not believe it. You may think it exaggerated, indulgent, perhaps nonsense - perhaps nonsensical. I would retort with,
Nonsensical and nonsense are the same description… and that’s what they want you to believe. e Trinity elite, the intelligentsia, the “tourists” all want you to think these tunnels inaccessible, and the College a well trodden map. is is not so, the tunnels are free and they are alive. I have included a short riddle below, which, if studied correctly, will not reveal any secret entrances to the tunnels…
In Dublin’s heart, where scholars roam, Trinity’s secrets may find their home.
Count the arches ‘neath the Campanile’s might, Seek the answer where our books invite.
Follow the footsteps where Swift once trod, Measure the echoes of a silenced god.
In Salmons gaze, a clue may gleam, A riddle’s web, labyrinthine dream.
