The Beaver - #927 (4 October 2023)

Issue 927 | Autumn Term Week 2

Read The Beaver. Online.

Making Sense of LSE Since 1949

Dear graduate: How the Marking and Assessment Boycott derailed LSE graduates’ futures Interviews with recent graduates reveal the negative repercussions of delayed exam results, page 6

UCU protests in Manchester during winter 2023. Photo from Manchester UCU.

Features

News

Opinion

Relying on intenational Working at LSE: Farewell to Minouche: Is the great academic A tribute to the leader student fees is resignation upon us? unsustainable for of the dam universities Page 5

Page 7

Page 9

& flip for Hare Krishna

2 Meet the team

Photographed by Ben Chen and Angus Timmons Executive Editor Alan Nemirovski executive.beaver@lsesu.org Managing Editor Eugenia Brotons Batista managing.beaver@lsesu.org Flipside Editor Sana Agarwal editor.flipside@lsesu.org Frontside Editor Vanessa Huang editor.beaver@lsesu.org Multimedia Editor Claire Yubin Oh multimedia.beaver@lsesu.org

News Editors Iraz Akkus Chenoa Colaco Features Editors Liza Chernobay Amadea Hofmann Opinion Editors Honour Astill Kieran Hurwood Part B Editors Emma Do Julietta Gramigni Review Editor Christina Jiang Social Editor Rhea Jethwa Beaver Sound Editor Kate Banner Illustrations Editors Francesca Corno Mithalina Taib Photography Editors Ben Chen Angus Timmons Videography Editor Lamisa Chowdhury Website Editor Hila Davies Social Media Editor Fay Qian Any opinions expressed herein are those of their respective authors and not necessarily those of the LSE Students’ Union or Beaver Editorial Staff.

The Beaver is issued under a Creative Commons license. Attribution necessary.

Printed at Iliffe Print, Cambridge Room 2.02 Saw Swee Hock Student Centre LSE Students’ Union London WC2A 2AE 020 7955 6705

AT Week 2

www.thebeaverlse.co.uk

Rediscovering novelty (and The Beaver) Alan Nemirovski Executive Editor

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ately, I’ve been finding it easier and easier to move from one thing to the next. I’ve been getting bored quicker, feeling tired of whatever it is that I’m doing – and just always looking forward to what new thing, event, or milestone will come next. The same thing happens with school: I can’t wait for classes to start, then two weeks in, I’m dreading the rest of the year. Monotony sets in, takes over, and soon that’s all I see.

I’ve been working on The Beaver for two years now, and I think at some point I hit that wall here too; even though it is one of the few things on campus that consistently brought me joy. This year, I am fortunate enough to have a different position, more responsibilities, and a fresh perspective on the paper. Despite previously thinking I knew the paper inside and out, somehow it still feels brand-new, and this particularly has me more excited about the year ahead. Having something old feel like it’s freshly shrink-wrapped again makes it more special than when I first discovered it. And

even now that I'm (mostly) settled into my role as Executive Editor, I'm still finding something different to be excited about every time I come to the Media Centre. It might be because I’ve forgotten all about it, or because the memories and meaning that have grown attached to it with time are quite literally priceless.

Knowing novelty doesn’t have to mean a never-been-touched kind of new has helped a lot in recovering my intrinsic motivation and finding joy in the little things. After being on campus for a while now, I find I don’t have to look for

The shared experience Sana Agarwal Flipside Editor

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s each year rolls in, a new Editorial board takes over. I feel lucky to be the Flipside Editor this year and ever-more embedded within The Beaver. Simultaneously, we remain swamped with logistical difficulties: budgeting, finding writers and contributors, running meetings, formatting struggles, excel sheets and so much more. The past week has been one of chaos, uncertainty, and doubt as we pull together the first issue and navigate through the precarity of The Beaver’s future.

Last year as a Section Editor, I was privileged to witness the many moments which felt catastrophic – as we navigated the funding cuts and logistical problems – and those which felt joyous and gleeful, like the Tuesday evenings at Tuns after a successful print issue or frolicking around in

the Media Centre. It is very easy to feel lonely, lost, and drained, within and beyond the confines of The Beaver’s Slack channels. But here is what I’d like to remind myself and readers reading this about The Beaver and what it represents to LSE at large: the shared experience of it all.

The problems that we at The Beaver face might feel uniquely individual to us. Yet,shared worries surrounding the shortcomings of School administration, our financial situation, and our future are endemic to the experiences of editors and LSE students alike.

As 75 years of The Beaver approaches us, I am reminded of not only our shared struggles but our legacy - the shared sentiment this newspaper carries with it. Each year, a new Editorial board is formed – many of us struggling or doubtful of our capabilities. Yet each year, we make it through many successful issues. This knowledge of 75 years of shared experience that I can seek courage

and meaning from feels like a weight taken off my shoulders, a cushion to all the failures, and a loud cheer from the alumni and readers for all our successes. I think it is this very feeling that makes me resonate with The Beaver and call it my safe space.

I don’t know what this year will bring, but I think I am ready to take it on. In the end, what really sticks is the work we did, the moments we shared, and the bonds we formed along the way. Starting my final year as an undergraduate, I wish to extol a similar philosophy towards my LSE experience overall. So really, take a deep breath and enjoy it. I hope your time with this newspaper – whether it is as a reader, writer, or editor – is as fulfilling as mine. Next year, who knows where we all will be. But what I do know, is we will have lived together through the experience of being a part of The Beaver and all that it represents, and that for me will always stay.

something new all the time – it could instead be something old, borrowed, or blue. With 75 years of The Beaver being celebrated this year, I think the sentiment fits quite well with the paper. It’s not something unfamiliar, but I hope this issue makes the paper feel as novel for you as it does for me. And as the year progresses, it starts to feel more and more old - infiltrated by that gnawing feeling of monotony - I hope future issues of The Beaver continue to make the paper feel brand-new again for you. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy our first issue of the 2023/24 academic year.

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NEWS

News Editors Iraz Akkus Chenoa Colaco news.beaver@lsesu.org

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LSE opted out of September strike action Vanessa Huang Frontside Editor Photographed by Rayyan Furreedun

This strike action is part of a long-running dispute between the UCU and university leaders; central to the UCU’s demands are the issues of low pay and poor working conditions in uniSE’s branch of the Uni- versities. versity and College Union (UCU) received an The UCU marking boycott, exemption from five days of which led to students across the strike action, which took place UK receiving incomplete degree at participating branches in the results, was withdrawn on 6 UK from 25 to 29 September.

September. The Beaver also reported on strike action that ocThe strike days would have co- curred across the two previous incided with week 1 of LSE’s academic years.

Autumn Term, when teaching commenced for the 2023/24 The UCU is now set to launch academic year. a national ballot on this year’s pay offer. Union members preThis comes after a decision viously voted to reject a pay from the UCU’s Higher Ed- offer for 2023/24, which would ucation Committee to allow individual branches to call off the five days of strike action, following a vote from branch members. Just 42 universities out of 140 participated in the planned strike action. At participating branches, union members cancelled teaching and withdrew from their professional duties.

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have brought a 5% to 8% pay increase. If members vote to renew the current mandate for industrial action, this would see disruption into 2024.

In an announcement issued to the LSE community, Vice President and Pro-Vice Chancellor for Faculty Development Charles Stafford and Chief Operating Officer Andrew Young stated: “This is a welcome and positive development for our whole School community – and we remain strongly committed to constructive engagement with our local UCU branch on issues of shared concern.”

seen their pay cut by 25% since 2009. Casualisation means that 59% of us at the LSE don’t even have permanent contracts. Our struggle to put these things right continues. But effective industrial action has to respond to changing conditions. After democratic consultation our members decided not to strike in Week 1. It is now up to university bosses to make us a better offer – otherwise further strikes are likely.

“Student-staff solidarity remains key in moving this struggle forward. We are grappling with the same cost-of-living problems as you, and our workLSE’s branch of the UCU com- ing conditions are your learning mented: “University staff have conditions!

“UCU members have organised a Student-Staff Solidarity Rally to support LSE UCU and the Four Fights. This will take place on Thursday, October 5th, at 12 pm, Centre Building LSE. We strongly encourage you to join to show solidarity and learn about how the union has been fighting to protect the quality of

your teaching and education.”

LSESU General Secretary James Relf commented: “We welcome the decision made by LSE’s local University and College Union (UCU) branch to call off strikes in Week 1 of the Autumn Term.

“We stand in support of the aims of UCU and its members - some of whom are also members of the Students’ Union, such as Graduate Teaching Assistants (GTA).

“We also recognise the impact that industrial action is having on students, and we will continue offering to mediate constructive discussions between our local UCU branch and the School.

“We encourage the Universities and Colleges Employers Association (UCEA) to resume national negotiations with UCU and to resolve this ongoing dispute.”

New university students face changing student loan structures Iraz Akkus News Editor

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new repayment plan was introduced in September 2023, changing the terms of student loans for future university applicants. This loan change was announced in March 2022.

The shift in policy is due to a long-term governmental response to the 2019 Augar review of post-18 education, an independent review into the overall value of university, specifically covering the financial debate for stakeholders. The findings ranged from dropping university fees and the need to increase funding for higher education, to extending the repayment tenure post-graduation.

Moving from Plan 2 to Plan 5, there are key structural changes that will weigh heavily into the overall financial decision a student makes when choosing to

attend university.

The maximum term – the length before which loan repayment is written off – has been extended by another decade, from 30 to 40 years of repayment; meaning students will be expected to pay back the borrowed loan for much longer during their professional lives.

These changes in government policy were enacted to soften the projected amount of student loans, which in the 2022/23 term surpassed the £200 billion mark. The new repayment window is predicted to ensure an estimated 52% graduates pay in full from a previous 23%.

This increase in the maximum term is also due to the decrease in the threshold income from £27,295 to £25,000. This threshold will be adjusted to only RPI, instead of the previous RPI with up to an additional 3%.

Many deem this as the most popular change being made in Plan 5 because as former education secretary, Michelle Donelan, has stated, “It will mean that any student graduating in the future won’t pay any more in real terms than they borrowed.”

However, there has been firm pushback on the newly introduced reforms and the disproportionate effects it is likely to yield. Branwen Jeffreys, education editor for the BBC, has pointed out the highest earners are estimated to pay back 26% less – as they stand to pay less in interest in total by being able to clear their loan quicker and in larger chunks.

A third year Economics student has expressed how the changes have impacted his younger brother’s financial decision making when considering applying for LSE next year.

He stated, “As the new repay-

ment scheme is another elevated cost to consider after graduating, my brother has been evaluating whether degree level apprenticeships are going to be better value for money.”

ies (IFS) has also stated that lower and middle earning graduates will be negatively impacted by the alterations. Save the Student has similarly coined the government’s plans as the “most regressive” changes to the curThe Institute for Financial Stud- rent system.

4 News

NSS results reveal a mixed picture for LSE’s student satisfaction Vanessa Huang Frontside Editor

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he National Student Survey (NSS), conducted by the Office for Students, compiled responses from over 300,000 final year students across 528 higher education institutions in the UK this year to measure student satisfaction across different areas of the student experience.

cluding subject, level and mode of study, as well as age, ethnicity, disability, and sex. Satisfaction is measured by a ‘positivity score,’ or the percentage of respondents selecting ‘very good’ or ‘good’ on a four-point scale for each question.

High positivity scores were reported for the intellectual stimulation of courses at LSE, as well as the extent to which students

felt challenged to achieve their best work. Positivity scores significantly below the benchmark were reported on assessment, specifically the fairness and clarity of marking criteria. Similarly low-scoring were LSE’s actions on student feedback, which received the lowest positivity score across all questions: 51.4%. Representation of students’ academic interests from the LSE Students’ Union was

In the 2023 results, LSE performed “materially above benchmark” in 5 questions, “broadly in line with benchmark” in 12 questions, and “materially below benchmark” in 10 questions.

also rated poorly, at 65.7%, in comparison to the benchmark of 70.7%.

Unlike previous years, the 2023 survey omitted a question on overall course satisfaction for institutions in England. The proportion of students surveyed at LSE that were overall satisfied with their course was 78.8% in 2022, above the nationwide average of 76.3%. This was a marked improvement from 2017, when LSE ranked 145th out of 148 universities for student satisfaction.

Two new questions were introduced in the 2023 survey: students were asked to rate their satisfaction with freedom of expression and the communication of mental wellbeing services at their institutions, with LSE scoring broadly in line with

The benchmark figures are tabulated using sector averages and adjusting for the demographics of each institution, in-

benchmark and materially below benchmark respectively.

Professor Emma McCoy, LSE’s Vice President and Pro-Vice Chancellor for Education, said, “This year’s NSS results show excellent performance in key areas such as teaching, academic support and learning resources, which is hugely encouraging.

Improvements in these areas follow a sustained focus across the School on enhancing students’ educational and overall experiences.

“These results were also helpful in identifying areas where we can improve; for example, ensuring students feel listened to and are aware of the range of wellbeing and mental health services available to them.”

LSE appoints new President and Vice Chancellor Larry Kramer Chenoa Colaco News Editor

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SE has appointed Larry Kramer as its upcoming President and Vice Chancellor; he will formally begin his tenure in April 2024.

Kramer’s new role comes after Minouche Shafik’s departure from LSE to become President of Columbia University.

Currently, he retains his role as President of the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation and will step down at the end of the year. At the $13 billion foundation, he was able to advance long-term support for environmental protection, performing arts, racial justice, cyber security and women’s reproductive rights.

In February 2023, Kramer received public criticism for providing a hefty $500,000 to the $250 million sum of fraudster Sam Bankman-Fried’s release bond, after courts released documents exposing his role as a significant benefactor. Bankman-Fried is currently imprisoned for fraud after syphoning

client funds for his personal political donations.

The personal recognizance bond payments will be forfeited if Bankman-Fried does not appear for trial in October. It is currently unclear what relationship Kramer holds with Bankman-Fried.

Kramer also presently serves as board chair of iCivics and is a director on several boards including the Silicon Valley Community Foundation and the ClimateWorks Foundation.

Within academia, Kramer has become a distinguished scholar in constitutional law and history. He brags a wide scope of positions including professorships at University of Chicago Law School and Michigan Law School. He was also Dean and Professor of Law at Stanford Law School from 2004-2012.

Susan Liautaud, chair of LSE’s council, has expressed enthusiasm for his appointment, stating Professor Kramer was “an outstanding and visionary leader and scholar.

“He brings a wealth of experience and expertise to lead the school in advancing our mission to know the causes of things for the betterment of society,” she said.

Larry Kramer has commented on his upcoming appointment to LSE’s Executive Office.

“To say I am thrilled at the opportunity to lead LSE is an understatement,” he said. “The

world needs institutions like LSE to help produce the research, scholars and leaders to address the challenges our world faces.

“LSE has a long, proud and well-deserved record of intellectual excellence and global reach, and it is the honour of a lifetime to work with and for the LSE community to further the school’s founding mission.”

Eric Neumayer, LSE’s Pro Vice-Chancellor (Planning and Resources), will remain interim vice-chancellor until Professor Kramer’s arrival.

News 5

UCU ends marking boycott at universities Vanessa Huang Frontside Editor

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he University and College Union (UCU) withdrew its marking boycott on 6 September, following a vote from members of the Union.

and working conditions.

The boycott, which began on 20 April, saw staff across 145 universities in the UK withdraw from their marking duties. The boycott was due to end at the expiration of the current mandate for industrial action – the end of September – but the UCU withdrew the action ahead of time.

The marking boycott was an escalation in the dispute between Staff at LSE who either self-dethe UCU and university em- clared their participation or ployers over the issues of pay were believed to be partici-

pating in the marking boycott faced a 50% deduction in pay.

Following the withdrawal of the boycott, “a joint agreement” between LSE and LSE UCU was reached where LSE staff will now submit any outstanding marking by early October.

The marking boycott has meant that thousands of students across the UK were left with incomplete marks from the 2022/23 academic year. To account for this impact, special

regulations on degree progression and graduation were introduced for students at LSE. Continuing students with only a partial mark profile were generally permitted to progress to the next year of study. Graduating students with a partial mark profile that met a certain threshold, were issued a provisional degree classification; graduating students with insufficient marks to meet the threshold were issued a letter to explain their situation in place of a degree certificate.

LSE declined to reveal the extent to which the marking boycott affected graduating students’ degree classifications, following a Freedom of Information request made by The Beaver.

An LSE spokesperson commented: “We welcome the resolution to the Marking and Assessment Boycott, recognising the impact this has had on our School community, and especially for individuals who experienced disruption.

structive tone the UCU branch officers brought to discussions.

We have reached a joint agreement locally in return for outstanding marks being submitted by 2 October.

“The process for completing and submitting all outstanding assessment marks is now taking place and continuing students and finalist postgraduate students have been contacted directly.

“We understand that there will be a range of views about LSE’s approach to pay deductions and have been mindful throughout of how committed staff are to the work that they do. While we actively play our part at a national level to resolve this dispute as quickly as possible, and work with our unions on important issues locally, we must balance this with our shared commitment to support students. We have also taken into consideration decisions made in the wider sector, including at peer institutions, given that this is a national dispute.”

“We are grateful for the con-

Increasing reliance on international students may be an unsustainable model Vanessa Huang Frontside Editor Lamisa Chowdhur y Video Editor Photographed by B en Chen

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nalysis from The Guardian has shown that approximately one-fifth of the income UK universities received over the 2021/22 academic year was from international students.

This number is significantly higher at LSE, where 77% of the School’s £235m tuition income that year was from fees paid at the overseas rate, with international students making up 66% of the student population.

rently used to cover the net loss universities face at the hands of domestic students’ fees. These domestic tuition fees have remained capped at £9,250 since 2017. Experts calculate that the real value of tuition for domestic students now amounts to a mere £6,000, meaning universities are almost £4,000 short in educating every British undergraduate.

International students’ tuition fees, which have no upper limit, are now being used to cover this shortfall. For international students completing courses like medicine, fees can reach approximately £40,000 a year. At LSE, the highest annual tuition fees are set at £26,592 for interThis growing dependence on national undergraduates enterinternational students has neg- ing into the 2023/24 academic ative ramifications for both stu- year. dents and university funding Also contributing significant models. amounts to LSE’s tuition income International students are cur- are postgraduates, who made up

52% of the student population in 2021/22. At the highest rate of tuition, both domestic and international students completing an MSc in Finance can expect to pay £42,384 this year.

In a September report, the House of Lords described the current higher education funding system as “unsustainable” and stated that “geopolitical shifts,” particularly regarding the high proportion of students from China, could leave the sec-

tor vulnerable.

Ateeq Khaliq, an Economic History student, likens the treatment of international students to exploitation, identifying South Indian students in the North of England as a particularly high-risk group. “They’re constantly working to pay for university fees they’re not attending lectures for … They don’t have the time. This isn’t because they have an innate desire to work, but to survive.”

Universities face further financial uncertainty with home secretary Suella Braverman introducing a ban on international students bringing family with them to the UK, beginning from January, in a move to curb net migration. Jo Grady, general secretary of the University and College Union (UCU), stated the ban would be “damaging” to the “pipeline of international talent coming to the UK.”

6

FEATURES

Features Editors Liza Chernobay Amadea Hofmann features.beaver@lsesu.org

Dear graduate: How the Marking and Assessment Boycott derailed LSE graduates’ futures Klara Woxström Senior Staff Writer

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he Marking and Assessment Boycott marked a culmination of the yearslong University and College Union (UCU) strikes over pay, pensions and the end of temporary, insecure employment contracts.

Though the boycott ended on 6 September – following its withdrawal by the UCU – and outstanding marks will be returned to students, recent graduates continue to feel its effects.

For students who had already seen their teaching go almost completely online during the Covid-19 pandemic, the nationwide strike left students feeling as if “[they] simply couldn’t make the most out of [their] campus experiences and the educational quality” with “fewer topics showing up on the exam paper [and a] more limited range of topics that determined [their] final grade.”

The emails concerning final results solidified the sentiment that the value of students’ degrees was dwindling.

“As you will be aware, some of your marks from the 2022/2023 academic year have, regrettably, been delayed by the UK-wide marking and assessment boycott led by the University and College Union. This meant that we were not able to confirm a final classification…” Instead, if students were eligible, they would receive a digital award stating their provisional classification, an interim transcript, and a letter of explanation.

LSE gave a timeline of the results process stating final results would be released on 14 July. If not, “any additional marks that have been confirmed will be released in a second results release by 28 July.”

Students only received provisional classifications if they reached a certain threshold of marks received.

While both James*, a Sociology student and Beatrice*, an International Relations and History student, received their provisional classifications on 28 July, their

experiences applying for masters programmes abroad were complicated by not receiving their final results. James told The Beaver that his provisional classification was rejected by the university he had applied to, as the document could not be verified online. “It did create a very stressful situation for me during master’s applications,” he said. Instead, LSE had to send the university hard copies of the documents.

Meanwhile, Beatrice faced complications when she needed to receive her mark for an International Relations module to confirm her place at Columbia University.

They required her “to purchase a credentials verification package from a third-party company to verify [her] results by mid-October but [she’s] worried that [she] will be unable to do so in time.”

“I’m waiting on my results before I order it because I don’t want it to fail and waste the money.”

Upon emailing the Department of International Relations she got the response that they were unable to confirm when she would receive her mark back for the module, and that the interim transcript would have to suffice.

After the initial results were released on 28 July, students were to be emailed directly in two-week increments if more marks became available. If students received all their marks, their final classification would be confirmed. Otherwise, provisional classifications would be issued once students had enough marks to be eligible.

Many students in the Departments of Sociology and Anthropology did not receive their provisional classifications until around 4 August. Anya*, a Sociology graduate, recounts, “I got my provisional [classification] on the 4th of August [but] I’m still missing 2 full units’ worth of marks.

I applied to UK universities that were quite understanding, but it brought me a lot of stress as I was unable to provide Oxford with my final transcript or any provisional results by their deadline on July 28th, which resulted in a lot of

form-filling, calls and emails back and forth.” The provisional classification they eventually received was thankfully “enough to get [her] ‘conditions complete’ letter.”

Similarly, Hannah*, a Social Anthropology student, is missing two half-units and only received her provisional classification on 5 August. “Delayed results meant that I was late for applying to college housing as I was not able to officially meet the terms of my master’s offer. As a result […] it is very unlikely I will get to live in college. This is something I really wanted, given that my university experience was compromised during my undergraduate degree due to Covid.”

Anthropology was one of the departments to suffer the most from missing grades. One recent graduate from the department told The Beaver that some third-year Social Anthropology students were planning to turn to national media outlets such as the BBC to “force the university’s hand and ensure that [they] would actually get [their] results because there was some worry that [they] would be left without their classifications for an indefinite period.”

For international postgraduate students, the stakes were especially high. Patrick Tamayo, a Global Media masters student, created a WhatsApp group for international students facing visa issues to organise and advocate for themselves. While Patrick is completing a joint degree with Fudan University in China and he can continue his studies, he worries for his peers.

“They’re stuck living in London with the cost of living crisis, a possibly bogus diploma, and [unable] to apply for jobs with their latest degree which they invested a lot of time and money into… the costs for staying will [only rise] as they have to apply for strikes concession visa and NHS extensions that are costly and not currently covered by LSE.” He notes that Cambridge, for example, is covering such costs for its students.

Such worries were echoed by Ri-

cardo Rauseo, an international student completing a masters in Politics and Communication.

While he received his provisional classification on 4 September, at the time of his interview with The Beaver, Ricardo could not apply for a graduate visa as he did not have access to provisional grades.

Despite being a recent graduate from LSE and having nearly five years of experience in political communications in the US, Ricardo struggled to find work due to his uncertain visa status. He “took this break to do this masters”, mainly motivated by “the possibility of diversifying [his] experience in the [UK].”

complete [… and that they] may not receive notification of the outcome of [their] complaint until 2024.”

However, Ricardo and his partner found that their visa status presented a continuous issue at job interviews. While Ricardo can work for the next five years, given that he can apply for graduate visas once the strikes stops, he has been told multiple times by employers it is not enough of a guarantee to land him a job offer.

Patrick is part of a student-staff network communicating about the strikes. At one point, “international students and I spoke up to union members about the situation being a bit unfair and unequal and how it had become harder to convince [their] peers to support it.”

While Ricardo has been working part-time at an H&M in Brixton, it is not enough to financially support himself in the UK. “I initially thought that I was [going to] live here for a few years, and therefore I really closed a lot of chapters in the US, and I essentially moved all my belongings here, and now I’m finding myself in a situation where my lease is about to end in October […] I can’t financially take on another lease without the guarantee of a job.”

Most interviewees were critical of how LSE dealt with the situation.

Hannah expressed, “I personally felt that [LSE] did not seem to acknowledge the impact that the strikes would have on students long term besides inconvenience.” Similarly, Ricardo called LSE’s handling of the situation a “cultural shock,” stating, “LSE has been so unresponsive […] they encouraged us to submit our complaints regarding the strikes for us to claim compensation.” He claims many of his peers feel that “this has been a tactic for them to silence [them].” LSE responded to the complaints saying the “investigations will take 6-9 months to

Many interviewees also expressed their changing feelings toward the strike action as time went on.

James told The Beaver, “At the very beginning, I thought I was very supportive of it, but as the strike dragged on, I think that the union simply could not effectively put the employers and the university under pressure while making the students a bargaining chip in their calculation […] and I think the university was also quite stubborn in their positions.”

LSE UCU members responded positively to their concerns and held meetings concerning protecting migrant and working-class students. Moreover, LSE UCU and LSESU unanimously voted and signed a joint statement concerning student-faculty rights, which they sent to the LSE administration. Patrick claims that he never heard back from them but that it was his “proudest involvement.”

While Patrick questioned some ways that the strikes have been handled and called negotiations disappointing, he supports the strikes and points out that “we can’t let our struggles be divided into a student/professor paradigm.”

“A very nuanced and difficult scenario” and “a sort of crisis” are some ways Patrick describes the current situation. “It says a lot that professors felt like they had no choice […] I appreciate their role so much, [so] they have my unconditional support, and they taught me a lot this year.” *Names have been changed to preserve anonymity.

Features 7

Working at LSE: Is the great academic resignation upon us?

Vanessa Huang Frontside Editor Illustrated by Francesca Corno

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ver-mounting university strikes have laid bare fissures in the academic workplace. The campaign has now reached a critical juncture: academics say they cannot sustain the poor working conditions and pay; universities say they have already “stretched affordability” with what they’re offering. In a UCU survey, three in five respondents were planning to leave academia due to the pay and working conditions. In this third article of the Working at LSE series, The Beaver looks to the sector’s future and whether a mass exodus is imminent.

Daniele Pollicino is one of many wrestling with this dilemma of staying or leaving. He’s a PhD student at LSE, researching the applications of behavioural science towards climate change.

“I’ve always wanted to be an academic,” he says. “I kind of still do, but I’m trying to figure out what I actually want.”

Some that left have found the greener pastures they were hoping for. George Maier, a former LSE100 Fellow, now works as a senior researcher at Nutmeg, an investment management platform. He says he feels “properly settled” for the first time, helped by the compensation boost that tends to come with going into industry. Maier’s job now provides a salary and pension that are “far higher” than what he received at LSE, alongside healthcare benefits that would be unthinkable in academia.

Daniel De Kadt, Assistant Professor of Methodology, points out that although pay is usually lower in academia, career security can be “really high” – once you’ve navigated the rough terrain and secured a permanent job, that is. He left academia to work as a data scientist at Deliveroo, only to return this January, pointing to teaching and “being able to have an imprint on people who are going to do things in the world” as his main reason for coming back. Unlike

in industry, where workers are “beholden to the vagaries of the market,” academics are “pretty robust to economic downturns and recessions.” For some, this job security can be more important than the size of their paycheck. But often, getting a permanent position is precisely the problem.

It’s a “remarkable privilege of a career,” as De Kadt puts it, to be able to research a topic of interest, noting his industry job was “constrained in a very clear way.” A career so closely tied to one’s passions is, however, a double-edged sword, blurring the boundaries between work and leisure and easily leaving zero semblance of a work-life balance. And as attitudes of ‘publish or perish’ dominate the sector, forcing academics to churn out as many publications as possible to advance their careers, there’s a constant nagging feeling to do more and aim higher, particularly when there’s so much personal investment in the knowledge that’s being disseminated. The standard nineto-five in academia has become “almost impossible,” Pollicino says. “It takes a mental toll.”

And while junior academics are facing this constant pressure to produce more work, fixedterm contracts mean that until they can secure a permanent position, they are left floating untethered, wondering if their contract will be renewed and preparing to uproot their lives and work somewhere new – hoping each time they won’t have to do it again.

It’s this lack of stability that Catherine Reynolds, PhD careers consultant at LSE Careers, notes as the main concern PhD students express: “They don’t want to see their peers who are in the private sector going on building their careers, buying a flat, paying rent without worrying about it, maybe settling down, having a family, having children.” While Maier was working at LSE, he and his partner had been trying to buy a house without any success – the combination of low pay with a fixed-term contract made it exceedingly difficult to

secure a mortgage for the house they had been eyeing. Thanks to his higher salary and permanent contract, they now own the house.

This malaise is becoming increasingly salient as academic ‘quit lit’ proliferates on social media, a trend that Maier has noticed: “Every time I open [Twitter] now, I see long lists of tweets from academics making very similar moves to what I’ve made, or considering similar moves to what I’ve made.”

This may simply be due to the increased usage of social media – Reynolds points out that LSE sends a consistent 40% of its PhD graduates into industry each year – but De Kadt highlights a shifting dynamic where it isn’t just PhD graduates, but growing numbers of mid-career academics that are starting to make the leap as well.

According to Reynolds, some of the most common destinations for those who make the switch include data science, international organisations, government, commercial research, and finance. While Maier found this transition “very straightforward,” Reynolds says it “gets a little bit more difficult for PhD students [compared to undergraduates and masters students] because they’ve been encultured for longer. They’ve learned the language of higher education to a deeper level, and so making that shift sometimes

takes a bit of time.” As De Kadt explains, industry work requires a big mindset shift towards being more impact-oriented: “In academia, we worry about being right; in industry, we worry about being right enough.”

it’s hard to know.” Leaving academia helped him realise how much he missed teaching and the “communal intellectual environment”; his weighting of the different trade-offs eventually drew him back.

The biggest challenge for individuals from academic backgrounds may not be the work itself but rather getting your foot in the door when recruiters don’t always understand what a PhD brings to the table. Both De Kadt and Maier bypassed the traditional application process to secure their industry roles, messaging recruiters on LinkedIn instead. “What you want to do is find tools or techniques to improve the probability of a recruiter having a call with you,” De Kadt says. “If you start to talk to someone and you’re a PhD, chances are you’re going to do reasonably well because you’ve spent your whole career talking to people.”

On the other hand, Maier believes that he was holding onto the academic dream for longer than he perhaps should have: “There are good parts and bad parts, and at the time you don’t necessarily realise some of the bad parts were quite so bad.”

Improvements in work-life balance, pay, and career stability have dramatically shifted things for him. “Now I can just relax and settle into the work and enjoy what I’m doing,” he says.

For any PhD students having doubts, Reynolds advises them to carefully consider their options and take advantage of industry internships for a “better understanding of the pros and cons of the different sides of the boundary” – after all, the grass might simply be greener from the other side. According to De Kadt, working in industry “gives you a new data point on which [parts of work] you actually value. Because [when] you don’t have the comparison,

As for Pollicino, even though he’s still in the middle of his PhD, industry work isn’t some hypothetical scenario for him.

Like many of his peers, he doesn’t have funding for his PhD, so he’s taken on work in an external research organisation as a way to pay for his degree. Right now, he leans more towards “abandoning ship,” a decision that is both a push away from the dismal prospects of an academic career and a pull towards the positive experiences he’s had with his current industry work. “I’m more inclined to just leave university, which is sad because I love the stimulating environment,” he says. “But it’s really not the same.”

8 Features

How Brexit changed elitism at LSE Emma Somos Contributing Writer LSE Photo by Angus Timmons

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ince 2020, there has been a decline in the number of EU students studying at the LSE due to Brexit, resulting in increased tuition fees and fewer scholarship opportunities. The proportion of EU undergraduates in the UK dropped by 56% in 2021, with Eastern and Central European students significantly impacted by the changes in the financial and immigration status of EU students.

I was curious to find out if national communities at LSE have become more exclusive and elitist. It would seem that of the fewer EU students who can afford to come to LSE after Brexit, the majority are from well-off families and exclusive private schools.

hurts the most disadvantaged, and while LSE is becoming increasingly ‘elite’ in student composition by generally attracting EU students from upper-class backgrounds, there are still interesting differences between nationalities and how much countries get affected by brain drain.

Almost all national society presidents interviewed acknowledged that most students in their respective communities come to LSE from an international or private school. While there are differences in national educational systems, all presidents noted the dominance of the International Baccalaureate diploma. According to Andriana Boukaouri-Giannouli, President of the LSESU Hellenic Society, students usually hear about LSE in IB schools. Thus, LSE is well-known among a specific social strata – the well-educated, professional upper class – a claim shared by the German, Italian, French, Nordic, Czech-Slovak, Greek and Polish presidents.

The costs of study have increased due to restrictions on securing loans and new visa requirements, but higher tuition fees after Brexit are the number Adriana Svitkova, former Presone cause named to explain the ident of the LSESU Czech and decline of EU students at UK Slovak Society, says that even before Brexit, only 20-30% of

universities by both academic and government researchers.

After Brexit, many EU students are choosing to study in the Netherlands or elsewhere in Europe due to being unable to afford the newly increased costs of UK-based universities.

According to the 12 LSESU national society presidents and students interviewed, the change is much less drastic; the EU students at LSE have always largely come from elite backgrounds. However, Brexit

Czech and Slovak LSE students came from non-fee-paying schools. However, after Brexit, students’ socio-economic background became a bigger determining factor for coming to study in the UK rather than the type of school they attended. Moving to the UK a few years before graduation and attending a British boarding school is a popular route to LSE among Italian, Spanish and some German students, as there is a mismatch between

the focus of their national high schools and LSE’s requirements.

The Hungarian and Czech-Slovak presidents suggested that the strength of LSE in the social sciences is the main reason students choose to study here. Others noted that having LSE on the students’ CVs will translate into a competitive advantage in the labour market – fitting thinking from the children of the well-educated, professional upper class.

Brexit has created stark national differences among the EU students at LSE. Masters students haven’t been as badly affected; however, the Spanish, French, German, Swedish, Czech and Slovak, and Hungarian presidents all note a huge decrease in their respective student numbers. For example, only five Hungarian students started an LSE undergraduate degree in 2022, one-third of the 2020 figure. Interestingly, the Italian, Polish, Greek and Nordic presidents haven’t noticed a decrease in their student numbers.

Marguerite Henry, Secretary of the LSESU French Society, notes that LSE’s reputation still has a strong pull, and she believes the decrease in EU student numbers must be more drastic at lower-ranked British universities.

Mario Freundorfer, President of the German Society, shared that multiple German scholarships offered by foundations, political parties, religious groups, and independent academic foundations can no longer cover post-Brexit tuition fees and thus are no longer available to German students in the UK. Svitkova notes that the two major Czech scholarship foundations also began to prioritise support for students studying in the Netherlands rather than the UK after Brexit, but the Czech government is working with banks to offer loans for talented students interested in British universities. The Slovak and Hungarian governments aim to “tackle” the problem of brain drain with conditional scholarships that require students to work in their home countries after they complete their degrees.

Gusztav and Gabor, Presidents of the LSESU Hungarian Society, sum this up: “If you want

to study at the LSE post-Brexit as a Hungarian, you are either aligned with the Hungarian regime or coming from a really wealthy family.”

The Norwegian government also offers funding, yet there is no requirement to return home for work — though Norwegian students will likely go back anyway for their country’s higher salaries. The situation differs for Spanish and Italian students, who usually come to the UK for its more promising labour market. Unsurprisingly, their governments offer less support to students studying abroad, making the UK an exclusive option for the self-funding, wealthy few after Brexit.

When asked about elitism in the student experience, most presidents defended their communities, painting a picture of homogeneous and cohesive national groups; some even mentioned that they felt part of their national community more strongly than of LSE. But Freundorfer offered an interesting insight: although there may be structural elitism in terms of who LSE attracts, he was surprised to learn that many children of politicians and CEOs have been brought up and socialised not to show off and come off as ‘rich’. Nevertheless, after Brexit, national communities are becoming even more homogeneous, with most students arriving from the same IB schools.

Even though studying in the UK appears to be accessible to fewer and fewer EU students, national communities at LSE are not giving up on building inclusive connections. Svitkova says Central and Eastern European

students have faced more xenophobia and misconceptions about their region after Brexit.

Nevertheless, she cites strong national student solidarity and support networks as helping to foster a sense of community.

Dominika Lech, President of the LSESU Polish Business Society, reinforces that such student solidarity is also possible cross-nationally as their well-established society had a strong partnership with the Ukrainian society this year.

While Brexit made LSE less accessible for students from lower-income backgrounds and of specific nationalities, LSE has always attracted students from international backgrounds and fee-paying schools. Lech, who could only afford to study at LSE with a student loan, argues: “We [LSE students] are all from privileged backgrounds living in a bubble.”

We can predict that while national communities will continue to become more homogeneous, inequalities between nationalities will deepen. Some governments are supporting their talented youth in studying in the UK, while others offer little to no support and hope to increase the reputations of their own academic institutions. The education and experiences offered by LSE should be available to more, with more scholarships offered to marginalised EU students. Perhaps student solidarity at LSE will one day be based not only on nationality and ethnicity but also across socio-economic classes. Let us not be fully captured by the LSE bubble.

OPINION

Opinion Editors Honour Astill Kieran Hurwood opinion.beaver@lsesu.org

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A tribute to Minouche: Leader of the dam from 2017-2023 Eugenia Brotons Batista Managing Editor

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ame, Baroness, all grandiose titles held by our colony's beloved (ex)head: Minouche Shafik. Despite her eminence — or perhaps because of it — Minouche could not escape the scrutiny and scorn of all us voracious beavers during her time at LSE, the beaver dam.

of our university’s affairs from her termly Q&As with students to her crafting of LSE 2030, the school’s strategic vision.

In hindsight, it is endearing that we called her not Baroness, not Dame, not even Professor or Doctor; to us, she was just Minouche. A former beaver herself, she was not an alien to the institution; despite any quarrels and contempt, she was part of the dam.

institutions like the World Bank, IMF, and the UK’s DFID. She led and oversaw the passing of legislation committing 0.7% of UK GDP to development aid — about £20 billion — for poverty alleviation. The extent to which these institutions are really helpful and effective remains an unresolved question. More recently, Boris Johnson managed to undo Minouche’s great contribution almost as easily as he

“A former beaver herself, she was not an alien to the institution; despite any quarrels and contempt, she was still part of the dam.” praise; she is what many of us would aspire to be if we resisted the pull of those fiendishly high corporate salaries and their incomprehensible prestige that suck us into that dark hole with the rest of sellouts.

Any problem, any nuisance, mountain or molehill, it was oh-so-easy to blame it on Minouche. Teachers striking again? Ugh, Minouche. Exams are too hard? Ugh, Minouche.

Teaching isn’t good enough?

Ugh, Minouche. Library is too crowded? Ugh, Minouche.

Marshall building loo run out of toilet paper? Ugh, Minouche!

All in all, she was a good director and one we could be proud of. Too bad half a million pounds did not suffice to keep her around.

She has sailed off to new lands in search of gold and riches to become the highest-paid university president in the world – in characteristic LSE money-making style.

Any and all of LSE’s evils cascaded onto her. Of course, that is to be expected as the figurehead of the institution.

She was the perfect scapegoat — our overlord, watching us from the heights of the executive office in the CBG, made synonymous with all that is reprehensible, gone wrong, and decaying at LSE. However, this only scrapes the surface of our feelings about Minouche. Deep down, we know she was worthy of some appreciation, and the valiant beavers will admit that, in reality, we (sort of) liked Minouche.

If you hung around the 11th floor of the CBG often enough, you’re likely to have crossed paths with her. Petite, unintimidating, Minouche radiated a certain closeness when you encountered her in person. Always impeccably dressed, wellaccessorised: pearls on her earlobes and around her neck, frames matching her outfit – meticulously colourcoordinated, tokens of her attention to detail, which she brought to her management

conversation on Web3 with Tim Berners-Lee (inventor of the World Wide Web); impressive for someone with no background in computer science. She dabbled in all sorts of topics as chair or panellist at LSE’s public events, with good questions: always relevant, poignant, and to the point. She did relatively well in representing the institution, and for that, we respect and perhaps even admire you, Minouche.

Minouche was also a dogooder: an international development aid-monger, working to help those worse off by serving at impressive

managed to host COVID parties in Downing Street — but hey, at least she tried.

Minouche’s efforts, her ambitions, are worthy of

Bright, quick, and had her wits about her, Minouche made sure never to embarrass herself. I remember watching her seamlessly navigate a

Now, what does the newly appointed leader, Larry Kramer, hold in store? For starters, his CV isn’t as impressive – problematic for a place like the LSE, where we care (excessively) about CVs. He’s an American, white, male, a lawyer, a bit boring, conformist – not subversive enough for many of our tastes. Second, he’s neither an alumnus nor affiliated with LSE or any other British institution. Born and bred on the other side of the pond, let’s hope he doesn’t bring back too much American guff. To top it all off, he’s engaged in some questionable activity: putting up $500,000 for Sam Bankman-Fried’s bail (aka FTX, a crypto guy in jail for all sorts of fraud). So, Larry, I’ll be honest, you’ve got a lot to prove and a worthy predecessor to match. What should we expect of you? Make it known to us!

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Opinion Is the Red Planet worth it?

Kate Banner Beaver Sound Editor

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lon Musk has made the daring vow to put man on Mars before the curtain falls on this decade. Ignoring his previous estimates, the stars appear to be aligning this time. In a postCovid world, with Jeff Bezos and Richard Branson recently completing their commercial flight upward, the old fantasy of interplanetary exploration can no longer be dismissed as science fiction. Do I think it will be SpaceX to achieve what will be another monumental ‘leap for mankind’? Less likely now. If I were a cosmic bookie, my pockets would be worried about an unexpected Chinese National Space Administration (CNSA) surprise, or worse, something from the Russian Roscosmos. What remains certain is that we are entering a new space race with a larger competition and an even larger audience. This only begs the question: is the Red Planet worth it?

Logistics first. Due to the opposing orbital periods of Earth and Mars, and the intricacies of interplanetary exploration, the launch window occurs once every 26 months. This means, essentially, if we want to go soon, then we better start planning.

Until recently, Russia and the United States dominated the finite discoveries of the previous decade, but with around 72 countries now embarking upon space programmes, the landscape is very different.

In 2003, the CNSA made history by sending the first taikonaut into space — it was just the third country to do so at the time.

While a monumental achievement, it dims compared to NASA’s mission 34 years prior. In 2016, two taikonauts spent a month living on the Tiangong-2, the Chinese loworbit space station. Again, it is incredible, but the technology hardly appears groundbreaking, given that NASA did the same 16 years earlier.

It wasn’t until 2019 that China breached the unthinkable and landed on the far side of the moon, something never done before, not even by NASA. Here, China firmly established itself as a forefront player in this game of space domination.

However, this space race transcends far beyond the ability of taikonauts, cosmonauts, and astronauts. For example, we are currently witnessing the success stories of countries like India, which launched a space probe to orbit Mars in 2013, and the United Arab E m i r at e s , w h i c h achieved the same in 2020. What seems to water down all hopes and dreams of

collective international s p a c e exploration is the exponential inclusion of private companies. Capitalism has begun to dominate, so much that companies now stand as the frontrunners for a premier landing on Mars ahead of or in partnership with state organisations. SpaceX has already launched an astounding

62 missions in 2023, outdoing more than any other company and any country. What flag would they lay on the red craters of Mars?

As the ambition to walk on Mars and establish global and political power rises amongst our leaders, it is necessary that we reflect on the lessons previous missions of colonisation offer us. The war in Ukraine has disbanded all relationships between Russia’s work on the European Space Station, and as China is declared a threat by the United States, our decade of global space cooperation is seen to be quickly left floating just like us, in the cosmic space-

time of the distant past. I’m not suggesting that this decade will see colonisation by new Martian aliens, but rather asking the question: what happens when a flag (corporate

of poverty. Mars is dry and rocky, with a carbon dioxide-based atmosphere.

Though it does not seem appealing, as the urgency of the space race confirms:

“Money currently spent on the fantasy of new life could be spent on improving the ones which already exists here on Earth.” or state) is put firmly on the Red Planet’s surface? We can only respond that we have no clue, and that’s the scary part.

We don’t know what space wars might occur if China claimed Mars as theirs, or worse, if SpaceX asserted authority over a newly renamed MuskLand.

We should take a step back.

Billions must be pumped into technological research to land humans on Mars. Money currently spent on the fantasy of new life could be spent on improving the ones which already exist here on Earth. We are entering years of recordbreaking heat, increased extinction of animal species, and the global concentration

it is considered habitable.

However, Earth already has an abundance of oxygen and fresh flowing rivers; compared to Mars, it’s heaven. I think it’s fundamentally wrong not to have space programmes or a sense of curiosity as to what is beyond our earthly realm, but what I think is worse is the propaganda scheme that Mars has become. Even though human missions to Mars are now a reality, they will not act as some paradise or safety net from the harm humanity has inflicted upon Earth. Unfortunately, now we appear to have forgotten the importance of preserving the world which enabled this reality in the first place.

Opinion 11 The Red Mobster: What will Keir Starmer’s Labour government look like?

Kieran Hurwood Opinion Editor

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eir Starmer’s reshuffle earlier this month was regarded by some as a political masterclass. Broadcast commentators and key London papers pointed out how he had skilfully brought in Blairera political allies and had gradually alienated many of his previous internal opponents.

Amidst this, a vital question is now being asked: what will a Labour government look like? Starmer’s decisions in that reshuffle were more complex, framed as a team for the next general election. Keen politicos will note that this careful wording implies the current Shadow Cabinet may not resemble any subsequent government. Nobody knows what the government will look like or what it will really be aiming for.

Labour manifesto, given this term was pioneered by Boris Johnson and the 2019 Tory cohort, not by Labour themselves.

Not everyone agreed with Nandy’s approach. Others who have also identified themselves as politically distinct from Starmer, like Rosena Allin-Khan, who is a practising NHS doctor alongside her role as an MP, resigned from the frontbenches rather than be further pushed out. AllinKhan wrote in her resignation letter that Starmer didn’t see a space for a mental health portfolio in the Cabinet.

She also reportedly privately critiqued Wes Streeting, current Shadow Health Secretary, for suggesting that private services be utilised to bring down NHS waiting lists.

Her criticism is particularly salient given it is one of the

“Nobody knows what the government will look like or what it will really be aiming for.”

The headline of the day was Angela Rayner’s capture of the Levelling-Up brief and Lisa Nandy’s subsequent demotion to be the shadow minister for international development.

Though it was previously a department in itself at the start of this parliament, it has since become a ministry within David Lammy’s Shadow Foreign Office portfolio due to government department reshuffling. The displacement reportedly upset Nandy but indicated that Starmer has become less challengeable – Nandy accepted the decision and labelled herself a ‘team player’ according to insiders.

She had also done this before, in 2021, when she was demoted from Shadow Foreign Secretary to Shadow Levelling-Up. By her judgement, it is always better to be inside the decision-making bubble than to leave it and have no influence.

few times that a non-Corbynallied MP has openly attacked Opposition policy.

Besides this, perhaps she considered that it remains unclear what place ‘LevellingUp’ may have in the next

If Labour does win the next general election, Starmer’s top team would have access to a wealth of new MPs (perhaps

Given current polling numbers, Labour is undoubtedly set to win the next election, perhaps even with a record majority.

Determining the size of the majority will be complex, relying on a range of regional factors falling into line. This is especially the case in Scotland, where in a best-case scenario, approximately 40 to 50 seats currently held by the SNP, could flip to Labour (though it is more likely to be around 20, with most of Labour’s renewed support coming from the North of England and London). The upcoming by-election in Rutherglen and West Hamilton (touted as a Labour-SNP bellwether contest) should give us some indication of whether this might be possible.

more than 200) who could serve as ministers or secretaries of state. Additionally, if current polling holds true, for the first time since the early 2000s, Labour would hold absolute power in Parliament. The likelihood that some of the supposedly ‘senior Labour MPs’ from times past will lose their currently unassailable position to new but experienced or returning faces is high.

clear at the moment who is making these claims or why. All of the ‘Five Missions’ were secure at this reshuffle, suggesting the inclusion of his mandate in those targets means he won’t be removed before an election.

The Labour leadership’s reported ruthlessness in alienating perceived political opponents or

of politicians typically viewed as centrist into the cabinet does indicate they are leaning towards a specific election strategy, but the political playing field will look so different after the next election that it is near impossible to predict what types of personalities will make up the cabinet. This also doesn’t tell us much about the potential impact of rebels in the new Labour government, and how Starmer might deal with factions unhappy they have been sidelined.

“The Labour leadership’s reported ruthlessness in alienating perceived political opponents or potentially disagreeable ‘allies’ doesn’t necessarily indicate decisiveness in policy or even in terms of what the cabinet might look like in government.”

While we probably shouldn’t speculate on which MPs might be targeted for replacement just yet, we can look to Labour’s ‘Five Missions’ to find the ‘protected’ crew. The ministers responsible for these policy areas are Wes Streeting, Bridget Phillipson, Yvette Cooper, Ed Miliband and Rachel Reeves – they’ve been given stylish videos on the Labour website, each explaining their mission.

As a former leader and a policy commentator, the most vulnerable of these is Miliband, who has endured multiple briefings against him in recent months — though it is not

potentially disagreeable ‘allies’ doesn’t necessarily indicate decisiveness in policy or even in terms of what the cabinet might look like in government.

Indeed, what I have discussed here shows there remains a substantial amount of uncertainty about the figures in government and, therefore, the policy agendas likely to be followed. Even the ‘Five Missions’ are relatively vague, mostly setting targets rather than stating how they will be achieved.

The factionalist stacking

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SPORT EDITED BY SANA AGARWAL

Fights and feuds foreground the 2023 US Open

by ALAN NEMIROVSKI The Arthur Ashe Stadium in Queens, New York saw plenty of action at the end of this summer, with all of tennis’s bigwigs battling for a win at the final Grand Slam of the 2023 season. Novak Djokovic walked away with the Men’s Singles title, and Coco Gauff (against some odds) claimed the Women’s Singles title — the youngest to do so since Serena Williams.

With his singles win on 10 September, Djokovic overtook Carlos Alcaraz as number one in the ATP (Association of Tennis Professionals) world rankings. Although he had previously defeated Djokovic in the 2023 Wimbledon finals, and subsequently lost to him in the Western & Southern Open later in August, Alcaraz was unable to face Djokovic again after losing his semifinal match to Daniil Medvedev in four sets. Indeed, Alcaraz had been facing more and more issues as he moved from grass to the hardcourts, with seemingly subpar performances in other ATP1000

later went viral on social media platforms. She has largely been supported by fans at the stadium and online, though Siegemund has been critical of fans, saying they treated her “like a cheater” and that she was “very disappointed.”

Despite this controversy, Gauff won the deciding set of the match, and went on to win her remaining matches in the tournament, claiming her first Grand Slam singles title at just 19 years old. In the finals, she defeated top player Aryna Sabalenka 2 sets to 1, despite losing the first set 6-2. Although she is just at the start of her career, Gauff is already making big waves.

The end of the 2023 US Open marked the end of the 2023 Grand Slams, but the ATP tour is still ongoing, with the ATP finals scheduled for the middle of November in Turin, Italy. In the meantime, the circuit continues, and everyone is waiting patiently for their favourite players’ next move.

Sports at LSE

by EUGENIA BROTONS & illustrated by ANOUSHKA GULI, CHARLIE TO, VANEEZA JAWAD Admittedly, LSE is not known for being the sportiest uni: nerdy, bookish, couch potato-ey - such attributes tend to be negatively correlated with athletic ability. Yet the breadth and depth of opportunities for sport at LSE are astounding, dispelling stereotypes about our lack of sportiness.

LSE has been the home to a number of great athletes, amongst them Paralympic gold Medalist Ellen Buttrick.Our student population includes many passionate and dedicated sportspeople - just watch any of our teams train or compete, and you will be mesmerised by their focus, their intensity, their enthusiasm, their grit.

tournaments post-Wimbledon, including being knocked out at the quarterfinals of the Canadian Open.

However, about a week after the US Open, Djokovic announced that he will be taking leave from the ATP tour for six weeks, which includes his withdrawal from the next few top-level tournaments such as the Shanghai Masters, which is due to begin on 4 October. Still, he refuses to leave on a high, and has assured tennis fans that presently he has no plans for retirement. Commentators have noted this provides Alcaraz the opportunity to reclaim his world number 1 spot in the ATP rankings — though wins in the tournaments Djokovic misses will not be enough to secure the top rank, but will instead lessen the gap in points (which determine player rankings) between the two players.

Coco Gauff was not having it easy in the Women’s Singles bracket either, as she had been dealing with frustrations from her first-round match opponent, Laura Siegemund, who continuously stalled in match and was not given time penalties by the match’s umpire. Although unbothered at first, it was after Gauff was denied a point in the final set that she spoke up to the umpire — the recording of which

In terms of breadth, the offer at LSE is astonishing: you’ll find countless sports societies from Muay Thai to tennis and snowsports to pole fitness; a token of our multiculturalism and willingness to share a variety of passions with fellow students.

The best thing about sports at LSE is its inclusivity. Generally, expectations are low, and so are the stakes. You can be a complete beginner and not only participate in any sport, but also enjoy it. My advice? Get involved, try something out. Or rather, try everything out and see what you like best. Don’t rule anything out and forget your preconceptions about what

kinds of people engage in certain activities. You may be surprised, and find joy participating in a sport that perhaps you thought was not for you.

I don’t give this advice vacuously: one of my fondest memories of my first year at LSE is playing for the Women’s Football Club.

It wasn’t about the goals, the passes, the tackles, the saves; in fact, we played terribly most of the time. But rather, it was about the chats on our Wednesday train rides to and from Berrylands for matches, our collective struggle against tough opponents, the joy of avoiding double digit goal scores, the laughs that followed (from the ridiculousness of it all). The torture of dragging myself out of bed for training on Sunday (after the excesses of Saturday night) and the pleasure of slipping into my boots, running around the field, playing piggy in the middle, trying (and failing) repeatedly to hit the crossbar, and gossiping with the girls during water breaks.

It’s not only the activity itself, but the community and shared memories that ensue; sports at LSE can be a commitment, sometimes a burdensome one, but it’s compensated by the richness and pleasure that they bring to one’s experience.

The Matildas

written & illustrated by HONOUR ASTILL In a country dominated by men’s rugby and cricket, women’s football had rarely been on the radar in Australia, which jointly hosted the 2023 FIFA Women’s World Cup alongside New Zealand. That is until The Matildas – Australia’s team – performed much better than expected, having secured decisive victories over strong teams like Canada, Denmark, and France. These unprecedented feats triggered a tidal wave of support for the team and football in general unlike anything seen before: come match-time, meetings were rescheduled, pubs were overflowing with seas of green and gold, and the Tillies were the only topic on anyone’s lips.

What should you care about the women’s football team on the underside of the globe – much less one which failed to place on the podium? Well, I believe it conveys both the profoundly gendered nature of women’s football, but also the ability of sport well-played to transcend misogyny, even if only for a fleeting moment. Also, a few Matildas represent Arsenal FC, so that should help the team go up in your estimation.

When I say women’s football is gendered, the Matildas’ story exemplifies how far the sport has come in relative terms. It wasn’t until 1995 that the team even had a name of their own, and were simply referred to as the ‘Female Socceroos’, in

big matches. The Matildas went on strike (not an unfamiliar concept for us in the UK) in response to their weak contract provisions of A$22,000 (£11,573), placing players close to the national poverty line. Other ventures to raise the team’s financial viability and valuation included a nude calendar featuring full-frontal images of the players, roundly celebrated for diminishing the “butch image” of the team. This anecdotes correspond with the lack of respect women’s sports receive more broadly: the 2021 Women for Media report found that sportswomen are three times more likely to receive negative social media comments, 15% of which were sexualised, compared to 0% for male athletes.

Yet since the World Cup, the Matildas has become the most highly-valued sports team in the country. The Prime Minister Anthony Albanese cited the team as the inspiration for earmarking $200 million to improve women’s soccer facilities thanks to the Matilda’s “moment of inspiration”. The Matildas’ kit now outsells the Socceroos’ two-to-one. The next iteration of the FIFA games will feature the team’s Captain Sam Kerr alongside Kylian Mbappé on the cover. But these facts cannot sufficiently convey the energy in Australia at the time. For me, it meant so much t h at for a moment a group of women were the only thing anyone would talk about. Women who were genuinely revered and positively valued for reasons beyond their looks and style; categories and pejoratives typically thrown around sportswomen – related to some of the players’ ‘butch-ness’, Indigeneity, sexuality – for once seemed to dissipate into the thrill of collective pride. White-haired boomers and little boys alike were singing the team’s praises and proudly donning their kit.

The country – and any other topic of conversation – came to a grinding halt come match time.

The fateful Australia-England semi-final was the most watched broadcast in Australia. Yet, despite the resounding defeat, there was an atmosphere in Brisbane not of anger or betrayal but genuine gratitude for their contributions to the country. This positive feeling about women’s sports was cut short by the Rubiales affair, wherein the Spanish team’s coach nonconsensually kissed a player upon victory. The backlash that ensued conveys an appetite for resisting gendered discrimination in sports, but also that this endeavour still has far to go.

Nonetheless. The Matildas were a genuine phenomenon. One which is hard to fully grasp without bearing witness to the strength of emotion that gripped the country. Though the experience failed to materialise into a medal for Australia, I can never forget the feeling of an entire country celebrating women’s achievements.

Image from Telegraph reference to the team’s more popular male counterpart. Women’s football wasn’t even considered important enough for the national team to have defined kits; the players would sew the team’s crest onto discarded men’s kits the night before

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PART B

EDITED BY EMMA DO and JULIETTA GRAMIGNI

like the other “Western women” she hoped we would be: successful and living, not just surviving, in a country full of strangers. Yet there is one thing she could not give us, one thing she feels guilt for: she is still regretful of our brownness.

It means that we will never be beautiful, only brown.

What she doesn’t realise is that my brownness is the honey that enriches my very veins, as I tiptoe tentatively into the monsoon nights of Gitanjali. My brownness is Om Shanti Om; my brownness is my brownness is a love of saris and the jangle of ornate bangles, tiklis and teeps – the mouth burning spice of un-ripened mangoes doused in Bengali mustard and chilli powder, shared in a single bowl between too many people. It shows in the way I sing Ek Tara Tui DeshThis morning, my mom and I were watching a Bollywood documentary. er Kotha with a little bit of laughter and a little bit of mischief, even though She talked about Kajol’s transformation from an ugly duckling in Dilwale it is a patriotic folk song sung by an older woman whose voice is full of sombre longing.

Dulhania Le Jayenge to the beauty we were watching being interviewed.

Brown by LAMISA CHOWDHURY

“It’s only because she got a bunch of skin treatments,” my mom remarks in My skin is sunkissed mahogany, with Shakespeare and Laura Ingalls Wilder mixed in with Japanese comics and English musicals. The colBangla, popping a kiwi into her mouth. our of my skin is the molasses Nani would tip into my milk, reminding me that I am Rasha, but I am also Lamisa. She teaches me patiently how to I ob- serve the documentary closely. It’s true. The screen flitted in write both versions in Bangla on a whiteboard. I am so many things. and out of movie flashbacks and the present, there is a visible change in her My brownness is the shame of brownness; my brownness is the skin colour from the woman today to her younger counterpart. rejection of brownness, until it moulded over into an iron gate that keeps “Kajol was always pretty though. I wonder why she did it.” I think out loud, me upright. It is the toughened, ancient gold of spirited hope, as I sit here uncharacteristically. I rarely exert my opinions on celebrities – things I and write to you, from my childhood table. The same Japanese rock music I listened to six summers know not to be my business. ago “Don’t worry, when we go to Bangladesh I can get a bit done for you as well.” once again blares in my Amu smiles at me, her easy, nonchalant tone not missing the natural beats ear, and I almost cry out of excitement – I am so happy to be. of conversational flow.

I am all at once 13, on the “What do you mean?” precipice of 20, as I realise I have I ask, half empty-headed. It doesn’t even register for me. lost none of my childhood “Just to pale you up a bit. You know – like Kajol.” curiosity, ambition, “You’re joking!” motivation, and hope.

I get out in between laughs, this time in English.

“Why are you laughing at me? I’m serious,” she questions, also in English My brownness has kept it all safe for me. now, her tone half flabbergasted and half amused.

My nonsensical laughter stills to a diplomatic chuckle. “But Amu, I’m so pretty. What need would I have for skin treatments?”

“Even then – you could be a little bit prettier,” my mom says quickly.

“And what about what you said before?”

I don’t recall saying anything about being too dark. I sum up that it must have been from some silly exchange with my sister (who is lighter than me) that she overheard.

“It must have been a joke.”

She shakes her head; I decide that she must feel I’m up to my usual antics.

“I never know what you’re thinking – sometimes you say one thing that’s supposed to be a joke and another time you’re serious.”

I know that she didn’t mean any harm. The exchange definitely did not leave me hurt, but it did leave me contemplating. Here was my mother, who felt guilty about my brownness, and I could tell. Though we talk about being Bengali and Muslim, and how that makes us special and good and different, I know there is a corner of resignation in my mother’s mind. It is difficult to be beautiful in Amu’s world. Being a teenager in a country that did not even exist until recently, you’re barely significant, especially when white models with long legs and pale Bollywood stars like Kajol exist. We are not beautiful. Bengalis are not beautiful. There is little space for beauty when you have to strive and live far away from family.

She enjoys the fact that one of her daughters is “confident and outspoken,”

So Amu, when I say that I am already “too pretty,” my obnoxious, loud overconfidence is not just for me. It’s for you too.

i hate summer by EMMA DO summer, like the feeling of the air hot on your skin when the sun shines a little brighter and the daisies bloom by the train station, evenings smell like burnt grass, wine, and pasta the music was loud, yet we sat silently at the kitchen table, dreaming of the stars the years are short, but summer days are long it’s like a never-ending stream that flows through your endless memories the lingering scent of youth, the joy of reunion, of home, of mama’s fruit basket and chamomile tea. but I hate summer, “was it the right expression?” I thought I was never meant for the July rain, or the August sun the city feels suffocating as I lay in bed watching people’s narratives of their own summer relief summer was better when I didn’t have to grow out of my childhood bedroom or the family gatherings where I always sit at the “children’s table”, too young to be involved in adult conversations but also too little innocence to still be considered a child. now all I do is hope. hoping the humidity would vanish and the heaviness on my sleeves. hoping to catch the next flight away. hoping to leave the person that I have crafted over the sunny months. and to hide my memories in a box let them sit with the dust so I never have to speak again.

Uncoil by JULIETTA GRAMIGNI Maybe There’s real beauty In searching through And picking out Each dying fruit Whose colour wasn’t Bright enough And stem didn’t hold Firm.

Each festering regret, Time you thought On every other path, What you could have done How wonderful!

That infinite lives grew And are growing And stretch out from The bars of your mind And make you whole.

On History and Hope by SANA AGARWAL As I flip through the Japanese’s expansion in Asia or memorise Brazil’s single-crop economy before an exam, anxiety rushing in and sleep deprivation at its peak, it still sends thrills down my spine. Every time I read my textbooks or skim through museum labels, binge watch The Crown, it is oddly both, exhilarating and liberating. History to me is not just another subject that I need to ace, it is not another fact I memorise only to forget soon after. History is hope.

Hope disguised as Roosevelt indulging himself in a fruit cake bragging about reviving the economy and David Low clapping back at him with satiric cartoons, on some days it is Isaac Newton smirking at me as he does his finest work during a pandemic. Other days hope is Hitler warning us that nothing good ever births out of hatred, demonstrating why minorities matter and how change stems from the lessons of the past, while Gandhiji makes me sit beside his charkha and reasserts that war and violence never do any good pointing towards the textbooks that open to Hiroshima Nagasaki. On days when I and women across the globe feel dismantled and crushed by patriarchy, hope is Rani Laxmi Bai telling us that what a man can do, a woman can do better-joining hands with Queen Elizabeth. And when life feels like a burden, Subhash Chandra Bose chuckles with John F. Kennedy sitting with his arm around his wife Jacqueline, bonding over how death can sweep you off your feet at any given point and that every second should be lived to the fullest.

History equips us with the realisation that everything we’ll ever experience might be personally profound but will always be cosmo politically mundane. It is the hope that I will be okay, that we will be okay.

If you look around, listen closely everyone from Vasco De Gama to Nehru ji, Mother Teresa and Abraham Lincoln holding hands with Akbar and Aristotle is cheering for us from the stalls, teaching us lessons from their lifetime, reassuring us that we are not alone as we navigate through life, that we as the human race will make it through and create history (and hope) along the way.

SOCIAL EDITED BY RHEA JETHWA

Autumn Fashion Predictions

by FATIMA IRFAN

Get ready to discover the top trends that will define your wardrobe this season from shimmering metallics to the popular cherry red aesthetic to the timeless aura of long black coats and the evolution of loafers.

Cherry red aesthetic: The cherry red aesthetic has become the hottest trend of the moment, dominating conversations within the fashion industry. While red is typically associated with Christmas, this year the bold and bright red hue is making an early appearance, finding its way into various autumn fashion pieces such as boots, coats and accessories. Leading fashion houses, such as Stella McCartney, Bottega Veneta, Alexander McQueen and Prada, have all embraced this trend by incorporating it in their A/ W2023 collections. This unexpected twist on the classic colour will add a splash of excitement to the season’s normal colour palette and make a statement on the runways and streets alike.

Metallics: While metallics are typically associated with winter fashion, this season the metallic trend that’s gaining lots of momentum online. This shimmering style is not waiting for the new year festivities as previously advertised, but instead is making a huge entrance into the fall fashion scene. High street fashion is already soaking into this trend, exemplified by the viral Zara metallic trousers, available in eye-catching silver and gold. It’s not just the fashion savvy public who have become obsessed with this trend; even A- list celebrities like Beyonce, Lizzo and Harry Styles have shocked us at events like the Grammys by donning head-to-toe metallic outfits. This autumn, expect to see a rise in metallic fabrics and accessories!

The LBC The Long Black Coat (LBC) emerges as a timeless classic this season, establishing itself as the best outerwear choice for autumn. What sets these coats apart from its competitors is their sharpness; characterised by commanding shoulders, an oversized-yet-tailored fit and an impressive length. This design perfectly shows the prevailing anti-trend sentiment of the upcoming season. In contrast to fast fashion trends, the focus this autumn is creating real-life, everyday outfits that effortlessly show style and sophistication. Picture yourself a LBC for a casual coffee run, or any daily outing, which elevates your look whilst being comfortable. As timeless as it is versatile - the Long Black Coat is a wardrobe essential that will remain a staple for future seasons.

Loafers Loafers evolve every season from backless styles in the summer to now chunky and sky high platforms. This season may see a comeback of classics; such as Penny Loafers, nostalgic styles inspired by the 90’s and 00’s with chunky lug soles or heeled iterations. The most popular loafer of recent times are the Prada brushed leather loafers, worn by a range of fashion bloggers and stars such as Emma Roberts, Bella Haddi and Hailey Bieber.

Breakfast of dreams

by LIZA CHERNOBAY

During my séjour at Rosebery Hall last year, I used to regularly run into my neighbour Jonah in the communal kitchen, where I’d always see him compose a simple yet healthy and balanced meal. Jonah went to the gym almost every day, and he enjoyed a mighty post-workout protein smoothie or a power fried egg on toast, which would fill the kitchen with a nutty aroma of hot oil and bread.

These kitchenette encounters were a great chance for us to catch up between our busy schedules, although I suspect that sometimes he just wanted to be quiet and yet I always ambushed the silence. The truth is, I really loved to observe what he cooked - and the creation which fascinated me the most were his signature overnight oats.

Overnight oats, or “Bircher Muesli" as the Swiss who invented this food call them, are the easiest and most succulent way to save time in the morning and still get a satisfying, nutrient-packed breakfast! The best part about this dish (apart from the glorious taste) is that no cooking is required - essentially, it is a perfect student shortcut. If you have never tried overnight oats, you are missing out on a journey to the land of gastronomical delight and creativity, as the range of ingredient combinations and flavours is endless!

In short, overnight oats are exactly what they claim to be: just oats soaked overnight in milk, yoghurt or juice with added fruit, nuts, seeds, and any other extras you desire. The Swiss version also contains grated apple for added natural sweetness and good-for-the-gut fibre. They are traditionally served chilled and are creamy in texture, which makes them an ideal base for crunchy and juicy toppings like coconut flakes or raspberries. The method is easier than ever: just mix all the ingredients in a jar and pop in the fridge overnight, where the culinary magic will happen while you get your beauty sleep. Have I convinced you to make this treat for tomorrow’s breakfast yet?

Jonah made his signature oats with peanut butter and blueberries, which initially inspired me to re-create his recipe. The result was so unbelievably good that it became my go-to breakfast throughout the busy term, saving me a million times from running late to a morning lecture. Here is my refined recipe a tribute to a fabulous year of living in halls and, of course, to my friend Jonah: Optional:

by MAYA AZIZ For some, the mere mention of artificial intelligence conjures up dystopian images of human subservience to super-intelligent robots. For others, it represents a new technological age of humankind experiencing unimaginable prosperity. If you’re like me, the feeling of both fear and excitement for the future will linger in the back of your mind, but on a day-to-day basis, engagement with AI and its ability to make your life easier in unexpected ways will spark interest.

This brings me to Chat GPT-4 - the latest iteration of Open AI’s popular chatbot.

Whilst previous models were able to answer questions in a somewhat human-like manner, they were unable to perform live data analytics, meaning that they could not check real-time data. This is still the case to an extent with GPT-4; I can’t ask it to check if my train is delayed or how much tickets to a concert this weekend will cost. What I can do, though, is ask it to plan my next holiday!

With GPT-4’s new Kayak plugin, the chatbot is able to perform live data analytics using the information on Kayak’s holiday booking platform. I should note here that, unlike previous versions of Chat GPT, this current model is not free, and will set you back £16.15 a month. Luckily for me I have a nerdy boyfriend, so here I find myself armed with his login details and the help of a super-intelligent chatbot, embarking on a mission to plan my next holiday.

My prompt was as follows: “Please plan a holiday for me and my boyfriend this December. We need to fly from either London or Manchester. Show me flights and hotels. Please include the price per person. We are students, so show me cheap deals. Thanks!”

In response, I was presented with a list of return flights in December for various destinations, coupled with dates and prices ranging from £41- £77. So far, so good. Upon closer examination, however, one issue did pop up. The flight options for two of the five destinations (Vienna and Copenhagen) would see me flying out on one day and returning the very next - not exactly screaming relaxing couples getaway.

Okay, so that rules out two options, but I still have three left. GPT-4 followed up by asking me which destinations I would like to see hotels for, so I responded with the remaining three: Madrid, Barcelona and Amsterdam. I was given a list of hotels for each destination, including the star rating, review score, top amenities and price per night (ranging from £51-£81) for each stay.

Based on the information given to me, my hypothetical holiday will be a trip to Barcelona for three nights in December, staying at a four-star hotel with a gym and a pool (although I’m not sure how necessary the pool will be in December.)

The total cost for flights and hotels came to £153 per person.

So, how would I rate Chat GPT’s Kayak feature? It undoubtedly cut the time that it would have taken me to plan a trip and gave me a really cheap deal.I doubt I could have found a much better one myself. There were definitely things that were overlooked and effort is still required on my part, more so than if you used a travel agent or booked through a package holiday site.

- lemon zest of 1/4-1/2 lemon (to get the lemon and blueberry muffin effect) - (vanilla) protein powder for the gains (if using sweetened protein, omit the honey) - 1/2 tsp vanilla essence for a luxurious twist Side notes: - any berries, fruit, as well as nuts and seeds will work - switch up nut butter to sunflower seed butter if you are allergic to nuts - any milk would work, but Jonah and I agreed that oat milk tastes best (despite the controversial oat-and-oat combination) - mix in some cacao powder to satisfy a chocolate craving - add in dried fruit (I recommend raisins) for extra sweetness - to make Bircher Muesli, add 1/2 grated apple, a handful of raisins and skip the blueberries (or don’t!)

When it comes down to it, though, one has to be realistic about the nature of the platform we are using. We take a lot of our expectations about things for granted.

We know, for example, that nobody wants to fly out on Monday and return on Tuesday - GPT-4, apparently, does not (yet). Now, had I included this expectation in my prompt, it would have been a non-issue. Essentially, if you prompt it with exactly what you want, then chances are it will provide you with exactly that.

So, yes, using GPT-4 is by no-means an effortless way to plan a trip, but it is a great tool to use if you want to cut the time you spend sifting through data, that is, if you have £16.25 a month to spare.

REVIEW

EDITED BY CHRISTINA JIANG

Sex Education S4

by ALAN NEMIROVSKI When it first came out, Sex Education was revolutionary, bringing a more accurate visualisation of teenage-hood compared to similar series and films. We saw more clearly the troubles that self-discovery and acceptance entail in our contemporary sex-obsessed culture. The show unapologetically embraced sex for all it was — and the same (sort of) held true for its final season. Unfortunately, multiple fan favourites, such as Lily (Tanya Reynolds) and Ola (Patricia Allison), were absent this season, making many wonder whether the show would live up to its previous acclaim. Nonetheless, Sex Education’s final episodes were good for what they aimed to achieve: solidifying our day ones’ relationships with each other and setting them onto a clear path beyond the series’ end.

Series 3 had a bit of an awkward ending. With Moordale Secondary shutting its doors, setting the stage for a new series became difficult. At the start of series 4, we see Otis (Asa Butterfield) and Eric (Ncuti Gatwa) head to a new college — Cavendish College — with most others from Moordale. The notable exceptions, however, are Maeve (Emma Mackey), who flies to the US to study writing, and Adam (Connor Swindells), who leaves schooling behind to take up a job at a farm helping tend horses and teaching horseback riding lessons. The main characters who once stuck around together all day are now on separate paths, and despite Otis and Maeve being in a relationship and Adam crossing paths with others on occasion throughout the season, the disjointedness of various characters’ storylines became apparent. But there was no way around it — indeed, the characters had already begun forging their own paths forward from the start of the season.

Image from Netflix

Still, the disjointed storylines did not mean the messages the series was trying to communicate were useless or futile. Sex Education made a point of centering the stories of queer, trans, and disabled people throughout the season, which were often featured equally, if not more, than our OG protagonist Otis’ arc. Everyone from the previous series had a chance to shine in the spotlight and assert their own independent identities, such as Aimee (Aimee Lou Wood), Isaac (George Robinson), Jackson (Kedar Williams-Stirling), and Cal (Dua Saleh) — but new characters were also fleshed out enough that we as an audience could root for them, characters like Abbi (Anothony Lexa) and Roman (Felix Mufti). With these new characters, we also saw even more actors who actually represent these (for example, trans) characters, something which is still (sadly) sparse in media today.

It was a huge task for Sex Education to try and live up to the success of its first couple of seasons — but at the same time, no one was expecting the series to reinvent itself completely. Thankfully, the series ended on a note that makes us hopeful for the characters’ futures, even if we bid them farewell before all their ambitions are fully realised. Whilst it is definitely not the best season of the series, it was a comfortable ending and a decent place to sign off a series that has certainly left a profound mark on its viewers and changed how we view and discuss the most awkward and taboo questions in today’s society.

Bottoms (2023)

by STAFFI KUMAR

Image from MGM

With the rise of Y2K fashion, resurgence of pop-punk music, and upcoming reboots such as the Percy Jackson TV series, 2000s nostalgia is dominating popular culture. A core part of this 2000s craze is the pre-Marvel, pre-reboot, pre-biopic filmscape – how we long for the days of white-poster rom-coms and high school comedies. This is exactly where Bottoms thrives. It doesn’t try to replicate certain tropes of popular 2000s comedies and awkwardly place them in our universe.

Rather, it creates its own unique, stylish universe where classes run for ten minutes, the school is obsessed with football, and teachers approve and supervise a fight club.

Despite the creation of its own universe, Bottoms carries a distinctively 2000s air – with the typical archetypes of high school football jocks and losers who try to steal the jock’s girlfriend. Perhaps another reason the film seems so rooted in the 2000s is because it’s actually funny. The main characters, PJ (Rachel Sennott) and Josie (Ayo Edebiri), are unapologetically flawed. They lie about going to juvenile detention over the summer, kickstarting their fight club under the guise of female solidarity and empowerment against the assault of the opposing football team. In reality, PJ and Josie dismiss other members of the club, claiming they want their club to empower only the hot women and they only start to take the club seriously as a way to impress cheerleaders Brittany (Kaia Gerber) and Isabel (Havana Rose Liu).

The politics of ugly are rife in this film. The film begins with PJ and Josie noting that their outcast status isn’t because they’re lesbians, but because they’re “ugly and untalented.” Ugliness is a constant theme in the film, with Josie defending herself against the football quarterback, Jeff ’s (Nicholas Galitzine) insults – claiming she may be ugly but is not wearing dungarees. The constant references to appearance parallel the attitudes of the real world, where women are conditioned to equate their worth with their appearance. However, instead of going through the typical high school makeover, Bottoms embraces ugliness. The fight club lives up to its name – the characters strike and kick each other with precision, break bones, and bloody noses. Throughout the film we see the characters embrace their black eyes and bandages with honour, proudly wearing ugly instead of falling into the ever-consuming pursuit of beauty.

Bottoms is made for and by women – a lesbian comedy that does not shy away from flawed and horny main characters and unabashedly embraces ugliness. While the fight club began with the intention of the main characters trying to impress cheerleaders, we see how it becomes a site of female bonding and empowerment.

While this is done against a comedic backdrop, the sincerity of the fight club and the pay-off of the club’s training in the final bloody fight sequence makes Bottoms an absurdly comedic and thrilling watch. It represents young lesbians in a uniquely comedic way and does not shy away from absurdity, marking a radically new generation of comedy films.

Barbie (2023)

Oppenheimer (2023)

by ELENI ANAYIOTOU Ι went into this movie with my feminist armour on, ready to defend it against dismissive and sexist reviews. The marketing set expectations high, with its glossy and consistent visuals. Probably why I so intensely dissappointed.

To preface, Barbie was a good movie. It had relatable characters, effective world-building, and smart metatextuality. The sarcastic criticism of the lack of feminist progress in a still largely patriarchical society was felt by audiences across the globe. However, it was not ground-breaking. The dialogue often felt very unnatural, and the scenes with a moral intention left us needing more. In particular, the final scene between Barbie, and her Mother-slash-Founder, which had so much potential, felt disappointingly superficial.

Gerwig has directed some of my most loved movies, so her intimate perspectives and acute eye for detail, was what I had expected. The result was though tainted

by Mattel’s capitalist agenda. It had just enough of the capitalism-and-the-patriarchy-are-bad type of commentary to be considered critical, but not transgressive in the way we needed it to be. My fear is that now Barbie is being hailed as the Holy Feminist Bible when in fact,it really, really far from that.

Past Lives (2023)

by VANESSA HUANG

It’s the stuff of late-night contemplation – the kind of restless fixation that gnaws at you once the world goes quiet and you’re left alone with your thoughts. What if? What if I made a different choice? What if I hadn’t stayed – or what if I had never left? The overwhelm of everyday life is often enough to keep us occupied; years can slip by on autopilot. But for Past Lives’ endearing protagonist, Nora (Greta Lee), these nagging thoughts are impossible to shake – especially when someone she thought was ancient history comes barrelling back into her world, an agonising reminder of what could have been.

It feels true to writer and director Celine Song’s origins as a playwright that the film finds its structure in a triptych, beginning when Nora is still a twelve-year-old named Na-young in Seoul. She has a crush on her classmate, Hae-sung, and their parents organise a chaperoned “date” for them. But any blossoming childhood romance is cut short rather unceremoniously as Nora and her family immigrate to Canada, and coming of age coupled with assimilation draw the two apart.

That is, until Hae-sung (Teo Yoo) finds her on Facebook twelve years later and Nayoung is now twentysomething Nora. Time zones and glitching Skype calls be damned, the two fall back into a comfortable friendship. But neither of them can take their relationship any further – and their correspondence ends as abruptly as it began.

Fast forward another twelve years and Nora is a bona fide writer, living in domestic bliss with fellow writer Arthur (John Magaro), when Hae-sung tells her he’s coming to New York. Their meeting, tinged with a residual childhood awkwardness, reminds Nora of how Korean Hae-sung is – and how “so not Korean” she feels next to him. Perhaps any romance with Hae-sung plays second fiddle to a different kind of yearning, one for the young girl that had never left Seoul. When being an immigrant often means straddling two worlds and never quite feeling at one with either, Hae-sung’s presence is seemingly the closest representation of what once was home.

On a cursory viewing, Past Lives would be easy to chalk up to an imitation of Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy with its easy walk-and-talk through urban locales, or of Everything

Everywhere All At Once as a meditation

I did not want to like Oppenheimer more than Barbie, but I did. Nolan’s delicate patchwork of intimate shots of faces, the abstract atom visuals, and the historical accuracy deem this movie one of the greatest of our time. With my attention span ruined by 30-second TikToks, I am always wary of 3-hour long movies. But Nolan’s manipulation of time - the lack of linearity and the careful sequencing of scenes made Oppenheimer nothing less than gripping.

However, one thing Oppenheimer certainly does not achieve was giving justice to its female characters. They are all seen in sweeping moments, and as of tangential interest to the male characters of the film. Nonetheless, Kitty (Emily Blunt) has her breakthrough moment during the investigation, as her fierce personality shines through. Though, we would all love to see Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh) as something more than a pitiful persona.

Overall, the biopic format of the film makes us feel sympathy - or even empathy - for Oppenheimer, despite his catastrophic creation. But in that sympathy lies a very human desire; to relate to the narratives presented before us.

Want more Barbieheimer? Read the Barbieheimer commentary on our website,

by Charles Lundmann

on what-ifs and destiny through the lens of immigration. And yet it’s hardly deferential to its thematic predecessors – Song’s writerly instincts tend towards spareness and silence, and evoke a spellbinding constellation of emotions within a threadbare plot. Equally astonishing is how undeniably cinematic the film is, coming from a first-time filmmaker without even a short film under her belt – a testament to the dreamy city-as-character shots from cinematographer Shabier Kirchner. Lee and Yoo fill these frames with wordless longing, the tiniest of microexpressions betraying an unspeakable melancholy, just as the light-footed score from Christopher Bear and Daniel Rossen swells with the aches and tugs of a love story that transcends distance and time.

Past Lives is the type of film to yank you out of the tedium, a profound emotional excavation awakening feelings that have perhaps long laid dormant in our world-weary souls. As a romance, it’s grand and epic in its modesty, speaking to the universal through the specific by mining Song’s own memories of meeting again with her childhood sweetheart and illuminating them in gorgeously rendered technicolour.

In their ruminations on soulmates, Nora and Hae-sung each invoke the Korean belief in “in-yun,” where ships passing in the night aren’t just so – every interaction is a minor miracle, a sign of intertwining destinies stretching across the chain of all our past lives. Shrugged off in youth, it’s the kind of thing we gradually cling to as a salve for the pains of rootlessness.

And this might just be the allure of religion – even for the sceptics. Maybe it’s easier to live through the chaos when you’re armed with the reassurance that wherever you are is where you were meant to be.

The rest of us have to make peace with the fact that living a life of endless possibilities means something of a bittersweet resignation – mourning not just the people that we left behind, but also the versions of ourselves that never came to fruition. “When you leave something behind, you gain something too,” says Nora’s mother of their family’s move to Canada. And onwards we must go.

HARE KRISHNA: Food for Love

interview by SANA AGARWAL photography by BEN CHEN

Every day, as the afternoon rolls in, many of us queue in front of the Hare Krishna cart for a steaming hot plate of healthy vegetarian food. The perfect rescue from our rushed mornings, skipped meals, and crumbling bank accounts, and a delightful escape from London’s rocketing food prices. It is safe to say that most students at LSE have had Hare Krishna food at least once.

W

e have all had our bellies full and hearts grateful for the kindness and dedication of the volunteers and the organisation. Thus, for my first Flipside interview of the year, I decided to interview the Hare Krishna volunteers: Volodymyr Ferhardt who serves food at LSE, Ibragim Dimesinov who often serves at SOAS, and their manager Peter O’Grady. The interview took place at their Euston Foodbank where every morning they prepare food for thousands.

The Hare Krishna movement, also known as the International Society of Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), was started in 1974 by Srila Prabhupada. Despite being a religious organisation the philosophy to this day remains the same – to serve the needy. It is the world’s largest vegetarian food distribution program serving millions of meals daily and has grown to include 300 temples, 40 rural communities, and 80 restaurants in 71 countries. In London specifically, Food for Life in London affiliated with the FL global charity is an initiative from London’s Radha-Krishna Temple, and has been feeding hot vegetarian meals to the homeless in Central London since 1994.

As I walked into the Euston Foodbank, I was quickly enwrapped by the positivity of the place and the friendliness of the volunteers. We sat outside on a little bench on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Volodymyr and Ibragim started by telling me a little bit about themselves: Ibragim first explained that he joined the organisation a few months ago. He came to London after quitting his job. “I am originally from Kazakhstan. I was studying in Moscow, and recently, I was working with the Kazakh government as the chief expert in data analysis in the Department of Culture and Sports.

I loved my job, but I wanted to do more than just my job – [I wanted] to help people.” Explaining the move to London, he expressed he has “been involved in Hare Krishna since my childhood; my parents started volunteering in 1996, after reading the Bhagavad Gita.” He further explained his motivations as not just religious, but dually cultural: “In our Kazakh culture, the general motto is that it is better to give than to receive, to share food and spread a positive mood with people. It makes us truly happy.” He further emphasised the importance of the work the organisation does and the need for it in today’s world with increasing poverty and homelessness. “22% of Great Britain is in need of financial support. Food will not solve the problem, but it helps!”

Similarly, Volodymyr exclaimed that he too, after reading the Bhagavad Gita, was inspired to join the organisation. “I am originally from Ukraine.

I was born in Kyiv, [and] I came across the book when I was searching for some higher knowledge about life. I wanted to understand the consciousness of the soul, and I found it to be very logical and scientific.” He lived as a monk in a temple in Denmark for a few years and eventually decided to move to London about a year ago. “It’s nice here because there is a Hare Krishna community

along our temple in Watford,” to which Ibragim the swimming pool. Oh, and [with] the rockets added, “Yes, and my goal is to initiate one in my are flying overhead.’’ home country Kazakhstan too.”

Peter then took me to his food delivery van, showing me bullet holes that pierced through it.

As we were talking, a rather gleeful man walked He exclaimed, “See the holes come here and they in, greeting me with a big smile – their manager go to the ceiling there, it was at night and I was Peter O’Grady, a lovely Irish man in his 60s who in the bunker.” To this, I asked, “What gives you has been a volunteer for 41 years. He kindly sat the courage to step into such a vulnerable situadown on the bench with us, delighted to join the tion?” Peter answers in a jiffy, “Once you [have] conversation. The three of them went on to ex- all these children queuing up, once my commuplain, “For us, and many of the volunteers, the nity and my friends are there, I have to be there. centre of our work is not our religious beliefs, Everything in life is risky, you never know what but the desire and philosophy to help people. We will happen, so why not take risks for a reason.” have volunteers from every background – Christians, Muslims and agnostics, but we are all alike I inquired, “Why university campuses?”, curiin our belief to serve others.” ous to understand the contrast between LSE and war-torn places. “You may have so many dreams “And then, of course, there are the bankers from at the LSE of what you’re going to do with your Goldman Sachs, Barclays, who come to chop the wealth, and how you’re going to make your busiveggies in the morning to wash off their sins, you ness. But in one second, it can all be changed. know,” Peter wittily remarked, making the room Nobody expected their material dreams [could] giggle. be shattered as Putin [sent] his soldiers across the border,” Peter said, emphasising the need to When I asked Peter about his journey as a vol- recognise our money-oriented mindset, to ponunteer, he said: “Well, I started off at a restaurant der on what’s beyond – rooted in his experiences in 1989, which closed at eight o’clock at night, over the years. The trio went on to express how and we would take all the old food. We’d mix it universities these days are focused on teaching all up – the samosas and the pizzas, throw it in people how to make money, and students are there and it tasted very nice.” He smirked. ‘Super- simply viewed as human resources. “And then markets throw so much food away. So we collect there is us in the middle of that, distributing free more and more food, and redistribute it to people, food,” Volodymyr smirked. “It’s confusing, right? and that really is what the original philosophy is Isn’t it?” about,’ signalling to the founder of ISKCON Swami Prabhupada and his famous words, “Nobody As we reached the end of the interview, I asked: should go hungry within 10 miles of a temple.”

“What impact do you want to leave on the students you serve every day?” Peter, a man who As our conversation progressed, the trio empha- has been volunteering for almost his entire life, sised the environmental impact of the organisa- thought to himself for a brief moment and contion and their work – that “it’s not just a handout. fessed: “Students should know that real wealth This is [also] an environmental initiative. [We is not measured in money, but measured in a live in] a consumer society; we make stuff, and we substance that you cannot steal. It’s a real quality chuck it. This food has been diverted from land- life. It’s not on the debit cards. Because the peofills. We take them [and] we use them straight ple in the city of London, they’re so poor that all away instead of polluting the environment. So they’ve got is money. But real wealth is measured this is a delicious way to protect the environ- in the things that you cannot have stolen away ment; [it’s a] good solution.” Peter smiled wide- from you.” As his words settled in the room, I felt ly, rubbing his stomach to mimic a full belly. He lucky to witness this profound glimpse of faith, adds, “We don’t work with a menu; we make the of humanity. most of what we go. We take all this food that’s been thrown away by the companies and reuse Peter and his team then showed me around the it, especially the Walkers Crisps.” Peter laughed food bank, taking us through the kitchen, showin a heart-warming manner as he handed us all a ing me the storage areas, the huge pots that can packet and insisted we indulge. cook for 5,000 people, and their compost area around which they were making flower beds. As The trio went on to tell me about the various Peter explained every element to us, one thing places Hare Krishna is present and the reach of was clear: his devotion to serving others, to makthe organisation – Ukraine, Morocco, Turkey, ing this world better one belly at a time.

Syria, and more. “We had a team last week in Morocco, distributing food in Casablanca after the When asked for a final remark, the team exearthquake hit, [and] thousands of people lost pressed, “What’s lacking in the world is a bit of their home, their everything.” He proceeded to love. So this food is cooked with love by volunshow me pictures. He further expressed, “I was teers and is given with love to students. And then in Kherson, Ukraine a couple of months ago and we hope that love will echo within the people.” a man had just finished building his house with a So, go grab yourself a plate of love from our specswimming pool. Then the war happened. All his tre of humanity and hope on campus, our very plans are finished. And he gave us the keys and own little magic against the backdrop of this chatold us to cook in this place. So we cooked inside otic and sometimes selfish world.

ISSUE 927

AUTUMN TERM WEEK 2

REVIEW

PART B

SOCIAL

SPORT

Barbenheimer

Brown

AI plans my next holiday

The Matildas

HARE KRISHNA humanity & food