The Beaver - #914 by The Beaver

Issue 914 | MT Week 6

Newspaper of the LSE Students’ Union: Making Sense of LSE Since 1949

LSE fails to put the ‘History’ in Black History Month Scan to read and listen to The Beaver. Online.

pear to only emphasise themes such as the transatlantic slave trade and Black history in relation to Western imperialism. Consequently, precolonial, regional, and postcolonial African histories remain virtually unexplored.

OPINION The paradox of Black excellence

A first-year history student sums up the above argument: “[The department] covers[s] everything from early modern European states to world war history... But how about learning more of the multicultural history Africa has to share outside of colonialism?”

the tip, will retain certain elements of Other students have pointed out the its predecessor but will ultimately foBlack history narratives offered by cus on transnational networks. This is modules such as HY333 and HY246 * Continued on page 2 are largely insufficient as they ap-

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Such developments beg the question: According to the LSE Department of Where is the Black history at LSE? International History website, only 3 out of 29 permanent faculty mem- According to a faculty member at the bers mention Africa in their research Department of International History, interests, with one of the three being as part of an anonymous interview, on sabbatical leave for this academic the School is “long overdue for apyear. None of the current teaching fel- pointments on the history of Africa”. lows or visiting staff in the department The high student demand for Black state Africa as a research interest. and African history is evidenced by choices of dissertation topics and By contrast, other British universities the popularity of the limited numare taking proactive steps to incorpo- ber of Black history modules, but the rate Black history into their curricu- supply remains far from sufficient. lums. Earlier this year, the University of Cambridge appointed Dr Michael Out of the 36 undergraduate modJoseph as its first lecturer in Black ules offered by the Department, only British history. Dr Joseph specialises two explicitly address Black history: Enslavement, Comin the history of the British and French HY333 merce, and Political FormaCaribbean and will expand the university’s teaching of “Caribbean history, tions in West Africa, c. 1550-1836 HY246 The Global Caribbean: Colonial-

ism, Race and Revolutions 1780s-1980s It is notable that both of the above modules compress more than 200 years of Black history into single courses. By contrast, many of the other European history modules offered by the Whilst these modules may not directly department revolve around histori- address Black history, they do emphacal periods of between 5 and 50 years. sise African and Asian narratives. Another first-year history student pointed A third-year student taking HY333 this out that, despite the “noticeable lack of year said that, while it is “refreshing” to explicitly non-European modules”, modfinally be able to do a module focused ules such as HY113 have been particuon Black history, it is a “shame” that larly useful in providing a counterweight she had to wait until her final year to to the Eurocentrism in the department. delve into it. She argues the need for The student further explained that ala more diverse range of history mod- though HY113 covers the same period ules to avoid mischaracterising Black as HY116 (“International Politics since and African history as a “monolith”: 1914: Peace and War”), it employs an “extra-European perspective” with an em“Even calling it ‘African history’ is kind phasis on African and Asian narratives, of problematic, in my opinion, since Af- thereby offering a multidimensional rica is huge and its history is so exten- representation of the twentieth century. sive. Whilst I appreciate the opportunity to be able to [study African history], However, The Beaver has received a tip more needs to be done to ensure that Af- about the history department being in rican history gets the same representa- talks of potentially replacing the HY113 tion and dedication as other courses.” module. The new module, according to

NEWS ‘Drink spiking epidemic’ prompts nightclub boycotts nationwide

espite attempts over recent years to address Eurocentrism in LSE’s curriculum, the School’s undergraduate offerings on Black and African history remain limited.

black British history, and the history of the black diaspora more broadly”. Professor Alex Walsham, Chair of the Faculty of History at Cambridge, said in an article, “His appointment advances our commitment to renewing and broadening our curriculum and to widening participation in our undergraduate and postgraduate degrees.”

It is important to note that the department does offer other modules that don’t explicitly revolve around Black history but which still address aspects of it. These include: HY113 From Empire to Independence: The Extra-European World in the Twentieth Century HY240 From Empire to Commonwealth: war, race and imperialism in British History, 1780 to the present day

INSIDE TODAY +

Aarti Malhotra News Editor Illustrated by Lea Pelleteret

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The solution, according to the student, lies in “decolonising” the curriculum, which is about “being more accurate, inclusive and interculturally responsive” and hence addressing both sides of the story.

Meet the team Executive Editor Angbeen Abbas executive.beaver@lsesu.org Managing Editor Gustav Brincat managing.beaver@lsesu.org Flipside Editor Beatriz Silva editor.flipside@lsesu.org

www.thebeaverlse.co.uk

LSE fails to put the 'History' in Black History Month Continued from page 1 hugely consequential as it would omit the single-country analysis of various Asian and African countries. For instance, the Rwandan Genocide, one of the most popular topics covered by the module, will likely be disregarded.

It should be acknowledged, however, that LSE’s history department is relatively small and therefore does not have the same number of faculty members at its disposMultimedia Editor al as other larger UK universities. Nonetheless the diversity in its Vaneeza Jawad multimedia.beaver@lsesu.org module offerings remains minimal. Beaver Editor Jocelyn Tsang editor.beaver@lsesu.org

News Editor Aarti Malhotra Opinion Editor Edouard Chardot Features Editors Bora Bayram Jack Beeching Part B Editor Ambre Pluta Sport Editor Matt Sudlow Social Editor Alina Chen Review Editor Inayah Inam photos by Jack Love

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

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According to the 2018 Student Equality and Diversity Data, more than 44 percent of LSE’s student body identifies with a non-white ethnicity, hence raising questions

ne night, I was leafing through some old copies of The Beaver as I was getting ready for bed (welcome to my exciting nightlife), and came across the Black History Month issue of the paper from 2018. Going through the pages, I noticed the striking overlap between that issue and this one you are holding in your hand. Not enough Black history modules. Interviews with the ACS about being Black at LSE. Even the interview questions seemed similar. I could not help but feel slightly discouraged at this. Three years on, and these things are still issues on campus. Is Black History Month no more than a rotating carousel of the same topics year on year? But on a personal level, I know this isn’t true. The role I’ve been able to play in curating and editing the pieces for this issue has taught me a little more about the experiences and struggles that Black people face. I found it most humbling and touching to read personal experiences, most notably a contribution from one of my first friends at LSE. It was sobering to learn that they had gone through so much, and in the two years of friendship there was such a big part of them that I didn’t know of or understand. None of us are perfect allies – we just can’t be. Many of us don’t have the time and energy to read about the history of the Black tax, to follow everything about the Black Lives Matter movement as it develops. We are already so busy that we forget things like our friends’ birthdays and cleaning our desk and calling our parents – of course we are going to fail at remembering the legacy of Black history in this country in the way it deserves. Some of us simply don’t have the context to empathise with the struggles of our Black friends. Many on campus are internationals who are from racially homogeneous societies, where issues of identity politics are few and far between. But this is why we need Black History Month. It is an opportunity to break out of the little bubble of our academic lives – to reflect on the in-

Have something to say? For comments, insight, or just plain beef, email letters.beaver@lsesu.org

about the need for the School’s academic offerings to be representative of the student body.

Read us for reading week

A first-year history student said, “I wanted to feel included in the past and feel a sense of belonging by hearing the voices of people I share an identity with. LSE has a notorious reputa- Angbeen Abbas tion for its diversity and so why can’t Executive Editor they do the same for their courses?” appy reading week everyProfessor Nicholas Ludlow, Head one! Publishing during of the Department of Internaweek 6 is a little unusual tional History, was not imme- for us, but we know most of you diately available for comment. are going to be on campus and at the library anyways, watching lectures at 2x speed and trying to wrangle extensions from your department. You can find us just about anywhere on campus, and in halls of residence.

Black history beyond the month Jocelyn Tsang Beaver Editor

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

justices that have been done, and understand our friends a little better as people. Human beings are naturally drawn towards those they are similar to. As London becomes ever more diverse and grapples with what this melting pot of culture looks like, the only way we can thrive in this diversity is to familiarise ourselves with the unfamiliar. Even though our printing schedule did not allow us to have this issue in time for October, we still seek to honour the Black story in many of our articles, both looking at the work that has been done and individual experiences at LSE. My hope is that every year, no matter the topics covered, Black History Month will teach you something new about the Black story, and open up conversations with your friends that you would not have had before. That we will know the right questions to ask, and that our friends can be liberated to share a little more about themselves, feeling secure in the fact that we know the crucial role that their background has played in shaping their personalities and experiences. Sharing your story so openly and to many can be an emotional and heavy burden to carry, especially year after year, and we are grateful to our contributors for their generosity and openness in this issue. Not because they are obligated to educate the rest of society, but because we always remember stories better than cold, hard facts, especially those from people we love, and it is the best way for us to understand each other. The least we can do is to listen, humbly and emphatically, so that we can love the people around us a little better, no matter how different or similar to you they are. I’m listening, too.

In our last print issue, we had a major error worth issuing a correction for: a quarter of our cover story was missing from the rest of the newspaper. We had to take the L because we had already sent it to the printers, but thankfully, our Features Editor (and writer of the piece) took it quite well. We know probably none of you read much beyond the first sentence, so no harm no foul, really. You can find the full version on our website. The Beaver has been dedicating an issue to Black History Month for only the past few years, which is reflective of student journalism and LSE generally. Writing about the lack of diversity in journalism has been done to death, and I can’t help rolling my eyes sometimes when it’s followed by no concrete steps to actually address it. As one of the three or so women of colour that have been elected as Executive Editor, I'm grateful to have a team that's a lot more diverse than what we're used to at The Beaver. That said, there is so much more

to be done in terms of centring Black voices at LSE. We hope that this issue can contribute to the conversation meaningfully, and that Black students across campus know that we're a home for them too. But I'm also conscious of the fact that these pieces have been edited by a non-Black editorial board, and an executive that is the same. To not acknowledge our limitations in this issue would be a disservice to a community that is supposed to hold us accountable. In this issue, we’ve done our best to bring back the focus to Black perspectives, stories, and art. Some noteworthy pieces: Abigail Williams’ wonderful piece on the pressure of performing Black excellence, our cover story on LSE’s lacklustre focus on African and Black history, and our coverage of Black History Month events across campus. Don’t forget to catch our Flipside cover story featuring ACS, as well as pieces on AU diversity, Basquiat, and photography from Black Lives Matter protests. Black students: think our coverage of Black History Month is shit? Have any ideas about how we can be more inclusive of your work? Drop me an email, pop into the Media Centre on the second floor of the Saw Swee Hock building, come to a staff meeting or writing workshop. I'm excited to get to hear from you.

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NEWS

News Editor Aarti Malhotra

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‘Drink spiking epidemic’ prompts nightclub boycotts nationwide Aarti Malhotra News Editor Illustrated by Charlie To

he recent “drink spiking epidemic” in nightclubs across the country has prompted an uproar at many universities, with students demanding better security measures at nightclubs. The recent backlash started after multiple women reported being spiked with needles at clubs in Exeter and other university towns. For instance, University of Nottingham student Zara Owen reported blacking out at a Nottinghamshire club after allegedly being pricked in the leg with a needle. According to a Freedom of Information Act request, investigations of drink spiking in England and Wales have more than doubled in three years, with an estimated 25 reports every week. An independent investigation led by the BBC reported 2,650 drink spik-

The LSE Athletics Union (AU) has called for a boycott of the Wednesday sports night at the Zoo Bar and Club on 27 October. In an email to the AU Clubs committee members AU President Patrick Claxton said, “This is a great chance to start discussions about recent Additionally, a parliamentary pe- events and how we as a Union tition calling for comprehensive can help to shape the response.” security checks at nightclubs has been created, gaining more than However, even with augment150,000 signatures. The UK Parlia- ed security at clubs, the threat of ment is set to debate the matter in spiking at house parties and unithe coming weeks. Home Secretary versity halls persists. According Priti Patel has also urged police to a survey conducted by Amerchiefs to investigate drink spiking ican Addiction Centers, approxby needles to gauge the scale of the imately half of victims reported issue. Clubs in Leeds have respond- being spiked at house parties, ed to the boycotts by announcing whereas less than 13 percent reenhanced security checks and ported being spiked at clubs. the provision of drink covers. For instance, a student who lived at University students across the na- LSE’s Carr-Saunders Hall last year tion have responded by calling for suspects being spiked during a nightclub boycotts on multiple gathering in her room. According dates throughout October and No- to her, many strangers ended up vember to bring further attention joining the small gathering, where to the issue and protest the acqui- she passed out after only one drink. escence of the clubbing industry. The next day, after periodically ing incidents in England and Wales between 2015 and 2019 Women have alleged that club staff and bouncers have been unhelpful during spiking incidents, often mistaking date-rape drug symptoms for inebriation.

Marshall Building expected to open in January 2022 Stan Masters Staff Writer

According to the School’s website, the building was designed by Dublin-based Grafton Architects after a competition was held to decide on the design. LSE appointed the Mace Group as the principal contractor in December 2018 to complete the building work. Mace began construction in early 2019, with the original site having been demolished in the previous year. LSE purchased the site previously occupied by Cancer Research via competitive bidding, according to data obtained by the LSE Media Relations Team. The School began to prepare the project in 2015 and planning permission was granted by Westminster City Council in June 2017.

vomiting throughout the day and suffering from heart palpitations, she started questioning whether she may have been spiked. She said, “I’ve become so paranoid about drinking ever since. The scariest part is that it happened in my own room.” The LSE Students’ Union has instituted mandatory “Consent.Ed” training workshops for all students this year. Hannah Brown, one of

An LSE spokesperson also issued a statement on the issue, encouraging students to reach out for help as needed: “Drinks spiking is a serious crime and if you suspect it has happened to you, you should report it to the police as soon as possible. In addition, you can access LSE safe contacts for support. These trained members of LSE staff can confidentially signpost you to the help available at the School.” Students can access LSE safe contacts on the school website.

Spotty attendance at SU election question time Sofia Lammali Staff Writer

ith polls for the LSE Students’ Union Michaelmas Term elections due to open on Monday 25 October, the LSESU held two “question time” sessions on Wednesday and Thursday. There were no more than five attendees on the SU’s Facebook livestream on either day.

he Marshall Building, which has been in construction since 2017, will be opened to students this coming January for the start of Lent Term 2022. This will follow a handover of the building from the main contractor, the fitting-out of the building with the required facilities, and the running of test events.

the workshop facilitators, believes the campaign has a lot to offer in addressing drink spiking. She said Consent.Ed’s emphasis on “bystander intervention” teaches students to “look out for one another and intervene when necessary” during such incidents. The LSESU Women’s Officer Sibylle Xatart also pointed to the HandsOff campaign led by the SU to tackle such issues around safety.

In an email statement, an LSE spokesperson said that the Marshall Building cost LSE £145 million, including statutory and professional fees. In comparison, the recently finished Centre Building, completed in June 2019, cost £125 million. However, the LSE spokesperson explained that the Marshall Building is the bigger of the two buildings and that the cost per square metre of the Marshall Building is “similar to the Centre Building”. The Marshall Building will bring together three academic departments and three research centres that are currently located in five separate locations. Departments housed in the building will include the Department of Management, the Department of Accounting, and the Department of Finance, while

the research centres housed include the Financial Markets Group and the Systemic Risk Centre. The building will also provide additional teaching and social learning space and give extra-curricular space for students including a new sports hall, squash courts, a dynamic weights room and an arts rehearsal area. The Marshall Building is one of a number of major development projects undertaken by LSE in recent years, whose infrastructure has one of the “highest utilisation rates” in the tertiary education sector, the LSE spokesperson said.

The Wednesday session was held exclusively online, with SU candidates and moderators speaking over Zoom. There was only one candidate running for the Democracy Committee and Postgraduate Research Students’ Officer respectively, both of whom attended the event. By contrast, 15 candidates ran for Postgraduate Students’ Officer, 10 of whom were in attendance. It is the only paid part-time sabbatical officer position up for grabs and is the most contested position this election. Almost all candidates spoke of creating opportunities for networking with postgraduates across departments, while a few mentioned the importance of career support and suggested the SU should put a stronger emphasis on supporting postgraduate students.

The Thursday session, which was held in-person at the SU, hosted candidates running for Athletics Union Engagement Officer, Mature and Part-Time Students’ Officer, Anti-Racism Officer, International Students’ Officer, and Members of the Academic Board. Out of the 13 candidates who were slamated to speak at the event, 5 were in attendance. The candidates running for Anti-Racism Officer emphasised policies to encourage LSE students’ political involvement, proposing that a newsletter on social movements be circulated once every two weeks and that LSE openly support social movements, including on Palestine. Out of the 17 positions up for election, 11 positions are either uncontested or have no candidates.

4 News

LSESU Amnesty, Women in Politics attend rally protesting new Nationality and Borders Bill

Aarti Malhotra News Editor Photo by LSESU Amnesty International Society

and remove people with “no right” to be in the country. The bill passed its second reading and is awaiting the Public Bill Committee’s report to the House in early November.

n 20 October, a group of students from the LSESU Amnesty International and Women in Politics societies attended the Refugees Welcome rally at Parliament Square. They were among the hundreds protesting the new Nationality and Borders Bill, backed by Home Secretary Priti Patel.

The government further explained that in 2019, UK asylum applications increased by 21 percent, with the asylum system now costing over £1 billion a year. More than 16,000 people entered the UK illegally in 2020. Consequently, the government estimates that there are now over 10,000 foreign national offenders in the UK “posing a risk to the public”.

An LSE student who attended the rally said that the highlight was the speakers, who provided insight into their experiences with the asylum system as refugees. The student encouraged peers to read more about the Nationality and Borders Bill and “fight against it while standing in solidarity with everyone who has had to experience the asylum system”.

The new bill has been met with massive national and international backlash. In a submission to the Public Bill Committee, Amnesty International called the government’s case for the bill “profoundly flawed”.

According to the UK Home Office website, the bill has three primary objectives: “deter illegal entry” into the UK, make the asylum system “fairer and more effective”,

Rossella Pagliuchi-Lor, the UK Representative for the UNHCR, stated in an article: “This bill would create a discriminatory two-tier asylum system violating the 1951 Refugee Convention and target bona fide refugees. The right to seek asylum is universal and doesn’t depend on the mode of arrival. Under the Refugee Convention, states must grant asy-

lum seekers access to their territory and refugees access to their rights.”

The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) also criticised the bill on the grounds that it would “unfairly punish many refugees”. The criticism towards the bill is further exacerbated by the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan in August this year, which has subsequently led to tens of thousands of Afghans fleeing the nation and attempting to seek asylum in nations like the United Kingdom. The LSESU Conservative Society also issued a statement on the new bill. While the society acknowledges the right of people to engage in protests against the bill, it claims that the bill “contains provisions which will enable more efficient processing of applications, as well as greater support for those who are granted asylum, enabling them to become integrated members of society”. Hence, the society states that “it would be misleading to construe the bill as ‘anti-refugee’”.

Lack of module space leaves postgrads disappointed Amaya Fernandez Staff Writer

substantial number of MSc students at LSE have been unable to take their desired modules. This is due to the over-subscription of MSc programmes, as offer-holders from last year have taken up offers to study in the current academic year. When the course selection period started during Welcome Week, many MSc students were concerned that they were still waiting to be accepted onto the modules of their choice despite nearing the start of teaching. Other MSc students were disappointed and surprised to be rejected from courses with only two to three choices. For example, many students on the MSc Gender, Policy and Inequalities programme could not get into the course “Ethnicity and Race in Social Policy”. This issue was compounded by the fact that students’ academic mentors were allocated after the opening of course selection. A student from the Department of Gender Studies said, “I required some guidance for choosing my optional modules but we were not assigned academic mentors

at the time. Later, when I talked to my mentor and shared my academic interests, the course that she suggested that I opt for was already full.” The week left students disappointed with LSE’s lack of organisation and professionalism. One MSc Student from the Department of Gender Studies was disappointed about being rejected from a course they felt was necessary to pursue a PhD in the future. Another student said, “I was just shocked that one of the most esteemed and wealthy universities in the world was having issues with understaffing and technology, and it felt very disillusioning after travelling so far and saving so much to be here”. In an email from the Department of Gender Studies, the department expressed that LSE had expected fewer students to attend the university in autumn. The email stated, “Based on the number of offers we made, LSE’s prediction was that we should make teaching provisions for 120 students. However, this year, we have 150 new students and 10 second-year parttime students. The pandemic and its effects seem to have led more people to take up offers than would otherwise be the case, and the novelty of the situation made it difficult to forecast what would happen.” The department also stated that they

had to quickly make extra places for a few highly demanded modules to accommodate the unexpectedly high number of MSc students. For one of the compulsory modules for all MSc students in the Department of Gender Studies, the department had to find new seminar leaders to address the “shortage of seminar groups”. An LSE spokesperson commented: “We are not aware of students being unable to enrol on courses that are

compulsory for their programme. However, we know that students are sometimes unable to enrol on optional courses that are listed under the regulations for their programmes. This can be for a host of reasons, including the capped or limited places available. We know how disappointing this can be to students, which is why we have a School-wide project underway to improve the sys-

tems and processes that underpin course selection. Through that project we will ensure that access to all LSE’s academic programmes through course selection and timetabling is fair, consistent and reliable. We are working closely with the Students’ Union on how best to inform and engage students as this work progresses.”

Two consecutive thefts at Passfield; action yet to be taken Jocelyn Tsang Beaver Editor

nor was there a hall-wide email circulated about the situation.

Three days later, on 25 September, a similar episode happened to her roommate *Nadia. When Mary and Nadia returned to their shared room at night, they discovered Nadia’s pouch of money kept in her drawer was missing. Mary said, “Between those two days, Nadia and I were extra vigilant in making sure the door was locked every time we went out.” Nadia also subsequently filed a police report.

wo residents of Passfield Hall had identification documents and £430 in cash stolen within three days in the last week of September. Police suspect that the culprit is someone residing in the hall. *Mary had her wallet stolen on 22 September, during the hour in which she and her roommate had gone out for dinner. She said, “My wallet, which was inside my backpack on the floor, was missing. Everything else in the room was left intact.” She also lost her biometric residence permit (BRP) and identification cards from her home country. “I filed a police report that night. I also wanted to meet the warden to speak to her about it, but I wasn’t allowed to. So I spoke to the subwarden, who said he would email everyone with a picture of my wallet asking them to return it,” Mary said. The Beaver understands that not everyone on Mary’s floor received the email,

The police linked Nadia and Mary’s cases, and sent a policewoman in to carry out a forensics check on their room door and window sill. “We were told that the thief manipulated the keycard lock to get in. They took fingerprints, but they weren’t deep enough to be able to identify the person. So the case was closed,” Mary said. All of Passfield Hall’s doors are locked by an electronic keycard. Mary said, “I asked the security and subwarden if I could see any security camera footage, but there were no cameras on my floor, nor on any floors of the accommodation.”

More than a month later, *Debbie, a close friend of Mary, received an email from the warden informing her that her keycard had been used three times on Mary’s door without success on 22 September, according to security computer records. That day, she was out with Mary. The day after Debbie received the email, she was unable to unlock her room with her keycard. Debbie said, “I went down to reception to sort it out, and it was then that I found out that there was a duplicate of my keycard in the hall.” The Beaver understands that one-off key cards can be given to Passfield residents when they get locked out of their room. Due to the security record of Debbie’s card being used to enter Mary’s room, reception had cancelled both keycards and Debbie had to get a new one. Mary was left to deal with the aftermath of her stolen possessions. “There are no insurance schemes which cover theft. The BRP was expensive to replace, but the worst thing really was losing my home country’s identification documents, because I can only replace

them in person when I return.” Debbie is disappointed with how the incident has been handled. “No one was told that Mary’s room was stolen from. Encouraging people to be vigilant would have been really helpful. With my keycard there has also been no followup on why it occurred and how to stop it from happening again.” The sentiment was echoed by Mary. “Even though two consecutive thefts happened, nothing has been done to increase security and that’s a scary situation.” Mary and Nadia remain concerned about the situation. “We did not feel safe in our room, so we started hiding our money. That person could still have room access, and that’s really scary because we are both girls. We are still very, very scared.” An LSE spokesperson said: “A relatively small amount of money was reported stolen from a student’s room in Passfield Hall. A police report was submitted, and Residences are doing everything they can to investigate the incident and support the student.

ed to live in such conditions for the amount of rent we are paying.”

However, this problem is not new according to a student who lived at the accommodation during the previous academic year. The student, who was a resident at Sidney Webb from 2019 to 2021, claims that this was a persistent issue during her time there. “In my second year there, I definitely saw more silverfish, mainly just in the bathroom as the floors are poorly laid. I found some behind my bed and the sink in the kitchen on my floor at one point.”

tudents residing at Sidney Webb House, a privately-managed LSE hall of residence, claim that at least two blocks in the residence are infested with silverfish. In an article published by The UCL Tab, LSE students reported that at least two blocks of the hall have infestations, with hall management encouraging students to “kill them yourselves”. Speaking to The Beaver, students described the management as “not taking much action”, with claims that there have been complaints from four out of six blocks in the accommodation. Dylan Ball, a current first-year student living at the residence, reported finding silverfish in the kitchen sink in his block. “My flatmates have found some in their cupboards and rooms as well. Management, despite several complaints, don’t seem to be taking much action. There has not been any residence-wide correspondence, even though this is an issue all over the accommodation. I would’ve thought that they would at least inform us about how they are dealing with the situation, considering it is not localised. I should not be expect-

“We encourage students to report any incidents of crime to the police. If an incident has taken place within or immediately outside a hall of residence, they should also report this to the hall reception team, so that it can be investigated. “Students should also contact their warden teams if they have been a victim of crime and need wellbeing support.”

*Names have been changed to grant the victims anonymity.

“In my first year, my room had mould, and in the second year my room had broken locks. Considering there wasn’t any sense of urgency regarding those, I didn’t feel as though they would take my complaints about the silverfish seriously.” An LSE spokesperson offered the following comment: “Unite Students are responsible for providing maintenance and facilities services in Sidney Webb House. Any students experiencing issues at the halls are encouraged to report these to the reception team, where they are dealt with according to the Unite Students fault

resolution procedures. LSE takes all student welfare issues seriously and is liaising with Unite Students to ensure that this issue is dealt with appropriately.” A Unite Students spokesperson commented: “We are aware of a very small

“The digital room locks have been checked and there was no sign of forced entry or unusual activity. Although it is not clear what has happened in this case, students are reminded to be vigilant about locking their doors.

Students claim silverfish ‘infestation’ at Sidney Webb House Angbeen Abbas Executive Editor

News

number of students reporting sightings of silverfish. Pest control has carried out multiple checks in response and has found no evidence of any silverfish. Student welfare is our primary concern and we urge any student who has a maintenance requirement to log it using their MyUnite app.”

FEATURES

Features Editors Bora Bayram Jack Beeching features.beaver@lsesu.org

What makes a conservative? Right wing politics at LSE Sachin Jhangiani Staff Writer

y first impression of Oliver Paterson, President of the Hayek Society, is that he’s a guarded person. He’s accompanied for this interview by the Secretary of the society, Mike Salem. Oliver clearly understands the power that a specific choice of words has – when I ask him what it’s like to be a conservative at LSE, he’s quick to point out that he’s a libertarian, not a conservative. (It is, however, slightly confusing when he refers to himself as a conservative at points throughout our interview.) Mike, rather smartly dressed in a suit with a trimmed moustache and twoday stubble, is actually there to make sure Oliver doesn’t say the wrong things, he says. I get the sense he’s only half-joking. The Hayek Society, according to its website, has four core values – liberty, individualism, capitalism, and progress. Oliver knows exactly what most people on the left tend to associate libertarians and conservatives with: anti-vaxxers, QAnon, Islamophobia and homophobia. He’s quick to distance himself from these controversies. “I believe in vaccines, I’m double vaccinated myself ”, he says, while also emphasising how the Hayek Society is in favour of LGBTQ+ and minority rights. The apparent contradictions seen in these statements and values by many on the left lead to some questions. Recent research and literature has argued that capitalism (and Western capitalism in particular) is built on colonialism and slavery, two notions contrary to liberty, individualism and progress. Given this history, doesn’t modern day capitalism leave behind these people who have been historically discriminated against? Shouldn’t the state intervene to take care of these people and others who suffer under capitalism’s flaws? Oliver’s responses mirror those of a politician. He sticks to his talking points, highlighting that the “greatest liberator of the people is the free market”. It’s as though he’s had these sorts of conversations several times before and doesn’t even need a moment to consider his responses. He says that the mercantilist

policies of the past which gave us colonialism and slavery “have nothing to do with capitalism”, and were fundamentally opposed to the capitalist ideas of consent and the no-harm principle. He acknowledges that capitalism has flaws, but believes the free market should be allowed to correct these flaws. Several of these flaws arise in relation to the state, he argues. “In 1950s America, you had the state barring minority ethnic individuals from purchasing homes”, he says, pointing out that slavery “was permitted by the state and in some cases, you could argue, encouraged by the state” (somewhat ignoring the fact that these policies had to have public support to be followed and that the state was not solely responsible for slavery). “There are always going to be inequities that arise whenever the state takes action”, he says. On further questioning, he acknowledges that the state isn’t to blame for all issues. “I completely believe in welfare payments for individuals when they are unable to work”, he says. He also emphasises the role that private charity should play in helping those who fall through the gaps of the free market, but doesn’t articulate what incentive a billionaire has

to help the rest of us normal folk. Before our interview ends, I bring up LSE Class War, a movement that came up this summer aimed at making LSE a private school free institution. The movement, which also criticised The Beaver for having a disproportionate number of privately-educated students on its editorial board, called for the dissolution of the Hayek Society on account of promoting ideas which “outwardly call for the oppression of working class people”. Oliver is quick to respond, and is considerably more assertive than he’s been for the rest of our conversation. LSE Class War is “totally illegitimate”, he says. They have, “no affiliation to the Students’ Union, no affiliation to the university and they’re not an official campaign of the Students’ Union”, and are now “little more than a kind of meme page on Instagram”. This ‘meme page’ clearly concerned the society enough to put out a press release in response to it, and they may have drawn the Adam Smith Institute’s attention to it. In a blog post, Madsen Pirie, the founder of the Institute (and coincidentally a former guest speaker of the Hayek Society), wrote that the group could be dismissed as, “a tiny, deranged group of fanat-

ics” but that the Bolsheviks and Nazis “started as similar groups”. The Edmund Burke Society takes a very different approach. Their President Marc Boixader, who is also Chair of the SU’s Charity, Campaign and Political Network, sometimes rambles during our conversation. In contrast to Oliver, he seems more intent on discussing his opinions rather than preaching them. The Edmund Burke Society exists to oppose “the hegemony of Hayek and the hegemony of social liberals”, he begins. He’s clear that his society has the true claim to the crown of LSE’s conservative society. In his view, both the left and right have been infiltrated by liberalism, and modern-day conservatives are not true conservatives: “To be conservative is to preserve certain things – family, community and nation.” These three pillars form the foundation of what the society is about. Marc argues that our society is too individualistic. He paints a rather bleak picture of my future, telling me that I will have to slave away each day to rent a one-bedroom apartment in London (because I will never be able to own my home) with Ikea furniture (possibly the only bright spot) and a pet. “This is not a dignified society”, he says. Marc wants us to return to community values – “intrinsic truths which have emerged over time” – like being a good Samaritan. When I bring up the issue of social, cultural, and religious differences sometimes being too strong to bring together a community, Marc says that irrespective of where you come from, the economic experience of the 21st century is universal. He thinks that we’re all exploited by a morally and economically corrupt elite and are slaves to the economy – “efficiency [through the market] has destroyed the family, the community, and the nation”. He’s clear that this universal economic experience prevails over subjective individual experiences. In a suspiciously Marxist manner, Marc says that this common economic experience reigns supreme over all subjective individual experiences. The Edmund Burke Society’s website features a powerful opening statement, pointing out that political discourse has been “hijacked by progressive radicals”. “Call them whatever you

want”, Marc says in response to who these radicals are. They’re people, “within the liberal paradigm of thought”, he continued, “progressive radicals within the liberal left, and radicals within the liberal right”. The left is concerned with the individual and the state, and the right with the individual and the market. “Liberalism has evolved to one point of being authoritarian”, he says. ”If you break with that [the liberal paradigm], we [liberals] will try to destroy you.” There’s a clear emphasis in Marc’s ideas that we need to turn away from the individual and move to the community. “There are certain things GDP can’t measure.” It’s clear that his ideas are based on his personal experiences. As a child, Marc’s family struggled for several years in Spain before moving to a small village in the UK in the wake of the Brexit referendum. Things got better after his family’s move, but Marc still remembers how when things were hard, his neighbours helped him out. How this small-scale community translates to a larger, global picture isn’t made clear during our conversation. Nor is how he would deal with the “imperfect” people who aren’t accepting of outsiders in their community. The contrasts between the Edmund Burke Society and the Hayek Society are fascinating. At first glance, one would think two right wing societies would have far more in common. It isn’t clear which society is truly conservative though – Hayek claims to be libertarian and not conservative, and yet Oliver referred to himself as a conservative. Edmund Burke claims to be conservative but sounds suspiciously communist with their emphasis on economic superstructure, the community, the working class, and the common good. Marc even agreed with me, that if he were to sit down with a Marxist they would “probably come to the same agreement about the economic problem”. While Oliver frequently brought the discussion back to the benefits of the free market, Marc seemed more focused on intangible indicators like “dignity”. There seem to be certain factions within right wing politics at LSE, which begs the question: who are the right wingers on campus?

Features

Black History Month at LSE: highlights from the events Javier Rombo Staff Writer

s Black History Month draws to a close, now is opportune to reflect on some of the events and workshops held by LSE this past October. At a glance, the LSE website shows a range of options available to students, promising everything from “Afro and Caribbean Fusion Dance Class” to “Re-imagining the Anti-Racist University”. I attended two events over the course of the month, the first being entitled “LSE’s Race Equity Framework – What’s Happened Since Summer of 2020?”. While the title may not have had quite the same sex appeal as “Afro and Caribbean Fusion Dance Class”, it did seem to promise information on actual policy surrounding racial issues at the LSE, which could not be said for its more rhythmically-focused competition. The turnout was modest at nine participants in virtual attendance, not counting the Equity, Diversity and Inclusion (EDI) representatives conducting the event. The turning-on of cameras revealed a group that was

noticeably older than your average LSE student. The only student present seemed to be me, while the rest worked at LSE as young professionals in management positions across the university. Most of the event took the form of a presentation, conducted by the Head of EDI, Sofia Jabeen. The first few minutes were dedicated to watching a short video showcasing the testimony of anonymous Black and minority ethnic LSE staff and students, testifying the intense discrimination and marginalisation they had experienced. The video was very emotive, often explicitly declaring what those giving testimony considered systematic prejudice against Black and minority ethnic individuals. It is this state of affairs, worsened by what EDI claims was the disproportionate effect of the pandemic on Black communities and traumatic impact of the BLM movement, that the new Race Equity Framework seeks to improve. So what exactly does the Race Equity Framework aim to achieve, and how does it plan to achieve it? The short answer is that EDI’s vision of the Race Equity Frame-

work would mark a radically different approach for LSE in areas as wide-reaching as the recruitment process for both staff and students, educational methods applied, pay practices, and research focuses. At the moment EDI already offers “leadership courses” for Black and minority ethnic staff, on issues revolving around how to talk about and engage with race, complete with a booklet of approved terminology. More concretely, EDI’s main target is the underrepresentation of BAME employees earning an annual salary of over £46,000 in bands 7 and above in the LSE salary system. Their flagship proposal tailored to address this issue seems to be the “fair recruitment advisor scheme”. The “fair recruitment advisor” would be a “visible minority” trained in racial bias by HR and drawn from staff volunteers. Their role would be to oversee all parts of the recruitment and shortlisting process in order to ensure BAME applicants receive impartial treatment. Outside LSE staff, EDI is also committed to analysing and dealing with inequalities in the student body by addressing gaps in enrolment and attainment. For example, EDI data illustrates that Black, as well as Bangladeshi

and Pakistani students, are less likely to earn a first or 2.1, with Jabeen drawing attention to seventeen ongoing pilots in LSE departments designed to look at how teaching and assessment methods can be modified to “close the gap”. EDI’s goal is to create more equal “staff outcomes and student outcomes” for BAME individuals who occupy either category. Grades, salaries and proportional representation all form part of such outcomes. Those who think that the data speaks for itself, that the continuing underrepresentation of BAME staff and underperformance of BAME students is symptomatic of deeply entrenched systematic biases that discriminate against minorities, may believe more radical measures are needed. As LSE tries to take action against inequalities within its organisation, the question of the effectiveness of such efforts remains unclear. As always, informing yourself is a simple click away, with EDI objectives and initiatives available on the LSE website.

Month; there was time for some laughter as well. Jump-cut to last Thursday’s “Black History Month Comedy Night”, hosted at our very own Saw See Hock Centre. For over two hours some of the UK’s best Black comedic talent delivered non-stop jokes to a diverse group of LSE students. Opening the event and inhabiting a double role of comedian and hype man was Lateef Lovejoy, who drew upon his Nigerian upbringing to great comedic effect, followed by comedian Michael Akadiri’s anecdotes on working in the NHS, Dave Chapelle’s new special, and living in London. Lateef returned briefly to work the crowd in anticipation of the night’s closer, Toussaint Douglass, who covered everything from racism to relationships to veganism. By the end of the night the audience had laughed, groaned, clapped and ultimately enjoyed a great night of comedy (provided they avoided the bar) for free.

However, it wasn’t all about the intricacies of racial discrimination and solutions this Black History

To cancel or not to cancel – where free speech begins and ends Lara Wiebecke Staff Writer

any academics dream of being recognised for their work. In some cases, however, this kind of publicity can turn into a nightmare. Kathleen Stock, at the time a philosophy professor at the University of Sussex, has recently been accused of transphobia and creating an unsafe atmosphere for trans students on campus. In her recent book she had questioned if gender identity is more “socially significant” than biological sex, resulting in a group of anonymous students demanding she be fired from her position. The University of Sussex stood by Professor Stock, emphasising the importance of protecting academic freedom in higher education. University representatives also condemned what they perceived as unfair harassment against Stock. Regardless of the university’s support, however, the heated debate about her academic views has resulted in Stock recently announcing her resignation from the University of Sussex. The questions this case raises about

free speech and so-called ‘cancel culture’ are undoubtedly controversial. Where should universities draw the line between legitimate (if controversial) acts of free speech and opinions that are so damaging that they should not be given a platform? How should they respond to the kind of situation that Kathleen Stock found herself in? New legal provisions in the Higher Education (Freedom of Speech) Bill could provide some answers. The bill aims to ensure that academics can “put forward new ideas and controversial or unpopular opinions” without having to fear being fired or missing out on future promotions or other opportunities. If higher education providers or students’ unions fail to protect freedom of speech in the way outlined by the bill, civil proceedings could be filed against them. As it stands, LSE already has policies in place to protect and promote freedom of speech on campus. The guidelines for speakers on the LSE website states that “every member of and associated with the School, including visiting speak-

ers, shall be entitled to freedom of thought, conscience and religion (…) and to freedom of expression within the law, including the right to seek, receive and impart information and ideas”. In light of this existing commitment, would the bill bring any substantial changes to the way LSE operates? According to Conor Gearty, Professor of Human Rights Law at LSE, this remains to be seen. One potential impact of the law could be the way LSE organises panels. Currently, LSE is inclined to create a balance of opinions in panel discussions. This means that if a discussion about the importance of vaccines were hosted, for instance, the university would make sure to not only include adamant anti-vaxxers in the debate. Gearty explains that “it is an open question if the LSE could have the condition that a person of opposing view has to be on a panel. In other words, it is difficult to say if the university could face a successful action against it if it made it a condition of a speaker’s invitation that their point of view be balanced by others of a different opinion.”

Features WHAT IS LSESU RAG?

It is a controversial question “holds contempt against a group Professor Ross shared her experiwhether an additional bill ensur- of people that goes beyond ra- ence joining the women’s moveing freedom of speech on campus tional discourse”. Whilst ordinary ment in the 70s. She described RAG STANDS FOR RAISING AND GIVING is actually needed. As Professor political discourse that includes feeling taken aback by the culture Gearty argues, cases such Kath- diverse &asTHAT’S EXACTLY WHAT DO! within the moveviewpoints should be al- WE of “trashing” leen Stock’s are few and far be- lowed, there are certain opin- ment that encouraged women tween. It is not an everyday occur- ions that are so insulting that “we to call each other out for minor rence that an academic gets called don’t want them at our institution transgressions. At the time, she s their t h views. e LS ESU fundraising hub, we’re a team out so publiclyAfor This and that’s entirely reasonable”. felt unsure if the unfair treatment o f s t u d e n t d e d i c acan t e dariset owhere r a i sde-i n gshe mreceived o n e yfrom f o some r could lead some to the conclusions Situations of the stu e n t - s einl e cplatforming t e d c hora r‘cancelling’ i t i e s . may Each y ehad a rto dowwith e her being that the problem of d “cancelling” women academic circles r a i sis eexaggerated. a r o u nnot d be£ 1 5 0 , 0 0but 0 individa n d Black t h eorr with e thea roverall e tendenlegitimate to tear each other c o u n t l e s s o p puals o r toru ngroups i t i e smay t ostill g efind t i nit v ocyl vofe activists d! A cynic may even argue that important to voice their dis- apart. So calling each other out is there is a feeling among conserv- approval of certain messages. not a new phenomenon, but it has We love putting the ‘fun’ in fundraising, ative politicians in Britain that h o u g h wguest e a lThere so e n c o u r a g e i n t e n t icertainly o n a l been g i v amplified i n g . over the not enough tconservative are several alternative solu- years due to the rise of the internet. e toa universil s o f ations c i l i t universities a t e s t uand d e students n t / s oRoss c i eplaces t y / thec lpractice u b of callspeakers are W invited ties. Evidently,f u you n dcan’t r a iput s i nthat g , couldsconsider u p p oinr tthese situations. c a m p aing i gout n i nonga continuum & that also demand into va obill l u ndirectly, t e e r ibut n g Loretta oppo r t u n i t i e s , & h o s t e x c i t i n Ross, Associate Professor includes “cancelling”,g “calling in”, the new bill may have been creofsWomen e v e n t s t o a c hofi ethe v eStudy the e ! & Gender “calling on” and “calling it off ”. In ated with this feeling in mind. at Smith College and activist for her opinion outright cancelling In certain instances Professor women’s rights and anti-racism, or calling somebody out can be Gearty agrees with the practice proposes such a solution. During appropriate in cases where instiof deplatforming, UPCOMING especially if a her talk “Calling Not Calling tutions or individuals hold sysEVENTS & In, CHALLENGES guest speaker is likely to voice rac- Out”, hosted by LSE this October, temic power over others and the ist or misogynistic opinions and

offenders keep repeating the same mistakes. However, she does not agree with “punching down” or “punching sideways” by attacking people of similar status. In these kinds of situations, she says “calling in” may be more appropriate. Calling somebody in means to invest in somebody’s personal growth by approaching them privately and sharing one’s own experience and views in hopes to have a positive impact on the other person. At the same time, Professor Ross acknowledges that there can be situations where it is best to “call it off ” and disengage from the situation entirely to protect one’s own mental health. When it comes to outrage on social media, Professor Ross particularly criticises what she calls “performative activism”, a tendency for activists to engage in a “wokeness competition”, dividing humanity

GIVING TUESDAY

into good people and bad people. This kind of culture, according to her, can deter people from expressing their views and joining activist communities because they are put off by the hostility of the movement. Despite efforts from across the political divide to enforce their view on this issue, it remains incredibly difficult to come up with a general rule of thumb to determine when free speech should take first priority and when people should be held accountable for holding unacceptable views. It seems the only certain thing about this issue is that the debate will continue long into the future.

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OPINION

Opinion Editor Edouard Chardot opinion.beaver@lsesu.org

The paradox of Black excellence Abigail Williams Contributor Illustration by Vaneeza Jawad

am a big supporter of rest and relaxation. As a Black student at LSE, having this opinion almost feels like heresy. I wasn’t always like this. I often think back to a moment I had in secondary school. My friend and I had just finished a chemistry class and it was now break time. Most sane people would use their break to relax, but we had a different idea in mind. We collected our things and walked down towards the library. Another friend asked why we were doing this. We had just finished a class; weren’t we tired? Didn’t we need a break? Our response to her was almost instinctive, “We can rest when we’re dead.” Looking back on this memory, I laugh, but only half-heartedly. Although our dedication to our GCSEs was admirable, we were exhibiting a deeply concerning attitude. Many of us at LSE are guilty of it, sacrificing our mental health and wellbeing at the altar of hyper-productivity and hard work. But why? I highlighted my Blackness at the beginning of the article, not just because it’s Black History Month, but because it played an integral part in shaping my outlook on rest, relaxation and hyper-productivity. Again, referencing my secondary school days, I remember sitting in an assembly hall listening to a motivational speaker. We repeated his mantra: “No grind, no glory.” The atmosphere was electric. At a time when morale in the school was low and students were beginning to feel drained, it was almost like a war cry. As beneficial as this was, part of me wondered, and still wonders, whether this glorification of the grind can instead have adverse effects. I know some of you may be reading this article wondering what on earth this mystical ‘grind’ is. To define it, to grind is to work unrelentingly. It is a sentiment permeating many Black communities, particularly those burdened by poverty and low social mobility. But why is this the case? One of the biggest reasons is that hard work and ‘grinding’ feels like the only escape route from diffi-

cult circumstances. Whilst I never intend to speak on behalf of all Black people because the ‘Black experience’, like any other race or culture, is not monolithic; it is common knowledge that the institutional cards are stacked against us. Though some are reluctant to admit it, the lack of representation and mobility for Black people is prevalent. For example, reflect on your experiences at LSE – how many of your professors have been Black? How many of your essential readings are written by Black academics and authors? Now think about your latest internship or your dream job – how many of your interviewers were Black? How many of the people working in that institution looked like me? And so the response for many Black people is to work harder to beat these odds. Even on a cultural level, this same need to work hard unfolds before our very eyes. It is encapsulated in Although I am more than aware that this phenomenon called ‘The Black this is a significant problem across Tax’, the reality that as a Black per- the board at university, research son, you may never fully enjoy the highlights that Black people, for the fruits of your labour, as the spoils above reasons and others, are not of it need to be divided to help getting enough rest. Using sleep as the rest of your community. It’s an a key indicator of this, it show that idea that South African comedian Black people are getting less sleep on and presenter Trevor Noah artic- average than any other racial group. ulates so beautifully in his book Born a Crime. He argues that “the generations who came before you have been pillaged” and so “rather than being free to use your skills and education to move forward, you lose everything just trying to bring everyone behind you back up from zero”. I asked my mother whether she felt this same burden, and she said she felt an obligation to work hard and support other people in the community. Whether that meant sending money back home to pay for school fees or hospital bills, it was simply standard practice for people to Accepting that it’s okay to rest is “take from those who have more”. quite a difficult pill to swallow, especially within various Black comI believe that the first step to re- munities where it is strongly becovery is admitting you have a lieved that you must “work twice as problem, and I think this constant hard to get half as much”. As much need to work is a massive one. I as I want to fully embrace resting now take a personal issue with the and finding a work-life balance, it idea of productivity. In the words can often feel like a luxury that life of the great Elsa Majimbo, “I AM has not been kind enough to afNOT A MACHINE.” This was, un- ford me. And so we, particularly as fortunately, a lesson that I had to Black students, are forced to strive learn the hard way. My desire to to be the best, to achieve ‘Black constantly be working and achiev- excellence’ – to defy the odds and ing meant that by the end of my be extraordinary. Often the term is first year, I was experiencing dis- used as a form of empowerment. sociation due to anxiety, as well as Seeing so many Black people in physical and mental exhaustion. history and around you defying the odds, becoming the first university

chancellor or C-suite executive, is empowering. It is a constant reminder that anything is possible through hard work and determination, in spite of the odds. However, we must be careful to prevent this from becoming a noose. We must try not to get so caught up in the pursuit of excellence that we deny ourselves the right to simply exist.

“Accepting that it’s okay to rest is a difficult pill to swallow, especially within black communities where it is strongly believed that you must work ‘twice as hard to get half as much’” My experiences have allowed me to realise that I don’t need to bow to the pressure of constantly working to succeed. I’ve decided that this is my radical rebellion. In a world that seems intent on denying me the right of a simple existence, I’m making the conscious decision to rest. Rather than seeing it as a reward, I am deciding to remind myself that I deserve it by virtue of my humanity. Yes, there are times when working is necessary, but I speak to my fellow Black students in particular when I say: You cannot come and kill yourself for this degree. So, how do you do this? Imperative to embracing this mindset

is reminding yourself that not everything is urgent, that it’s okay to let some tasks fall by the wayside if it means preserving your own sanity. This may make you feel a bit anxious at first, especially when you’re used to living life in perpetual ‘grind mode’. However, some things that help me are using mindfulness techniques such as journaling, yoga and reaching out when I need help and support. I have been a peer supporter for the past two years and the help that scheme provides is invaluable. Above all, it is essential to remember, in the words of Dr Thema Bryant, that “you are a human being and your wellness and balance is important”. And so you must give yourself “grace, compassion, patience and love so that [you] do not add burdens to [your] own back, that [you] do not participate in [your] own dehumanisation”.

Abigail is ethnically Ghanian and Sierra-Leonean, and grew up in North London. She was the President of the Social Mobility Society and Ablaze Officer at the African Caribbean Society last academic year.

10 Opinion Fuck rough sex. Anonymous

It is now more crucial than ever that we provide adequate sex education, both in school and out of it, which includes the de-stigmatisation of ‘vanilla’ sex, which has become the new prude. We also need to talk about the psychology of the men who hurt women during sex for pleasure. We need to know more about why women need to experience pain alongside pleasure. Reading on the topic will often look at the implications of sexual shame, and how pain is nothing but a self-prescribed punishment endured in order to have the privilege of sexual sensations. Ask yourself: does being beaten help you orgasm or are you only able to finish whilst choking because you still feel bad about enjoying sex? Are we still seeking divine punishment for our sinful desire?

ly wield my “kinks” as some badge of honour, something that verified me as sexually adventurous and of therefore the woman of dreams.

Content warning: mentions rough sex, violence against women

’m 18; it’s my first year of university. I don’t really know how I found myself here, but I’m lying in a stranger’s bed, my legs tied to the bed frame over my head, and my wrists bound. From everything I had said to him up until this moment, you could be forgiven for thinking I wanted this. I thought I did too. The rise of Fifty Shades of Grey, my desire to be cool, and my early exposure to porn had all united, convincing me that this is what good sex looks like. Looking back, I cringe and try to suppress the memory. Remember when I thought being kinky was good? That wasn’t the first or the last time I had let men violate me. Like most fan fiction-reading teenage girls, I had convinced myself from a young age that I liked being choked. This became the expectation for every makeout sesh. Pull my hair! If I wasn’t enjoying it, it’s because he wasn’t doing it right. It was obviously nothing to do with the fact that somebody aggressively objectifying you is bound to be an uncomfortable experience. I couldn’t orgasm with the first 20 or so men I slept with. I thought that there was something wrong with me. Why couldn’t I get off? I asked for it. I sought this. Now, I must take it (like a hot, kinky girl).

Whilst I ought to grant other women agency, conversations with many of my friends have left me unconvinced that enjoying kinky sex is as common as is assumed to be. Too many have told me that being sexually extreme does not satisfy them, although they feel it should. Kinks are adopted as a ‘treat’ for their partners, or as a proxy for sexual desirability – if it’s not obscene or passionate, it’s not love. Whilst there are a few women who I am sure are genuinely submissive, often explained as a desire to free themselves of the responsibility they carry in other parts of life, I’m sceptical of any man who indulges in violently dominant sexual behaviour for pleasure. Furthermore, some of my friends have admitted that seeking ‘dominant’ men to fulfill this role has pushed them to pursue significantly older men, who often become toxic and even abusive. They allow awful men into their lives, because they show the animalistic passion that women have been taught to want. Once you set the wheels in motion, it’s very difficult to pull the brakes. We allow these men to choke up, tie us up, maybe even bruise us. We give them ourselves wrapped in a bow, with a note that says “to do with as you please”. How can you be sure that this isn’t a guise, a scheme to build your tolerance for abuse? One day, an uncomfortable spank that you didn’t quite consent to, but no big deal. The next time, we aren’t having a good time, but any protest on our behalf would risk “ruining the mood”. We find ourselves allowing somebody to use our body, despite our own feelings.

I had been exposed to porn culture and the internet from a young age and was properly introduced to sex this way, through the lens of the male gaze. The teenage desire to be accepted, combined with this new knowledge, compelled me to study the art of sexual objectification. Though I wore glasses, had frizzy hair, and lovingly In many cases, this then escalates referred to myself as “the South beyond what we mentally justiAsian Ugly Betty”, I would proud- fy as a grey zone – into rape and,

in some cases, murder. The rising popularity of BDSM enabled the development of the ‘rough sex’ defence in criminal cases. In these cases, men have murdered women in perverse ways before or during sexual acts. If they can prove that the victim had a history of enjoying rough sex, murder can be written off as kinky sex gone wrong. This April, in an amended version of the Domestic Abuse Act, the rough sex defence has been banned. But its very existence proves how BDSM is often domestic abuse repackaged. The recent cultural popularity of BDSM with the proliferation of extremely sexually perverse content has groomed young women and girls into believing that they ought to enjoy and

Lateral flow test: a cure-all solution Olivia Chen Contributor Photo from LSE website

s LSE happily welcomes students back to campus, many of us are eagerly looking forward to reclaiming the normalcy of university life. As part of the package, the School has called the student body to adopt a series of ‘Covid-secure measures’, most notably to take a lateral flow

test (LFT) once every four days, report the result to the NHS, and provide a negative result before entering LSE premises. But I question the reliability of the lateral flow testing kits. As these tests are at the centre of the School’s Covid health measures, their efficiency is essential for the safety of our community. The conventional testing method widely used for travelling is the polymerase chain reaction (PCR) test, which has to be administered by a medical profes-

sional and sent to laboratories for processing. As a result, when I opened the LFT kit for the first time, I wondered how a small test cassette could produce a report in 30 minutes when it takes up to 48 hours to generate using a PCR test. I was skeptical to see that the instruction booklet that accompanied the LFT test kits looked like the worksheets we got for high school science experiments, the purpose of which was to go through the motions to achieve a result which the textbook told us

even seek this kind of situation. Like me, when they settle into healthy relationships which do not operate with a toxic power balance, they worry that they are no longer desirable and sometimes get bored with their sex lives. Of course they do; they understood desirability as objectification, and objectification as desirable. We have grown up in a world that has taught us that if a man truly desires us, we ought to be irresistible. So irresistible that they want nothing more than to pin us against a wall and painfully fuck us from behind. Even if we cry out. Even if we say no. Entire genres of porn have come about to fill this market demand for the fulfillment of rape fantasies in a guiltless way. would happen. I was worried about whether I could carry out the test properly and gather a valid sample without professional supervision. As an experiment, I attempted to drop the extraction buffer solution directly onto the test cassette without collecting a sample, expecting an invalid result. To my surprise, rather than showing ‘void’, the test cassette showed ‘negative’. Isn’t it ironic? How can we ever be sure whether a negative result means we don’t have the virus, or we have not successfully carried out the test? Moreover, it did not take me too long to figure out the loophole with

I’m still recovering from my three years of exposure to the BDSM scene. Despite efforts from ‘kink educators’ to make it a safer lifestyle choice, I will never believe that there aren’t insanely problematic and anti-feminist ideas of a woman’s role in sexual relationships underlying these cultural developments. I can only thank my last partner for helping me realise that I didn’t need to let him slap me or spit on my face for me to feel attractive and admired. It took too long to learn that there is nothing wrong with an old fashioned missionary shag followed by cuddles and a nap. The things deemed “aftercare” in the kink community, something intended as a reward for enduring the atrocities inflicted upon you, are possible without hurting your throat or burning your skin. And it’s just as deserved, I promise.

the test that grants us full access to LSE buildings. To acquire test result confirmation from the NHS, you need to scan the QR code on the test cassette and enter the result manually. But who knows whether you took the test or you just opened the package, scanned the code, and claimed you don’t have the virus upon reporting? Alternatively, students could even edit the text message for result confirmation, re-name a friend in their contact as ‘NHS’ and ask them to send the message back as a pass for entry. I do not intent to question the integrity of my dear LSE peers, but

Opinion these things do happen around us. The accuracy of the test itself should also be questioned. Though the government website states that the test has a minimum 99.9% specificity, research from the University of Oxford and Public Health England’s Porton Down lab shows its accuracy largely depends on who is conducting the test. In the hands of laboratory scientists, it picks up 79% of positive cases, but with self-trained members of the public, including students at LSE, the test only succeeded in detecting 58% of Covid cases. According to the Department of Health and Social Care (DHSC), the LFTs’ false-negative rate could be as high as 50%, compared to less than 0.1% by PCR. This means the person sitting next to you in the library with a negative test result might be carrying the virus after all. That makes me feel awfully insecure.

community, especially creating a risk of passing the virus to Covid-vulnerable groups, including older people and pregnant women in students’ respective households.

Regular rapid tests were designed to spot asymptomatic carriers and block unconscious transmission. However, it is only reasonably reliable for people who already show symptoms because they have a higher viral load, which is easier to be captured. Its 99.9% specificity means that its positive reports are highly accurate, but it does not

mitigate the issue of false negatives. A student in my residence took 14 consecutive LFTs within three days before he tested positive on a PCR test from direct contact with other Covid cases. Though asymptomatic cases are not highly transmissible due to their relatively low viral load, they nevertheless pose a threat to the

The risks to our health are compounded by students’ reluctant adherence to mask-wearing requirements on campus. At the LSE Library, where seats can be fully occupied at busy times, one can easily come across many maskless, beaming, talking, saliva-spreading students. This is despite masks being strongly encouraged, with the recommendation broadcasted multiple times a day in the building. At society gatherings or social events, without a class teacher who constantly rings the bell, safety seems to be less of a priority. Overall, I do not intend to deny the feasibility of these rules, but there is certainly something that can be

done to ensure that each step in this process is carried out in the desirable way, which would contribute to the security of our community. Maybe a photo of a negative test cassette should be uploaded upon reporting to the NHS; maybe regular PCR tests should also be introduced on campus alongside LFTs. The School could also consider expanding the current vaccination scheme, recording the vaccination status of students and making vaccination compulsory for large gatherings. The UK still sees a nearly 40,000 daily increase in positive records, while Morocco started banning UK tourists last week in fear of mounting cases and news of the Alpha variant. It is too early to be optimistic when we are not even close to the end of the battle. After all, only by starting to question the status quo can we expect a better solution.

Mixed-race erasure is a real problem, and it needs to stop Ela Heeley Contributor Illustration by Charlie To

y first memory of being mixed race was fairly late in life. As a person who could pass as white, without knowledge of my non-white family members, there was never a reason to suspect I was any different from my British peers. It was only once I was able to do my own family tree research that all the pieces came together, and my background became known to me. I am ethnically Turkish and Roma, although there is a huge area of ambiguity due to the diverse nature of Turkey and my family’s Arab and North African ancestry. With that knowledge, little things such as my different facial features began to make more sense. Bigger things, too – the way I was always stopped at security or the teasing about my Middle Eastern surname. Despite my lack of information on my own identity, the Western world had decided for me that I was not a part of it before I could even figure out my place here. I grew up as the odd one out in a Eurocentric, 98% white town in Merseyside. I had to quickly learn to embrace my culture and be proud of the genomes that set me apart as a defence mechanism. And for a while it was great – I moved through the world comfortably as a mixed woman. Soon enough, though, the real challenge of my existence became apparent: a challenge that most, if not all, mixedrace people know all too well.

“You are not a person of colour.” The statement that threw off everything I know about myself and my lived experience; as if oppression in modern society was an exclusive club that I was not part of. I didn’t know how to react when I was first told that in sixth form. I spent a long time arguing and trying to educate, but to no avail. With the very presence of that

beyond who have dealt with the same invalidating experience. This makes us feel lost, inadequate. Because who do you turn to when the white people treat you differently, and the people of colour won’t accept you? Having your identity constantly up for debate is distressing. It’s a special kind of xenophobia that

“ [...]the same equality movement designed to uplift marginalised voices has become the same movement that excludes anyone who doesn’t fit the role of the perfect minority. ’” singles you out as something other, something wrong. Mixed-race people still experience oppression, fetishisation, disadvantage, job discrimination and more, and all while being expected to just get on with it. Labels such as ‘white-passing’, ‘part white’, being asked what your ‘percentages’ of ancestry are, they all contribute to the monoraI’ve lost count of the number of cial discourse that we live in today. times I have been told those very words or something similar. On- It’s a ridiculous concept when line, it’s something I receive every you consider the number of peotime I am vocal about my back- ple who are mixed in the United ground, my own culture. Recently Kingdom. Approximately 1.2% I even got this from a long-time of the population identify as such friend, who very politely informed and are the fastest growing group me that I wasn’t of mixed origin in the UK according to the 2001 at all. And I’m not the only one – National Census. According to since I’ve moved to London, I’ve the Guardian 47% of mixed-race had conversations with count- people are under 18 years of age, less people who are half African, showing a growing trend of peohalf Asian, half Indigenous and ple identifying as mixed in the one statement, I had the troubling realisation that the same equality movement designed to uplift marginalised voices has become the same movement that excludes anyone who doesn’t fit the role of the perfect minority. The ‘model minority’, who looks and acts exactly as white British people want.

UK. Yet we still default to debating whether or not someone is a person of colour or white, based on a long-outdated list of external features such as skin tone and hair type. It’s counter-intuitive and the antithesis of progression – and it shows no signs of stopping. Our attitudes need to change as quickly as our demographics, and that begins with self-education. I also feel it important to note here that I am in no way arguing that colourism has no impact on the treatment of people of colour. People who ‘pass’ (for lack of a better term) as white do experience a certain privilege as they can, to varying degrees, assimilate and conform to those around them. But being ‘white-passing’, while bringing some privileges, is not a magic wand that solves everything you are and were born as. It also comes with society deny-

ing part of your heritage and culture. Society’s continual ostracisation of those who don’t fit into predetermined boxes has real consequences for the people it shuns. To survive in a world dominated by the conversations of single racial groups one must almost always adapt to the descriptors you have been given, rather than those you would ascribe to yourself – ‘passing’, ‘whitewashed’, ‘racebaiting’. We are tired of constantly defending our reality and being vulnerable, at the whim of those who do not want nor care to listen to our interests. Mixed-race people have opinions, wisdom and understanding that is invaluable to the equality movement and wider society. In light of Black History Month – and for the sake of sociocultural advancement in general – the world needs to start listening, rather than telling people of all creeds and colours who they are.

social

edited by ALINA CHEN The Beveridge Report 3.0: We got shots on a Tuesday by THE EDITORIAL BOARD

Once upon a time, The Beaver’s editorial board went out drinking in celebration of their first print issue in 18 months. Unsurprisingly, we thought we all deserved a drink or two after the exhausting and painful delivery of that ugly, but pretty, baby of ours. Exhausted and burnt out, we headed to Tuns… Alina, Social Editor: It was that very night that I realised the implicit prerequisite of joining The Beaver is not to feel at all embarrassed, when you all get utterly wasted before 9pm on a Tuesday night, wiggling to the tune at Tuns. The four of us who lack the most self control stayed till the end, wandering around London, trying and failing to kick our heights, and somehow ended up in Trafalgar Square… Ambre, Part B Editor: Tuesday evening, we walked into Tuns already drunk on joy and relief. As we all sat down, I told myself and everyone around the table that I would not drink more than one beer to celebrate… and then, before I realised, I was already downing shot number five with those around me cheering me on. Peer pressure is not a myth, kids. Beatriz, Flipside Editor: I wasn’t even planning on being a part of this social. In my head, this evening was reserved for meeting my Grimshaw family at Tuns. But it was difficult not to get distracted by my fellow editors making one toast after another throughout the night (“To Beatriz!”). As they moved away to request yet another round of shots, I realised how quickly this odd group of people, mostly strangers to me before the start of this year, had become a family in some way. I love you too, guys. Angbeen, Executive Editor: As someone who didn’t spend a lot of time in Tuns during first year, I’ve been doing my best to make up for lost time, one gin and tonic at a time. I’m messy even when I’m just a little tipsy, and I take responsibility for egging on at least half the rounds of shots that we would tear through. Do I regret it? A little, but it was worth seeing how dance-y everyone on the team gets while drunk. Bora, Features Editor: Every time someone suggested we get another round, an apprehension for the morning after would fall between us before someone shouted “oh come on!”. After one too many drinks and a newfound affinity for Malibu, the beavers left their nest (or dam, if you will). What emerged from the rest of the night were brief memories of Spoons, an attempted visit to a Tory bar, and Admiral Nelson. Matt, Sports Editor: Quite genuinely, there are very few times at LSE I can remember enjoying more. I dreaded coming back to London, but through Tuns, shots, the cold, long walk to Trafalgar Square, and everything else, that night I felt like I was home again. A weird home. But home. Jocelyn, Beaver Editor: As your typical Asian plagued by the infamous flush, I cannot drink half a can of beer without looking like an overripe tomato, and so, on this fine evening, I very sensibly sipped on my glass of water. With my privilege of sobriety, I had the joy of witnessing Bora and Jack in their most extroverted and thrilled state, propelled by alcohol. At 7:30pm I haggardly excused myself to rush back to halls for my free dinner. I may be a third year, but I refuse to cook for as long as I possibly can. Jack, Features Editor: I never pass up an opportunity to visit Tuns. Never. Tuesday night was my chance to finally witness my fellow editors in what I consider to be my natural habitat. Although my hopes of introducing the Beaver team to snakebites were dashed by supply issues, vodka, tequila, and Malibu quickly drowned my disappointment. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly conducive to dancing but, embarrassingly, we made it work. The night ended as all the best nights do: with a falafel wrap and a contented bus ride home. I’m looking forward to many more!

Office hour with Professor Beav by PROFESSOR BEAV & illustrated by VANEEZA JAWAD Hey Prof Beav, I have something to get off my chest and there is no easy way to say it: I’m a woman who has never been able to orgasm with men, ever. And for some reason, even my vibrator can’t do its job when there’s someone else in the situation. I can’t lie, I’m a bit of a newbie to all the adult-y sex related fun, so I’d like some guidance please! Yours, Lonesome Wanker.

Hello, Lonesome Wanker! Thank you for your question! The orgasm gap is a very real and tragic thing. Of all demographics, straight women are the most likely to have never experienced an orgasm during sex, and I have so much to say, so let’s dive in! Your question suggests that you can orgasm without a man in the room, so I’m going to rule out medical issues right off the bat. My first thought is: how is he touching you? Men are notoriously ignorant of the details of a vagina, and cis-het (cisgender heteronormative) sex risks centering penetration – and very few women can actually orgasm through penetration alone. Let me tell you a secret. Once upon a time, I too couldn’t orgasm during ‘straight’ sex. And then, one fateful afternoon, stoned as fuck (shout out to gravity bongs), I had my first ever orgasm with a man. The experience was amazing. Up until that day, I’d always been painfully aware of my partner – how they perceived me, what they liked, what they wanted. I’d become so wrapped up in providing an enjoyable experience for them, that I could never just enjoy the moment. Whilst high, I didn’t – couldn’t – give a fuck about any of that. As it turns out, if somebody is already in bed with you, they’re probably attracted to you enough that you don’t need to perform how porn taught us to. The way I see it, you’ve got a few options and the least advisable is to have intoxicated sex; do as I say, not as I do! I think the first step is to communicate. Being vulnerable is a part of sex. The fact that even your vibrator (controlled by you?) won’t get you there if somebody else is involved makes me think that this is psychological. Maybe, like me, you’re too in your head? It’s a good idea to look at what you need to orgasm, and whether you can get that in the contexts that you typically have sex in. In conclusion, dearest LW, I have a few suggestions: communicate, reflect, experiment. Get to know what your body needs , and whether you’re giving yourself sexual scenarios that fulfill those needs. *Also, pardon the reach, but it might be worth looking into comphet (compulsory hetrosexuality).

I fully empathise with one of the female students we spoke to, who told us that they had to step out of the queue at one point, because the crowd was making them feel incredibly claustrophobic with everyone pushing and shoving. Shorter girls, in particular, were drowning in a melting pot of people much taller and bigger than themselves. And worse yet, the music was not good enough to save the night, driving people away after 15 minutes inside. There are of course people who are surprised that there is any controversy around the AU Welcome Night, claiming that they had a ridiculous amount of fun. Though anecdotally, I only know one such person, and they arrived

smashing drunk and jumped the queue (booo), dodging the biggest source of complaint. The AU affirmed that they had debriefed with the Venue regarding problems with security, promising that the they advised us not to be “too distracted by the negatives”: the vast majority of people enjoyed the night once they managed to get inside. Nevertheless, I believe more could be done to make sure everyone can feel safe and respected, enjoying their nights out as they deserve.

An honest take on freshers’ week

by ELA HEELEY

When you search online for ‘LSE social life’, you’re hard pressed to find a post that isn’t laced with disappointment or pure indifference. Having now experienced the seven-day purgatory that was freshers’ week, I’m sorry to say that if you’re looking for an alternative opinion, this is not the article for you. The official attraction of the week was the RAG band, the Students’ Union’s big draw and the go-to for everyone new to the university. This year, the £45 (yep) wristband got you access to a street food festival and two club nights amongst other events; a supposedly promising week of London freshers’ escapades. While I was initially hopeful, the tone of the RAG band was truly set when we were told the wristbands themselves were delayed and given paper wristbands to wear for the first three days. This lack of organisation unfortunately carried through to the nights themselves and, despite our best efforts, some of the events were unsalvageable. The first such event was “Bingo Lingo!”. Advertised as “a crowd pleasing, interactive experience for warehouse ravers, festival goers & corporate parties alike”, for me it began with the very unpleasant realisation that jaeger bombs were £7. Okay, possibly not the fault of the Students’ Union, but nonetheless distressing for a small town northerner. What ensued was a strange few hours of hosts encouraging 18-year-old girls to twerk on stage, an all-too-sober crowd (see above drinks pricing), and everybody leaving for Egg as early as was socially acceptable. No sooner had the ink faded and the wristband fallen off before the next few

events rolled around, and next up was a hip-hop club night at The Steel Yard. Though controversial, I’m actually going to curb the negativity here and say this was one of my favourite nights. For me, it did what it said on the tin – it was a club night, it was hip-hop, the atmosphere was good, and it was fairly priced. What more could you ask for? Everyone there seemed to be having a good time, and it was a good chance to meet with people from your halls in an environment booming with good music. The next few days were extremely hit-and-miss. The “Street Food Festival” on Tuesday turned out to be four food stalls in a glorified barn, but the “Alice in Wonderland” club night at Electrowerkz was pretty decent by all accounts. By the time “Battle of the Halls” came around on Friday, people weren’t particularly hopeful. Although the turnout wasn’t fabulous, I think I speak for everyone there when I say it was a really enjoyable event. There were limbo competitions, boat races, dance battles; I can still taste pickled onion juice from the karaoke round. Bankside were the ultimate winners (much to the dismay of Passfield, who placed second) but in every hall there was a sense of team spirit – there were some strong friendships formed in the week. And that was that. I’m sorry there isn’t more to say here, but this rollercoaster of a freshers’ week came to a halt just as unimpressively as it began. Was it as bad as people suggested it would be? Not exactly, and I made solid connections and friendships that have lasted to date. Was it anything to write home about? Absolutely not, and I’ll be ending this article right here.

“Terrible music”, “stampede” – rows over the AU Welcome Night by ALINA CHEN

As a self-proclaimed tactful journalist, my ears inevitably perked up when I heard that the AU Welcome Night that I (un)fortunately missed was a disaster, with several demanding refunds the next day. Being a keen club-goer myself, I was surprised that a club night could ever be described as downright terrible! So I decided to find out what actually happened that night in the basement of the Saw Swee Hock Student Centre... Shamefully, due to my limited reach, what was meant to be an informal inquiry became a one-sided harassment of any acquaintances I had that were willing to speak to me about their experience. So inevitably this article is based on the accounts of the night we received. Most people I spoke with complained about inefficient crowd management and security checks, which created a maddening two-hour-long wait while the jovial effects of alcohol pitifully waned. This seems to have been the biggest problem with the event, and one the AU appears to recognise, as according to the official comment they sent to the Beaver, after we reached out.

Write for Social Become one of our shameless oversharers! Your worst nights out, your relationship issues, your biggest rant on LSE... Nothing is out of bounds!

An honest take on freshers’ week

by ELA HEELEY

“Terrible music”, “stampede” – rows over the AU Welcome Night by ALINA CHEN

Write for Social Become one of our shameless oversharers! Your worst nights out, your relationship issues, your biggest rant on LSE... Nothing is out of bounds!

review edited by INAYAH INAM

The Beaver at the BFI: London Film Festival special by SYED ZAID ALI SYED MUDZHAR

Red Rocket

Image via @britishfilminstitute on instagram

Sean Baker has definitely built up quite the reputation these past few years with films such as Tangerine and The Florida Project. This year, he returns with his latest: a comedy-drama starring Simon Rex as Mikey, a washed-up ex-pornstar who returns to his Texas hometown. He first shows up at his wife Lexi’s (Bree Elrod) house begging for a place to stay. He then meets up with old friends and neighbours, but everything changes for him when he meets Strawberry (Suzanna Son), a 17-year-old girl with whom he forms a sexual relationship – which, as Mikey helpfully tells us, is legal in Texas. In the first half, the film follows a conventional homecoming for Mikey; family and friends show some scorn for his departure in the past, which naturally makes us more sympathetic to him as the protagonist. However, as we begin to learn more about him, we realise just how awful he is as a person; and so do the people around him, leading to the consequences of his actions slowly catching up to him. The comedy that follows is now at his expense. In other words, we go from laughing with him to laughing at him. The entire time, he goes off on countless hilarious rapid-fire monologues detailing his past exploits and successes, which Simon Rex performs with panache. By all accounts, this film is a real romp and a ride.

Belfast

Image via @belfastfilm on instagram

Describing this as his “most personal film”, Kenneth Branagh’s most recent feature follows young Buddy in late 1960s Belfast – around the beginning of the Troubles. Right from the start, we are confronted by the violence that pervaded Northern Ireland, the effects of which are still felt today. Buddy runs around in the streets with the neighbouring children, but their play is cut short – as the camera swings around Buddy, it slowly reveals a mob ahead of him seeking out Catholics in the neighbourhood. The violence mostly remains in the background for the rest of the film (but returns to the forefront near the end), but its effects are unmistakable. Pa (Jamie Dornan) and Ma (Catriona Balfe) for much of the film grapple with the decision to move, at one point even considering Australia. Despite all of this, the film is most importantly a love letter to life in Belfast, with its multitude of tender moments: Buddy finds himself trying to get the attention of a classmate he fancies; but the one scene that stands out to me is when Buddy speaks to Pop (Ciarin Hinds) in the hospital. When he reveals to Pop that his parents want them to move to London, Pop reassures him: “London’s a small step for man, but Belfast will still be here when you get back.” Even from a technical standpoint, the film captivates; shots of the family in their home are beautifully composed, with thoughtful blocking and framing, sometimes including characters in the background that remain in focus. Laden with sentiments that are near-universal, Belfast never fails to leave you all misty-eyed.

Ali and Ava

Image via @living_image on instagram

As the name suggests, Ali & Ava follow the titular pair as they find love in each other amidst their loneliness. Refreshing in its portrayal of a middle-aged couple falling in love, the film presents a heartfelt story based on real people, set in Bradford. In the opening sequence, we see Ali (Adeel Akhtar) dancing atop a car in the middle of a foggy field while blaring club music plays; this is intercut with Ava (Claire Rushbrook) getting ready for the day, slowly putting on rings. They start the film off as total strangers, but have a chance encounter when a child of one of Ali’s tenants is sent to school by Ali – which happens to be the one Ava works at. As the rain begins to pour, Ava decides to hitch a ride with Ali, and the two begin to bond - Ali shows up at Ava’s home, and they sing and dance on couches like they’ve known each other for years. Ali & Ava manages to detail a unique romance, thanks in large part to the efforts of writer-director Clio Barnard.

C’mon C’mon I’ve got to admit: I wasn’t at all familiar with Mike Mills’ work. Sure, I caught wind of 20th Century Women when it was nominated for Best Original Screenplay at the Oscars. I even started watching it but had to switch off, and never got around to finishing it, so I never learned much about his style or anything. But this film has got to be my favourite from the ones here. And it’s not even on the official programme because it’s screened as the surprise film! Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix) is a reporter who travels around the US, interviewing children about what they think the future holds. Along the way, he finds out that his estranged sister Viv (Gaby Hoffmann) is struggling to both help her husband who suffers from bipolar disorder, and take care of her nine-year-old son Jesse (Woody Norman). He helps her out, and eventually gets to take the kid around with him all across the country. Where do I even begin with this film? The witty, whip-smart writing. The dream-like quality of the editing that immerses us in the characters’ memories, which is also enhanced by Johnny’s voiceovers, justified by his use of a recording device. The performances, too; the adults in the film are great, of course. I’d be remiss if I didn’t show love to Woody Norman; Jesse’s interactions with Johnny are so carefully written with heart and humour, and all performed brilliantly. Between the character he plays, and the thoughtful responses Johnny receives from every child he interviews, the film serves as a gorgeous celebration of our future generation. Hopeful, ethereal, universal; if nothing else, C’mon C’mon makes me hope to be at least half as good an uncle as Johnny. Image via @newportbeachfilmfest on Instagram

Boiling Point

This film follows a particularly busy restaurant service one night leading up to Christmas, centred around its head chef, Andy (Stephen Graham) whose life is slowly coming apart at the seams as he battles addiction. Including your whole host of kitchen nightmares, the chefs struggle to keep up with the orders that come in; and the front-of-house staff don’t have it any easier, having to deal with self-important patrons pushes them to the edge. The most striking aspect of this film is, without a doubt, the continuous shot which lasts practically its entire runtime. With any film this feat would be impressive, but what sets Boiling Point apart is the fact that it takes place almost entirely within the walls of its cramped restaurant. One can only imagine the scene behind the camera, which must not be dissimilar to the chaos that ensues on screen. Hats off to the crew, but the cast are no slouches either. Graham is stellar in the lead, but is consistently matched by Vinette Robinson, who plays his sous-chef. An explosive scene between the two towards the end is certainly a highlight. Ultimately, much of the success of this film simmers down to brilliant direction by Philip Barantini. Definitely keep an eye out for this one.

Image via @seesawmedia on instagram

The Tragedy of Macbeth

Screened as part of the closing night gala, The Tragedy of Macbeth marks Joel Coen’s first project without his long-time collaborator and brother Ethan. This screening was a real treat; Joel and most of the cast were there as it happened to be the European premiere, but the film itself is also quite the achievement. One of the presenters mentioned that the film borrows from all of film history, and it’s not difficult to see how, especially with its set design redolent of films from the first half of the 20th century, perhaps those of German expressionism (think The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and its stylised sets) though with sparser furnishing, and more overtly through the choice of shooting in black-and-white. It also seems to be a recurring theme that film adaptations of Macbeth tend to make use of impressive cinematography, and Bruno Delbonnel’s work here proves just that. The lighting is dynamic, shifting dramatically in the middle of characters’ monologues to great effect, emphasising the text’s theatrical qualities. Similarly bold is the sound design which heightens the mundane sounds of knocks, flapping wings, and dripping water – placing us in the headspace of the paranoid king. With any adaptation of Shakespeare, noting how directors and writers tackle iconic scenes is always a treat; not to give much away, but how Macbeth’s final confrontation with Macduff ends in this one represents his fatal flaw quite cogently. The cast also deliver solid performances: Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand play the leads convincingly, especially as they descend into madness; but a mention should be made of Alex Hassell who shines as Ross, making his presence on Image via @dwill_crackfilm on instagram screen palpable. All in all, this is a treat for both fans of Shakespeare and film alike.

The French Dispatch

the subjects of each chapter are compelling and varied. I wasn’t bored.

by JACK BEECHING There is a tension here, as in all of Wes Anderson’s films. He is a director obsessed with the craft of filmmaking; every frame is dense with detail; every facial expression seems deliberately placed. For his fans, this meticulousness is what sets Anderson’s work apart from the mainstream of American cinema. His offbeat, whimsical style scratches an itch that nothing else can. In my opinion, this comes at a price: his films tend to leave me cold. There are exceptions (I have a soft spot for Fantastic Mr Fox), but his characters are always so buried under layers of irony that they never remotely feel real, much less relatable. I expect this is intentional; they are props in the director’s dollhouse, as is every other part of the set. However, I do consider it a flaw when a film fails to make you feel.

The central theme is, I think, loneliness. The lives of both expatriates and journalists are often solitary, and the film is at its best when it gives us glimpses into that sadness. In the film’s most poignant scene, Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright) tells his editor (Bill Murray) about a part of his story that he had cut because it made him too sad. Murray’s character thinks that the section is the only part worth writing about. Wright “couldn’t agree less”, preferring to emphasise the drama and fun of the story.

I can’t help but see this as a direct commentary on the film itself. There is the implication of emotional depth here, but it’s fighting against Anderson’s instinct to make the same film he has been making for his entire The French Dispatch is a partial success. On the one hand, it’s the work of a career: light-hearted, entertaining, but ultimately inconsequential. The director at the top of his game. Visually, it’s a treat; each chapter of the an- French Dispatch occasionally transcends this, but not enough. thology is told inventively, with animated sequences, carefully choreographed set-pieces, and shifts between colour and monochrome. As in The Grand Budapest Hotel, Anderson experiments with different narrative framing devices (for example, one story is delivered as a lecture). Fans of his work will know that there is a unique delight in watching a Wes Anderson film unfold itself. They are consistently imaginative, filled with witticisms, and often very funny. This is all true of The French Dispatch, to such an extent that it ranks among his best. The structure of an anthology feels like a natural fit for Anderson. His films often seem like a series of vignettes anyway, regardless of whether they have a strong narrative through-line. The spine here is the newspaper: The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun (explicitly modelled on the New Yorker), and its editor, Arthur Howitzer Jr., played by Bill Murray. Each section is framed as an article by a different journalist, all within the context of an obituary for the editor, and the paper itself. Although I won’t discuss them in detail,

image via @frenchdispatch on Instagram

Mitski circles through reality on “Working for the Knife” by SHARON ZHENG

Mitski follows up the success of her 2018 tour de force, Be the Cowboy, with her comeback single “Working for the Knife”. Contrasted by the majestically forceful, synth-led instrumentation, Mitski’s voice sails with repose as she sings about the dehumanisation faced in growing up and working in a sea of capitalism. She defies the conventions of song structure by omitting a chorus for five verses in sequence. Mitski begins each verse with a fresh scenario, only to end cynically with the “knife” motif – one that symbolises the oppressive strings of societal expectations. Such purposeful monotony reflects the cyclical nature of work and documents a series of daily struggles in Mitski’s life. With this, we embark on an existential journey with Mitski, coasting through river rapids of nuanced emotions and cascading instrumental riffs. Grandiose yet understated, the sonic landscape of “Working for the Knife” mirrors the cognitive dissonance of chasing your dreams, particularly in the limelight, and understanding the brutality that coexists with it. The juxtaposition between high/low, right/wrong, start/end, and lies/ truth in the lyrics further reinforce this sentiment. Mitski hypnotically sings “I cry at the start of every movie / I guess ‘cause I wish I was making things too” and “I always knew the world moves on / I just didn’t know it would go without me” like clockwork, as if normalising these feelings. It’s a cry of frustration disguised as a near lullaby. An avalanche of inner turmoil dressed in a calm exterior. A hard-hitting statement veiled by musical beauty. Characteristically, Mitski embraces postmodernism in her music video to add a prolific, visual layer to her art. The video starts and finishes with shaky camera movements, creating a turbulent atmosphere embellished with psychedelism, much in line with the song’s message. She moves abstractly around the space and in the song’s finale, the viewer receives a powerful catharsis (one that is notably absent in the music itself) as Mitski dances wildly and breathes heavily onstage, soundtracked by applause in an empty room. “Working for the Knife” diverts from the vulnerability of Be the Cowboy in projecting a more brutally honest and piercing narrative while maintaining Mitski’s signature, campy style. The lyrics are so profuse in content yet simple in language. The music is so precise and clean in melody, yet intricate and multidimensional in arrangement. Cinematic and quietly complex, “Working for the Knife” is the perfect sequel to Be the Cowboy and further cements Mitski’s name in the pantheon of the indie rock music scene.

sport

edited by MATT SUDLOW

A white man’s game: sports clubs lack diversity at LSE by MATT SUDLOW

Apart from readying their spring week applications and boasting about daddy’s wealth, LSE students’ favourite pastime must be complaining about the university. And rightly so, with the lack of tuition fee rebates, the current horror of silent zones not being silent, and even the audacity to sell LSE-branded underwear. However, one aspect of our university clearly stands out internationally – diversity. We boast of students from 155 countries bringing together a wealth of experiences, backgrounds, and cultures in a melting pot of multiculturalism to learn from and to savour. It’s what makes it so unique. This should be represented throughout the university then, right? Last week, the AU conducted a study looking at the exact make-up of their membership. Out of a total of 1991, 52% were white, compared to 34% of undergraduate students in the LSE population, an incredibly vast overrepresentation. The ethnic diversity that is such a pillar of the LSE community clearly does not cross over into the AU, with sport at LSE being a white man’s game.

45 out of the 1991 AU members coming from a Black background according to the AU report For Black History Month, my goal was to recognise and showcase those with African or Caribbean descent, especially at LSE. With sport, I set out to find the historical Black sporting icons at LSE. I googled it, I looked through the Beaver archives, and, well, there was no history. And today, much of the same, with just 45 out of the 1991 AU members coming from a Black background, according to the AU report. That’s 2%, an embarrassing underrepresentation. So, should sports clubs at LSE actively try and combat this, and mirror the diversity seen throughout the rest of LSE? I spoke with Tega Emore, a third year BSc Accounting and Finance student, and one of the few Black members of the men’s rugby second team. I asked him what, if anything, he thought clubs could do. For him, “it’s a tough one” with it being “hard for some sports, like rugby in particular, which are private school sports” to attract a diverse contingent of members. Emore himself was the only Black player in his high school rugby team, emphasising that the issue of representation in sport and rugby in particular is not consigned to LSE. For a sport spread around the world as a consequence of British colonialism, it’s not hard to wonder why this is. National teams, South Africa’s in particular, have historically faced criticism for just how unrepresentative squads are compared to the population as a whole. For a country where nearly 81% of citizens are Black,

11 out of 14 provincial unions failed to meet even a 45% set target for Black players. The underrepresentation in the sport is no reason we should accept it to be an immutable reality at LSE. Yet, according to the first team captain of the men’s rugby team, Ludo Milne, there is little clubs can do, with responsibility instead falling elsewhere. He stated, “Rugby is a traditional sport played by British people, that’s not something we can do anything about”. But is this true? We are not talking about forcing anything, but the fact that this stereotype exists is part of the issue. As long as people think there is no place for them in sport and others do not actively create that space, we will continue to see such a lack of representation. How we do this, however, is less clear. Personally, I am in no place to offer up any solutions. The hypocrisy of me writing this as a straight, white man is really not lost on me. However, what is extremely clear is that this is something to ponder. For club captains to ensure they are doing everything they can to ensure that their club is a place for all, and to actively promote diversity. To transform any potentially hostile environments, and fight against the stereotypes people may have. Simply “[taking] the members that want to sign up”, as Milne suggests they do, is simply not enough. There is a path for making sport at universities more inclusive. What that is, as a community, we must decide.

Squashing the competition by SURYAANSH JAIN

At LSE, it’s quite natural to feel stressed, tired and overworked. One might even have the rare urge to slam something against the wall in a fit of pent-up rage and frustration (perhaps rare is an understatement here). And if you want to meet a group of people who take this quite literally, engaging in adrenaline-fueled catharsis on a weekly basis, look no further – I present to you the LSE Squash Club. At the competitive level, the LSE Squash Club has 4 teams – 3 men’s (in a hierarchical order) and 1 women’s – which compete against other London universities (the LUSL league) as well as against other universities in the country (the BUCS league). Much like football, BUCS squash consists of a league table, and allows movement between different tiers via promotion and relegation. Historically, LSE’s squash teams have been among our better performing teams and are among the top 5 contributors to LSE’s overall BUCS points tally (the accumulation of BUCS points determines a university’s overall ranking nationally). Focusing on the LSE men’s first team (of which I can proudly claim to be a member), their peak came in the 2013-14 season, when they came top in the second tier and secured promotion. The following season, they recorded their highest-ever finish and came runners-up in the first tier, marginally missing out on first place by a point. However, after a disappointing 2015-

16 season, the team was relegated to the second tier, where they have remained ever since. But with a new season comes a new start, and fresh faces to reignite their promotion hopes. And it seems this hope isn’t misplaced. In the BUCS season opener against the Imperial men’s second team, the LSE team kickstarted its campaign with a decisive 4-1 victory, successfully defending the honour of social scientists in the battle of the sciences. Continuing this momentum, the team romped to an emphatic 5-0 victory over the Imperial Medics Men’s 1s (I doubt they’ll be able to recover from that). Although the squad narrowly missed out on victory against City College London in a hard-fought 2-3 loss, the LSE men’s first team currently stands at the top of the table, with promotion on the cards. Captain Dominic Long said, “Our team’s depth and talent has been boosted by the arrival of many new faces this term, from first years to General Course and Master's students. It’s been really encouraging to see this team pull off impressive victories in our first two matches, and I’m confident we can produce this same quality against other top universities this year!” Can this team replicate the success of the 2013-14 season and win the league again? Stay tuned to find out!

Why can’t we keep politics out of sport? by SACHIN JHANGIANI & illustrated by LÉA PELLETERET

Sunday was a disappointing day to be an Indian cricket fan. Our streak of having never lost a World Cup game against Pakistan, dating back to 1975, was finally broken. Had I been at home, my whole family (including my sister and mother who rarely, if ever, watch cricket), would have gathered around the TV; an India-Pakistan match is not to be missed. It’s a game of rare intensity – similar to El Classico or the North West derby (when United were good). It’s a game in which you ride the emotional highs of Rishabh Pant hitting two one-handed sixes, and the lows of him getting out trying to hit a third one. The reason for this intensity, like most things in South Asia, comes down to one word: partition. The Partition of British India yielded violence, chaos, riots, and disorder. Families had to move under threat of life, simply because of religion. My grandparents’ generation experienced this and carried this resentment with them. For them, a win against Pakistan was akin to winning a war. My parents’ generation grew up hearing tales of partition and what was lost and lived through the 1971 War over Bangladesh. For them, the games were still intense – duels between Imran Khan and Sunil Gavaskar were the stuff of legend. My generation, having never known war with Pakistan (except for on the cricket pitch of course), tends to have a more relaxed view of the game, or at least as relaxed a view as possible considering the history between the two countries.

two countries’ governments don’t help reduce this). Indeed, Mohammad Shami, the only Muslim player on India’s team, was branded a traitor online after the loss, despite India’s captain, Virat Kohli, stating that the team were simply “outplayed”. Sitting in a pub and watching the game, I was struck by the fact that I’d never watched an India-Pakistan match with Pakistanis. It was a strange, but enjoyable, experience to hear someone else cheer when my team did badly. That’s what sport is all about – your team’s pain is the other team’s pleasure. It doesn’t need politics to up the stakes; they’re already high enough. If ever there was a case to be made for keeping politics out of sport, it is with an India-Pakistan cricket match.

What’s interesting though is that behind the enmity and rivalry of the fans, Indian and Pakistani players have always been rather friendly with one another. Having Punjabi as a common language has helped, but mostly it’s been a question of hospitality. The Indians have always taken care of the Pakistani players and vice-versa. It’s sad that politics has disrupted this tradition – no bilateralv series has taken place since there were terror attacks in Mumbai in 2008. It’s sad that we have allowed politics to disrupt the cricket matches played between two great teams who always raise their game against each other. Imagine if Real Madrid and Barcelona only played each other in the Champions League? How disappointing would that be? In one way, it could be argued that this rarity of games between India and Pakistan has made it a tense affair, once again fuelled by nationalism (certainly the

Newcastle’s takeover reflects how football ownership is by SOFIA LAMMALI & illustrated by VANEEZA JAWAD At 5pm on 7 October, Newcastle fans received the news they had been waiting for: their club had finally been taken over by a Saudi consortium. The reaction was euphoric. Supporters gathered outside St James’ Park in celebration. For anyone involved in the football community, Newcastle’s fanbase’s distaste towards previous owner Mike Ashley was no secret, with the Sports Direct founder receiving long-standing criticism for his lack of investment in the club. The euphoria was understandable: the man holding them, underfunding them, who had renamed their home ground St James’ Park to the Sports Direct Arena was finally gone. But attention immediately turned to the new owners: the Saudi-owned Public Investment Fund (PIF). Newcastle were now by far the richest club in the world, with the net worth of PIF, a reported £320 billion, dwarfing the previous title holders, Manchester City, and their measly £23.3 billion. The focus of many human rights groups was instead on the involvement of the Saudi state. Amnesty International has accused them of having an appalling record on women’s and LGBT rights. It pointed to the harassing and jailing of activists and the murder of Jamal Khashoggi. Amanda Stavely, a British businesswoman who was key in driving the takeover and is now a 10% stakeholder in the club, has been keen to emphasise that PIF is an organisation completely separate and un-

related to the Saudi state. A dubious assertion when a quick glance at the PIF website reveals they describe themselves as the “sovereign wealth fund”, with Crown Prince Mohammad Bin-Salman, along with other Saudi ministers, board members. This kind of takeover and ownership in football is not new. Manchester City is owned by the City Football Group, which is owned by Abu Dhabi United Group for Development and Investment (ADUG) – which is, in turn, owned by Sheikh Mansour, Deputy Prime Minister of the UAE, and member of the Abu Dhabi royal family. Outside the UK, Paris Saint Germain have a similar ownership plan through the Emir of Qatar, who owns PSG through closed shareholders Qatar Sports Investments. Human rights organisations have criticised these takeovers as intended to launder the image of repressive authoritarian regimes, so which other countries and billionaires will get in on the act? There are also sporting implications. Manchester City and PSG all saw significant improvements to almost all aspects of their club following their takeover. Once mid-table, struggling clubs, they found themselves winning titles and cups that they used to only dream of. Truthfully, football is becoming more and more a money game. The more you have, the more you win. The gulf in wealth between the richest and poorest clubs has rendered the sport of the underdog into a monopoly, with large score

lines and influxes of players to the same few clubs. For Newcastle, wealthy owners should inevitably mean trophies, something they have lacked for many years now, but at what cost?

Join The Beaver Sport! Has your sports team produced a performance you want the whole university to know about? Do you want to share your sporting passion with whoever will listen? Is there a sporting issue that just pisses you off? Write for us! We are looking for contributors, both regular and one-off Get in touch with our Sports Editor, Matt, by emailing sport.flipside@lsesu.org

BEAVER SPORT UPDATE The LSE Kabaddi team are on a winning streak, with the club becoming the talk of campus. One question is on everybody’s lips: what the fuck is kabaddi?

part b

edited by AMBRE PLUTA

Putting the reality of Africans’ lives into fiction by ANOUK PARDON

His story focuses around the ambiguity of belonging, feelings of alienation, the aftermaths of colonialism and the meaning of “home” Born in Zanzibar and arriving as a refugee in the United Kingdom in the late 1960s, Gurnah often pondered these themes. Eventually, it was homesickness, pain, and reflections about his childhood that led him to start writing in his early 20s.

“

“Clouds of dust rising and rising, churned up by tramping feet. Trees glare hard-headed at the noon sun. Tortured by the power of the heat, the sea turns and turns and wastes and evaporates, and turns into mist and vapour, coagulating in the chill that follows the sun. Hassan Omar stares at the horizon and feels the salt wind from the sea brush his skin. He tries not to think of his family at home and the growing pain in his chest as he quietly listens to the breaking waves.” (Memory of Departure, Gurnah, 1987) Memory of Departure tells the story of young Hassan Omar, who decides to escape poverty and misery in search of a better life. Published in 1987, it was one of Abdulrasak Gurnah’s first novels. Like many of his stories, it is set on the coast of East Africa and focuses around the ambiguity of belonging, feelings of alienation, the aftermaths of colonialism and the meaning of “home”.

Pictures of Black Lives Matters protests in the USA by TORI ANDERSON

To this day, his work includes numerous short stories and essays, and ten novels. Central to them is his empathetic description of the lives of individual East Africans and the aftermath of European colonialism. His latest piece of fiction, Afterlives, published in 2020, is highly praised and reinforces his position as one of the most prominent post-colonial writers. It is one of the many reasons he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature 2021 as the first Black African writer in more than three decades. Abdulrasak Gurnah’s work has been overlooked in the past. Regardless, he crafted fiction that was meant to touch and draw attention to the reality of the many Africans who had to leave their homes and seek a new life in exile.

“He is writing stories that are often quiet stories of people who aren’t heard, but there’s an insistence there that we listen.” (writer Naaza Mengiste) Even though Gurnah has not yet had the chance to turn his own life story into fiction, he touches upon the lives of many others whose stories had been unheard until now.

”

The bastardisation of Basquiat

My childhood self on what heaven would feel like

by VANI KANT

by VANEEZA JAWAD

“

Art as a discipline cannot be commodified. Its value lies in the enjoyment or grief it can bring to people by allowing them to see reflections of themselves, and finding solace in this familiarity. Jean-Michel Basquiat’s work is an essential element of the zeitgeist because it exists to make people feel seen.

It’s raw; it’s subversive; it’s unapologetic; and arguably most importantly, it’s anti-capitalist. Turns out, it’s also slapped on a £565 Saint Laurent hoodie which was most probably made in a sweatshop in India. Basquiat, having tragically passed away in 1988, has no say on the bastardisation of his legacy. And therein lies the proof that while art cannot be commodified, artwork definitely can, and definitely has been. Why is Basquiat’s “Equals Pi” a focal element of Tiffany and Co’s “About Love” campaign with Beyoncé and Jay-Z, where Beyoncé adorns the infamous blood diamond gatekept from all but four women worthy and wealthy enough to wear it? The recent infatuation of luxury brands with the Black and queer anti-establishmentarian visionary is very curious, but not particularly mysterious. It’s important to contextualise this interest against the global upsurge of activism and the consequent demand for luxury brands to be socially conscious of their elitist practices. And what better way to respond to valid criticism than by rebranding and co-opting symbols of socio-political subversion and ‘rebellion’ while strategically retaining all the power capital can buy, simultaneously staying relevant in the discourse? The desire to appear agitational is especially big with street style brands and luxury collections, which is why you can now buy a £2800 Saint Laurent Basquiat skateboard, to roll his name in the mud. You can always count on the rich to look subversive but not declare their taxes. But there’s still hope for us lesser mortals yet. As the trends trickle down the hierarchy of the fashion industry, inevitably you will find the £3 Shein crop top someone was paid 45p to make. You don’t know why there’s a three point crown and chaotic writing on it, but you do know it’ll look fantastic on the ‘gram. And that’s the problem. Capitalism is capable of draining every last drop of meaning out of Basquiat’s – and so many other artists’ – works until they exist for optics and vibrant colour palettes alone. It reduces canvases of creative genius that led to a cultural shift to a detached, niche aesthetic, or an investment to be sold and resold amongst collectors over the years. An untitled Basquiat which was worth $19,000 in 1984 was recently sold for $110.5 million at a Sotheby’s auction. Jean-Michel Basquiat dedicated his life’s work to portraying the anti-imperialist and anti-capitalist struggle.

He challenged what art was and redefined what it could be and who could make it. He detached art from the ivory towers of the elite and placed it in the more brutal reality he – and so many others not born with a silver spoon up our arses – lived and knew of. Unfortunately, thirty three years after his death, the glory of Basquiat’s art comes from the millionaire who can afford to own it, not the spectator who takes time to understand it. But hey, if you can afford New York’s rent and a blood diamond or two, at least you can go see “Equals Pi” on display at the Tiffany and Co Fifth Avenue store in 2022.

”

THE BLACK EXPERIENCE AT LSE AND WHY IT MATTERS

interviewed by BEATRIZ SILVA photography by ELIANA RADAELLI

Chinia, Kowsar, Akhigbe and Spencer joined me at the Media Centre on a late Friday afternoon. Yes, we are talking about Black History Month and the Black experience at LSE. Not just because it’s that time of that year again, but because questions around race continue to be as relevant as ever on campus and beyond. For this interview, with a group of friends who had so many lived experiences to share, I let the conversation flow. We talked about the African Caribbean Society and the unique role it plays in the experience of Black students at university; what Black History Month is about at LSE; Kant and GV100; Sidney Webb; and, inevitably, the Beveridge Cafe. “When you first start uni, as a Black person, the first thing you go to is ACS,” Chinia shared at the very beginning of our hour-long conversation. The others nodded in agreement. Why is that? “You are always going to find like-minded people at ACS.” “As someone from Nigeria, Africa, you always want to remember your roots,” Akhigbe added. The African Caribbean Society quickly becomes the home of many Black and minority students at LSE. Understanding why this is so is not difficult: “When I moved into Roseberry in first year, I was meeting a lot of international, white, privately educated students, and I found that the way that they’d grown up, the way that they’d been raised, was quite different to me,” one of them said. As we all know from the wider student experience, moving to a big bustling city can be daunting to many. But the culture shock for international students who didn’t grow up accustomed to being a minority inside the classroom is overwhelming in comparison.

“Coming to my first class and being the only Black boy, I could tell that people were looking at me a certain way...I felt like people were judging me all the time.” To Chinia, raised in Birmingham, there was no surprise there: “LSE isn’t unique in the fact that I just expected university in general to be very white.” With that comes a sense of responsibility, she shared. Chinia feels like she needs to speak up and represent her unique perspective as a Black woman in class. But what seems like something trivial to most students – raising your hand to participate in class discussions – can be an uncomfortable and even stressful experience when you feel surrounded by students from an entirely different background to yours. “Coming to my first class and being the only Black boy, I could tell that people were looking at me a certain way...I felt like people were judging me all the time.” Spencer wasn’t alone in feeling this way. Black students are used to being challenged in class settings by their white counterparts when it comes to questions of race and colonialism. “Is Kant a racist and does it matter?” – this was one of the weekly GV100 questions last year. It was discussed in Kowsar’s class as a debate. “I am one of two Black people in that class, a big class...and a couple of white people took the first opportunity to centre themselves in the conversation,” Kowsar explained. “I guess people think this is for them to speak on because the department offered it to them.” Everyone in the group agreed that all students are entitled to speak their minds, but when some resort to arguments based on purported biological differences between races – essentially, eugenics – should everything be up for a class debate? “They took it out this year – which I guess is the bare minimum.” Chinia brought Sidney Webb into the conversation here. “Did you know that Sidney Webb [House] is named after a eugenicist?” Webb was one of the found-

ers of LSE and, indeed, a eugenicist. More recently, LSE named the Beveridge Cafe after William Beveridge, a widely respected public intellectual in the UK who spearheaded important welfare policy reforms. However, for Black students, or anyone who is familiar with his writings on eugenics, understanding why exactly LSE made the decision to name the café after him in 2019 is still difficult. “That means two years ago you sat in an office with other people and when you decided the name of the café you actively chose a name that would diminish the experience and identity of so many people.” This is, of course, a controversial topic on campus with no straightforward answers. But how should a Black student at LSE feel about this? Despite making these often unsettling decisions, LSE celebrates Black History Month every year. So what is Black History Month like at LSE? “I have no idea,” Chinia replied. “All of the events the SU put up for BHM, we had no idea about. They didn’t actively promote them, they didn’t reach out to us [ACS] so that we could promote it to our members. ...I didn’t even know about half the events until it was already too late to go to them.” The truth is that the Students’ Union put together a variety of events, but they were not well-promoted if the President of the African Caribbean Society didn’t know about them. When it came to the ACS’s own events, “they didn’t support us at all.” It’s a shame that despite an impressive lineup of events, the people who should have felt supported the most in October weren’t.

What is then Black History Month about at LSE? A range of events that LSE and the Students’ Union organise every year so that they can tick the box, or is there a wider meaning to them? What is then Black History Month about at LSE? A range of events that LSE and the Students’ Union or-

ganise every year so that they can tick the box, or is there a wider meaning to them? These are contentious questions. In an official statement, LSE said its theme for Black History Month this year “recognises that we must think beyond Black History Month to achieve the world we want for tomorrow”, and that “Blackness and Black people cannot be constrained. Black thought must radically be told and maintained. Breaking barriers in every time and space. The Black experience cannot be co-opted or replaced.” This is a powerful statement and not something LSE can commit to lightly. For a university where most students do not engage at all with Black History Month, where students frequently report being frustrated with course choices that are “whitewashed”, taught by staff unrepresentative of those they teach, there is still a long way to go in order for LSE to meet its discourse. For BHM in 2019, the cover of Flipside was Angelica Olawepo, a LLB Law student and YouTube sensation. She said: “I feel like LSE only remembers that they have Black students when it’s time for Black History Month.” My conversation with the LSESU Caribbean Society finished on a similar note. It is true that in recent years LSE has increased its intake of disadvantaged students more than most universities. But once these students actually get here, the School can lose touch with their daily struggles. “For Black students who are here, right now, I don’t know what there is. To get here there’s a bunch of stuff, there’s LSE CHOICE and a bunch of summer schools. But now that we’re here, what is there?” Instead of organising big speaker events with renowned guests during Black History Month, perhaps more tangible, even if smaller, attitude changes could have a greater impact on daily campus life. A few months ago LSE sent its students a newsletter asking for ideas on how to name the café of the (already) infamous Marshall Building. Perhaps not after a eugenicist? That’s a start.

ISSUE 914

MT WEEK 6 2021 REVIEW: BEAVER AT THE BFI | SOCIAL: BEVERIDGE REPORT 3.0 | PART B: THE BASTARDISATION OF BASQUIAT | SPORT: A WHITE MAN’S GAME

& LSESU AFRICAN

CARIBBEAN SOCIETY