The Columnist Issue 6

THE COLUMNIST I S S U E

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D E C E M B E R

One For All, All For One MIGRATION, CITIZENSHIP AND GENDER IN EUROPE

By Pablo Pérez Ruiz

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E d i t o r i a l : Be Sceptical

BY RILEY KAMINER

Welcome to your magazine.

2016 has certainly offered us a potent examination of consensus. This summer’s Brexit referendum and November’s US presidential election characterise the continual upheaval of the status quo.

The critics are out. The importance of truth has been questioned, perhaps most notably through the Oxford English Dictionary’s declaration of ‘post-truth’ as its word of the year.

BBC documentarian Adam Curtis has offered the term ‘hypernormalisation,’ suggesting that the West is finally rejecting the fake reality of stability that politicians have been peddling for decades. Both of these reactions suggest that, as Twisted Sister eloquently put it, ‘we’re not gonna take it anymore.’

On an individual level, the rise of new forms of communication has allowed for the sharing of information to an almost incomprehensibly vast degree. This growth has ushered in a mistrust of experts: the much vaunted representatives of the establishment, whose value relies on the logic and rationality behind their analysis of data and statistics.

In turn, we have countered by placing an unprecedented level of importance on Facebook posts, Twitter memes, and YouTube rants that prioritise feelings over facts (while often conflating the two).

It is easy to let our guard down and push aside the healthy scepticism that protects us from that which is wrong, careless, and dangerous. It is tempting to succumb to the consumption of content that is within our

immediate reach, or increasingly, to lose faith in those whom we have been told to trust.

In times like these, it is worth recalling that the word ‘expert’ somewhat humbly derives from the Latin experiri, meaning ‘to try.’

The Columnist, from its own humble origins, has tried to be a platform for the sceptical. Having recently become an official society through the Edinburgh University Students’ Association, we are now more equipped than ever to help you get your thoughts out there.

Let’s build a dialogue that informs rather than imposes. Let’s promote discourse through debate rather than declaration.

Above all, let your voice be heard.

T H E C O L U M N I S T S TA F F EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

SOCIAL COMMENTARY EDITOR

HEAD OF ILLUSTRATIONS

DEPUTY EDITOR

CULTURE EDITOR

STRATEGIC ADVISER

CURRENT AFFAIRS EDITOR

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

COPY EDITOR

Riley Kaminer Lisa Wang

Maeve Hurson

Louis Goss

Lydia Watson

Jessica Bonehill

T h e C o l u mn i s t i s supported by:

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Vivian Uhlir

Scully Lynch

Shona Warwick

Contents CURRENT AFFAIRS One For All, All For One: Migration, citizenship and gender in Europe

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In Need of Some Cement Mark Wilson

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My Transition to Independence

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Municipal Elections in Brazil: The plunging left Gabriela de Meaux Vidal-Quadras

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Pablo PĂŠrez Ruiz

Priyanka Radhakrishnan

S O C I A L C O M M E N TA RY Moralising Architecture in Edinburgh Lindsay Hushin

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Open Data and the Future of Smart Cities Alec Edgecliffe-Johnson

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Tinder Olivia Evershed

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I Submit to our Data Overlords, and So Should You. Jett Oristaglio

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C U LT U R E Restoration and Rehabilitation: Swan Lake and Black Swan Ciara Mckay

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Dr. Oppenheimer, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Pastoral Felix Carpenter

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End of an Era: Is the reign of the prime-time historical drama finally over?

Emelia Hamilton-Russell

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One For All, All For One Migration, citizenship and gender in Europe

BY PABLO PÉREZ RUIZ

In

the early 1990s, a foreign spouse trying to get a divorce in Germany during the first four years of marriage could face deportation, according to the 1991 Aliens Act. With the risk of losing residency if the marriage was broken, many women were put into situations of domestic violence and sexual exploitation by their husbands, an aspect initially dismissed

by German legislators. Citizenship may promise equality and inclusion, but it also builds boundaries and can contain inherent exclusions. Although the German example may seem far away in time, the relationship between gender, migration and citizenship is still a problematic one across Europe today.

Citizenship is not a neutral phenomenon, but has been developed throughout history in ways which have carried gender assumptions at its heart. Citizenship across Europe has generally been linked to the male breadwinner, patriarchal attitudes and the existence of exclusive political structures such as national parliaments; in the UK, institutional sexism can be traced back to key documents such as the 1942 Beveridge Report, which laid the intellectual foundations of the British post-war welfare state. The report committed to full employment through the male wage, and by seeing men and their

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wives as a unit in the insurance system, it evidenced its belief in married women’s economic dependency on their husbands.

The intersection of gender and citizenship is not only found in female nationals’ full enjoyment of political, social, and economic rights but also in (particularly low-skilled and irregular) migrants and asylum seekers’ access to nationality and rights in the destination countries. The current rhetorical ‘(re)turn to assimilation,’ in which, according to Sarkozy, to be French you need to ‘live like the French,’ which can prove challenging to migrants who do not ‘fit’ with the idea of citizenship pushed by mainstream media and government.

Dealing with diversity and difference within the framework of citizenship can be challenging and lead to nasty politics of exclusion, and even more so in the current assimilationist climate where Switzerland has denied citizenship to two Muslim girls after they refused to swim with boys at school or where the Ealing Council in the UK tried to withdraw funding from Southall Black Sisters for excluding white women, thus denying the provision of specialist service provision to ethnic minority women suffering from domestic violence.

The return to assimilation has been connected with the increasing importance of national citizenship,

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in which nationality is frequently a prerequisite for the enjoyment of basic human rights such as healthcare and in which, according to Theresa May, those who consider themselves as global citizens ‘do not understand what the very word citizenship means.’ The reliance on national citizenship to enjoy basic human rights has put many female migrant workers at risk, especially those working in the informal economy, such as domestic workers, who may never acquire eligibility for permanent stay or citizenship. Good examples include the recent British ‘health tourism’ laws, by which irregular migrant women have had to pay up to £6000 for giving birth in British hospitals.

In the back-breaking path to national citizenship, gendered socioeconomic discrimination frequently intertwines with racial discrimination. As stated by the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women in their 2008 Resolution on migrant women workers, ‘women migrant workers often experience intersecting forms of discrimination, suffering not only gender-based discrimination, but also xenophobia and racism.’ Recent research has shown how the employment chances of females with backgrounds of migration from Muslim countries, and especially of those wearing headscarves, are considerably lower than those of na-

tive German citizens when applying for the same jobs. Migrant and ethnic minority women are often construed as ‘traditional’ and ‘subservient’ by government and the media, which tends to build upon gendered notions of appropriate work for these women being in the domestic sphere.

The impact of anti-immigration politics has built on existing racial discrimination and has had gendered effects in both men and women. Male asylum-seekers have been constructed as hypersexualized predators after the events of Cologne, and far right parties such as The Danish Party have gone as far as handing out an ‘anti-migrant’ spray to protect Danish citizens from the ‘danger’ of male asylum-seekers. Similarly, the Hungarian government has framed male asylum-seekers as ‘women harassers’ in the build up to their recent national referendum on whether to accept the EU quota for asylum-seekers. The trope of the sexual savagery of the racialized non-citizen is one deeply embedded in European culture that can be traced back to the colonial era, making this is an all-pervasive trope that is many times uncritically accepted, and one that is difficult for the integration of male refugees of colour.

Anti-immigration politics has also

constructed (especially female) migrants’ citizenship in terms of them using up welfare provisions. However, migrants are not only passive recipients of services but active providers of public services, many of which have been recently cut. They not only contribute economically by working, paying taxes, and doing unpaid labour in the home, but also politically and culturally through the formation of religious and campaigning groups, thus shaping the meaning of citizenship as much as being shaped by it. As migrants become similar to the local natives, so do the local natives change and adapt to the new ideas brought in: assimilation is inevitably a two-way street, but current anti-immigration policies are only making that street too steep and unequal.

To overcome current anti-immigration, assimilationist approaches around Europe and especially in the UK, it is necessary to put migrant men and women’s life-stories into the debate on citizenship, giving them the agency they deserve and debunking gender and racial based myths as Linda McDowell has brilliantly done in her book Migrant Women’s Voices. Only when their voices are heard will migrant men and women be able to assert the ways in which they are already becoming citizen, by enshrining them

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in law.

Creating citizens is not a neutral but a highly gendered phenomenon.

The egalitarian and anti-hierarchical potential of citizenship is often trumped by gendered assumptions that tend to intersect with racial and class assumptions as well. Male asylum-seekers are constructed as sexual predators, while female migrants are generally seen as passive recipients of social benefits or victims of oppressive and traditional cultures.

In the current anti-immigration, assimilationist agenda, citizenship is built in opposition to highly-gendered images of the non-citizen resident, who in fact reshapes the very idea of citizenship in his/her daily practices.

The starting point for equality is to look at both our gendered discourses in the media and government, their material consequences, and migrants’ life-stories.

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In Need of Some Cement

BY MARK WILSON

When

Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos signed a peace deal with FARC, former President Alvaro Uribe tweeted a photo of Neville Chamberlain holding aloft his concession to Hitler, the ‘Peace in our Time’ agreement. The Marxist rebel group’s sixty year attempt to force land-redistribution has killed 220,000 people and fundamentally destabilized the power of the Colombian state, lodging deep in the country’s psyche.

In light of the grave stakes of Colombia’s present political struggles, I’m going to talk about something completely inane: that local infrastructure investment is critical to resolving the longstanding violence that saturates Colombia’s past. Before we get into the bulk of the argument, we need to establish some basic premises about how the FARC conflict has and is operating. First, FARC is far from the only organization committing violence in this conflict and destabilizing the country.

FARC has been fighting a paramilitary group called the ELN almost as much as it has been fighting the Colombian government, and comparable in size to both organizations is

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an a-political drug cartel called Los Urabenos, which is by far the largest drug cartel currently operating in Colombia. Second, FARC and the ELN are not insurgent organizations; they control territory in a very meaningful way. It is telling that, in response to the FARC peace deal, the ELN was able to enforce an economic shutdown of all the territory they controlled. There are parts of Colombia in which the legally recognized government has no effective control; FARC, ELN, and other gangs fill that role. Finally, Columbia has some of the worst infrastructure in the world (it ranks 130 out of 148 globally). The Andes mountains divide into three different ranges in the country’s north, making highway construction incredibly expensive and cutting the coastal region, which is covered in thick jungle, off from the highly populated central belt nestled between the ranges. Many rural areas have little more than dirt roads.

That lack of infrastructure plays a fundamental role in the longevity of the FARC conflict and national instability in general. Without a coherent system of national infrastructure, it is very difficult for the Colombian government to exert influence over the

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rural territories that gangs control because it renders troop mobility very low and economic opportunities limited to those who grow coca for a living. This means that once peace is negotiated with one gang (see the demobilization of the AUC) it becomes very easy for competing gangs to take their place. Control of territory is crucial to the production of cocaine, which is the primary funding mechanism of FARC, ELN, and Los Urabenos. Ending conflict means more than negotiating peace, it must come with investment in rural communities.

To his credit, Juan Manuel Santos has outlined a plan for improving the country’s infrastructure that would work in tandem with peace negotiations. The problem is that it will cost $50bn that Columbia doesn’t have.

To cover the cost, Santos is encouraging private investment, which must therefore come with investment in rural communities.

If Colombia is to end its long standing tradition of political violence, it will need to invest in radical changes to its infrastructure and how it chooses to administer to the often neglected rural areas.

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My Transition to Independence

BY PRIYANKA RADHAKRISHNAN

Two weeks ago, I found out my

uncle was voting for Trump. Now he may live Texas, but this is a middle class, Indian, IT professional whose wife is Muslim and whose kids buy Bernie Sanders laptop stickers in bulk. He is not a normal Trump voter. When I got this news, I decided to call him, almost entirely convinced this was a joke gone too far or an incorrect WhatsApp message. ‘He probably meant to say Gary Johnson’ I told my mom. ‘Autocorrect can be a pain.’ When I called him the following Sunday, I learned that this was not the case. After three hours of tears and accusations I finally got to the crux of the matter — ‘I am a Republican,’ he said, ‘Who else would I vote for?’ Now, when my uncle first moved to America he was a small business owner who lost two start-ups to what he describes as ‘the soul-sucking devil that is FICA.’ He turned on the news and saw Michael Dukakis yell ‘More Taxes!’ into a room full of cheering ‘lazy hippies’ (his words not mine) and decided the Democratic Party was not for him. I may not agree with him, but I get it.

At that point in time, the Republicans represented his interests. However, after he made this first conscious decision, he never chose again. He began to view American politics like Indian cricket, developing an irrational loyalty that made him stick to his team even when they had a bad season or captain who wanted to ban his wife from the country.

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After this conversation, I began to walk back to my flat, viciously muttering angry rhetorical questions.

‘What happened to educated voting?’ I grumbled. However, when I stepped into my room I noticed my various Obama calendars (Michelle’s arms tho) and Biden posters. There seemed to be a problem.

I realized that my political decision-making process paralleled the way I viewed Tom Cruise. Objectively speaking, I know that Knight and Day and The Edge of Tomorrow aren’t major feats in filmmaking and Cruise’s whole Scientology thing should ring some warning bells. But every time I remember these facts, I go back back to visualising him in A Few Good Men. Cross-examining Jack Nicholson. Fighting for the truth! There are similarities between my uncomfortable passion for Tom Cruise and my blind faith in the Obamas. I love Obama, I really do, but I wish that he would stop expanding the nuclear arsenal and take a stronger stance on free education and oh my god I am listing the Green Party Manifesto. However, I am Democrat and don’t care how many subpar sequels of Mission Impossible they put out, I will always love them. This is the main problem with American politics. In this extremely partisan system I will never get my Scandinavian utopia and my uncle will never cease to complain about his kid’s tuition fees, all because we aren’t willing to actually vote for the

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policies we want.

This revelation that my support of Obama and my uncle’s vote for Trump are backed by similar reasoning (gag), has inspired me to mend my ways. For future elections, when I fill out my ballot, I won’t register as a Democrat. I will register as a strong woman who don’t-need-no party-totell-me-what policies-I-support. I will register as you-are-going-to have-to earn-my vote. I will register as Independent.

Municipal Elections in Brazil The plunging left

BY GABRIELA DE MEAUX VIDAL-QUADRAS

On October 1st 2016, Brazilians cast their votes to elect the new mayor of their respective cities. While in São Paulo millionaire businessman João Doria was directly elected with an absolute majority of votes, in Rio de Janeiro the two candidates that received the most votes entered a further competition in order to win the second round of the municipal election. The results on October 30th were controversial, to say the least...

The two cariocas candidates in the final run for mayor symbolize the two extremes of the political spectrum in Brazil. Marcelo Crivella is an evangelist bishop who embodies religious conservationism, while Marcelo Freixo, a member of a minor socialist party, personifies progressive and modern values by denouncing social inequalities and political malpractices. As such, he holds the support of the young, artistic and intellectual middle classes, and those who believe in his somewhat rebellious political approach to correct injustices in a country overwhelmed by poverty.

In the end, Crivella was elected mayor with 59.36% versus 40.64%,

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‘Numerous citizens have manifested not only disinterest but also a real despair regarding democratic participation, which is justified.’ a baffling result to the reformist who exhaustively campaigned against his opponent.

Many argued that Crivella’s success resulted from his religious background, which is attractive to the poor. Indeed, 90% of evangelists voted for him, but these only represent 18.34% of Rio’s population. More significantly, two strategies contributed to his victory: a secular discourse of tolerance which attracted a wider range of society from all classes, and a reapproximation with Catholics, who account for 61.15% of the population. Moreover, the electoral map of Rio reveals that it was an election very defined by social class. Crivella won by a landslide in poorer areas. Freixo was more popular in richer areas, but mostly among the middle class. The upper echelons of society, which normally vote for centre-right candidates, chose the religious over the

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so-called ‘communist’ candidate because of the latter’s strong opposition to the impeachment of President Dilma Rousseff, which was massively supported by the elite.

For instance, Ipanema was the only rich neighbourhood that mostly supported Crivella in the second round with 52.2% of votes, compared to 6.9% in the first round, clearly rejecting Freixo.

Another crucial development in these elections was the astonishing amount of unheard voices all over Brazil. The so-called ‘party of those without vote’ (abstentions and blank ballots) reached 42.54% of votes in Rio and won over the number of votes for the winner in numerous cities. Many accused these ‘non-voters’ of failing to fulfill their political responsibility, as they simply let the

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leading candidate win. However, the blame lies within a deep and widespread disillusion towards Brazil’s representative system. Numerous citizens have manifested not only disinterest but also a real despair regarding democratic participation, which is justified. Politicians are a very specific cast of society, often from family clans, who can afford to compete in expensive elective procedures. Moreover, they are known to run for office in pursuit of privileges such as advancing their own self-interested agenda and accessing a shady web of favour exchanges, instead of genuinely seeking to improve their society. Finally, corruption is endemic in Brazilian politics, as illustrated by the recent scandal within the state-owned oil company, Petrobrás. Nepotism, rent-seeking

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behavior and corruption take away citizens’ hope in being legimately represented, regardless of their vote. Only a radical change in the political system, such as closer monitoring of politicians’ expenses and incomes, could overcome these problems, but as it paradoxically requires this exact elite to give up its privileges, the country is left to a moral and political impasse.

Municipal elections across Brazil reflected conservatism and disenchantment, suggesting quite sinister prospects for reformists in the 2018 presidential elections. Left-wing parties will have to focus on detaching from their position regarding the impeachment if they are to realistically compete for the presidency.

Moralising Architecture in Edinburgh

BY LINDSAY HUSHIN

If

architecture echoes society, then what does that make Edinburgh? Edinburgh’s architecture is a facade of historic cohesion; disrepair and ill-advised new construction lie just beneath the surface. City architecture is society made tangible, and as such it becomes increasingly necessary for buildings to serve a high population efficiently rather than remaining historically static and merely a treat for the eyes. It is uniquely divisive in this aspect – architecture must be functional in cities, but it cannot be ugly. Ugliness is something Edinburgh fears, both architecturally and socially. What is being demolished and what is being preserved reveals this – it is about who the buildings or features are for that dictates the survival of architecture in Edinburgh.

This fine city has a reputation to uphold for the masses of tourists that wander aimlessly around the main thoroughfares and attractions, and this reputation is one of well-preserved historic beauty. The view to-

wards the Old Town from Princes’ Street Gardens, with its staircase of pre-20th century rooftops leading up toward the castle cliff, is photographed every few seconds in selfie format (from the unofficial observations of this humble author). These listed buildings are carefully preserved by the Edinburgh council, and so much as changing the lock of a door needs prior approval from the board. But these buildings are for tourists; those living, studying and working in Edinburgh aren’t frequenting the tat shops of the Royal Mile or paying £4 to hike to the top of Scott’s Monument every day.

Places that Edinburgh residents do frequent aren’t afforded such protection. Bristo Square was also historic and well-known, and a central meeting place at the main University, yet it has been under demolition for what seems like an eternity. The square was for people-watching, a hangout for skateboarders, and a place to sit for groups of homeless people. A smooth paved lot and underground

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museum will soon take its place to cater to tourists interested in the history of the school, and there will be no steps for anyone to sit upon, especially the homeless. Cultural currency is no match for revenue generation. Heritage is a privilege for the privileged in Edinburgh it seems; a self-indulgent celebration that is constantly whittling itself down to only the most elite remains of the past. In antiquity, the dilapidated Medieval slums of the Cowgate where poorer residents lived were demolished because the unsightly people made them unsightly. The poor don’t take care of buildings, not that they are given any incentives or resources for such a task. Now, Cowgate is known for expensive, shoddy student housing and sticky clubs for these students; a place to avoid for most people living in Edinburgh. However, what is lacking is housing that might encourage those with lower incomes to repopulate the city centre.

The style and spirit of the city is

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lost in all this. Affordable materials and plans are used to raise blocky buildings that are integrated poorly into the surrounding cityscape, and the affordability is not passed onto the consumer – the soulless Quartermile development swallowing up the old hospital with luxury flats

could have been dropped in from any city undergoing forced gentrification. Both the preservation of heritage and new construction within the city fail to develop a permanent cultural community for the residents.

So what is Edinburgh’s architecture for, if not the people living here? Has

it become a city for the transient consumer; the students, tourists, and Fringe attendees? In some ways, the conflicting architectural developments mirror a social climate within Edinburgh that caters heavily to a wealthy impermanent base.

Open Data and the Future of Smart Cities

BY ALEC EDGECLIFFE-JOHNSON

For many of us, the term ‘gov-

ernment data’ is likely to bring to mind dimly-lit dystopian cities and big brother-esque surveillance programs. For proponents of the Open Data movement, however, government data has a very different connotation. At the heart of the movement is the belief that data, including crime statistics, economic insights and even anonymised healthcare statistics, should be utilised by the public to drive advancements in society.

Over the past two decades the Open Data movement has transformed from a small collection of Internet gurus to a global phenomenon. Initiatives like the Open Government Partnership, a coalition of sixty-two countries dedicated to open data policies, are fuelling collection and dissemination of data in

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thousands of cities across the globe.

In response, non-profit and for-profit organisations alike, are being created in order to put the information to use. The result has been staggering: a recent report by McKinsey puts the value of open data at nearly $3 trillion a year.

Perhaps more significantly, open data has facilitated citizen action and bottom-up community initiatives. It has enabled community members to identify and solve problems that have been historically left to local governments and government services. One such initiative is ‘San Francisco Crimespotting,’ a website that displays crime statistics and encourages citizens to shape policing based on the results. The UK-based site, fixmystreet.com, is an even broader application that allows community members to analyse data

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and direct attention to certain issues that they encounter.

These initiatives foreshadow a new era of urban service design and governance. With advancements like ‘Internet of Things’ technology, driverless cars and hyper-connectivity, we are rapidly approaching the digitally connected ‘smart city’. In its current conception the smart city is a flexible urban area built around services that use data-driven insight to adapt to the needs of inhabitants.

The need for smarter, more dynamic cities and smarter services is underscored by estimates that by 2050, two-thirds of the global population will live in urban areas.

Assuming we have the technological capability to collect data and enact change, there are still significant barriers to the creation of a truly smart city. The modernisation of

currently underdeveloped cities will require government planning and top-down service design. However, as the cities move higher up the development scale, it seems unlikely that they will continue to progress under models of top-down design.

When they reach a certain level of development, smart cities will simply be too complex for traditional forms of centralised planning. This is not to say that local governments will not play a role in these cities, but progress will be driven primarily by initiatives from city inhabitants themselves, much like the Crimespotter and FixMyStreet projects.

To facilitate this shift, government organisations must be willing to release collected data in a usable form and to support the initiatives that they foster. Additionally, community members must be educated on how

to use the data and must be willing to do so. These conditions highlight significant challenges. By some estimates, nearly four-fifths of all data collected in some areas is unusable, because it is inaccurate, or is in improper form. In many cases, however, lack of data is less an issue than lack of ability and imagination to utilise it. In short, there are far more answers in the data than there are questions being posed. Even if we manage to solve these issues, data collection itself faces fundamental ethical barriers concerning privacy and limits to use. Historical examples of misuse, reinforced by pop culture, have resulted in distrust of personal and aggregate level data collection. And this reaction has been to a relatively modest level of collection. Are we prepared for the level of collection in a city wherein

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almost all public goods and services are digitally connected?

While Open Data is a necessary condition for the development of smart cities, it is far from sufficient.

We need high quality data, a willingness to accept and support bottom-up initiatives and an educated public that is willing and able to develop these initiatives. Prior to that, we as a public must clarify our sentiments regarding data collection and privacy. And we had better do all of this quickly. Technological advancements and increasing urbanisation demand that we modernise our cities or fail to adequately provide for their inhabitants.

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Tinder

BY OLIVIA EVERSHED

Tinder – /ˈtɪndə/ n. a. Dry, flammable material, such as wood or paper, used for lighting a fire. (OED) b. Dating app. ‘Tinder is the McDonalds for sex.’ (UrbanDictionary)

‘Nobody joins Tinder because they’re looking for something,’claims Sean Rad, co-founder. ‘They join because they want to have fun.

It doesn’t even matter if you match because swiping is so fun.’ One doesn’t use Tinder, one ‘plays’ Tinder – in Rad’s own words. Modeled on a card game, in which the ‘natural urge [is] to interact with the top card by throwing it to the side’, the app is reminiscent of gambling culture, with the ultimate reward being … sex?

It’s a pretty straightforward concept – you create a profile using photos and a short bio, which together advertise your qualities to potential partners. Undeniably, the onus is on the visuals – but if we’re honest, first impressions count for a lot outside the virtual sphere too: with seduction in mind, who’d approach somebody they’re not attracted to?

It takes a mere swipe to the right to indicate your approval; and from this point, if the individual concerned demonstrates mutual inclination, a conversation platform is established through which you can communicate. The topic of conversation? This is the point at which Tinder turns civil or sexy.

In my experience, icebreakers can include a tasteful reference to the addressee’s bio (So you’re a swimmer? That’s cool) or a minimal

greeting (Hey) – at which point it’s advisable to relinquish hopes of intelligent conversation and prepare for some not-so-subtle virtual grooming (I dunno about Fringe, but I’m here for the minge ;);)). It seems a point of contention whether or not Tinder can sustain a meaningful interaction, or whether it solely supports the satisfaction of humanity’s baser instincts.

For my part, I’ve seen both sides of the argument. My first conversation with Tinder Boy was witty and amicable; up until the point where I admitted that I was after more than instantaneous gratification. After that, I lowered the bar. A relationship is something heartfelt and sincere – and it seemed that the good people of Edinburgh (and London, and Berlin) just weren’t ready for that. It takes two to tango, and seeing as none of the dance partners I could find were up for more than a quick spin around the ballroom, I decided to give it a go.

Sex is a pretty great experience - and arguably waking up in the warm comfort of a mutually satisfied embrace is the best way to do it. But, akin to the girl-meets-boy-in-club traditional one-night stand setup, it’s not uncommon to feel a little anticlimactic after the deed. There is little that is novel about a meeting

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between two sexually available individuals, whether arranged in person or otherwise: the likelihood of being ‘fucked and chucked’ is, sadly, maximal either way.

It’s true, there are novel elements to Tinder. For desperate teens stranded in suburbia, or fourth years ever en route to the library, Tinder represents a shining beacon of potential, satisfying cravings both social and sexual. But despite a happy minority of Tinder couples who would testify to the contrary, I’d hesitate to stray too far from definition B. Possibly there are men using the app that will consent enthusiastically to brunch at Brewlab – with no further expectations. Despite the capitalisation of OBSESSIVE BRUNCHER in my own bio, however, I’ve had no such luck. Laura Stampler of Time Magazine is optimistic in asserting ‘that no matter how casually single people approach Tinder, part of its draw is a latent hope for romantic connection’; after all, ‘Nobody joins Tinder because they’re looking for something.’

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I Submit to our Data Overlords, and So Should You.

BY JETT ORISTAGLIO

Searching through the Scottish Poetry Library website for the perfect quote for my feed, my hands start to tingle and go numb. My fingertips twitch. The episodes are happening more frequently. The atmosphere becomes thick and presses against my skin like damp cloth.

My arms lose their energy, and I struggle to keep from collapsing.

With a surge of willpower, I pull my government-issued myFriend out of my pocket, and press the ‘Social Panic’ button.

There’s only one button, but it always does the trick.

The myFriend vibrates reassuringly, and the smooth electrovoice soothes me: ‘Do not worry, Jett. You are not alone. We are watching you. You matter to us.’ It asks me to rate my Acute Loneliness, and with trembling fingers I press the bright red 8.

It immediately loads and scrolls through the live feeds from my clo-

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sest friends, organized by mutual-like percentage. Grant liked or loved 94% of my statuses, so he receives a ‘Top Friend’ banner around his photos and appears every 4 photos on my social nutrient IV drip. My shaking has become almost uncontrollable. Just when I think I might succumb to a Manic-Introspective episode, I find a video of

a puppy he met in a cafe. That pixelated moment of connection is so real and so heartwarming that I can’t help but comment: ‘:) :) <3.’

I can feel the shivers and nausea subside. Still, it was a close call.

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I remember when I first saw the

ad. The beautiful rat pulling a lever over and over. The rumbling, deep voice: ‘When left utterly alone in his cage, he will continue to ask for cocaine until he starves to death.

With myFriend, you never have to be alone in your cage again’. The rat pressed the Social Panic button, and stopped trembling. It squeaked happily, jumped on the wheel and began to run. The NDSA finally found the cure for Terminal Stage 4 Human Condition.

These moments of terror remind me of how thankful I am for the constant companionship that I have been afforded. The National Data Supervision Association first rose to prominence after they were cast from the shadows by naïve, self-righteous journalists. Despite a fleeting controversy, the majority of us quickly recognized the sacred function that the NDSA were performing. We have never since

‘The NDSA watches over me, cares about me, and has resulted in a 24% increase in mutual-like percentage across the board.

Hallowed Be Thy Servers.’ taken their role in our happiness for granted: they have streamlined our search for meaning and comfort in a chaotic and terrifying universe.

Who needs divine grace or redemption when I have myConfessional? The NDSA’s algorithms even determine with 98% accuracy when my confession would positively affect my social presence, and they post it on my live feed to show my friends courageous emotional honesty. The NDSA watches over me, cares about me, and has resulted in a 24% increase in mutual-like percentage across the board. Hallowed Be Thy Servers.

The NDSA doesn’t just take care of my spiritual needs, either. When

NDSA voyeur seeks cyber exhibitionist, will oversee bondage recommendations and provide kink map calibration :) :) <3

my dating app detects an increase in right swipes, it kicks into hormonal emergency mode. After 2 years of training my recommendation algorithms, a pair of leather handcuffs and a silicon ballgag are delivered same-day to my apartment, and it finds me a date with a compatible kink map. Want to know a dirty little secret? I hope there’s some middle-aged NDSA worker burning the midnight oil who catches a glimpse of my bondage recommendations– I’m really a cyber-exhibitionist.

If I have to be completely honest, I’ve been worrying about that oldest fear: death. I’ve been getting up there in the years. All the studies

Carefully written, fact-checked essay in the streets, unmoderated comments section in the sheets.

so c ial

om m entar y

point to prime social growth between 14-18, and apparently it’s just a long slide to the grave from there. I have the same worries as anyone else— How many posts will my DeathFeed get? How long will my friends continue to message me, to keep me alive on their social webs?

Whenever it gets to be too much– when the world starts spinning around my bed, just when I begin to feel dwarfed by my slow tumble back into dust, that soothing voice snakes through the darkness and cradles me. ‘Do not worry, Jett. Extrapolating from your mutual-like percentage, you will get more than 300 posts after your ascension.

They will be stored in our data servers permanently, and will never be erased. You will live on.’

As my Morpheus app carries me off to sleep, I smile. I wonder what dream I will be fed, and I hope that it will be my favorite: a birthday dinner with my Top Friends, laughing together. Life is good.

WISTFULLY WAITING for a brunch obssessive gal, Brew Lab amiriiite?!?!

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Restoration and Rehabilitation

Swan Lake and Black Swan

BY CIARA MCKAY

Ballet is the jewel of Russia’s

cultural heritage, and Russian ballet companies, particularly those of the Bolshoi and Mariinsky Theatres, are world-renowned. In March 2016 I interviewed Sergey Bobrov, artistic director of the State Ballet of Siberia, while the company were performing at the Ipswich Regent Theatre. A former soloist of the Bolshoi theatre, Bobrov has a wealth of experience, being a former student of Yury Grigorovich, artistic director of the Bolshoi from 1964-1995. Vitaly Mikhailov, another former Bolshoi artist and the ballet’s technical director, was our interpreter. The State Ballet of Siberia are based in their own theatre in the city of Krasnoyarsk, and regularly tour the UK. Bobrov told me about his new production of Swan Lake, which premiered in Krasnoyarsk in 2014.

Those familiar with Tchaikovsky’s most famous ballet might not expect it to vary greatly between produc-

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tions: prince meets enchanted swanmaiden; falls in love with her; declares his love for an imposter; they both die. However, Bobrov’s new production presents a very different Swan Lake, one which recreates the ballet’s original aesthetic and rehabilitates the infamous ‘black swan’, the inspiration for the 2010 film of the same name.

‘The very first version of Tchaikovsky was made for private theatre, for his sister, and the name was The Lake of Swans. And after this, the director of the Bolshoi Theatre, Ivan Vsevolozhsky, ordered a full version of this ballet,’ Bobrov tells me. Vsevolozhsky’s commission premiered at the Bolshoi Theatre in March 1877, while Tchaikovsky was still living, and was not a particular success. Our present conception of Swan Lake has its roots in the 1895 staging of the ballet by Marius Petipa, produced after Tchaikovsky’s death in 1893; Bobrov explained that the music and some of the sequences were completely altered in places. Petipa worked with the Italian composer Riccardo Drigo, adapting the ballet’s music to fit his production. Indeed, Bobrov feels that the Swan Lake popularly performed, in-

spired by this later production, has travelled quite a distance from Tchaikovsky’s original.

In Petipa’s now canonical version of the ballet, Odette, the principal female, is usually presented as an enchanted swan who can assume human form, and is under the control of an evil wizard, Rothbart. However, Bobrov firmly states that in Tchaikovsky’s original, ‘She is like a fairy and she was born as a fairy. She is not a swan turned into a human [...] The prince is a human.’

Tchaikovsky completely separates the otherworldly and the human; he does not allow the prince and Odette the shared humanity they hold in later versions. For Bobrov, the supernatural world and the human world are irreconcilable, and this dooms their romance from the start. He tells me of other failed supernatural and human relationships in ballets, for example: ‘Sylphide dies, the Snow Maiden melts, and Odette is just already not real.’

Odette’s beginnings are also explored in Bobrov’s production. ‘In ancient times,’ Bobrov explains, ‘there was a fairy [...] She fell in love with a human, and they had a daughter – Odette. The mother of Odette, she died. Just vanished.

So, the father of Odette. He married another woman. This other woman was an evil witch; by night she turned into an owl and she wanted to kill Odette. But the Grandfather of Odette loved her so much that he cried a lot and he made from his tears a lake. And in the depths of this lake, he hid Odette, and only during nights Odette danced together with her friends. Only the crown on her head kept her untouched from the spells of her stepmother.’ This backstory allowed Swan Lake to conform to the fairy tale trope of the wicked stepmother, and allowed the audience to view Odette as a protected figure, rather than as a vulnerable victim.

Often, the music associated with Odette and her swan maidens in contemporary productions is in a melancholic minor key. However, in Bobrov’s revival this is not the case.

‘All the music of this swan scenery is in major tones and is very positive because fairies, they feel very well in their existence. Petipa changed places of sequences and made them sad swans. And this contradicts the idea of Tchaikovsky and his music, because Tchaikovsky wanted them to be happy.’ Bobrov also changed the order of the dances in his effort

to adhere to Tchaikovsky’s original ballet. ‘After Petipa and Drigo changed the places of the sequences, they ruined all the ideas of Tchaikovsky. Tchaikovsky also made several sequences, scenes, which we call ‘Pas Des Six’ [...] This is a dance for six people [...] Those sequences [...] were like concrete platforms which held the whole construction of the production. In the First Act, the Prince, his friend Benno and four villagers [...] Dance to the music which Petipa put in the Second Act as the ‘Black Pas de Deux.’ In the Second Act, the Prince, Odette, and four swans. In the Third Act [...]

Four brides, the Prince and Odile [...] Where only swans dance, he has two swans and four swans. So Petipa, when he changed places of these musical fragments, he just broke down all construction of the music. All Pas de Six.’ Perhaps the most interesting difference in Bobrov’s revival lies in the role of Odile, ‘the black swan’.

In modern productions, Odile is portrayed as a wicked and perhaps magical seductress who tricks the prince into declaring his love for her, thereby betraying Odette. According to Bobrov, ‘In the Petipa version, we see one dancer who dances two roles, black and white, and they are very alike. That means that he [the prince] just confused them, and he is not responsible so much for that.’

In other words, the prince is usually portrayed very sympathetically, as much of a victim as Odette. Mean-

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while, Bobrov tells me that in his production Odile is just a girl brought to the ball by Rothbart (who, incidentally, is not evil). Odile and Odette only slightly resemble each other, and thus when the prince declares his love for Odile his faithlessness is emphasised, and can be construed as an illustration of the human vices of greed and lust. Our sympathy is more fully with Odette, and the faults of humanity are contrasted with her supernatural innocence.

When I ask Bobrov whether he might bring this revival of the 1877 production to the UK he replies ‘We will show this, but we require a special place. Maybe in London, because we need a big venue with technical facilities [...] Otherwise it will have some cuts and reductions, some compromises that we don’t want to make.’

Bobrov’s Swan Lake raises interesting questions about the restoration of performing arts like ballet and opera. It’s a matter of routine to restore paintings to their original state, but often the performing arts are overlooked. As with Rothbart and the unfortunate Odile, it’s possible there are more villains to be rehabilitated. It would be interesting to compare this production to a typical UK production of Swan Lake, but it might be a while before Bobrov and the State Ballet of Siberia bring it to the UK.

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Dr. Oppenheimer, or:

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Pastoral

BY FELIX CARPENTER

In the spring of 2015, I saw a

rather spectacular new play about the life of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the principal physicist behind the Manhattan Project and the atomic bomb. The play was performed at the Vaudeville Theatre on the Strand, one of those well-known theatres you’ve certainly heard of but are still somewhat surprised at its grandeur upon entering. I was lucky, I got day tickets for a tenner and ended up centre row A. Upon witnessing the plume of

Trinity, the first atomic test, Oppenheimer claimed he recalled the now famous phrase from the Hindu text Bhagavad Gita: ‘Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.’ John Heffernan, the actor portraying him in this production, thankfully uttered it without a hint of cliché. Oppenheimer, more intelligent than most, was quite right. His team was about to end war in its present conception, and destroy the world order as they knew it. Some two weeks after the Trinity test, when Little Boy was dropped on Hiroshima, the geopolitics of the previous part of human history ceased to be.

For me, the performance dredged up thoughts that first surfaced during Indyref, but now formed a coherent geographical epiphany. ‘I don’t believe in countries anymore,’ I soon began informing people. Problems were soon raised with my newfound enlightenment, however. But countries do exist? If you haven’t lived abroad how could you know what that means? What’s wrong with old Blighty anyway?

I have spent most of the intervening year overseas. Two months in Beijing were followed directly by nine in the Los Angeles area, cultivating an ‘ex-pat’ identity. I learned

to miss Britain, but in an unexpected way.

What I missed most is what one sees when driving a few miles outside any town or city, or on a long train journey. Those green rolling hills, villages straddling riverbanks, pubs that have been there since comfortably before the Industrial Revolution. This summer my grandfather mentioned to me that my local cricket ground is the oldest in England. I checked; they’ve been at it in Newenden every Sunday for over 700 years.

Such bucolic green memories were particularly vivid in California. And it was this scenic contrast, taking the bus to Santa Barbara along Route 101, the sun outside blazing onto the the golden, barren Santa Ynez Mountains, that surprisingly led to my happening upon another, even more ancient anecdote than that of persevering cricketers: the journey of Jesus Christ to Britain.

‘And did those feet in ancient time/ Walk upon England’s mountains green?’ So it goes that the adoles-

cent Messiah accompanied his relative Joseph of Arimathea, a metals trader, on a business trip to Somerset, and then to Cornwall. Lack of selfies (or other evidence) make it impossible to prove or disprove the story’s veracity.

The opening lines of Jerusalem, the great British but more specifically English hymn by William Blake, refer to this exact yarn. It’s important and patriotic stuff at a time of political division across Europe. Consider for a moment the Biblically scaled, historical reality of that immortalised journey, with all the land and sea traversed from Nazareth.

Thanks to Oppenheimer’s work, we live in a world where perpetual and overt conflict between major military powers is past tense. Peace in Britain, of a kind unique in the human experience, allows us pause to be proud of our culture and cultural diversity, as well as to understand how we arrived where we are. Reading the news, we would do well recognising that it is not wrong simply to see the bounds of one’s country,

much as it is not right to then draw a fixed line at that point.

‘And did those

feet in ancient time, Walk upon England’s mountains green: And was the holy Lamb of God, On England’s pleasant pastures seen!’

Yes, and over there too.

End of an Era

Is the reign of the prime-time historical drama finally over?

BY EMELIA HAMILTON-RUSSELL

If viewing habits are anything to go by, it’s safe to say that we in the west have been stuck in the past for the last five years.

Downton Abbey dominated

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the global screen from 2011 till 2015 and this year ITV’s Victoria has been an unprecedented triumph, overtaking Poldark in the race to become the Sunday night favourite.

However, shows such as Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror and Channel 4’s Humans, which are set in the not-too-distant future, have been creeping into the foreground, attracting both viewers and column inches. Does this signal the end of the reign of the historical drama?

Are we finally ready to bid farewell to the past and turn our gaze towards the future?

The fascination with oldschool England, with its social hierarchies and specific brand of stiff upper-lipped conservatism, has been global, obsessive and enduring. When Downton Abbey first debuted in the US in 2011, it quickly became the most popular drama in the history of PBS. The producers of

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ITV’s Victoria, which is set to be released in the US this January, will no doubt be hoping to replicate the BBC’s success by reclaiming the Downton-deprived ‘Abbey-heads’ as their primary audience. While Julian Fellows puts his programme’s unprecedented success down to ‘relatable characters’, critics take a darker view, accusing Downton and co. of fetishizing an out-dated and unjust class system. Across the pond the Americans still have Victoria to look forward to, but should we call time on the national nostalgia-fest? Us Brits have surely indulged in enough hat-doffing and upstairs-downstairs drama to last until the next century.

In stark contrast to the traditional plots of the historical drama, Black Mirror confronts us with what its creator Charlie Brooker has described as ‘the way we live now, and the way we might be living in 10 minutes’ time if we’re clumsy’. The show’s name refers to ‘the cold, shiny screens’ of the devices we cling to, but it also suggests that technology reflects the darker human traits we rarely confront. Most of the episodes are set in vividly imagined future worlds, but what makes the show most disturbing is the implication that the supposedly fictional dystopias of the episodes are insidiously infiltrating our present.

As anyone with a Facebook, Instagram or Twitter account can attest, the creation and cultivation of a media persona is more instantly gratifying and less labour intensive than tending to real personal development. ‘Nosedive,’ the first episode of Black Mirror’s third series, takes the phenomenon of the online persona to its logical conclusion. In ‘Nosedive,’ all aspects of life are fair game for public evaluation, meaning that every social interaction earns you a rating. Every person has and is defined by a number between 1 and 5, a ranking which affects everything from party invitations to job prospects. The horror comes from the gradual realisation that this disturbing state of affairs is not confined to the fictional dystopian society in the episode; a universal popularity contest is already in full swing behind the mirrored screens of our own phones. A brief scroll through Instagram displays a system of public ranking that is already resulting in increasingly shameless and desperate bids for approval. ‘Likes’ and ‘followers’ are fast becoming the new social currency, a Googleable sym-

bol of success, popularity and power. Apps such as Uber and Ebay already allow users to rate each other, making the personal ranking system depicted in ‘Nosedive’ seem not only conceivable, but likely. Black Mirror certainly makes for uncomfortable viewing, shining a harsh spotlight on how technology allows humanity to indulge in its shallowest or most sadistic impulses.

On a political note, an article in the New Statesman, entitled ‘You are living in a Black Mirror episode, and you don’t care’, draws parallels between the invasion of privacy depicted in ‘Hated in the Nation’ and the Investigatory Powers Bill which has been quietly passed in the House of Lords. The bill gives our government unprecedented power to remotely collect and intercept communications from personal computers and mobile devices. Brooker’s ‘Hated by the Nation’ depicts a similarly overbearing government that uses autonomous drones disguised as bumblebees to spy on its people.

The setting is futuristic, but a clear distinction between present and future is worryingly evasive.

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Black Mirror is a warning. If we don’t keep a very human eye on the way we use and advance technology, we might unwittingly create a society inhospitable to freedom, integrity and morality. We live in baffling times; America has just said ‘you’re hired’ to a reality TV star who will now become the next US president. Under the pressure of such uncertainty, can we really judge ourselves for taking refuge in programs like Victoria or Downton, where we can be sure that tea will be served at four and love will prevail? I don’t know which era is next in line for the prestigious Sunday night slot, but I doubt it will be the future; the present is dystopian enough.

A l e c E d gecl i ffe-Johnson Ol i v i a E vershed J e tt Ori stagl i o C i a ra McK ay F e l i x C a rpenter E me l i a H ami l ton-R ussel l D E S I G N

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