The Beaver - #936 (23 October 2024)

e ‘LSE 7’ Suspensions: Is Campus

Free Speech Sacred or

Illusory?

Following a peaceful demonstration over the summer, seven students have been banned from campus life under pre-empitive precautionary measures for over three months. Now, six of the seven who depend on student visas to remain in the UK are at a risk of deportation and life upheaval.

Read on page 6

By Cameron Baillie, Sta Writer

Photographed by LSE Liberated Zone Front cover designed by Mithalina Taib

Meet the Team

Executive Editor

Janset An executive.beaver@lsesu.org

Managing Editor

Oona de Carvalho managing.beaver@lsesu.org

Flipside Editor

Emma Do editor. ipside@lsesu.org

Frontside Editor

Suchita epkanjana editor.beaver@lsesu.org

Multimedia Editor

Sylvain Chan multimedia.beaver@lsesu.org

News Editors

Melissa Limani

Saira Afzal

Features Editors

Liza Chernobay

Mahliqa Ali

Opinion Editors

Lucas Ngai

Aaina Saini

Part B Editors

Silvia Cassanelli

Jessica-May Cox

Review Editors

Arushi Aditi

William Goltz

Sport Editors

Skye Slatcher

Jo Weiss

Social Editors

Sophia-Ines Klein

Jennifer Lau

Illustration Heads

Francesca Corno

Paavas Bansal

Photography Head

Celine Estebe

Podcast Editor

Laila Gauhar

Website Editor

Rebecca Stanton

Social Media Editors

Krishav Arora

Su a Jafri

Social Secretary

Sahana Rudra

Statement from e Beaver’s Executive Team

Throughout its lengthy history, e Beaver has not shied away from reporting on particularly serious, hard-hitting, and uncomfortable topics.

is current issue is no exception, with our decision to bring the case of the LSE_7 to the centre-stage.

At a time when many voices are silenced by the noise of war, it is now more important than ever

to raise our own voices on their behalf and preserve our right to speak up.

As a media outlet, e Beaver rmly stands for free speech and against the unjust punishment of those exercising the right to protest. Because only when we are not cowering in the fear of disciplinary action are we brave enough to investigate, criticise, and call for changes.

For this reason, e Beaver will continue to report stories that incite, stories that may cause controversy, and stories that put our own institution under scrutiny.

A er all, it is these stories that matter the most.

Signed: Janset An Oona de Carvalho Emma Do Suchita epkanjana Sylvain Chan ALL

Econocomics: In ation

By PAAVAS BANSAL

LSE Named Best UK University, page 3

LSESU launches ‘Knot In My Name’ Campaign, page 4

Features

‘Should I get a part-time job?’, page 8

Opinion

My Experience with an AI Interviewer, page 9

Gap Years: e Modern Grand Tour? page 11

News: Wednesday 1:002:00pm

Features: Tuesday (TBC)

Opinion: Wednesday 3:004:00pm

Part B: Wednesday 4:005:00pm

Review: Wednesday 2:003:00pm

Social: ursday 2:303:30pm

Sport: Friday 2:00-2:45pm Multimedia

Illustration: Tuesday (TBC)

Podcast: ursday 4-5pm (bi-weekly)

Copyediting: Tuesday 4:30-5:00pm (triweekly)

Any opinions expressed herein are those of their respective authors and not necessarily those of the LSE Students’ Union or Beaver Editorial Sta

e Beaver is issued under a Creative Commons license. Attribution necessary. Printed at Ili e Print, Cambridge

LSE Named Best UK University by e Times

Anhelina Shamlii

Contributing Writer

Illustrated by Lucas Ngai

In a long-awaited announcement, e Times and e Good University Guide have ranked LSE as the top university in the UK, surpassing Oxford and Cambridge for the rst time.

Taking fourth place in 2024, LSE took the number one spot in 2025, moving ahead of St. Andrews, Oxford, and Cambridge.

LSE’s President and Vice-Chancellor, Professor Larry Kramer, welcomed the recognition, describing it as a “tribute to the outstanding faculty, students,

and global community”.

Kramer, in his rst year as President and Vice-Chancellor, introduced a bold agenda emphasising the importance of freedom of speech within classrooms regardless of the controversy of the topics.

LSE’s performance includes 93.9% of students achieving a rst or a 2:1 degree classi cation and a third-place ranking nationwide for research quality, all of which have contributed to its rise to the top position.

e question now is how LSE will maintain its leading position in the years to come.

LSE Students to Shape LSE’s ESG Policy

Joey Zhang Staff Writer

In response to LSESU Palestine Society’s report calling for divestment as well as protest in the form of an encampment in May 2024, the LSE Council is reviewing its Environmental, Social and Government Policy (ESG) in the 2024/2025 academic year. In particular, LSE’s management will review their nancial investments and endowment holdings.

e LSE Council has formed an ESG Review Group, consisting of internal and external members of the LSE community with relevant expertise. e Council also aims to form a Consultative Group consisting of three students, three academic sta , and three professional services sta , all selected from LSE. is group will be tasked with providing feedback and recommendations to the Review Group on the matter at hand.

LSESU will be selecting

three LSE students to join the Consultative Group through a process designed to re ect the diversity of LSE’s community. Applications opened on 30 September 2024, asking students to express their motivations and their understanding of ESG processes. Interviews for shortlisted candidates took place from 14 October 2024, with the nal selection of students expected to be announced in early November. Applications for sta members closed on 4 October.

Members of both the Review Group and the Consultative Group will receive training on how LSE manages its endowments as well as the legal responsibilities of the school. Participation in the Consultative Group will include attending workshops, roundtables, and regular Review group meetings, where members will be given the opportunity to voice their opinion on how LSE should approach sustainable and ethical in-

vestment practice.

Beyond participating in the Consultative Group, the ESG Review Group and LSESU will be providing alternative platforms through which students can share

their thoughts on LSE’s investments. is includes engagement sessions throughout the year, as well as the opportunity to provide written feedback to ESG Review Group as an individual or as a group.

More information on submitting written pieces to the group will be shared across Autumn Term and beyond.

LSESU Black History Month Events

LSESU Launches ‘Knot In My Name’ Campaign

Rebecca Stanton Website Editor

Photographed by Saira Afzal

If you were on campus during Welcome Week, you may have come across a pop-up stall inside and outside the Student Union building. Here, you may have been asked to sign your name on a piece of ribbon and tie it to a string-covered board with the slogan ‘Knot In My Name’ written across it. is board is the Consent Mural and each ribbon knot symbolises a pledge to make campus safer for all students at LSE.

is new, important campaign is working to improve safety on campus by changing the culture surrounding sexual harassment and misconduct. It looks to expand and improve upon current safety measures, citing that they do not go far enough to protect students and victims.

e ‘Knot In My Name’ campaign aims to:

1) Make Consent-Ed training compulsory for all sta at LSE.

2) Demand a reform of the current ‘archaic’ and ‘ine ective’ procedures for reporting sexual misconduct at LSE that o ers more urgency and sup-

New Society

Saira

Afzal News Editor

Brand new LSESU society, e Black Women’s Project (BWP), launched this year, starting with their Meet and Greet on Wednesday 25 September during Welcome Week. e Beaver caught up with BWP’s president Dominion Oke to learn more about the society.

e Black Women’s Project is an intercollegiate project designed to provide support to black women in higher education, running events dedicated to wellbeing, skills de-

port to victims.

e movement comes following e Beaver’s release of an article in March 2024, exposing allegations of sexual harassment and assault of multiple lecturers and research students by an LSE professor. e article emphasised LSE’s shortcomings in investigating and acting upon reports of sexual misconduct.

is abuse of power and LSE’s apparent dismissal of the victims’ concerns was a shock to the School community. For many, the continued employment and onsite presence of the accused professor feels like LSE has done little to ensure student safety on campus.

e ‘Knot In My Name’ campaign, however, is the Student Union’s answer to this, pressuring LSE Senior Management to go further in its approach towards tackling sexual violence by putting their demands into action. By encouraging new and ongoing students to pledge to create a safe campus, the campaign emphasises the needs of the student body and allows students to show a united front for consent culture.

An LSE spokesperson has said:

“LSE has developed, and continues to develop, a number of measures to ensure we have a learning and working environment free of all types of harassment and violence.”

“ ese measures include an all-sta online training course on addressing harassment and sexual misconduct a ecting students, developed with Advance HE - tailored to LSE’s needs and linked to our policies. It also equips sta with the

skills and con dence to take a disclosure and support those involved should an incident occur. A er a successful pilot, this is being rolled out across the School.”

“Likewise, we have implemented a new Report + Support system to ensure that responses to harassment allegations from both students and sta is quick and consistent. e system also provides easily accessible information on free, con dential, independent support and counselling

for any LSE sta or student affected by sexual harassment or violence.”

e spokesperson cited LSE’s policies on “the prohibition of personal relationships between students and sta , training for specialist sta and senior leadership on trauma-informed investigations”. ey also highlighted LSE’s “outreach victim-survivor support services on campus” and “wellbeing support”.

e Black Women’s Project Begins this Year

velopment and future career preparation. e rst BWP chapter was founded by Jessica Agboola in 2015 during her studies at University of Warwick. Since then, BWP has expanded with chapters at the University of Southampton, University of Leeds, University of York, and LSE.

e founding president of LSESU’s BWP chapter, Dominion Oke, is a third-year Mathematics with Economics student. When asked about her initial motivations for starting the chapter, Oke told e Beaver it was an idea she had dwelled

on since the end of her rst year. She stated she was the only black woman in her entire cohort and as a result, she wanted to create a “safe space” on campus to nd and befriend black women.

e BWP o ers a relaxed and friendly environment for black women to socialise, take care of their wellbeing, develop their skills, and prepare for their careers a er LSE.

BWP’s LSE chapter was brought to life by Dominion and her fellow committee members: Anthonia, Abi, Sian, Andrea and Dunnu.

Dominion plans to lay down the foundations of the Black Women’s Project at LSE this year, “creating a name” for themselves so the project will still exist a er she graduates.

e core motto of BWP, Dominion says, is “supporting the development of black women holistically”. In the year ahead, the BWP aims to host social events, wellbeing sessions led by licensed practitioners, and career-focused programmes. ey also aim to attend conferences and collaborate with other societies and busi-

nesses. Notably, Oke hopes to partner with other women-focused societies on campus to create an even larger network of support for black women at LSE.

LSE Security Con scates Pro-Palestine Posters at SU Welcome Fair

Saira Afzal News Editor Photographed by Saira Afzal

During this year’s Welcome Week, multiple eyewitness accounts reported seeing LSE Security con scate pro-Palestine posters, distributed by Global Justice Now, from students entering the SU Welcome Fair in the Marshall Building. e SU Welcome Fair began on Tuesday 24 September, and security were checking students’ bags before allowing them entry

into the building.

Global Justice Now, a UKbased activist group, had set up two stalls on Tuesday 24 September: one in John Watkins Plaza and another near the SU Welcome Fair queue where they were engaging in discussion with students on matters of social justice. e group handed out posters with slogans such as ‘End the Fossil Fuel Era’, ‘Free Palestine’, and ‘Stop Arming Israel’.

At around 2.15pm on Tuesday 24 September, one eyewitness reported witnessing LSE Security con scate posters from a

student before they could enter the building. When questioned, an LSE Security o cer allegedly claimed the posters were a “ re hazard”.

Another student alleged LSE Security gave a “vague answer” about items from nonLSE groups not being allowed inside the hall, and when the student questioned further, the security o cer “simply repeated that I couldn’t [bring the posters inside]”. ey were told they would be able to retrieve their posters once they le the Welcome Fair, but there was no guarantee the posters would still be there.

is has been corroborated by multiple eyewitnesses who entered the SU Welcome Fair on Tuesday 24 September, allegedly seeing security con scate A4 pro-Palestine posters. According to Global Justice Now campaigners running the stalls, they heard from at least three students on the day that their posters had been con scated by security.

Further, LSE security were reportedly seen thoroughly

checking students’ bags for lea ets and pamphlets, and the rainbow-coloured posters handed out by Global Justice Now could be seen piling up on the search table outside the Marshall Building.

An LSESU spokesperson said:

“ e LSE Security team assisted the LSESU with managing entrance to this year’s Welcome Fair, and as part of that, facilitated the bag checks that were carried out for all attendees.”

“In addition to the general guidance we provided here around allowing no food or drink into the Marshall Building / Sports Hall, it was also the case that only Student Groups themselves could display any promotional material (e.g. banners/ ags/posters) as part of the event, and these had to be xed to their designated backboard/stall – nowhere else.”

“If resources like this were con scated from non Student Groups during the bag checks, then this is the reason why.”

“Furthermore, our understanding is that the a ected students were free to collect the posters from the entrance point following their attendance to the Fair – they just weren’t allowed into the building/ event itself.”

An LSE spokesperson said:

“As in previous years, and in agreement with the LSESU, bag-checking was implemented before entering the Welcome Fair, with security primarily checking for sharp objects. Other items, such as posters and lea ets, were not the intended subject of the search.”

“ ere remain no plans for Security to con scate posters from students entering LSE buildings in the future.”

“ e relevant LSE policy requires that posters are displayed on the appropriate notice boards, and not anywhere other than designated areas.”

‘ e Working Class Collective’: A New Social Hub for Students

Melissa Limani News Editor

The LSESU’s Class Liberation O cer Zoë Mann has launched a new initiative called the ‘Working Class Collective’, aimed at addressing the lack of a dedicated social space for working-class students.

Elected as Class Liberation O cer in April 2024, Mann began formulating the idea for the collective in June before launching it in September.

When speaking to Mann about her motivation for starting the collective, she highlighted that until now there hasn’t been a designated space for working-class

students.

While initiatives such as the 93% Club exist to provide career support for state-school educated students and students from lower socio-economic backgrounds, she realised that something was missing; there wasn’t a community where working-class students could come together in a space that isn’t hierarchical or dominated solely by career agendas.

Instead, the collective will focus more on fostering emotional connections, friendships, and providing a general sense of comfort. is is especially important at a university like LSE, where the strong presence of students from private schools can make it initially

challenging for those from lower-class backgrounds to nd a community they relate to.

Mann, who is from the North of England, acknowledges that her own experiences may not represent every working-class student’s journey. is is why she emphasises inclusivity and aims to ensure that everyone’s voice is heard.

While the collective is still in its early stages, Mann has plans for it to grow organically. Freshers-led events will be a key feature of the initiative, and she hopes the collective will eventually expand into academic discussions, depending on student input. By creating this space, Mann will o er working-class stu-

dents the opportunity to shape their university experience on their own terms.

e ‘LSE 7’ Suspensions: Is Campus Free Speech Sacred or Illusory?

Cameron Baillie Staff Writer

Drawing on a long-standing history of students’ campus activism, LSE saw more protests last academic year than - perhaps - ever in its history, amid continued, brutalising military assaults on trapped Palestinian refugees in Gaza by Israeli forces, now extended into Lebanon, and soaring West Bank killings.

Yet LSE’s purported ‘freespeech’ friendly stance, according to its management, is now under question, as seven individuals (dubbed the ‘LSE_7’) have been banned from campus under preemptive precautionary measures for over three months. Now barred from ordinary involvement in campus life, alongside possibly threatening six of the seven students’ right to remain in the UK, the LSE_7 protested against LSE’s ‘ duciary’-led, or shareholder-profit-driven, investments among various other policies.

During a summer school registration, around a dozen students protested loudly, clearly, but peacefully inside LSE’s Old Building in support of Palestine and against the School’s policies which are allegedly ‘complicit’ in the ongoing humanitarian catastrophes.

Contrary to LSE’s reported stipulations about the protest, there was nothing extraordinary about this particular demonstration: it was not unlike dozens of protests throughout the past academic year where megaphones have been used within and outside of campus buildings, including the Marshall Building occupation of May-June.

Yet LSE’s management even went as far as to amplify comparisons between this protest and 2005’s horri c 7/7 Bombings upon suspending the seven students, which understandably, o ended many. e two episodes bore no apparent

resemblance in their means or the scope of their intentions and consequences, except their date. If no harm was intended towards, nor brought upon anybody present, how could LSE cede comparisons between peaceful protesters and such devastating attacks on London’s public nineteen years prior? What’s more, was the choice to suspend the seven students a targeted and/or politically motivated decision?

One possible answer lies in the perceived harm that these protesters could, and perhaps did, bring upon LSE’s reputation as the UK’s newly-crowned top university destination and free-speech bastion, by exposing what student protesters view as LSE’s institutional-level hypocrisy.

Another answer might indicate allegations of institutional Islamophobia, extensively documented by LSESU Islamic Society, especially regarding apparent suppression of pro-Palestinian activism and rights advocacy. ese answers paint a picture of apparent institutional failure in the School’s duty of care to its students, and severe gaps in the processes meant to provide independent and unbiased application of School policy.

Like other students, sta , and faculty who exercised their right to assemble and protest on campus regarding academic ties to Israel’s assault on Gaza, the LSE_7 demonstrated to raise awareness among LSE’s high-paying summer school attendees of the School’s £89m of “egregious investments”, as detailed in the ‘Assets in Apartheid’ report.

Researched by sta and students over six months across 2023–24, the report details LSE’s investments into companies complicit in crimes against Palestinians, alongside those involved in arms and fossil fuel trades, and nancing such “egregious activities”, as listed by the UN, human

rights groups, and environmental NGOs.

e LSE_7 maintain that they simply “held banners and chanted ‘Disclose, Divest! We Will Not Stop, We Will Not Rest!’ in the Student Service Center” and similar mantras about LSE’s policies. ey exited calmly, and reported positive engagement from summer school students, who were unaware of LSE’s nancial investments and wished to learn more. ough undoubtedly disruptive - the principal aim of campus protests immemorially - there was apparently little about this protest which di erentiated it from so many others throughout the academic year and early summer.

Yet two days later, on 9 July, LSE’s management issued a School-wide ‘community update’ email which labelled the protesters “harassing and frightening”, stated that students’ protest “actions involved tactics that intimidated fellow members of the LSE community and le them shaken and upset”, and threatened disciplinary consequences. Not only were the LSE_7 threatened, but other wouldbe campus protesters were also deterred: “Activity of this sort, and any similar escalation going forward, will be met with disciplinary proceedings… no further concessions will be made.”

Disciplinary action shortly ensued, with LSE claiming that “escalated tactics used by protestors on 7 July included intimidating and frightening people, and a signi cant obstruction of LSE sta trying to perform their duties. Numerous individuals present described it as an extremely distressing experience.”

LSE reportedly claimed to Heads of Department that this followed a ‘Risk Assessment’ regarding the protesters, but the LSE_7 maintain that they never saw any information on any such assessment, raising

doubts about the transparency of certain internal processes. Incidentally, the School’s procedural transparency (or its lack thereof) has itself been a central protest demand.

LSE also clari ed that 7/7 Bombing comparisons, which they quoted and ampli ed upon serving the suspensions, were made in a “witness impact statement by a member of the community who was affected by the protest”. Yet LSE evidently deemed the analogy unproblematic, and thereby worth including in the charges, despite now distancing themselves from the comparison. One suspended student has since written that “As a Muslim student, the reference to 7/7 felt especially targeted.” LSE has declined to comment on allegations of institutional Islamophobia.

e seven students (roughly half of the protesters) were excluded from full university life, including entrance to campus buildings without explicit permissions for exceptions like GP appointments or counselling. e LSE_7 were not provided with evidence of their alleged conduct justifying the suspensions for around ten weeks, before eventual receipt of evidence for the various allegations, given barely a week before their disciplinary hearings.

e ‘LSE Liberated Zone’ launched their public campaign on 4 October, stating that they felt “no other choice but to make the disciplinary proceedings transparent to the public, not only to ensure a fair process but to protect other students from further repressive action by the School”.

Most worryingly for the students, six depend on student visas to remain in the UK, meaning their suspensions risk deportation and life-upheaval. Given LSE’s pride in its ‘global community’, it seems particularly severe that management would willingly lev-

erage plausible, implicit threats of deportation against its students over peaceful protests. According to the suspended students, LSE further denied them legal representation in their hearings on 8-9 October despite them facing examination by a paid barrister.

One suspended student told e Beaver that hearings were rescheduled three times arbitrarily, with no notice nor reason, causing students to “defer degrees, job searches, seeing [their] families”, thereby suspending their lives o -campus too; the barrister was also unexpectedly switched last-minute. Hearing preparations, legal meetings, and anxious expectations “have taken almost every waking minute’s energy for the last three months”, the suspended student shares. Furthermore, the LSE_7 cite concerns regarding LSE’s disciplinary procedures, currently under reform, given repeatedly mishandled sexual harassment hearings.

According to the LSE_7 campaign, suspension documents “grossly misrepresented the protest”, portraying students as militaristic, quoting seemingly unfounded and plausibly Islamophobic 7/7 terrorism comparisons, and stating that summer school registration attendees “feared there was a further attack taking place”.

Actual footage of the protest appears far from those horrendous attacks, leaving only the inference that LSE either fears protesters’ narrative challenge, or its management is in lockstep with mainstream British media and politicians’ Islamophobic tendencies in equivocating pro-Palestinian protests with Islamist extremism, or both.

Pro-Palestinian protesters being classi ed as extremists or radicals is not new, nor accurate - millions of citizens and students regularly demonstrating across the world indicates mainstream support. Ev-

idencing widespread support for their demands within LSE’s community, the LSE_7 cite the “historic student referendum in which 89% of LSE students voted in favour of divestment, and multiple petitions representing over 3,000 voices including students, sta and faculty, Jewish sta and students, and LSE alumni”. Despite such manifest popular support, LSE’s Council voted against divestment on 25 June 2024.

LSE’s central challenge, according to the suspended protestors’ campaign, is squaring severe, knee-jerk protest suppression with newly settled Vice-Chancellor Larry Kramer’s purported commitment to “championing free speech” on campus, as lauded recently by e Sunday Times. Kramer stated that “we have not gone down the path of regulating speech and we will not,” giving the false impression that no students have been suspended under investigation for protesting.

Kramer proudly goes on to state that LSE “will give you tools to help you engage”, despite the university’s repeated failure to engage with its community’s clear and widespread demands for divestment from companies complicit in egregious crimes.

UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Peaceful Assembly, Gina Romero, wrote directly to LSE expressing her concerns. She recommends a review of the School’s practices to ensure alignment with international human rights standards, and urges reconsideration of disciplinary sanctions against peaceful protestors. Romero alleges that the

use of tactics which mischaracterise and silence Palestine-related protests especially is “not only a disproportionate response, but may indicate an underlying institutional racism against Palestinians, violating fundamental human rights”.

She further cites historic student protests’ signi cance for advancing people’s rights, including ending formal South African Apartheid and battling colonialism. Romero argues that universities must remain spaces for “free thought, speech, and academic freedom”.

As per e Sunday Times, Kramer determines that “ ere will be no ‘safe spaces’ at [LSE]...expect to encounter ideas you hate, that bite, that go to your identity.” Should this not equally apply to senior management’s legitimacy being challenged, if free speech is truly sacrosanct? Must they not also confront the ‘bite’? Otherwise, aunting freedom of speech appears as merely another device in the managerial toolkit, allowing for socalled ‘institutional neutrality’ when it suits, while leveraging would-be detractors deemed too threatening to LSE’s brand reputation with repressive measures.

e short protest in July followed many months of similar pro-Palestinian campus protests, vigils, and campaigning amid Israel’s assault on Gazan civilians and their education system, and allegations of complicity being levelled against academic and other institutions globally. Against myriad protests, Most notable was the ve-week-long

Marshall Building occupation by hundreds of LSE students and sta , in solidarity with Gazans’ persecution, amidst the mass movement spanning the worlds’ universities and streets.

e ‘Bloom Building’ occupation - named by students in honour of LSE’s suspended 1960s anti-Apartheid activist Marshall Bloom - resulted in lengthy talks with the university’s management on its o cial policies and nancial investments. However, eventually, LSE became the rst UK university granted a court order to evict students over the current wave of pro-Palestinian protests, before swi ly and unilaterally ceasing negotiations. LSE had previously made public promises “to student protesters to meet over a period of six weeks”, but reneged on this immediately following the eviction.

Like Romero, the LSE_7 recall histories of anti-Apartheid student activism and solidaristic protests, like that undertaken by Bloom. ey especially highlight LSE’s concurrent history of suppressing such actions, then later crediting itself for the activists’ political spirits.

eir campaign draws upon the pre-emptive support of one hundred academic sta who “wrote to the LSE administration expressing concern over the potential misuse of disciplinary action to censor speech and intimidate students”, especially given pro-Palestinian voices being quashed across the UK and elsewhere. Over 1,400 (at publication date) have signed the newest petition condemning stringent disciplinary measures since the LSE_7 campaign launched on 4 October 2024.

e LSE_7 further argue that precedents set at in uential schools like LSE - including the court order and, now, suspensions - have consequences for higher education beyond its immediate reaches.

An LSE spokesperson re-

sponded to e Beaver’s request for comment that “Freedom of speech and expression…underpins everything we do. Our free speech policy…protect[s] and promotes peaceful freedom of expression on campus.”

O cially, LSE only penalises protest “which crosses the line into illegality, is threatening to individuals, or signi cantly disrupts the community”.

e LSE_7 inform e Beaver that they believe themselves justi ed in disrupting what one labelled “genocide-as-usual campus life at British universities”. One student alleges that “LSE prioritises its “‘duciary duties’ ahead of obligations under international law and human rights charters”, alongside alleging LSE’s dereliction of duties towards students to honour the “highest-ever turnout and overwhelming majority ‘Yes’ vote in May’s LSESU divestment referendum”. ey also question the validity of “witness impact statements”, which they allege security sta ers on the university’s payroll wrote, and deem the charges as politically motivated.

Another of the suspended seven tells e Beaver: “it is incomprehensible that a er a whole year of atrocities in Palestine we are now facing more severe consequences than our university management, who have decided to continue funding war crimes in Gaza and beyond…everyone that pays tuition here has the right to know that.” e student again defended their actions, writing that “despite how LSE is portraying us, we sincerely care about improving our university.”

“In fact, that’s why we are motivated to protest, negotiate, and research how the university we are part of can take steps to meaningfully cut its ties to systems of destruction and oppression.”

Ongoing catastrophes in Gaza, where there are no ‘safe spaces’ from Israel’s bombings, nor any universities remaining, and elsewhere are far beyond

‘distressing’ for the millions displaced, including many families who’ve su ered over dozens of loved-ones killed. Given this horri c context, LSE’s communities might face “ideas [they] hate”, using Larry Kramer’s words, which could naturally be an “extremely distressing experience.”

With apparently little recourse le remaining, since LSE’s management appears to refuse serious engagement, student protest is the timeless default for encouraging action. But concerns are clearly arising that students are seemingly being punished for demonstrating and making claims which challenge School policy.

LSE’s founding mission is to “know the causes of things”. e causes and nancial basis of Israel’s ever-intensifying assaults on Gaza, Lebanon, and the West Bank are more clearly documented than ever, to which the LSE_7 and the Assets in Apartheid report rightfully lay claim in the School’s nancial ties. e campaign asserts that consistency regarding free speech surely means management using its ‘engagement tools’ with students, not leveraging arbitrary suspension and even possible deportation.

If Kramer et al. hope to maintain LSE’s image as the UK’s free-speech haven, they must allow space for protests, especially those which challenge their management’s policies. Until then, the fate of the LSE_7 and other would-be campus protesters at LSE remains - much like the students themselves - suspended.

‘Should I get a part-time job?’: e Art of

Balancing Paid Work Alongside Studies at LSE

Liza Chernobay Features Editor Illustrated by Paavas Bansal

As much as I enjoy my Social Anthropology degree and editorial role at e Beaver, the weekly 270 pages worth of readings combined with the ad-hoc demands of producing a student newspaper can become quite overwhelming. And once you insert ‘life’ which tends to ‘happen’ at the least convenient moment into the equation, all there is le to utter is “help!”

While I make each day’s goal to stay a oat, there exists a species of LSE student who manage to secure a cosy spot in the library by 10AM, read in time for class, sit on a society committee and pop to a housewarming party a er dinner. However, the real LSE superheroes are those who manage to balance the above with working a parttime job.

For some students, working alongside their studies is a nancial necessity. For others, it is a matter of choice–a means to boost disposable income, gain work experience, or transition to adulthood. Whatever the motivation, the reality of juggling work with academics and life in general is challenging, making those who manage this art truly admirable. So how do they do it? As it turns out, working, studying and staying on the brink of sanity is possible–as long as you do it right.

Like many young people facing the soaring London prices, Eva applied for part-time roles advertised by LSE and LSESU to gain independence and nancial exibility. “My parents give me a certain allowance,” she explains, “but it’s still

quite small for London to live comfortably. So I thought, okay, I’ll make a bit of money on my own–even if it’s an extra £100, that’s already quite a drastic change in life.”

“Now that I live in my own at with my atmates, I think about bills, meal prepping,” Eva adds. “You think about every expense a lot more, even about the small things, like, do I want this bar of chocolate right now? Yes, no, it’s

However, there is much more depth to student jobs than money–especially if you work on campus. For students interviewed by e Beaver, the opportu nity to make friends with co-workers and get involved with university life adds social value and meaning to receiv ing a coveted paycheck.

“To be honest, I’d probably

However, Eva highlights that such experiences are character-building: “you do something quite tiring till very late, but at the end, you come out stronger.”

Working long hours also builds trust and kinship among co-workers based on the shared experience of dealing with di cult situations. “When I was working at the AU Night,” Eva continues, “and there were 600 people

ods, like the beginning of the year, then right before end of term.”

Taking time o to recharge your energy levels is also crucial to thrive both at work and in class. As Eva reminds us, “even if it’s just a day of doing some new things, or spending a day with a person you love, or doing an activity that you like.”

“It’s just a matter of knowing

never go to a thing like AU Night because I’m not in any of the sports teams,” explains Eva, “but [due to my job, I could] still be there. And you feel like you’re part of something, because you’re quite aware of even the small things, like knowing that these chairs or these tablecloths are in that speci c cupboard.”

“You also end up going out of your comfort zone, because you obviously have to reach out to people, talk to them… it’s an exercise to help you be more social,” she adds.

Certain SU jobs, especially working at nighttime events like the AU night, or tending the bar at Tuns, are more “[physically] exhausting and even mentally draining”.

because it was too much.” Yet, at moments like this “you can rely so much on your other co-workers, like the security guard. If anything gets out of hand, she’ll handle it.”

So how to master the right balance between working and studying at LSE? Largely, it is about nding a job with exible hours. “[LSESU] is super exible about work,” according to Eva, because they understand that “you’re an LSE student. So you pick your shi s, your hours…and then again, it’s not a super regular job, because there’s kind of rush peri-

ally do it from your bed… It’s so easy.”

Naturally, tutoring is not completely e ortless at the start, but with practice and time, you improve and become more e cient. “Once the rst couple of lessons are done, and you know the way you want to teach, and how to structure [the lessons]”, teaching becomes easier and “scalable”.

Nevertheless, not all parttime jobs are equally student-friendly. When looking for paid roles, Nika advises weighing up the time commitment, the need to commute and the compensation, along with all the other activities you wish to do while at university. e job may not be “worth it”, a er all, if “you don’t get paid well and it takes out such a big chunk of your day”.

Equally, the secret lies in nding a job which you enjoy. Nika, who remotely tutors IB Maths to high school students alongside her Management degree, has “always really liked teaching and explaining things to people”, especially the “more quantitative subjects”.

Since her degree is not purely mathematical, tutoring her favourite subject is “intellectually stimulating” and helps her keep formulae “fresh in her mind” throughout the year. “It’s a pretty well paying job, and it’s just something that I really love doing,” Nika explains, smiling.

Like many campus jobs, tutoring is time- exible, and does not require commuting. “You could literally be sitting in the library, then you go maybe to a di erent place for an hour, do your lesson quickly, and then come back. You don’t have to travel anywhere. You can liter-

When blessed with the choice of not having to work, “there’s lots of other things that you could be spending your time on that would be more ful lling or provide you with better skills. Even hanging out with friends, doing something sporty”, attending society or careers events are also valuable strategies to engage with university life and bene t from the time we have as students.

Needless to say, ‘to work or not to work’ is not a matter of discussion for some of us. Being an LSE student is tough, requiring you to navigate the precarity of living in one of the most expensive cities in the world alongside top-level academic commitments, career aspirations, social lives, and the vagaries of everyday life.

Yet, whatever path you choose to meet these demands, your choice will be exactly right as long as you prioritise your needs. Perhaps, you’ll join e Beaver like me. Some of us can jump over hurdles, while others prefer to walk around them. Either way, we will cross the nish line eventually, each at our own pace.

My Experience with an AI Interviewer: A Glimpse into the Future of Automated Hiring

Saumia Bhatnagar Contributing Writer Illustrated by Paavas Bansal

Having recently entered the job market as a media and communications graduate, my day-today involves navigating a labyrinth of job listings in the eld, each one o ering a new set of challenges. Recently, as I lost myself amidst this whirlwind of a process, I encountered something entirely unexpected: an AI-powered interview. No human recruiter, no faceto-face interaction–only me, my voice, and an arti cial intelligence conducting a live, audio-based interview. Deep down, I knew that this would not land me my dream job, but curiosity got the best of me. I could not resist the chance to experience rsthand what it meant to be assessed by an algorithm, so I dove into this digital enigma, unsure of what awaited me.

e AI interview was conducted via StarsHunt, a platform proudly proclaiming itself as the “World’s Best AI Recruiter”. One of the companies I had applied to used it as a screening tool. It served as an initial lter to shortlist candidates for the next round which would

moving the usual hassle of aligning calendars and availability.

With a few clicks, I logged in, expecting perhaps a futuristic twist on the interview process, but what greeted me was far less dramatic. No smiling face, no casual pleasantries—just a blank screen. My highly anticipated Black Mirror moment failed to materialise. On the screen, I could see my own image while a glowing purple circle appeared in place of the interviewer, radiating colour with each word it spoke. e AI’s voice was that of a female and was unmistakably robotic. It felt familiar as well as unsettling at the same time. ere was a button to repeat the AI’s question if needed and a ‘talk’ button that I had to press each time I was ready to respond. Over the course of the next 30 minutes, the AI interviewer asked me a series of standard questions, covering my work experience, expected salary, and the usual ‘strengths and weaknesses’ routine. e interface was smooth and intuitive, but something was missing, something I had not realised I valued so much until it was gone: the human touch.

A warm greeting, a smile, even the obligatory comment about

motivations and aspirations. In contrast, this AI-driven process was clinical, almost e cient to a fault. Question. Answer. Repeat. ere was no room for dialogue, no opportunity to ask about the company culture or the team I would potentially be working with— questions I would typically pose to a recruiter. Instead, it felt like I was feeding data into a void. I was le wondering who, or what, was on the other side, and whether anyone, or any algorithm, would truly understand what I brought to the table.

But for all its e ciency, AI misses a fundamental aspect of recruitment: the human connection. For candidates, an interview is not just a formality, it is a conversation. e absence of this two-way exchange reduces applicants to mere data points, their potential boiled down to a set of pre-programmed questions and algorithmic interpretations. It can feel dehumanising, like talking to a wall rather than someone who could become your future manager or colleague. is lack of interaction might also deter top talent who look for meaning-

criteria it uses to measure your suitability for the role forces candidates to step into the unknown.

Going forward, recruiters should prioritise spreading more information about how AI-led interviews function. O ering insights into what the AI is speci cally programmed to look for, whether it’s technical skills, communication style, or problem-solving ability, would empower applicants to prepare more e ectively, just as they would for a traditional interview.

‘ ere have been numerous cases where AI systems have inadvertently perpetuated the very biases they claim to eliminate.’

A er 30 awkward minutes of spilling my professional life story to a faceless algorithm, the interview abruptly ended. No feedback or follow-up. Just silence. I never heard back. Was I not a strong enough candidate for the job, or had my desperation to secure employment been exploited to train the platform’s algorithm? We’ll never know. But the experience le me with more questions than answers, particularly about the future of recruitment.

AI-driven interviews like this raise serious concerns about how companies will select talent moving forward. On the one hand, they o er clear ad-

For candidates, they eliminate scheduling con icts and the pressure of in-person interactions, providing the convenience of exibility. From an employer’s perspective, AI can screen a high volume of candidates quickly and objectively, theoretically removing biases that can creep into human-led interviews— whether based on gender, race, or other factors.

ful connections with their prospective employers during the interview process.

Moreover, AI’s promise of removing bias is not foolproof. e technology is only as unbiased as the data it is trained on, and there have been numerous cases where AI systems have inadvertently perpetuated the very biases they claim to eliminate. Candidates from diverse backgrounds may nd themselves at a disadvantage if the AI’s training data does not adequately represent them. ere is also the question of transparency. Candidates rarely understand how AI makes its decisions and there is no recourse for those who feel they have been unfairly ltered out.

One critical improvement recruiters could implement is providing greater transparency around how AI-driven interviews work. As this technology becomes more prevalent, candidates need to be better informed about what to expect and how to navigate these new systems. Facing an algorithm with no understanding of how it evaluates your responses or what

Moreover, candidates should be made aware of how their data will be used and whether their responses might serve purposes beyond the speci c job application. By demystifying the process, recruiters can foster more trust in AI systems and level the playing eld for applicants, ensuring that they are equipped to approach these interviews with condence rather than uncertainty.

While AI has the potential to revolutionise the future of recruitment, currently it falls short in o ering the nuance and empathy that human recruiters naturally provide. e real challenge ahead lies in striking a balance between the e ciency of AI and the emotional intelligence of humans, ensuring that technology enhances the hiring process without sacri cing its most vital aspect—genuine human connection.

Read the full article online.

Why Do We (Still) Romanticise Pirates?

Lucas Ngai

Opinion Editor

Illustrated by Sylvain Chan

Inever really understood the appeal of piratesnever watched Peter Pan, never watched Pirates of the Caribbean, never played with those pirate Lego sets, simply because I didn’t feel like it, and they just looked weird to me. My knowledge of pirates only consisted of the Pirates of the Caribbean orchestral theme I played in middle school and, well, the BTD Monkey Buccaneer.

Yet this summer - by complete coincidence - I interned at the ‘Literacy Pirates’, a charity which helps children falling behind in class to develop condence in reading and writing. And then…I ‘caught up’ with 1120+ chapters of One Piece (a questionable life decision that I have no regrets making whatsoever).

While I wholeheartedly enjoyed my time doing both things, I sometimes found myself struggling to suspend my disbelief. Real pirates do terrible things, don’t they? e Maersk Alabama hijacking orchestrated by the Somali pirates quickly comes to mind. And you can’t forget the Vikings, whose legacy is stained with murder, pillage, and rape. If we want to be a positive inuence on kids, why is such a morally dubious medium so permissible? A er all, both the Literacy Pirates and One Piece have audiences of young, impressionable children.

Maybe it really isn’t that deep - the pirate story was literally made for children! One of the most in uential pieces of pirate literature, Treasure Island, was created because Robert Stevenson needed to entertain his 12-year-old stepson. e story is o en credited with establishing the “X-marks-thespot”, tropical islands, buried treasure, and parrots as de ning features of the pirate trope.

But still, to go from a stinky plunderer, murderer, and

womaniser to swashbuckling, treasure-burying, eyepatch-donning, rum-guzzling, deliciously illicit buccaneer is quite the stretch. How the hell did we even get here?

To put it simply: rst, the ‘Golden Age of Piracy’ during the late 17th to early 18th century, and second, 19th century Romanticism. When the British, French, and Dutch vied for power in the New World over the Spanish, piracy ourished as the European pow ers made deals with the devil, so to speak.

in the form of ‘letters of marque’, which le gally sanc tioned pirates (now priva teers) to plunder their ri

manticise?

While they were probably uninterested in highbrow discussions of abstract ideas, many ideals that pirates stood for (and depicted to have stood for) are actually di erent to, and sometimes ahead of, the status quo. A likely reason for AGH’s success is the intellectual context of the Enlightenment, where pirates’ opposition to the ancien regime - that is, a highly strati ed, socially

for the lowest strata of society with nothing to lose. is came in the form of the Navigation Acts: as Britain restricted the American colonies’ trade with other colonies, American demand for goods from the Spanish and French remained. As a result, the incentive for plundering other European ships and smuggling their goods became ever more compelling. Funnily enough, the congregation of people who found piracy appealing also made pi-

vals’ ships and keep whatever they found as payment.

It is worth noting that discerning what actually happened in this era is quite di cult. e go-to pirate history book, A General History of the Pyrates (AGH), contradicts colonial government records in multiple accounts, but also contains multiple grains of truth. To me however, it is these grains of truth, these social commentaries which ultimately lend themselves to the pirate’s longevity in popular culture.

So what exactly is there to ro-

immobile, and wholly corrupt society - was societally permissible. Pirates spearheaded the ideal of social mobility, and even abolitionism. A most extreme example can be seen in AGH’s account of Captain James Misson who founded Libertalia, a utopian society in Madagascar that was anti-slavery, free, and equal for every colour and creed.

Although Misson and his utopia are most likely ctional, piracy’s appeal of social mobility is rooted in reality. e economic impetus of the 17th and 18th centuries made piracy an attractive prospect, especially

to the plunder. In this way, pirates were surprisingly fair, even meritocratic compared to their contemporaries. Additionally, the captain never held absolute power over the ship: their power was always checked by their crewmates, and could be voted o if they weren’t doing a good job. Su ce to say, it isn’t a surprise that these contrarian, democratic ideas which pirates represented both in history and ction aptly embodied the anti-establishment zeitgeist of the Romantic era.

rate crews extremely diverse: rarely in other scenarios would one nd runaway slaves, Dutch, Portuguese, French, and Englishmen co-existing and cooperating with each other to the extent they did. In this way, pirates championed racial mobility as well.

Another way that pirates’ countercultural ideals manifested themselves is through the ‘Pirate Code’. Before a member was inducted into the fold, they had to swear on the Bible to follow a set of rules agreed upon by the crew. ese varied from ship to ship, but a few rules of thumb hold. Firstly, all plunder gained was separated into equal shares. Each member’s share is determined by their rank within the crew, alongside the principle “no prey, no pay”; each pirate was entitled to the relative contribution they made

It is intriguing how these ideas continue to nd solace in readers over two centuries later. Perhaps it speaks to our innate desire to go against the blatant systemic aws in our society, however imperfect yet realistic the means may be. Take One Piece, which contains many of the contrarian ideas and social commentary that captured the imaginations of people centuries prior. In it, Lu y (the protagonist) and his diverse crew of Straw Hat pirates not only face con icts with others trying to nd the ‘One Piece’ on the Grand Line, but also face injustices rooted in the real-world, such as slavery, racism, and censorship. At the core of the con ict is the corrupt World Government (who ironically wear capes with ‘JUSTICE’ plastered on them), who try to stop Lu y from getting the ‘One Piece’. roughout the story one can see his attitude toward systemic injustice turn from simple naïvety to a nuanced optimism, as he overcomes his own emotional struggles throughout the story.

In a sense, our modern world is not so di erent from the 18th century or the Grand Line. Generational wealth continues to accumulate. Inequality is on the rise. Many of us tire of our societal obligations to fully subscribe to the orthodoxy of our era. So if somebody like Lu y is able to raise his proverbial (rubber) middle nger in the face of those circumstances with such indomitable will, it is easy to see why us readers of all ages - for posterity - will gladly stand with him until the end of time.

Gap Years: e Modern Grand Tour?

Sophie Alcock

Contributing Writer

Illustrated by Lucas Ngai

The shorter days and crisper air heralds the start of the academic year, as we fall back into familiar yet mind-numbing cycles of introducing names, degrees, and backgrounds. For incoming freshers’ gap years are an increasingly enticing option to live life before selling your soul to an institution of higher education. Gap years bring their own bene ts, such as warding o burnout from studying, doing long-term volunteering or work placements, and guring out your path in life. I certainly have seen my fair share of former classmates posting pictures of their refreshing gap years in South East Asia or South America on Instagram. e quest to take a step back from ‘civilisation’ and nd ‘raw’ cultural experiences brings students to poorer countries in the Global South viewed as ‘less developed’. ere is also an increasing number of gap years which seems to entail the indulgence of adult vices like heavy drinking, clubbing, drugs, and sex. Yet doesn’t this debauchery take away from the cultural immersion they seek or the purpose of a gap year itself?

As much as we think that such self-indulgent gap years are a modern trend, these trips are similar in concept to the ‘Grand Tour’. is was a key coming-of-age tradition among the European upper class where the recently ‘of age’ would travel and live in a number of cities throughout Europe. It was seen as a way to gain a cultural education of the Classics. e romanticism of foreign and archaic cultures was a driving factor behind this phenomenon. Italy was a prominent destination with the ruins of the former Roman empire being a focal point of the tour. Furthermore, young men away from their parents’ prying eyes would try numerous new and exciting things that would otherwise be met with severe consequences, like

having a airs, indulging in sex, or drugs.

History lesson aside, we can use similar themes to evaluate the current trend in gap years. Gap year students may want to immerse themselves in a culture distant from theirs and take a step back from their fast-paced lives. ey may nd that a er living in Laos or other Southeast Asian countries, they have gained a slower pace of life and newfound roots in spirituality – an experience which to some could be life-changing. However, this ‘raw’ element they see o en stems from issues of inequality. Mountainous retreats and village residencies give wealthier individuals ‘the poor experience’, allowing them

experiences act as commodities sold to tourists. is plays into the idealism in the way foreign cultures are viewed, whereby culture is not viewed on its own terms but through a xed perspective. Before we travel we absorb curated content about our destination. In so doing we curate a worldview we expect to receive dur-

on gap years undeniably take advantage of relaxed rules while travelling. Perhaps there’s an escapist dream where it doesn’t a ect you or a certain mindset in being away from home hence you can ‘get away with it’. is unlocks the gates for gap year students to begin binge drinking, heavy clubbing, and other vices. I am

e rst taste of freedom away from home is a rite of passage: being able to structure your own activities, curate your lifestyle, and experience a different way of life is incredibly liberating. at being said, we should be mindful of the ways we make our rst steps out of the nest. Gap years abide this mentality too, one could truly

‘When you take photos in elephant trousers ploughing a paddy eld in ailand, that’s not true cultural immersion, but privileged, curated poverty.’

ing our voyage. One di erence today is that gap year pilgrimages romanticise inequality in the modern world. By com-

entirely open to occasional nights of exploration. However it is unlikely locals frequent nightlife to the same degree

choose activities to broaden one’s horizons or loathe in self-indulgence and vices. Like the Grand Tour, we can cherry-pick experiences to feed the wealthy a slice of the curated culture they desire. And by no means does learning another way of life or culture lack value - but if all we are doing is reinforcing our own prejudices, then what are we really learning?

76 years ago, the Palestinians were subjected to the Nakba. is historical trauma, translated as ‘the catastrophe’, sought to erase the identity, culture, and history of Palestinian people. Since then, occupation, displacement, and dispossession has been their ongoing reality.

Art has long been a powerful expression of hope amidst protests and it continues to be so. is past year, LSE students have showcased a continuation of this artistic tradition. e month-long encampment produced works that were spread across campus, symbolising the salience of student solidarity for the oppressed.

is spread is dedicated to Palestinians and other a ected regions, celebrating their creativity, resilience, and refusal to be silenced. is spread is also to act as a reminder for future generations of students that though the spirit of protest may seem dormant on this campus, in the face of injustice, it will always erupt in technicolours of collective resistance.

If I Must Die

By Refaat Alareer

If I must die, you must live to tell my story to sell my things to buy a piece of cloth and take some strings, (make it white with a long tail) so that a child, somewhere in Gaza while looking heaven in the eye awaiting his dad who le in a blazeand bid no one farewell esh not even to himselfsees the kite, my kite you made, ying up above and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love

Photography from @lseliberatedzone, @lsesupalestine, and Oliver Chan

EDITED BY SKYE SLATCHER AND

JO WEISS

Game On: e Fight for Fairness in Sports

by ANA FEGAN-SMITH

Like many who hotly anticipate the start of the new academic year - a er recovering from exams, continuing the corporate grind (and maybe squeezing in a trip or two) - I’ve been eagerly anticipating news about the various sports at LSE. ere were a certain few sports clubs I particularly had my eyes on. But a er seeing the appalling unequal sex balance in some of the committees, it’s hard not to feel disappointed.

is is not an uncommon trend. At the time of writing, of the 41 student-led sports and activity clubs at LSE, 25 are con rmed as mixed-sex. At the time of writing, ve of those 25 have yet to introduce their committees via social media, and 11 have con rmed an unequal sex balance; inevitably, women are disproportionately underrepresented. Such gures are puzzling, considering that the latest statistics show that in 2022/23 57% of students were women. Why, then, are we consistently underrepresented and outnumbered in nearly every aspect of student-led sports?

Attempts to rationalise why sex inequality is so prevalent within sports are not isolated to LSE; it has long been debated. Some would argue it is by chance: women are less interested in many sports on o er, instead being preoccupied with more ‘girly’ matters, and thus inevitably fewer are interested in joining and leading sports teams. Some may argue it’s due to biology–a er all, isn’t it a well-known fact that people assigned male at birth are more athletic? Some would argue it’s because of the lack of funding and opportunities available to women athletes: the average salary of a woman NBA player is 110 times less than that of a male NBA player. Even when women do make it to the most senior levels of athletics, it’s only a matter of time before they’re sidelined again. It was only in June that Manchester United announced the women’s team would be moved out of their new £10 million complex into portable buildings, while the men’s team bene from a £50 million regeneration of their Carrington site. One could hardly conceive the possibility that such a decision would’ve been permitted if it was the other way around. more so than others, they all fail to rec ognise the very foundation of society’s conception of sports: how we describe it.

Identifying the impact of the language we use is critical when attempting to understand the core issues of sex in equality in sports. It is uncontested that the default of agreeing to ‘go and watch the footy’ with your mates in the pub describes watching men’s football. When buying tickets to see the rugby sevens, it seems almost ludicrous to in terpret that as anything other than see

ing the men play. Even when describing world champions, Novak Djokovic is hailed as the most successful tennis player of all time, whereas Margaret Court is hailed as the most successful woman tennis player, despite them currently being drawn on the number of major titles achieved. Not only that, but the style of athleticism is described di erently. Katie Taylor is described as having an aggressive boxing style, instead of precise and strategic. Tyson Fury’s erratic movement, on the other hand, is regarded as unpredictable and hailed as a strength.

LSE, admittedly, is better with this description than lots of places. It’s more commonly accepted to describe each sports club according to whether it’s single-sex or mixed. Both Lacrosse and Hockey, seemingly by default, refer to themselves as ‘mixed’ sports. Similarly, football makes the active distinction between men’s and women’s, a crucial decision if we want to obscure the maleness default.

However, there is more that can - and must - be done. It’s easy to remain complicit in tackling sex inequality at the local level and the university level, but we must continue to call for change. A rmative action, for all of its criticisms, will play a crucial part in this. Continuing to reshape how we discuss LSESU sports, mandating a 50:50 split in the sex of each club’s committees, and providing tailored education to both sexes as to why this equality is vital, are only the rst steps in such a journey.

e truth is, the search for an explanation of sex inequality in sports, combined with calls for action, is likely to persist for many generations to come. But that doesn’t mean LSE can’t be the trailblazer in such activism. We can, and should, lead this movement if we want our community to have any semblance of sex equality. But the one thing we mustn’t forget?

Words matter.

Pioneering LSESU Skating Society

by MARK WORANG

ter receiving news of unforeseen nancial difculty during my term, I was faced with a dilemma—give up and interrupt my studies or use creative ways to survive in one of the most expensive cities in the world by utilising informal housing, joining LSE events that gave away free food, and skateboarding to commute. Relieved when awarded the LSE Hardship Fund, thanks to the Student Union, I was able to continue my studies with the caveat of deep austerity. Being able to commute with my skates has helped a lot. Instead of using the tube, I had saved an estimate of at least £720 for the days I had to go to Holborn from my hostel to join mandatory seminar attendance. As an international student, this allowed me to memorise all the roads from South Kensington to Farringdon without maps. To me, skating hasn’t just been a hobby. It signi es a point of reference for hope during a dark time and I truly believe in its ability to change more lives.

Despite drawing strength from that experience, skating isn’t just an ivory tower for me. e journey began through spontaneity: starting with ice skating as a teen, to then learning the skateboard from the great Tony Hawk, and by playing his games whilst testing new skills. But what motivated me further was a country-rose-skater-girl, way older than me, a typical 90s kid with an attractive demeanour who made me feel as though I was out of her league. Skate for me was also a story of unrequited love, despite exhausting all my rizz, the other bad boy had always won. However, through all these peaks and troughs, I’ve always been able to use my skateboard as an expression tool, emancipating myself, even in the friend zone. Although some things

things aren’t meant to be, I know for sure that building this society is.

Out of a moment of serendipity among countless cold messages, I corresponded with my Co-Founder Pritam Singh, avid inline skater, and LSE PhD historian. We were at a crossroads at rst, but now our visions have aligned to pioneer LSE’s rst-ever skating society both for leisure and sports. I think for those who are unfamiliar, it can be a whole lot of fun to start. We will hold classes for beginners—the joy of learning something new or the novelty of a give-it-a-go sesh always gives a palpable dose of dopamine and serotonin. To those who are more advanced, you can tune in to your Spotify roller disco playlist, whilst roaming Oxford Street and cut transport costs just like I did, instead of the boring Boris bikes we see on every lane. And we will be organising events with groups such as London Skate Life, ensuring that those involved have the appropriate training for skating in every environment, whether indoor or outdoor.

As for the LSESU Skate Society, our vision is to be an assemblage of ideas in relation to skating or even outside if you’re keen on something new. Whether longboards, skateboards, rollerblades, roller skates, or ice skating, it will be a safe inclusive space for everyone of di erent levels and abilities. In addition to that, depending on your enthusiasm, we may hold panel discussions on skate fashion, social impact, and causes you hold dear. So, whether you’ve been rejected from a spring week or bottled an interview like I did, come to us to release the frustration through skates. And if you’re not into any of this, you can always join us for a pub crawl in Camden.

Beyond the Game: Sports and Mental Health

by SKYE SLATCHER & Illustrated by PAAVAS BANSAL

ursday 10 October. World Mental Health Day. First observed in 1992, it marks a day to have open conversations about mental health and the importance of taking care of one’s mental state. Since the mid-2010s, these conversations have moved into the mainstream and the sports industry has not escaped this trend.

Anyone who has sat through any talk or session on mental health will have no doubt heard that physical activity can work wonders. While that is no doubt true, it is always worth considering what those who do physical activity professionally might have to say.

have dedicated their whole lives to their sport. ey are competing for their livelihoods. eir careers are short so every moment matters - they have immense expectations to live up to, not just from the public but internally.

On 28 September e Sunday Times published their interview with Lewis Hamilton. In that conversation, the seven-time F1 world champion was honest about his struggles with his mental health, saying that he has suffered from depression for many years. As the most accomplished driver in history, his mental strength in reaching the heights he has is admirable, and hearing that he has faced these mental struggles is important and inspiring.

In 2022 Yuki Tsunoda published an article in e Players’ Tribune about his career and journey to F1. Re ecting on his Honda Formula Dream Project nals, he said, “Back then, my mental game was poor. At the nal trials, before the race, I was so nervous my whole body tensed up. My ngers holding the steering wheel were frozen … my usual self was nowhere to be seen.” He made a false start and received a penalty. He discussed crying on the train ride home and feeling like he had failed.

Simone Biles is one of the most incredible sports people in history and her impact on the discourse we are having around mental health is signi cant. Biles cancelled ve competitions at short notice because of her anxiety, later saying in a press conference, “I say mental health comes rst. at’s why sometimes it’s okay to even skip the big competitions to focus on yourself. It shows how strong you really are as a competitor and a person instead of just ghting through it.” She has been candid about her struggles with the twisties and needing to prioritise her own sanity in those moments.

In 2021 Naomi Osaka dropped out of the French Open. At the time she was ranked second in the world in women’s tennis. She has been open about having struggled with depression since the US Open in 2018. In Paris 2021 the situation escalated when she did not want to talk to the media, saying that the press showed no consideration for the mental health of athletes. Her comments ought to have served as a reminder that the media (journalists but also any of us reading, liking, or posting on social media) owe these incredible athletes the respect of treating them like human beings.

ese same ideas have been discussed in sports-related TV, of which the most notable in my mind is Ted Lasso on Apple TV. In season two, AFC Richmond recruit a sports psychologist, initially to support Dani Rojas in dealing with his guilt a er killing a dog while taking a penalty. e mental struggles he went through in the episode and those that other characters including Coach Lasso went through in subsequent episodes are indicative of the wider conversations we need to be having. A er the press wrote about his panic attack, Ted Lasso addressed the media directly during a conference, underlining the need to rethink how we speak about mental health in general and in relation to athletes speci cally. In many ways though, it seems like these pleas through the medium of TV have fallen on deaf ears in the real world.

At the elite level of sports, the pressure is imaginably immense. Athletes are competing at the top of their game, against other top-tier athletes. Most

All of these stories remind us that mental health MUST be a priority. It is only with constructive conversations that we can continue to enjoy sports as spectators or participants. How do we support the mental health of our athletes globally? Athletes are, in many ways, entertainers. ey perform incredible feats of nature for the enjoyment of spectators.

I don’t have the answers but I do know that we have a long way to go in terms of truly opening these conversations up and ensuring that athletes feel supported at every level - including at LSE. 89% of people believe it is important to talk about mental health. Awareness is currently at an all-time high, but the crisis continues to worsen.

If you are in need of mental health support, contact LSE’s Student Wellbeing Service.

Or, call the Samaritans: 116 123

SOCIAL

EDITED BY JENNIFER LAU AND

SOPHIA-INES KLEIN

A Swirl of Soup

by LIZA CHERNOBAY & illustrated by SYLVAIN CHAN

ere is nothing that whispers ‘Autumn’ to me more than a warm bowl of soup. I grew up devouring bowlfuls of my mum’s chunky vegetable soup and my grandparents’ signature borscht (East-European beetroot soup) with dollops of sour cream and freshly chopped dill. Like a mother’s hug, soups have this innate power in them to melt your heart, ll your belly, and make you feel at home wherever you are.

Once you become a university student, you have no choice but to start adulting–even if you are not keen on the idea. While we grow up at our own pace and in our own ways, an important step towards independent adulthood for me was learning how to cook soup.

I haven’t yet dared to recreate my family’s secret recipes, but with trial and error, I have invented my own classic – the spiced butternut squash soup. It’s both sweet and savoury, with a hint of gingery zing, and surprisingly easy to make. With practice and the right equipment, you can whip it up in 20 mins.

You will need:

- an immersion blender

- a pot and a (preferably wooden) spoon

Ingredients (for 4 servings):

- 2 packs (400 g) of cut-up microwaveable butternut squash (or cubed squash and sweet potato from Sainsbury’s)*

- 1 can (400 ml) of coconut milk

- 1 to 2 tbsp fresh/frozen ginger, cubed

- 1/2 vegetable stock cube

- a pinch of nutmeg, cinnamon, turmeric and/or curry powder (to taste)

- salt (to taste)

- ½ to1 cup boiled water (to thin the soup)

To serve:

- a drizzle of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and coconut milk

- a crack of black pepper

- pumpkin seeds, toasted on a pan

- pea shoots

- roast chestnuts

Method:

1. Cook the squash in the microwave according to the instructions on the pack.

4. Carefully remove from heat, add in the squash, and blend until smooth using the immersion blender.

5. Return to heat and bring to a gentle boil. Add in extra water to reach the desired consistency, and check the avour for salt and spice. Let it boil for 4-5 mins.

6. Garnish with your desired toppings, and serve!

e most important step: Treat your mum and dad to a bowl of homecooked soup. If they approve, congratulations - your journey to adulthood is now complete!

Jen and Soph’s Guide to Clubbing Etiquette

by SOPHIA-INES KLEIN and JENNIFER

LAU & ilustrated by PAAVAS BANSAL

We’re already inching into mid-October and the school year is back in full swing in its typical fashion: Ministry on Tuesday, Sway every Wednesday, and maybe even a cheeky Saturday at the new Bario Boom Boom if you’re feeling it. We’re all used to the ‘hustle’ of university partying, but do we have the manners to match? Sure it’s not all that deep…But the question remains: Is the club the place where we let go of all u y pleasantries, or is there still an etiquette to hold ourselves to? If you ask us, there are certain standards of decency to uphold. But where do we draw the line between club culture and etiquette?

We’ve all been there - the lingering stares, the ‘will they, won’t they’ moments, the heat ushing your cheeks at the hint of something new. But what if you’re not interested? e prolonged stares can quickly become uncomfortable. As this situation is way more familiar than we’d want to admit, we urge you to pay attention to body language when approaching someone. If eye contact isn’t reciprocated, take the hint and move on. Clubbing should be a fun, carefree experience. You don’t want your night of endless dancing interrupted by an escape o the dance oor to oust unwanted attention.

2. Heat up ½ cup water in the pot on medium heat, add in the crumbled stock cube and spices, stirring.

3. Add in the ginger and coconut milk, reserving 1 tbsp of the milk for garnish. Warm it up for 1-2 minutes while stirring, until small bubbles start appearing. Do not overboil.

Elbows in your back, getting pushed le and right, the dance oor can feel like the greatest invasion of your personal space, but it’s all part of the fun, right? No, not always. As you venture onto the dance oor, don’t employ the typical ‘bull-charge through the crowd’ method. It’s not nice for you, or anyone around you. Once you’ve found your anchor on the dance oor, avoid the elbow game where you’re digging your arm into someone else’s side to try to preserve your treasured corner of the club. If things are getting a little tight, there’s no need to kick up a fuss, move onto a di erent dance move and keep the energy up. No one likes someone angry, standing motionless like they don’t want to be there. A er all, we’re all doing our part to get the energy going.

Clubbing in London is another ballpark in itself. Whether it is a Mayfair club or a casual night out at Sway, you’ll nd that the clubbing scene in London is as vibrant as it is diverse, with something for everyone. Depending on your mood, you could be in white trainers sweltering in a student night club on one night or in strappy heels with a cocktail on another. Navigating London’s clubbing scene means knowing where to go based on how you feel. You don’t want to pressure yourself at a high-energy venue when you are looking for a more relaxed atmosphere. Honing clubbing culture is all about establishing that intention before heading out. And just remember, knowing when to leave is just as important as going to the club in the rst place (we personally like leaving when the night’s at its peak at 1-2am). Understand your limits and don’t push it—there’s always next week.

So forget about your 9 am lecture—grab your friends, buy some Tesco spirits and wine, and take full advantage of London’s nightlife. Just remember to keep our guide in your back pocket to ensure a fun night out.

From Rave to Revenue:

Are We Losing the Essence of

EDM?

by MARIANNE GRAFF & illustrated by MITHALINA TAIB

Unless you live under a rock, you’ve probably heard of names like ‘Peggy Gou’ and ‘Fred Again’ by now. Although ‘Brat Summer’ might be over, rave-like concerts are only gaining momentum. Techno and the domain of electronic dance music (EDM) have, in the last couple of years, entered the mainstream sphere in the UK. Just this year, Broadwick, the company behind Printworks, along with other prestigious venues, inaugurated its new space in London as a colossal epicentre for techno: Drumsheds. With an impressive 109,813 sq. of hybrid space, Drumsheds emerges as an architectonic, with the capacity to host multiple sonic experiences. With its imposing size, this venue mirrors the growth of the techno scene through the monetisation of the musical ex perience.

With the increase of mega-techno centres, it is crucial to examine the ethics of it all: What does it mean to be the biggest clubbing venue in Europe? How does one nd the equilibrium between greatness and authen ticity? Finally, can Drumsheds maintain its underground essence while opening to the commercial panorama without a ecting EDM as a culture? e verdict: it cannot.

on the socio-political landscape of the time. Surging from marginalised urban spaces, this music genre not only broke away from musical convention but also became a vehicle to challenge established social norms. Electronic music distinctively became the sound of resistance and creative freedom, attracting underground and marginalised communities trying to escape conventional norms. roughout the years, this form of musical expression has kept challenging established norms of consumerism and capitalism.

Knowing how EDM started, it is now almost laughable to see venues like Drumsheds opening. rough commodi cation, is EDM becoming what it was once against? e presence of an industry that operates at such a large scale - backed by huge sponsors - puts into question the authenticity and essence of techno music in this new commercialised context. Is EDM being reconstructed for capitalism? is brings up an important contradiction to what techno really is, and avid listeners have expressed discontent towards such commercialised venues.

Since its emergence in the 1980s, EDM has been more than just music: it is a powerful form of counterculture. O en associated with Berlin, techno grew more popular a er the fall of the Berlin Wall, being culturally contingent

e Battle of London’s Bubble Teas

by EILEEN DE VRIES

Forget Pret, Blank Street, and Cafe Nero. Bubble tea, with its sweet avours and chewy tapioca pearls, has become a global phenomenon, especially among LSE students. When exams roll around, bubble tea becomes my loyal study companion.

Being half Taiwanese, it’s safe to say bubble tea is in my DNA. Each year I eagerly await my family’s annual Christmas trip to Taiwan, where I can get a huge cup for just 35NT (less than £1). When bubble tea rst arrived in my hometown, Amsterdam, in 2019, my friends and I would travel across the city during our lunch break to get our x or have it delivered to school. Fast forward to now, bubble tea has taken over Europe, with 250 stores in London alone.

By now I’m sure you’re wondering… what’s the BEST bubble tea spot in London? Lucky for you, here is a ranked list of my top three.

3. T4

To start us o is T4, the always reliable UK-wide chain. ey serve a variety of drinks to satisfy every craving, ranging from milk teas to milkshakes, with creative toppings such as pudding and co ee jelly. e tea here is prebrewed, which means their tea is not as fresh. is gives it a distinctly more arti cial taste, but T4 does guarantee quick service and you’ll be sipping your tea in no time.

Eileen’s recommendation: Peach double green with tapioca pearls

2. Truedan

Coming in second place is Truedan, which is only ranked second because

London’s techno music scene might be heading towards inevitable commercialisation, maybe even gentri cation. As the company and genre grow, London’s techno scene is confronted with the dilemma of maintaining its core underground essence in the wake of its commercial success.

New EDM spaces like Drumsheds are not only a place to dance but also a testimony to the change and innovation of EDM in the UK. As the music industry remains ever-changing, Drumsheds is leading London’s EDM to new heights, leaving us wondering if this will cause the over-commercialisation of EDM. Now, you might be thinking I’m o ended by techno becoming so mainstream (maybe I am, just a little) and that I’d like to gatekeep it. But in reality, as its popularity grows, there needs to be greater e orts to maintain its socioeconomic inclusivity and authenticity. A er all, art should be accessible to all, shouldn’t it?

it’s a bit further from campus. However it’s perfect for a sweet treat if you’re studying at Senate House! Established in Taipei, they’re famous for their brown sugar bubble tea that features tapioca pearls bathed in hand-cooked brown sugar.

Eileen’s recommendation: Brown sugar milk tea with tapioca pearls

1. Pur Cha

And nally…My number one bubble tea shop in Lon once even wrote them a highly enthusiastic Google of getting a free drink. Located just a dangerously campus, you’ll nd the shop cosily sat at the top of ten kinds of tea, brewed fresh for every o er endless combinations - you’ll be choice! For the indecisive, you can go wrong with their carefully curat “top picks”, which o er classic such as matcha, or sweet potato if you’re feeling adventurous. the prices may be steep, you can get the app to collect stamps towards a free drink!

Eileen’s recommendation: Roasted milk tea with tapioca pearls or fresh tea with passionfruit and tapioca

And to those who think “I don’t like bubble tea” - you probably haven’t perfected your order yet! Each order is customisable to your liking, with personalised levels of sweetness, ice, size, avours, and more. If you ever need some expert advice on cra ing your order, come nd me in Pur Cha!

REVIEW

EDITED BY ARUSHI ADITI AND WILLIAM GOLTZ

Longlegs FILM

by CHRISTINA JANG

Overall, however, Longlegs remains a thrilling watch that is sure to reach cult status amongst the right audience of horror fans, myself included. In fact, I made the most of my unlimited movie pass and saw it three times in the cinema!

Tropical Modernism - V&A Museum

EXHIBITION

by ARUSHI ADITI

is exhibition presents the evolution of architecture in India and Ghana throughout the transition from colonial rule to independence under the leadership of Jawal Lal Nehru and Kwame Nkrumah. ese leaders attempted to infuse a sense of modernism into the existing culturally rich architecture (a concept pioneered by British architects, Jane Drew and Maxwell Fry to combat humid weather conditions in West Africa in the 1940s), shown in this exhibit through the technicalities of the discipline, alongside the intricate historical, political, and social repercussions within both nations.

Following an impressive marketing campaign that led many to claim it to be the most cinematic event of 2024, Longlegs was certainly my most anticipated lm of the year.

e lm follows FBI agent Lee Harker (Maika Monroe) in the 90s Northwestern United States. A er an unfortunate incident marks her as ‘semi-psychic’, she is assigned to a mysterious string of family annihilations spanning several decades. At rst glance, each seems to be an unconnected murder-suicide, if not for an encrypted note at each scene claiming responsibility from the eponymous serial killer named Longlegs (played by an unrecognisable Nic Cage), despite not being present at the time of the murders.

Many have decried Longlegs as disappointing and going as far as to say it is barely a horror lm - I disagree. If you are expecting a fast-paced slasher, this lm will not deliver. Nevertheless, I loved it. It is a di erent sort of horror, akin more to Silence of the Lambs with an occult twist. I have never felt so stressed out while watching a lm where every scene is infused with tension - a masterful combination of framing, sound design, and script. e constant build-up pays o little in terms of jumpscares but rather maintains the atmosphere of dread at nail-bitingly high levels so that you feel as if at any moment, something truly dreadful could be about to happen.

Nic Cage is Nic Caging in truly spectacular form; so camp, yet he still makes his random outbursts of singing feel sinister. Agent Harker also adds moments of strange hilarity, with her awkwardness and unease, and rmly cements Monroe’s status as a modern scream queen. Another unexpected standout performance comes from Alicia DeWitt as Harker’s mother, Ruth, who brings an unsettling, electrifying presence whenever she is on-screen, with behaviour that is always just a little bit o in an indescribable way.

e nal reveal that ties all together has been divisive. While on the whole, it works for me, I do agree that there is something a little underwhelming with a denouement revealed almos entirely through exposition that amounts simply to: it was the Devil! Similarly, I would have liked to have seen more of Agent Harker solving Longlegs’ notes, which felt quite rushed.

e technical architectural components were well-explored, presented in simplistic manner considerate of viewers lacking a well-informed background in the discipline such as myself. It was fascinating to learn, for example, how modernist projects which used lighter materials such as glass and incorporated more stylised ventilation, signifying the environmental and economic importance of Tropical Modernism in warmer climates.

What I loved most, however, about the exhibition was its implicit, yet prominent emphasis on the political nuances of tropical modernism. While highlighting the role architecture plays to symbolise freedom and national power, it also questioned the post-colonial and neo-imperial paradoxes. Starting with Tropical Modernism as a distinctly Western concept experimented on in African countries, propelling an idea of North-South imposition, the exhibition questioned the choice of embracing modernist changes. When running towards modernist architecture, does one run away from colonial imposition or rather one’s authentic national identity?

Accordingly, the exhibition documented the progression of the modernist architecture in relation to contemporary politics, exposing unique contrasts. Nehru’s strong, positive in uence on Indian citizens allowed for the sustainability of his architectural paradigm changes. In contrast, Nkrumah’s over-prioritization of African unity and thus, arguably described as neglect of the Ghanaian public, resulted in not only the downfall of his leadership, but also his policy visions for embracing modernist architecture.

While my own childhood might perhaps have le me uniquely interested in the contemporary political development of India and Ghana, the exhibition’s unique interdisciplinary approach to considering post-colonial history through architecture should appeal to anyone with an interest in social and political history. Intellectually challenging multiple elements of social development in the Global South through a primarily architectural lens, this exhibition presented an incredibly imaginative and contemporary perspective.

Geordie Greep - ‘ e New Sound’

ALBUM

by HARRY QUANTRILL & Illustrated by SYLVAIN CHAN

If there were ever any doubts about whether Geordie Greep was essen tial to a phenomenal three-album run, e New Sound lays them to rest. For the uninitiated, Greep was the frontman of the recently dis banded avant-rock four-piece Black Midi, known for busy, break neck, and bizarre arrangements. ough some of the abrasiveness has mellowed (the strings and saxophones sing now rather than screech), the adrenaline, virtuosity, and wit remain.

Everything great about e New Sound is captured on its opening track, “Blues”: dense guitar parts, Brazilian- avoured percussion that dances around downbeats while still maintaining stadium-rock intensity, and uncomfortable yet poetic lyricism that makes you question whether these are the ramblings of a madman or a sly mockery of the mundane. Despite all this, e New Sound is Greep’s most accessible work to date, as twangy guitars have been subsumed by prettier orchestration and syncopated samba patterns.

Greep’s surreal, implacable delivery remains on e New Sound, taking its most melodious form yet. Nowhere is its charm more noticeable than

e Feminist Legacy of elma & Louise

by CAMYLA LAKEHAL-AYAT

in its absence on Motorbike, where producer Seth Evans takes up vocal duties, and a Greep-shaped hole in the mix leaves the music feeling awkward. at awkwardness is partly due to lyrical content too, as Greep seems to have found his niche in jibing at - and sometimes embodying - a particular brand of pathetic machismo. Military-obsessed, sex-crazed, and conceited, it’s a persona that only feels right in the hands of someone so whimsical that you’re completely sure that it’s ironic. Greep tackles this subject matter amusingly, but it would have been refreshing to see his writing prowess applied to themes beyond misogynists and sex workers.

Some tracks, however, struggle with a growing problem in the London music scene: too-many-sections-syndrome. Every beat and ri in these songs groove - but only in a few instances are they a orded enough time to breathe before it’s onto the next one. It makes one wonder if there was a “does it resemble Bohemian Rhapsody in its structure?” marking criterion at the Brit School. Greep has earned himself a reputation as a boundary-pusher, and structural complexity is an easy way to maintain it, but Black Midi had the con dence to develop single motifs in a song - without ever losing their signature erraticism. is con dence seems to have been overtaken by an urge to showcase every musical trick in the book on e New Sound, and it su ers as a result.

How far would you go, in the name of freedom? elma and Louise did not ask themselves this question. is is not the story of Bonnie and Clyde, of a constant love interest saving the day–simply two best friends about to go on a weekend together, and end up being the incarnation of this curious moment in cinema’s history in which women gained the right to be as mad as men. Louise Sawyer (Susan Sarandon) is a waitress at a diner, who is accompanied on this wild journey by her best friend, elma Dickinson (Geena Davis).

As a true Western, the great and huge American landscapes that the girls cross throughout the story only highlight their imprisonment. elma is tied to an awful husband, while Louise seems unable to detach herself from what happened to her in Texas–it is never said explicitly, the allusions only reinforce the horror of this episode.

is movie is subjugated by its ending. A er a chase with the police the girls are trapped, facing the Grand Canyon. As we think it is over for them, the two protagonists make a decision that will forever stay in our memories, symbolised by this beautiful yet utterly simple sentence: “Let’s keep going.” A breathtaking scene, accompanied by Hans Zimmer’s magni cent soundtrack, brings the lm to a delirious peak of emotion, with this simple image of a Ford underbird frozen for a moment between sky and earth, making elma Dickinson and Louise Sawyer symbols of freedom forever.

Nothing can prepare you for how radically feminist, moving, yet surprisingly funny this road movie is. As a woman it spoke to me, and the movie proved itself as a touching, engaging prose. Every aspect of it screams feminism; however Ridley Scott still does an incredible job at nuancing this stake. ere is no need for forced and cliché dialogues on the feminine condition and their longing for emancipation.

I personally have a fascination for the character of elma. Callie Khouri, the writer behind the screenplay of the movie, made her evolve from a frustrated housewife to this woman who does not hesitate to rob a shop to help her best friend. is evolution is crystallised in a dialogue with Louise, in which she is the one pushing for them to not surrender, as she says she is no longer able to go back. elma is no longer able to go back to her small town in Nebraska; to go back to this man who never loved her; no longer able to go back to this life that she was living for everyone but herself.

Behind the message of friendship that the movie conveys, I think it essentially shows that freedom is something we have to conquer. Even though my life is very di erent from that of the characters’, I still see some striking similarities. Watching this movie, I felt that we were all trapped somehow, that our fates were sort of sealed. And that the only way out would be to take a huge turn and to make it brutal, preferably, so I could feel the wind in my hair. I wish for everyone to be brave enough to jump into the Grand Canyon. I wish that for myself too. Life is way too short not to live adventures.

PART B

EDITED BY JESSICA-MAY COX AND SILVIA CASSANELLI

Aliens Abroad

by MOHSINA CHOUDHURY & Illustrated

by SYLVAIN CHAN

It’s easy to romanticise the idea of studying abroad in East Asia. e excitement of a foreign country with its new culture and rst-time experiences can overshadow the reality of what it’s actually like to live as a foreigner.

When I rst arrived in South Korea, I was wrapped in the safety net of orientation - a brief period where everyone around me was just as disoriented as I was. We were all sh out of water, so our di erences didn’t stick out. It felt like a shared experience, as we were all foreigners navigating this space together. I didn’t feel ‘othered’, just ‘new.’ But stepping outside that bubble and into broader Korean society, the subtle undercurrent of xenophobia intensi ed, perhaps because the contrast between those early feelings of belonging and the reality of being an outsider was so stark.

One of the clearest reminders of this was during the visa application and the alien registration card process. e over-documentation as a foreigner is very overwhelming. Any small mistake could result in rejection. If you don’t have enough funds in your bank account, suddenly you’re not a good enough candidate. If one document isn’t perfect, you’re stuck. e whole process feels like you’re jumping through hoops to prove your worthiness to simply study in a country. You haven’t even arrived yet and already there’s a sense of exclusion built into the process. When you do arrive, the alien registration process takes that feeling to another level. As students here, we are all required to obtain an ‘Alien Registration Card’. I remember lining up, passport in hand, being assigned a number, and waiting to have my photo taken - no smiles allowed, hair tucked behind my ears. I had to hold up that number while looking into a camera feeling quite dehumanised. It felt oddly formal, like we were being catalogued, each of us holding our number in front of the camera, a permanent record of our foreignness. e term ‘alien’ itself carries weight and seeing it on an o cial document ampli es that feeling of exclusion. You begin to feel not just like an outsider, but as if you’ve been o cially labelled as one. It’s one thing to feel di erent; it’s another to be formally classi ed as such.

Everyday life in South Korea also has its moments of subtle, and sometimes, not-so-subtle othering. You’ll notice it when taxi drivers in ate fares for non-Koreans, when certain clubs in Seoul enforce a strict ‘no foreign-

ers’ policy, or when locals on the bus hesitate to sit next to you. International students are sometimes le out of campus events or not even informed about them while domestic students are kept in the know. One moment that really stuck with me was when a friend tried to join the student football team. She asked if she could take part in training. In Korean, they said, “We don’t accept foreigners,” thinking my friend wouldn’t understand. When translated into English, it was so ened to, “We can’t allow guests.” One of the coaches was laughing during this ordeal as if it were some kind of private joke. ese small moments add up over time, and the line between ‘us’ and ‘them’ becomes impossible to ignore. No matter how long you’ve been here, being a foreigner means you’re automatically on the ‘other’ side.

Still, these di cult moments don’t de ne the whole experience. South Korea is an incredibly welcoming country, and I’ve encountered genuine kindness from people who o en go out of their way to show warmth and courtesy - even to strangers. One moment that stands out is when I was on a packed bus in Jeju, struggling with multiple bags and a heavy backpack. I was trying to keep everything together when an elderly woman noticed and graciously took my backpack, holding it for the rest of the journey. Another is how customer service sta always greet you in Korean rst, giving you the chance to respond - they don’t make the immediate assumption that you don’t speak the language. is feels like an attempt to let you in. To me, sharing language creates a sense of togetherness for both locals and foreigners, something not every country o ers. In South Korea, however, these e orts to bridge language barriers through small, considerate gestures foster a unique sense of hospitality that has le a lasting impression on me.

I believe the real value of studying abroad lies in navigating these obstacles and facing the uncomfortable truths that come with them. It’s important to recognise the good and the bad, to celebrate progress while being critical of the issues that persist. For those considering studying abroad, I urge you to embrace that experience but also to be prepared. Discomfort is part of the process, and through that discomfort, you’ll gain a deeper understanding of both the world and yourself. You’ll nd your people, settle in, and learn to confront the harsh truths that need to be spoken about, all while learning to embrace both realities and make peace with the tension between them.

Book Recommendation: Prima Facie by Suzie Miller

by MAGHERITA NOBIS & Illustrated by FRANCESCA CORNO

Contentwarning:discussionsofsexual assault and trauma.

Prima Facie by Suzie Miller is a novel adapted from an empowering one-woman play, delving into the complexities of the legal system through the perspective of Tessa, a successful barrister whose life takes a dramatic turn when she is sexually assaulted by her colleague. e novel explores our conception of justice, power dynamics, and the painful intersections of women’s professional and personal lives. Tessa’s perception of law and how it should be applied to criminal cases is shattered as her personal experience forces her to realise that in the legal proceeding of sexual assault cases in the UK, there is no consideration for how the psychological, emotional, and physical trauma endured by the victims might in uence the nature of their testimony against perpetrators. e raw, emotive dialogue and layered narrative provoke the reader to re ect on the societal changes that must occur around consent. It advocates for change in the treatment of women in both the legal and societal spheres, demonstrating how culture and literature can fuel political change. is book is a must-read for anyone interested in the intersectionality of law and ethics.

Music’s Starboy? e Darker Side of e Weeknd’s Music

by ANGELIKA SANTANIELLO & Illustrated by FRANCESCA CORNO

Content warning: sexual exploitation, emotional manipulation,violence,andobjecti cation in music.

What draws fans to e Weeknd’s music like moths to a ame? Listeners of e Weeknd, whose real name is Abel Tesfaye, are not shy about the sexual nature of his music but are instead mesmerised by the R&B beats and Tesfaye’s voice in falsetto. However, this is arguably a means of masking the embedded toxicity of his music’s subject matter, making listeners desensitised to its problematic nature. What e Weeknd’s music reveals is society’s corrupted approach to music.

When thinking about e Weeknd’s lyrics, we begin with the overt objectication of women alongside explicit references to drug use and sex. “Hurt You”, a collaboration with Gesa elstein, is characterised by a series of vulgar expressions and emotional rejection, evident in the line: “Girl I’ll come and put myself between your legs / Not between your heart.” is points to a dangerous male-dominated perception of women that fosters sexual exploitation. “Kiss Land” is not dissimilar in its explicit derogation of the female subject of the song, who is directly addressed: “If [she plays her] cards right, I might / [...] bring [her] whole crew on tour.” With a clear reference to sex as a price for material goods (“[She] gotta pay with [her] body”), the male speaker places himself on a higher social status than women, reducing them to objects of sexual grati cation.

e Weeknd is a crucial case study because his music faces minimal criticism. Alongside his treatment of women in his songs, an emerging trope is the character of an emotionally manipulative male partner. One of his most famous songs “Save Your Tears” presents a dichotomy between ego and desire, encapsulating the manipulation and toxicity of a relationship. e antithetical nature of the lyrics, “Girl take me back ‘cause I want to stay […] You deserve someone better” portrays the brutal rst-person perspective of manipulation strategies. Yet, there is no indication of Tesfaye’s condemnation of this. It is embraced by the songwriter as the series of sharp hurtful remarks are accompanied by a memorable dance melody.

e song is not simply about heartbreak, but about attempting to control a former

partner’s emotions for personal satisfaction. It is heavily romanticised, revealing society’s regressive approach to music, as e Weeknd’s success becomes contingent on a societal disconnection from toxicity and emotional manipulation.

Furthermore, masked in e Weeknd’s melodies is a cruel theme. “House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls” not only continues the sexual exploitation of women but also taps into themes of voyeurism and explicit threats: “I’m a nice dude with some nice dreams / And we could turn this into a nightmare: Elm Street.” ese successive lyrics, paired with the imagery in the song, intertwine violence with sex while also crudely alluding to old horror.

e con ation of sex and violence is something his listeners are concerningly attuned to. e artist’s scandal following the release of the television drama, e Idol, only exacerbates the problematic nature of his music. A er the show was criticised for glamourising sexual violence, e Weeknd has been dismissive of the media’s disapproval. He appears apathetic to the profoundly worrying portrayal of the female and male protagonists’ dynamic, which is de ned by an abusive power imbalance. Despite this, his collaborative track for e Idol - “One of e Girls” - remains successful, displaying themes of violence and submission, and corroborates the controversies of the show. Clearly, when it comes to Tesfaye’s music, there is less scrutiny from listeners. He faces less accountability for his inherently threatening lyrical content.

His discography irrefutably crosses a boundary in music. Our awareness of his toying with the male ego and violence is blurred by a super cial music approach determined by sound; his lyrics represent a curtailing of our sensitivity to music. is uncovers a pattern: listeners increasingly overlook what is problematic - even absurd at times - and artists lose consciousness of their music’s repercussions. Solely focusing on music through the artist’s sounds is at odds with the greater concern for social matters in contemporary times. We are not unfamiliar with contentious music, but here we see an artist bluntly probing what continues to be experienced by many today: misogyny, manipulation, violence, and abuse. e development of an almost hypnotised following is distressing, highlighting a deeply unsettling and growing culture of permissive attitudes towards reprehensible behaviour.

Fundamentally, listeners’ responses to e Weeknd’s songs perhaps re ect society’s morally ambiguous approach to music. Under a more nuanced view, e Weeknd’s continued success is a symptom of society’s disengagement with, and detachment from, sensitive topics. is leads us to wonder: Will music become the driver for social change, or its enemy?

Behind-the-scenes: podcasting and climate change

Behind-the-scenes: podcasting and climate change

I initially reached out to Mohid on LinkedIn a er discovering that the U.S. Phelan Center’s podcast series he worked on, ‘Climate Change: America and the World’, had been shortlisted for the Independent Podcast Award. Although LinkedIn can make everyone seem distant and unapproachable, when I nally met him in his o ce a few oors up in the LSE Law School, I found myself having the most engaging conversation. Mohid turned out to be not only incredibly articulate and insightful but also funny and easygoing. In a room lled with recording equipment—mics and all—we began to explore the in-between moments of podcast production.

Mohid completed his bachelor’s in Canada and came to LSE soon a er for a Master’s in International Relations in 2020. “[At that time], LSE was one of the very few schools still hosting in-person seminars, so it was nice to meet people. Otherwise, I imagine it would be hard to justify moving all the way to London to study online,” he told me with a laugh. Two years later, Mohid joined the U.S. Phelan Center, where he started working on producing podcasts. “When I came around, it was already decided that the [topic] for their next podcast project was going to be on climate change.” However, for Mohid, “climate change almost means nothing because it’s such a broad term.” Hence, over the course of the next nine months, he had carefully curated the content for all six episodes, wanting to do the discourse justice somehow. “I didn’t want it to be solely on America, so if you look at the whole series, the rst three episodes are much more global in terms of their scope while the last three focused on the connection with U.S. domestic and international policies. [ e U.S.] isn’t a di cult country to make global because everything it does matters on an international scale in some way. When you think about climate change conventions or forums, they often require American in uence.”

Mohid hosted the podcast series and engaged in conversations with numerous scholars, making interviews a signi cant part of his behind-thescenes work. “I reached out to so many people. Some didn’t want to participate, and that’s completely normal. You can’t take it personally. It took time because I had to keep asking around while ensuring the series stayed relevant and that I pulled in diverse perspectives,” he explained. We then delved deeper into the process, discussing some of the challenges that came along. “When I say ‘di cult,’ I’m mostly referring to unfamiliarity with the content. For more substantive interviews on researchable topics, having a solid understanding of the concepts is crucial; otherwise, you lack the framework to guide the conversation e ectively or come up with questions on the spot. During episode ve, when we talked about the cost of climate change in America, I wasn’t familiar with the U.S. insurance policies for hurricane damage, which made it slightly more challenging to engage naturally in the discussion.”

He continued, “Climate change is de nitely something I care about, but it’s not my expertise. ere are so many people I know who are so passionate about climate justice; so, I wouldn’t call myself an expert—not because I don’t care, but because I haven’t done the kind of work that creates the same level of intimacy, I suppose, with the topic.”

“However, the bulk of [interviewing] was ultimately down to how you can cultivate an engaging environment. If it feels hostile and aggressive, you’re not gonna get any answer that would be

worthwhile,” Mohid explained, o ering his thoughts on handling disagreements during past interviews—something not limited to the climate change podcast. “I’ve had conversations where I did not entirely agree with the person I’m interviewing, but at the end of the day, you just have to assume good intentions and act in good faith. ere will be situations where you need to be antagonistic and challenge their views—that’s the point of having a discussion. Yet, it’s equally important to understand your role and the context you’re in.”

As a girl who has built her entire passion around pen and paper as a medium for storytelling, I nd podcasts to be an intriguing and captivating form of communication—one I have yet to fully explore. When I inquired about how he brought the series to life, Mohid eagerly explained the collaborative e ort behind it. “It was a whole team thing for sure,” he emphasised. “ ere’s a guy named Anderson—he was the producer of the series. He was the one who did all the technical components, which is kind of an unsung job that not everyone is aware of its demanding workload. For example, for each episode, you have three di erent voices, so he had to do the levelling for [them]. You have to choose the background music and ensure everything sounds good. If a podcast doesn’t sound good, no matter how interesting the content can be, people won’t listen.” He added, “ ere are also other people on our team who weren’t directly involved with the series but I would run through the episode with them for feedback. We actually all sat down and listened to the rst episode before I carried on with the rest of the series. It was lovely.”

At one point during the interview, I asked Mohid, “Why a podcast? Why not do a series of blog posts or write a research paper?”, to which Mohid explained his passion for podcasting: “I like sound, and I like conversations. While written work is amazing and you can sense a particular characteristic in each writer, I like conveying clear messages—when you can really hear it and feel the emotions. at’s why podcasts can be all about the aesthetic. It’s the voice, it’s knowing when to speed up, when to slow down, and when to pause. A lot of them, in my opinion, are instinctual. You can get better as you go, but many things can’t be taught, you just simply know.”

Mohid shared with me that this is his rst time being granted so much creative licence in terms of directing a podcast, which was something he did not have enough capacity for in the past. “[Podcast] takes so much dedication. e sheer e ort involved in producing podcasts is tremendous, and years ago, I just didn’t have the motivation to invest that kind of commitment into creating something of my own. e thing with podcasts is that you have to have a sense

of direction. I don’t know if it’s wise to have a podcast on every topic. Only when you’re able to cra out a clear structure does it become easier to create the environment you desire. Even when you do, which was what I did for the series, each episode could have been a series on its own. So, I think it’s important to work with what you have and make the most of the experience.”

“A rewarding aspect of my job is the opportunity to engage with individuals who are not only more interesting and accomplished than I am but also making signi cant achievements in their elds.

A er the podcast, I reached out to Professor Naveeda Khan from Johns Hopkins University for a separate interview. We discussed her work at the COPs, where she represented certain interest groups from Bangladesh. It was insightful to hear the perspectives of non-state actors participating in a global climate diplomatic forum. Approaching interviews with genuine curiosity allows you to learn immensely along the way.”

e expansion of the climate discourse has been drastic over the last two decades, but with the alarming concern for the increase in both natural-induced and man-made disasters, climate activism can leave many feeling unmotivated and helpless sometimes. Yet, “it’s never just you”, as Mohid re ected. “Fatigue is a real thing, but there are people far more knowledgeable than I am who are tackling these issues and sparking important conversations. at perspective makes me feel less burdened somehow. We all have our limits, but feeling the limit of your power shouldn’t be disempowering. Instead, it should only be a humble recognition of what you can do. It doesn’t mean you can’t take actions that might help someone else nd themselves in a better position.”

By the end of the interview, I had gained a genuine and un ltered understanding of the complexities of podcasting and the substantial e ort required to produce a single episode. And for Mohid, he will always be involved with the media, whether it’s through podcasting or a more traditional outlet. A er all, what makes this work inspiring is the connections fostered through conversation and the passion nurtured from pursuing one’s interests while staying grounded in personal values. By cra ing an inclusive space, you enable substantive and meaningful dialogues to ourish.

“If I can have a podcast series of my own in the future, I feel like I would do one on hip-hop,” that’s what Mohid told me as we wrapped up our conversation. “I think to create a product that people will want to listen to from time to time, making it entertaining can go a long way.” While I’m de nitely looking forward to his future projects, I encourage you to check out the podcast series ‘Climate Change: America and the World’ in the meantime!

storytelling Unpacking