The Beaver - #930 (6 December 2023)

Issue 930 | AT Week 11

Read The Beaver. Online.

Making sense of LSE since 1949

LSE students hold vigil for rough sleeper on campus LSE community pays their respects to unnamed man who passed away outside CKK, page 4

by Alan Nemirovski, Executive Editor

NEWS

FEATURES

OPINION

Teach-out staged in response to academic freedom council launch

Uncovering the Union: In conversation with the students running the SU

Communities celebrating Christmas in the midst of war

Page 4

Page 7

Page 9

& flip for Adriana

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Meet the team

Photographed by Ben Chen and Angus Timmons Executive Editor Alan Nemirovski executive.beaver@lsesu.org Managing Editor Eugenia Brotons Batista managing.beaver@lsesu.org Flipside Editor Sana Agarwal editor.flipside@lsesu.org Frontside Editor Vanessa Huang editor.beaver@lsesu.org Multimedia Editor Claire Yubin Oh multimedia.beaver@lsesu.org News Editors Iraz Akkus Chenoa Colaco Features Editors Liza Chernobay Amadea Hofmann Opinion Editors Honour Astill Kieran Hurwood Part B Editors Emma Do Julietta Gramigni Review Editors Christina Jiang Sheila Mutua Social Editors Rhea Jethwa Kaviesh Kinger Sports Editors Robert Khandzhyan Matt Sudlow Beaver Sound Editors Kate Banner Laila Gauhar Illustrations Editors Francesca Corno Mithalina Taib Photography Editors Ben Chen Angus Timmons Videography Editors Lamisa Chowdhury Valerie Schwane Torres Rebecca Stanton Website Editors Hila Davies Christine van Voorst Social Media Editors Emma Gallagher Fay Qian

Issue 930 | AT Week 11

Spotify (and other things) wrapped Alan Nemirovski Executive Editor Somehow, we’ve made it to Week 11, and I, for one, couldn’t be happier.

In this academic year so far, I’ve only managed to miss four classes, got sick for a total period of three weeks, and had a decent 20…no, 34 meal deals. I wouldn’t say that’s so terrible.

My academic profile this term is (still) massive procrastinator. Somehow, I manage to get all my work done, but only if I’m pressed against a deadline. For example, I’m literally writing my editorial while formatting this issue. I

promise I’ll finally become an academic weapon next term, but then again, that’s what I said last year.

To say this term has been eventful is an understatement.

The LSE campus, London, the UK, and the world never stopped moving, and it won’t stop moving in December. Unfortunately, we won’t be there to cover it. But I think both within and outside The Beaver, every one of us on campus has put in an absurd amount of hours of work, time, and energy to keep moving forward through our academic, professional, and personal lives.

you deserve to enjoy the break - at least as much of it as you can salvage. Snow has officially fallen in London, so ‘tis the season, as they say.

Before I sign off, here’s a quick The Beaver wrapped: this term, we’ve put our four issues with approximately 95 articles and at least 70,000 words out for you all to read. I still struggle to comprehend how we’ve put this all together. Thank you for your support and for an amazing Autumn Term. We’ll see you again in 2024.

In the meantime, enjoy The Beaver Editorial Board’s top songs playlist, courtesy of our Whether you’ve been thriving Review Editors, Sheila and this term, or just surviving, Christina.

Babe, wake up! Brand-new Beaver Sound podcasts just dropped.

www.thebeaverlse.co.uk

The Beaver's Ed Board Wrapped

Available only on Spotify (sorry Apple Music users) Scan the code below to listen!

NEWS

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

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LSESU Athletics Union raises £4,402 in donations for Movember

LSESU Hands Off hosts collaboration with Sway

Chenoa Colaco News Editor

Sana Agar wal Flipside Editor

towards the cause.

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Donations and clothing sales raised around £650, adding to an approximate total of £2000.

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his November, several Athletics Union (AU) clubs organised fundraisers under the LSESU, raising £4,402 for the men’s health charity: Movember.

In total, nine AU clubs participated in the annual challenge, including the LSESU Hockey, Boxing and Taekwondo clubs.

Movember challenges as a “hugely worthwhile cause”.

Several societies offered incentives to encourage more individuals to get involved. LSESU Boxing offered a pair of Adidas Box Hog boxing shoes for the “most outstanding” Movember participant.

Many members also participated in runs to spread awareness of the cause. Together, all organisations ran 467.9km.

The Movember charity advocates for men’s mental and physical health across four streams: mental health, suicide prevention, prostate cancer, and testicular cancer. While based in the UK, they invest in health projects globally.

Jack Berry, a representative of the LSESU Men’s Football Club, raised the most out of any individual for Movember at a sum of £1,270. He spoke to The Beaver to discuss his motivations for participating.

This year, LSESU Cricket Club had 12 of their members participate. They described the

“I embarked on this challenge because marathons are hard, but waking up and not wanting to live out the day is harder.

I have struggled with my mental health in the past and currently I feel blessed to be able to choose the hardship in my life. Hardship that will hopefully help someone who struggles without choice.

“I cannot thank each person enough who has donated to me the money that will quite literally save lives, but what is just as important is creating an open conversation about mental health, especially among men. Donate if you can, share, I just don’t like the fact one bloke took his own life while you’ve been reading this.”

With Berry’s funds, the Men’s Football club was able to raise over £1,200 for Movember.

Marshall Building wins LSE the ‘Most Beautiful Campus’ award Samantha Lo Staff Writer

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he Marshall Building at LSE has won the ‘World’s Most Beautiful Campuses’ 2023 award from Prix Versailles, announced every year at the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO).

The Prix Versailles celebrates architectural sites that exemplify “exceptional architecture and design” and “highlights the primary role of the Laureates in beautifying and improving the living environment.”

The award has eight different categories, including campuses, airports, and shopping centres.

Designed by Grafton Architects, the Marshall Building opened in January 2022, pro-

viding study and social areas, lecture theatres, and a café to support students’ regukar activities, while occasionally welcoming public speakers for events.

Other than beauty and design, the Prix Versailles also focuses on “principles of intelligent sustainability, taking the projects’ ecological, social and cultural impacts into consideration.” The Marshall Building has a ‘low energy displacement ventilation system’ as part of its ‘operational energy modelling’, showcasing the architects’ commitment to sustainability.

Helen*, a student at LSE, is glad that the Marshall Building is being recognised on the global architecture scene. She states that she is “honoured to have access to this place because it’s carefully designed, curated for comfort and supports vibrant student activities”.

Some students agree on the aesthetic value of the building, but highlight that the lack of study spaces undermine its design. “It’s beautiful but unfit for its function,” Trevor* said.

Rita* agrees: “It is pretty and modern, but I wish the design was more practical… there’s a lot of open spaces but there aren’t that many study desks”.

The Marshall Building won 10 awards before its completion, being crowned the ‘Unbuilt Winner’ by New London Architecture in 2018.

Sir Paul Marshall, whom the building is named after and who contributed the funds for the building’s development, previously expressed: “We are delighted that the Marshall Building is providing a vibrant and welcoming space for LSE’s faculty, students and partners”. *Names have been changed to preserve anonymity.

n 15 November, LSESU Hands Off hosted the annual Hands Off LSE X Sway event after its success last year.

The event raised money for the Survivors Trust, a charity providing survivor-led online and in-person resources for those affected by sexual assault and abuse, while providing a safe and enjoyable environment.

Hands Off and Women’s Officer’s team members, called the ‘guardian angels’, also made their debut at the event, seeking to validate, support, and approach disclosure in order to make the event a safe place.

All members underwent disclosure training by anti-harassment officer Laura Boland.

The event was organised by LSESU Women’s Officer Tito Molokwu, AU President Adriana Beattie and Hands Off committee member Georgie Andrews.

The night also marked the introduction of drink covers at Sway to avoid spiking or other incidents, a policy proposal which was passed earlier this year.

All attendees were encouraged to wear purple as a sign of solidarity and dedication to ending violence towards victims of sexual harassment.

Hands Off committee member Charlotte Lewis remarked that “the best part of the night was interactions with people about the charity [and] meaningful conversations spreading awareness”. In addition, she thanked LSE’s student body for their donations and support.

The funds from ticket sales, donations from students, and a purple-themed clothing line in collaboration with the LSE charity shop all contributed

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NEWS

Teach-out staged in response to new academic freedom council The Beaver Newsroom

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n Monday 20 November, LSE students and staff joined together to show their support for the queer and transgender community in response to the London Universities’ Council for Academic Freedom (LUCAF) guest speaker, Akua Reindorf, who led an inquiry into the expression of “gender critical” views on university campuses.

The launch event for the newly-formed network, which consists of academics from several London universities,

took place on LSE’s campus, and was hosted by members of the LSE Academic Freedom Network, the LSE branch of the council. LSE’s Rejoin Stonewall campaign described the council as “bring[ing] together trans-critical staff ” from universities across London.

The event coincided with the Transgender Day of Remembrance, which is an internationally observed day to remember those that have lost their lives due to being transgender. In support of this, the teach-out started with a vigil, consisting of lighting candles

and a minute of silence, outside the Marshall Building, where the event was hosted.

A few speakers including the LSESU LGBTQ Officer, Hannah Gillott, and Alex*, spoke on the importance of showing solidarity with the LGBTQ community on this day.

During the peaceful gathering, a representative from the launch event approached the participants and passed around flyers with information about the event and the Council. When met with no reaction, she said that attendees “don’t even want to have an academic debate”.

A student who attended dubbed this move as “provocative, desperate and disrespectful”.

The teach-out continued on the ground floor of the Marshall Building, where attendees shared their thoughts about LSE hosting the launch event.

The term ‘academic freedom’

was heavily contested, with attendees stating that it was “anti-trans propaganda under the guise of ‘academic freedom’”.

Dr Nico Rosetti, UCU branch chair, was invited to speak at the teach-out in a union capacity. He made the following comment to The Beaver: “There is an extraordinary hypocrisy inherent in hiding a discriminatory agenda behind the banner of Academic Freedom. We absolutely must defend the freedom of inquiry necessary to allow academic pursuits without fear of oppression. However, this does not grant academics freedom from being challenged by students and colleagues when disseminating propaganda through higher education platforms..”

An LSE representative commented: “Free speech and freedom of expression underpin everything we do at LSE. Our School is a place where we come together to discuss, effect change and challenge through

education practices, academic research and rigorous debate.

LSE has clear policies in place to ensure the facilitation of debates and enable all members of our community to refute ideas lawfully, and to protect individual’s rights to freedom of expression within the law.

This is formalised in our Code of Practice on Free Speech and in our Ethics Code.

“Alongside this, LSE is committed to ensuring we have an inclusive culture that both welcomes and supports trans staff and students and promotes an environment that is free from discrimination. This is outlined in our Policy on Trans Staff and Students and underpinned by our LSE Anti-Bullying and Anti-Harassment Policy.” *Names have been changed to preserve anonymity.

LSE students hold vigil following death of rough sleeper on campus Photographed by Cameron Baillie

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n Monday, 27 November, a student-run vigil outside of Shaw Cafe in CKK, attended by both students and staff, sought to commemorate an individual rough sleeping in the same location who recently passed away.

The individual who passed away in the location in which he had slept could not be identified by students or staff who attended the vigil. Organisers Cici Manwa and Danielle Esohe Onaiwu shared they had attempted to contact the police but were not given details due to GDPR compliance regulations.

Nonetheless, Manwa was troubled by the way in which the death of the individual was handled. In a eulogy presented at the vigil, she said, “In death, his presence [was] erased within 60 minutes, the place that

he made his home left with no trace of life.”

An Instagram post inviting the LSE community to the vigil shared by some of the LSESU sabbatical officers wrote, “This tragedy highlights the urgent need for us to address the complex issue of homelessness on our campus. In times like these, it becomes even more crucial for us to unite, support one another, and actively work towards creating a safer and more compassionate environment for everyone.”

Sarah Onifade, the LSESU Welfare and Liberation Officer, was in attendance and helped organise the vigil. “The group of students and I wanted to make sure that the vigil was not merely symbolic but instrumental to act as a catalyst for us as a community to do more to combat homelessness.”

Sheila Mutua, a third-year stu-

dent at LSE, attended the vigil because she “felt it was [her] duty to his life.” Although she acknowledged she didn’t know much about the man, to her, he was “someone who played a part in [her] life - although it was small, he was a part nonetheless.”

“I think it was nice to see a group of people who felt the same way but, more importantly, recognise that he was part of LSE’s community too.

Even though I do my best to give when I can, I think the vigil was a call to action for me.”

A spokesperson from LSE commented on the School’s efforts to tackle homelessness on campus effectively, “LSE works through the LSE Homeless Initiative to bring together students and staff from across the School to raise awareness about rough sleeping, provide information and organise volunteering and fundraising opportunities.

As part of the initiative, all LSE Security staff complete Homeless Wise training, which trains them to spot signs that someone might be homeless or rough sleeping and how

best they can offer support, including by connecting people sleeping rough to local services via StreetLink referral services.”

At the end of her eulogy, Manwa wanted to remind staff and students that everyone can help those who are rough sleeping, “The act of giving does not have to be monetary.

In fact, the profound acts of kindness cost no money at all.

A smile, a glance, a nod of recognition, can make a world of difference.”

“On 27 October and 1 November 2023 we sent out information to residents updating them on the situation. We thank students for their patience during this period and will continue to provide regular updates as necessary. Students are also always welcome to speak with our friendly team at the hall reception with any queries or concerns.”

NEWS

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LSE presents plans for new net-zero building in public exhibition Iraz Akkus News Editor Photograph sourced from LSE

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n 2021, LSE alumnus Firoz Lalji and his family invested £35 million to add a new building, the Firoz Lalji Global Hub, to LSE’s campus.

The building’s attraction came from its commitment to a net-zero emission pledge and its incorporation of high-level technology and digital spaces.

This forms part of LSE’s ‘betterment of society’ mission, through innovation and research.

The 12,540m² space will in-

clude conference and study rooms, as well as housing a data science institute and other related academic departments. It aims to be net-zero through a number of sustainable yet cost conscious designs … (more info when they respond to comment/ questions) LSE and David Chipperfield Architects, who were chosen to complete the project in 2022, presented their routine update in a public exhibition for students, staff, and the public from Tuesday 31 October to Friday 17 November.

The exhibition covered the proposal in more detail, their progression in planning, and

updated the visuals of the project. This included a street view from Lincoln’s Inn Fields, a view looking from Portugal Street, a view of the Atrium, the potential design for the extended student study spaces and the entrance to the Agora, a circular room designed to host public events and global debates.

Council.

Along with the Lalji family’s previous contribution to the School, notably being the donor and founder of the Firoz

Lalji Institute for Africa, Lalji has become the largest alumni contributor in LSE history with over $50 million in gift commitments.

A further Town Hall event on Monday 6 November was also held to bring questions and updates to staff and students directly from project members, including David Chipperfield Architects employees.

The event confirmed that a planning application has been submitted to Westminster

LSE students join London universities in walkout for Palestine

Cameron Baillie Staff Writer Photographed by Cameron Baillie

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SE students joined multiple London universities on Friday 24 October in a cross-university student demonstration for Palestinian solidarity. This came in response to mounting civilian casualties in Gaza; the demonstration was organised to call for “a lasting ceasefire and end

to the occupation of Palestine”.

Students walked out of their classrooms and gathered at 1:30pm in the Centre Building Plaza to rally in support of the Palestinian people. LSE students were joined by King’s College London (KCL) students and marched together to the School for Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) from 2pm.

Students joined in chants of

solidarity, and called for ceasefires, peace, and justice. Attendees were warned by speakers to beware of police, who had arrived before the rally began. They were also advised to wear face masks.

Organisers and a reporter from The Beaver estimated there were around 200 LSE and KCL students combined at the initial march, and 350 in total when protesters were joined by SOAS and University

College (UCL) students at the SOAS campus rally.

“all of the atrocities that have occurred”.

Numerous speeches were made at the SOAS campus, where speakers highlighted that “students have always represented the calls for change”, and demanded that suspended Palestinian SOAS students be reinstated immediately. Shows of solidarity are “humanity at its best” in times of crisis, one speaker proclaimed.

She feels that “Jewish voices are being spoken for”. We all bear “personal responsibility [to] stand in solidarity” with innocent victims of the conflict, she stated, since “all their lives matter”.

Speakers accused SOAS of political repression of its students, “against those standing up for the oppressed”, and claimed that “SOAS is complicit” in the ongoing crisis.

One speaker called for all to act, “on social media as on the streets”, because “every single voice matters” and “each voice is powerful”.

The student protestors continued their march towards Keir Starmer’s office in Camden to publicly criticise the Labour leader’s stance on the ongoing humanitarian crisis.

Students interviewed by The Beaver during the march made clear their motivations for joining the collective peace effort. An LSE masters student from a Jewish-British family stressed the need to recognise

A second-year LSE student stated that his motivations for marching were explicitly anti-colonial, with the situation today being the “child of British imperialism” and the result of ethnostate formation. He paraphrased George Orwell, saying that “to not speak out in the face of oppression … is a form of support”.

For KCL and SOAS students, the protest was also a response to the murder of KCL and SOAS alumnus Dr Maisara Alrayyes, killed by Israeli rockets.

Students held a vigil for Dr Alrayyes on Friday 17 November, where they were joined in solidarity by LSE students. A separate, official memorial for Alrayyes was held on Wednesday 22 November by KCL. *Names have been changed to preserve anonymity.

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FEATURES

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

Demystifying LSE’s careers fairs: are they worth the hype?

Samantha Lo Staff Writer Illustrated by Francesca Corno

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he LSE “finance bro”, who uses spring weeks as a casual conversation starter, is a well-established stereotype within and outside of the LSE community. The peer pressure to start job-searching early in first year, the abundance of keynote events, and the regular circulation of the LSE Careers Newsletter all contribute to constructing the career “grindset” at LSE, which can often appear inescapable.

The frequency and scale of LSE careers fairs acts as a constant reminder for students about job prospects. It feels crucial to start networking to reap an early advantage in their career journeys.

The stress that comes alongside job-searching can be a detriment to student mental health. As a result, LSE career culture can often seem quite oppressive and cut-throat. I experienced this first-hand, during a panel talk at the recent Discover International Organisations Day, I was sandwiched between two students who were frantically typing every single word that came out of the speakers’ mouths, adding flair to the panel discussion with their rhythmic keyboard sounds.

LSE’s Careers team offers careers fairs for students interested in a wide variety of industries ranging from investment banking to law to internation-

cert ticket – time sensitive and competitive.

So how do LSE students find these overbooked, overhyped careers fairs?

When asked about his reasons for attending careers fairs, Carl*, an MSc Political Theory student interested in pursuing a career in law, expressed that “the first motivator is the fame the LSE holds in terms of careers,” he explained how in his undergraduate years he never went to any careers events, but the tight association between LSE and career-building prompted him to find out what makes these events so special.

Maria*, an MSc Global Health Policy student, echoes Carl’s views: “LSE has so many opportunities and amazing speakers, so many things that other people don’t have a chance to do, I will be doing a disservice if I am not going.”

For Maria, there is a self-imposed responsibility to participate in careers fairs because she sees it as a privilege to have access to recruiters and renowned speakers on campus.

Such feelings reflect the sense of FOMO among students, as if there is something inherently wrong or even shameful about not making use of these opportunities. The main objective seems to lie in simply attending these fairs, regardless of whether they’re beneficial for the student.

Rosie*, a law student, offers ways to maximise one’s expe-

“The main objective seems to lie in attending these fairs, regardless of whether they’re benefitting from them.” al development. These events come in different formats, including employer and alumni insight events, recruitment events, and international career events. Booking them is like getting a Taylor Swift con-

rience in careers events and use them to one’s advantage.

She explains that to get the most out of law fairs, one has to have a clear sense of purpose when attending. She spaks to firm representatives,

aiming to learn the specificities of the firm specialisations, clients they have worked with, and company culture.

“I was very goal-oriented in the sense that for all the questions I asked, I tried to shape it into how I would put it in my application form,” she recalls.

“I asked questions like ‘does your firm do any volunteering or pro bono,’ so then in my application I can say that this firm aligns with my values.”

Despite the events only lasting for a few hours, there is much preparation that goes behind them. For example, contemplating the ‘right’ person to approach at the fair can drastically improve one’s overall experience. Rosie made a deliberate effort to speak to the junior lawyers in the fairs, because “they were in a very similar position just a while ago, so they were usually quite empathetic.” She also highlights the importance of familiarising oneself with the companies present at the fair: “If the students haven’t done enough research (when asking recruiters questions), they can appear quite impolite”.

James*, a BSc Economics student who is pursuing a career in banking, agrees with Rosie that identifying a definite purpose in attending a fair can immensely enhance their experience. “You want to have specific questions to ask that are not on the FAQ section, or something you can’t find online”, says James. He noted how the HR departments of popular firms usually take a long time to reply to emails, and the answers are usually vague, generic, and unhelpful.

Careers fairs give students direct access to a company representative who can answer their questions in a more personalised manner.

However, Charis*, an MSc Social Anthropology student who is still exploring her career options, notes that careers fairs can prove to be equally

valuable to those without specific goals. When asked about her motivations for joining a consulting fair, Charis answers: “I want to see if there is an intersection between what I am studying and consulting.”

She spoke extensively with a representative from PwC, who highlighted her advantage in applications because, in a broad industry like consulting, “companies often try to get more diverse cohorts so they can represent different interests.”

Carl’s and James’ international backgrounds also affected their approaches to careers fairs. Being originally from China, Carl notes that “because of the international en-

someone who is open to working abroad after graduation, this exposure opens doors for many opportunities globally.

It is undeniable that LSE’s careers events are reputable for good reasons. They invite insightful speakers and provide invaluable opportunities for students to interact with companies or organisations that they wish to get a foot into.

Although they can be stressful and time consuming, Rosie reminds us of their value: ‘‘Through these events, you pick up information bit by bit and you learn a lot over time”.

At the end of the day, we choose to sacrifice two hours of our Friday evenings to par-

“Whether our experiences so far have been productive, rewarding, draining, stressful, or all of them, ultimately we have the power to choose what we get out of the fairs we attend in the future.” vironment in London, I get more access to opportunities I wouldn’t have gotten if I’d stayed in China.” James explains that “in the banking industry, they recruit on a geographical basis, so Hong Kong is in the APAC banking sphere”. There are firms that James, originally from Hong Kong, has not heard of before, “because they are Europe or America based so they don’t have offices in Hong Kong.” As

ticipate in these careers fairs, so it is crucial for us to reflect upon how they shape our attitudes towards job-searching.

Whether our experiences so far have been productive, rewarding, draining, stressful, or all of the above, ultimately, we have the power to choose what we get out of the fairs we attend in the future. *Names have been changed to preserve anonymity.

FEATURES 7

Uncovering the Union: The students in charge of the LSESU Alan Nemirovski Executive Editor Klara Woxström Senior Staff Writer This is the second article in the “Uncovering the Union” series, a series investigating the inner workings of the LSE Students’ Union.

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very Winter Term, the LSE student body elects full-time sabbatical officers and part-time officers to represent their interests on various issues within the LSE Students’ Union (LSESU). These positions are filled by current students and recent graduates who work to support students and improve their experience on the LSE campus.

Although responsibilities differ by position, sabbatical and part-time officers represent almost 14,000 students at Trustee Board meetings and report to LSE management on matters ranging from academic support to representation and diversity on campus. The team of 10 student representatives must work hard to transform the goals outlined in their manifestos into reality.

All elected officers serve a year-long term starting in July after their election. “The summer is quite a transitional period where there were some ongoing things,” said Hannah Gillott, the LSESU LGBTQ+ Officer. “I [had] meetings with EDI [LSE Office of Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion] because they’re still working. Then, I started doing some planning for a queer forum event that was [held] in week one [of Autumn Term]. So I was still fairly active in July and August.”

“But … it really ramps up once term actually starts.”

Sabbatical officers’ positions are full-time and paid: the equivalent of roughly 37.5 hours of work per week. The LSESU General Secretary, James Relf, remarked that days can be long: “I [work] nine to five, [or] 9:30 to 6:00 and 6:30. … I do work on weekends sometimes as well. It fluctuates a lot.” Chris Adewoye, the LSESU Activities and Communities Officer, shared this sentiment, noting that for him, the days can sometimes be longer “because of events that are on at 6:00 pm, for example,” which are under his purview.

Due to the voluntary nature of their positions, part-time officers are required to work fewer hours, but de facto, their amount of work fluctuates depending on position and time of year. The expectations shift depending on the number of meetings that require attendance and events that need to be planned, among other things. Gillott elaborates, “You can sort of choose when you’re gonna ramp things up.”

Bukky Oseni, the LSESU Black, Asian, and Minority Ethnic Officer, found her position very manageable: “I don’t think it takes that much time except … the meetings I do every week. Most of my job is just to communicate with students and staff.” However, she added, “I think when we’re [going to be] planning the International Fair, then I’ll have a lot more work to do.”

Sometimes, the struggle does not come from the demands

of the job itself, but from the need to balance the responsibilities of being a student representative with one’s studies.

Gillott simply said, “I still do my degree, and that has to come first.”

Tito Molokwu, the LSESU Women’s Officer, elaborated, “[Being a] masters student [alongside my role] has been quite challenging.” She considered devolving some of her responsibilities to make her role more manageable while continuing to empower other students. Still, Molokwu noted, “I’m finding that forming a team of other students is also hard because they have so much on their plate. I have the role [of Women’s Officer], and therefore, it is 100% my priority, but it can’t always be theirs as well.”

The Beaver also spoke to the sabbatical and part-time officers about assuming such important roles at a young age.

Adewoye said: “don’t be fooled that because you’re young and you’re … a student, and there are full-time staff members, that they’re in charge and they’re gonna tell you what to do.” Ultimately, the direction of the LSESU is mainly determined by the sabbatical officers on the Trustee Board.

After all, as Adeowye points out, “we’re all 20 and 21 years old.”

While interviewees mentioned receiving great support through mentorships and full-time staff liaisons, many voiced concerns about taking up a substantial leadership role so young and, understandably, unprepared. Relf, for instance, noted that “there’s just some things you can’t be fully trained or mentored on.”

“As a trustee, I’m legally responsible for the Union if things go wrong … so, there’s all sorts of risks there.”

A similar pressure is extended to part-time officers. “I never feel like I’m doing enough,” Molokwu noted, regarding her responsibilities as the Wom-

en’s Officer. “There’s so many issues and problems … it’s hard to help solve every single issue.” Difficulty engaging and involving students on campus can also exacerbate these concerns. For Oseni, this was her biggest challenge as BAME Officer: “For example, [with]

Despite these obstacles, student representatives continue working tirelessly to achieve their goals. Oseni, for example, views the goals set out in her manifesto as “very feasible.”

Relf has also started honouring his pledges by reopening the Denning Café and build-

“Achieving the goals they’ve set out for themselves is often at the back of the students’ minds as they juggle their busy schedules.” the Women’s Forum [held earlier this term], not that many students came.” Molokwu also struggled with this but said, “I constantly remind myself that it is not always about the number of people that come to the event, but more about the content of events themselves [and] that proposing a policy alone raises awareness.”

Achieving the goals they’ve set out for themselves is often at the back of the students’ minds as they juggle their busy schedules. While most sabbatical and part-time officers intend to bring positive change as they commence their roles, many face practical constraints inhibit this.

Adewoye’s main pragmatic challenge is the tension between ambition and capacity.

“As of [four to six] weeks ago, we’d already approved 650 society events. So you’ve got loads of students who want to do the most amazing things … but we’re in London, there’s not much space [and] facilities.

And centrally, we just don’t have as much funding as we would want [for] all of these activities.”

Gillott noted that part of the constraints she had encountered was due to the fact that she went into her role without being fully aware of her responsibilities. “In March, I didn’t really know what the SU did, what scope I would have, how much support I would have, [or] what possibilities there were.”

ing networks with University College London and King’s College London. He also came into his role intending to “pick a fight” with red tape bureaucracy in the LSESU. “There’s lots of rules in the bylaws that just don’t make sense,” Relf said. “Although they seem great in principle, their practicalities are just totally unrealistic.” Molokwu echoed this frustration, saying, “I think it surprises me how minute the details of a massive operation are.”

Despite the hardships, interviewees emphasised that interacting with other students on behalf of the LSESU team is the highlight of their experiences as sabbatical officers.

For Relf, “the SU is a great team … it’s a good family.”

Gillott also expressed how, despite the large commitment, “there [are] a lot of fun parts of the job.”

Adewoye shared similar sentiments, explaining that “the common goal is just to make the life of young people better because there’s a lot of our generation’s future leaders. … it’s important how we interact with them in [such] transformative [years because] we’re shaping the future of London, the UK, [and] the world in a way.”

“Seeing it like that adds extra value on top of what we do every day.”

8

FEATURES

The General Course at LSE: Worth the American price tag?

Javier Romero Contributing Writer

S

pend some time at LSE, and chances are, you’ll meet a General Course student. A typical General Course student will be in their third year of a four-year degree programme, hailing from an American university, and most likely – but not necessarily American themselves.

This year, 300 General Course students are paying American tuition fees for a year in London, getting a flavour of British higher education, and a nice addition to their CVs.

lection process can lead to major stress. While LSE’s brand remains strong in the US, the question remains: is a year at a UK institution—even a prestigious one— really worth it?

Multiple students spoke about the joys and struggles of being a first-time student in London. Those coming from New York might already be accustomed to the ‘big city feel’, but for some, this transition is a shock. Unsurprisingly, much of what General Course students observe is very similar to freshers’ experiences. Ftor instance, food, and where to

“I think everyone feels the same way… why did we come if none of us could get the classes [we wanted]?”

But how does the reality of studying at LSE compare to their expectations? After interviewing members of this year’s General Course cohort and their Dean Mark Hoffman, it would be fair to say that a ‘fun exchange year in London’ is not without its challenges.

Besides the culture shock and adapting to different teaching styles, a comparatively outdated and hierarchical course se-

find it cheap, is a common issue. As James Maciel, from Trinity College in New Haven, put it: “Food insecurity for me in the first week was very very high, because I hadn’t yet done my shopping, I didn’t know where to go to get meals, and so I think a lot of other students had the same thing.”

More fundamentally, the central force uniting Gener-

al Course students was the shared dissatisfaction over the process of course selection at LSE. One feature of the General Course programme is that students can transfer credits earned in London to their home institutions, which makes it important to secure certain modules. However, LSE’s current system of course selection can make this process very frustrating and even impossible. Full-time LSE students are given priority in their course selection, making it hard for General Course students to enrol into the courses needed to get credits.

Not acquiring enough credits raises serious concerns, such as delaying the students’ graduation. James Garfink, transferring from Vanderbilt University, addressed a hypothetical scenario, stating that ‘‘it could cause all sorts of issues, I might have to go back to school in the States for an extra semester, which is not even possible financially, at least for me.” This is exacerbated by time zone issues during selection time and a website that, by Mark Hoffmann’s own admission, is outdated. One student who wished to remain anonymous remarked, ‘‘I think everyone feels the same way…

why did we come if none of us could get the classes [we wanted]? The main thing I remember when we all first met, was just [saying], ‘Oh you can’t get a class either?’” He went on to add, “I felt it was a ‘take our money and run from it’ situation … we’re the last to pick in classes and when everything is full, they already took our money, we already moved in here.” Dean Hoffman, who has been running the programme for over a decade, has promised that the LSE for You website will be updated to improve course selection, but, frustratingly, not in time for it to benefit the current cohort.

Moreover, the teaching style is relatively novel too. American students report being used to more structured lectures and having hands-on advisors. Meanwhile, teaching at LSE combines high levels of engagement and teacher approachability inside the classroom with almost total independence outside of it. As Sami Dulam, Student President of the General Course, conceded, “A pretty common conception about American universities is that they’re very sort of hand-holding … I feel like LSE is more of a sink or swim environment.”

Andrew Hernandez, a former member of the General Course cohort who returned to LSE for a masters degree, is in a good position to compare the two. While admitting that he is used to the American system, he pointed out that class engagement and teacher approachability are two enormous benefits of LSE’s system.

He also noted that “there’s not many institutions outside [of] the US that are recognised inside the US… and LSE is one of them.”

With the university welcoming an American president and vice-chancellor in April 2024, the General Course programme feels like a reflection of LSE’s broader orientation as an institution, which continues to attract more and more students. It, however, seems just as likely that LSE will not change its policies regarding course selection. While future General Course students may look forward to a new website, given what they’re paying for their year abroad, perhaps LSE should consider adding some small print to the GC application forms: “first choice of classes not guaranteed”.

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

OPINION

9

War at Christmas: A letter from the editors Honour Astill Kieran Hur wood Opinion Editors Illustrated by Francesca Corno

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ometimes it’s a bit on the nose to mention Christmas. The well-intentioned song Do They Know It’s Christmas? was released in 1984 by Band Aid to raise money for the then famine-struck Ethiopia – in which the majority of citizens celebrate Christmas. The song would likely have been seen as tone-deaf to Ethiopians themselves, but successfully tugged the heartstrings of relatively well-off European listeners, raising £8 million that year for the cause. Perhaps something about the so-called Christmas spirit rightly makes us stop and consider the wider world.

But as we take this much-needed break for the next month or so, we want to remind readers of those for whom the season doesn’t provide a break – whose good tidings are drowned out by rocket explosions, who can’t decorate their house because it has been destroyed, and those who will feel aching absences at family gatherings. Though

Christmas traditions vary greatly from nation-to-nation: from Ukraine to Ethiopia to Nagorno-Karabakh to the city of Gaza, war ravages the holiday period for some. This Christmas, let us remember that peace can never be taken for granted.

Ukraine – In Ukraine, pre-Christian traditions are seamlessly integrated into modern holiday celebrations, including decorating the house with symbolic wheat didukh to serve as a reminder of the manger in Bethlehem.

Did Moroz, a taller Ukrainian analogue to Father Christmas, traditionally disseminates gifts to children. A spoonful of kutia – a dish of honey, grain, and poppy seeds – is traditionally thrown at the ceiling, and the amount that sticks supposedly portends the abundance of the coming year’s harvests.

But celebrating Christmas following the Russian invasion “is not the same; it feels wrong to be happy and festive”, according to our Ukrainian Features Editor, Liza. Speaking on how the war affected her last Christmas, Liza says that the war separated her fami-

ly meaning the holidays were “difficult to enjoy”, but noted that some other Ukrainian families celebrated as normal “in order to create a sense of normality and indulge in traditions and being with family – for those who still can”.

Palestine – Palestine is home to over 50,000 Palestinian Christians, where Christmas is a public holiday and celebrated by Christians and Muslims alike. On Christmas Eve, a procession of bagpipe-players march around Bethlehem. Following this, celebrants attend a church adorned by a silver star, the spot in which tradition says Jesus was born.

For Gazan Christians, however, the short pilgrimage to Bethelehm is an impossible dream. Last Christmas, Israeli officials denied all travel permits for the West Bank to celebrate Christmas. Hamas temporarily outlawed public Christmas celebrations, so last year Gazans celebrated Christmas at home, perhaps cooking burbara, a sweet of wheat and nuts, for neighbours. This year, Gazans also suffered the loss of the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third-oldest Christian

site in the world; the airstrike also killed 18 Palestinians. It remains to be seen how the siege of Gaza will have played out by late December.

So far, 15,000 have been killed and the psychological, infrastructural, and humanitarian costs have been immense.

Nagorno-Karabakh – The Armenian Orthodox Church celebrates Christmas on 6 January. The next Armenian Christmas will also be five days after the Republic of Artsakh’s government is obliged to dissolve. The Republic of Artsakh was a self-declared breakaway state in Nagorno-Karabakh, a disputed region under Azerbaijan’s control but populated by ethnic Armenians. Azerbaijan saw a decisive victory and ordered all approximately 100,500 Armenians out of Karabakh in September, who had just endured mistreatment described by observers as amounting to genocide under Azerbaijan’s rule.

Karabakhis spent most of last year under blockade after Azerbaijan forbade access to the only road into Karabakh.

Many suffered malnutrition as supermarket shelves were devoid of basic foods. Last Christmas Day, the Red Cross was finally permitted to dispense humanitarian cargo, a small respite. But residents still reported a lack of ingredients to make the traditional Christmas eve meal, khetum – consisting of fish, rice pilaf, and raisins.

This year, however, Karabakhis will be celebrating Christmas as displaced refugees in centres near Yerevan, likely unsure if they will ever be able to return in their lifetime.

The death of detail Iraz Akkus News Editor Illustrated by Francesca Corno For Fabian, with whom I spent hours talking about the new builds in London.

I

f you’re not a Londoner or a university student who, on account of being late to everything, rushes around the streets of London head down, Pret in hand, then you can more clearly see the mish-mash of infrastructure styles that crowd around you.

Through Roman, Norman, Georgian, Victorian and now contemporary trends, London is filled with centuries of period architecture, each bearing

its own unique stamp. They may not all make perfect sense together but there is at least something we can attest to each of the periods, in terms or their typical characteristics and markings, apart from the latter.

What contemporary buildings seem to share in characteristics is that they all lack, well, character.

Construction, and therefore buildings, now, on the whole, seem to focus on how we can get best value for mon-

ey, in terms of resources like labour and material: trading patience and craftsmanship for efficiency and utility.

Allowing the mastery of stonemasons and carvers to be passed down to fewer and fewer people on account of their high cost and society’s disinterest.

Unless

it’s literally labelled as fine art in museums or the window of art shops being auctioned off for hundreds of pounds, there seems to be a detachment from creating and appreciating beauty in buildings that surround us. There is such a rush to get infrastructure built, sold and put into use, it doesn’t seem to matter about creating more than just four walls and a roof.

Of course this doesn’t apply for huge, powerful banks or fancy law firms who commission artists and architects to make a hideous, ‘abstract’ block of plastic to act as a centrepiece in the most impractical reception with the most unwelcoming seating areas, which, by the way, have literally never

been used by more than a dozen people in the history of the firm. All of this is merely for show and not actual appreciation for craftsmanship and art.

The outside of the buildings are even worse - plastered all in rigid, darkened glass, or if they’re feeling extra showy, curved glass (which is ironic given they spend 18 hours a day making shady deals out of public view - totally nullifying the ‘transparent’ core values they preach year in year out).

The City will turn even more tragic when 11 new skyscrapers are added to the already crowded and monolithic skyline. Plans to get a twin of the Shard on this side of the river, adding yet another commercial vacuum that will emphasise

10

OPINION

their copy-and-paste company ethos climbing over 300m with their copy-and-paste crystal structure.

Just as the media are getting obsessed with boys having to be 6ft and over, architects similarly seem to only value projects 20 stories or higher.

Skyscrapers rule the landscape of London, with their charm

only being properly enjoyed when you overpay a corporate ghost to get a 360 degree view from the 73rd floor. Not to mention the fact it makes walking through the whole city super claustrophobic and dizzying, with giant blue tinted towers being the new artificial replacement for the sky it eclipses.

This death of detail is obviously also attributed to the fact that affordable housing should be keeping up with the spiking of our population, in which case speed is quite clearly the priority over millimetres of detail, but this article isn’t an exploration into the need for these types of residential areas, but rather the debauchery of high-end offices and ‘land-

marks’ that we call modern architecture. What happened to all the intricate carvings in between drains and windows, the wood beams that stripped the top off of old cottage ceilings, or any sign of character at all? The urban fabric of London seems to be altering into a purely practical analysis of spatial utility and the organisation of our mega-city.

That we live in a city suffering from the death of detail is sad.

It almost mimics how we as a society aspire to morph into our celebrities or empty social media influencers, draining us of having to be creative, or original, or even think for ourselves. Are we becoming just another pane of glass in that samey skyscraper? Boring and identical?

Citizenship for sale: the dark side of ‘golden passports’ Samantha Lo Staff Writer Illustrated by Francesca Corno

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ou would think that certain things just aren’t for sale. Love, friendship, freedom. I thought national identity was on the list of these “priceless” items, but turns out, it too can be reduced to a product with a price tag, added to the shopping carts of the ultra rich. These products are termed as “citizenship by investment” (CBI) schemes, where the applicant makes a qualifying investment in a country in exchange for expediency in approval of their right of residence or citizenship. These investments can range from purchasing real estate, to starting a business that will create a certain number of jobs.

On the surface level, the system seems to promote a win-win situation where countries reap economic benefits while applicants increase their global mobility as a reward for their contribution to economic growth.

Many countries that currently run these

schemes are microstates with populations below a million, which may hugely benefit from enhancing and diversifying their economic composition.

For example, money from CBI programmes made up 51% of the total revenue of Dominica, a microstate with just over seventy thousand people. However, these schemes are not exclusive to microstates desperate for investment. As of 2023, Turkey accounts for around half of global CBI sales due to its relatively lower investment threshold, as illustrated by the minimum price of real estate to qualify being only 400,000 USD. For applicants, the benefits are straightforward: the ability to choose where you live based on the global situation. It is no coincidence that many CBI applicants live under authoritarian regimes, seeking to give themselves a back-up plan to have the option to escape their current governments. The schemes are also highly appealing for busi-

nesspeople who are able to choose countries with low

tax rates and other favourable market policies to conduct their businesses and personal affairs.

With the popularisation of CBI schemes among the wealthy, citizenship becomes commercialised on a wide scale, a phenomenon that inevitably perpetuates global inequalities. What these rich people are buying is not solely citizenship itself, but also what it accompanies – a set of privileges, benefits, global mobility, freedom. Parents who are from countries with a “weak passport”, but want to send their children to private schools in European countries can now apply for a CBI in Malta, which gives them access to EU countries almost instantly. There is no need to undergo the time-consuming process of obtaining and renewing visas. Dr. Kristin Surak highlights how in some countries, foreign schools which offer better quality of teaching place quotas on domestic students. Parents can then use their purchased citizenship status to cheat the system, allowing their children a better starting point in education.

In a world where those who are born with a silver spoon in their mouths are already at an advantage than their less privileged counterparts due to the connections, CBI schemes only serve to strengthen this inequality.

Other than the obvious impact of widening inequalities, these “golden passports” also shake the basis of the fundamental meaning of citizenship.

Citizenship has traditionally been, by defintion, reserved for those who are members of

a particular national community, who emotionally or politically identify with a country – be it place or people. Citizenship comes with not just rights, but also responsibilities, such as making informed voting decisions that affect the future of a country. Of course, it is common for people to have multiple passports for various reasons not related to wealth, like circumstantial birth in a country. However, what makes the CBI so important in redefining the meaning of citizenship is that it normalises the phenomenon of obtaining citizenship directly through one’s social and economic capital, thus rendering birth or emotional ties with a country irrelevant. National identity is not unique to those with connections to that country anymore – it can be on your Christmas wishlist if you’re rich enough.

What’s especially striking is that many countries that offer CBI schemes are former British colonies, such as Saint Kitts and Nevis, which fought hard for their independence back in the 90s. Isn’t the selling of citizenships then, a reversing of the country’s historical efforts for national self-determination and identity?

The commodification of national identity is not only a domestic problem for countries, but also often undermines their relationship with diplomatic allies. Countries that sell their citizenships might indirectly grant applicants access to other countries without the former’s consent, with the Malta and EU case being a prime example. The EU has decided to take Malta to the European Court of Justice for its CBI scheme, showing how Malta’s decision has stirred

distrust within the EU. Former Commissioner for Migration, Home Affairs and Citizenship Dimitris Avramopoulos declared that EU “Member States must at all times fully respect and apply existing obligatory checks and balances – and national investor residence schemes should not be exempt from that. The work we have done together over the past years in terms of increasing security, strengthening our borders, and closing information gaps should not be jeopardised”. From any country’s perspective, are the potential economic benefits brought by CBI worth the risk of losing diplomatic allies? I doubt it.

Despite the potential pushback, it is likely CBI schemes will be maintained because some countries still rely heavily on the revenue stream that foreign investment brings. However, what these countries do not consider carefully enough is that increasing inequalities might prove more harmful than lack of investment in the long run. These countries are making themselves vulnerable to exploitation by the rich who have access to the levers of control over resources, privileges, and people. Thus, it is my stance that as global citizens, we take a pause on advancing national economic interests and take seriously the dangers of making the already-rich even richer.

In a world where we are already combat class differences, white privilege, male privilege, you-name-it privilege, the addition of purchased passport privilege is certainly not helpful.

OPINION 11

On food authenticity – a lie?

Lucas Ngai Staff Writer

L

ook, when you don’t have 15 minutes to cook rice, it [microwave rice] can come in real handy”, I sheepishly remarked during a Discord conversation with friends about university meals.

Before you witness my crucifixion by my brethren from Hong Kong, I beg you, my reader, to hear me out. You have to understand that there are a few mildly frustrating properties about catered halls, to say the least: the absence of a proper kitchen, and a ban on using cooking equipment in rooms (nope, not even kettles)! Sure, I can be quite lazy and can’t be bothered to cook most of the time, but to remove cooking as an option save the grubby microwave and limescale-laden kettle in the god-forsaken pantry, to deprive a chicken of its proverbial feathers and leave them helplessly dependent on the caterer – now that is truly a crime, a blatant violation of my God-given right to culinary freedom. But I digress.

It makes me think: why are foods like microwaved rice so contemptible? The alleged adulteration of nutrient composition in microwave food?

Uncle Roger’s culture-defining culinary condemnation?

A sense of security in Asian cultural heritage? The microwave was positively received during the 70s: people were raving about its magical ability to cook dinners, that would have taken hours, in a matter of minutes. The fact that by the 90s, around 1 in 4 households owned a microwave speaks for itself. The same could be said for the rice cooker that was first released to the Japanese public in the fifties. God forbid, it isn’t some mythical, ancient, 100% authentic, Asian tradition passed down through the ages… did you hear about old geezer Japanese men complaining about how “back in my day, we used to heat the rice pot over the fire!” when the rice cooker was invented?

No! They happily embraced the convenience of preparing

hassle-free rice, as we should now.

Yet why doesn’t anyone complain about how instant ramen makes a mockery of the “authentic” ramen tradition? After all, is it not a travesty that hours upon hours of cooking the richest ramen broth and hand-tossing ramen noodles is reduced to a chemically-spiked powder and deep-fried flour?

No! Rather, it became a staple of Japanese (and even Korean) culture. In this way, why does microwave rice get so much hate? Why does such a ridiculous double standard exist, where authenticity is conflated with “storied” traditional preparation methods and “superior taste” only when people like it? Perhaps it’s an argument on a different topic entirely, about the yearning for traditional homemade food against the backdrop of modernity’s processed convenience foods.

It is ironic how your stereotypical ramen shop makes you believe that ramen had centuries or even millennia of Japanese tradition (with the obligatory Great Wave of Kanagawa woodblock print in the background), when Japan remained predominantly vegetarian for most of its history until the Meiji Restoration. Long story short, ramen in its modern form was brought to Japan

by Chinese immigrants during the Meiji Restoration as a working-class meal (and even then, Chinese culture and cuisine was an amalgamation of different cultures in East and Central Asia). Its popularity experienced a dip in the World War years, then resurrected thanks to the abundance of US-exported flour at the time that allowed instant ramen to be created, which achieved global success. The rise of the modern ramen shop was helped by the boom in tourism

“While there is value in investigating food history and passing on culinary tradition, I find it irrational and reductive to attribute “taste” to tradition to such a large extent.” in the late 20th century, where the government leveraged ramen as a symbol of Japanese heritage to attract tourists.

From a brief examination of ramen, our definition of “Japanese” food is far more than meets the eye: it is a product of numerous complex cultural interactions and even politically or economically motivated agendas. Many foods we define as part of a “culture” have been around for much less time than we like to think.

Why, then, do we draw such arbitrary lines to what some dogmatically define as being part of a culture with a “rich” culinary history?

To answer this question, we can look to the notoriously purist Italian cuisine, which was shaped by, as food historian Alberto Grandi aptly coins the term, “gastronationalism”.

Grandi not only claims that our perception of Italian food is mostly shaped by American -Italian immigrants, but also that the narrative of a historically rich Italian cuisine was constructed from a desire for

a national identity. So it isn’t surprising that many of his claims – including the fact that the most authentic parmesan cheese is found in Wisconsin – have received backlash on the national level, which has been applying to classify Italian food as a piece of UNESCO cultural heritage (food comprises one-quarter of Italy’s GDP). In his interview with the Financial Times, he claims that pizza was only found in a few cities in Southern Italy where it was eaten by the lower classes until the American soldiers came back from Italy, and the first pizza restaurant, in fact, opened in New York instead of Italy.

It isn’t surprising, as America experienced a significant wave of Italian migrants in the 20th century that has evidently created a gastronomic culture so complex it became extremely difficult to ascertain the food’s “origin”. Carbonara is a case in point. Another food historian, Luca Cesari, author of A Brief History of Pasta, says that carbonara was “an American dish born in Italy”. He claims it was created

by Italian chef Renato Gualandi, who made the dish in 1944 for the U.S. army after Rome had been liberated.

However, a more prevalent theory claims the dish’s conception among Italian charcoal workers, which Cesari dismissed as “ahistorical”.

It is clear that food history is far more complex and contentious than most think: we tend to compartmentalise these histories into small, bite-sized components through our conceptions of “Italian” or “Japanese” food. As established, these boundaries are very arbitrary when these food cultures

experience influence from so many different cultures and political agendas that it is, dare I say, impossibly difficult to definitively quantify what is “authentic”. Thus, I find no point in being so pedantic and anal about food customs when they are constantly changing. Food should be judged on its taste, and nothing more. Don’t get me wrong, I imagine Italian and Japanese food prepared in their respective countries tastes amazing (though I haven’t been to both countries).

While there is value in investigating food history and passing on culinary tradition, I find it irrational and reductive to attribute “taste” to tradition to such a large extent. People’s tastes around the world are very different, and there is nothing wrong with changing some culture’s flavours to cater to a wider audience. Sure, it might not include flavours you like, but those preferences should be respected nonetheless. Perhaps it could make things taste better, like Hong Kong’s soup macaroni (trust me, you should try it sometime!). If it tastes good, then it sticks around until it doesn’t; that’s just how things work.

The way these cultures evolve could even tell you more about that country’s history, but that story is best left for another day.

As a whole, I think that food culture has gone a long way: spices, cultures, and flavours have been exchanged worldwide, adding an unprecedented variety of flavours that have objectively made food a much more enjoyable experience.

The creation of these cultures, each with unique tastes, should be judged on taste rather than some arbitrary tradition. If it tastes good, it tastes good!

I would have to agree with my friends, though, that Sainsbury microwave rice is pretty grim.

MULTIMEDIA

Edited by Claire Yubin Oh Illustrated by Mithalina Taib, Francesca Corno, Paavas Bansal, Chiara Guigou

Click the QR Code to listen to our newest episodes on Beaver Sound, including discussions on: - The UK Austerity Policy (Ep1, Clerkenwell Economic Review) - Jack the Ripper (Ep1, r/nicheinterests) - DJing and raving (Ep2, r/nicheinterests)

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MULTIMEDIA

Edited by Claire Yubin Oh Illustrated by Mithalina Taib, Francesca Corno, Paavas Bansal, Chiara Guigou

Click the QR Code to listen to our newest episodes on Beaver Sound, including discussions on: - The UK Austerity Policy (Ep1, Clerkenwell Economic Review) - Jack the Ripper (Ep1, r/nicheinterests) - DJing and raving (Ep2, r/nicheinterests)

Updates on LSE’s new Net-Zero building, Issue #930

UCU ends marking boycott at universities, Issue #927

Tier 4 Student Visa Causes Late Enrolment For International Students, Issue #929

Universities increasingly reliant on international students’ tuition fees, Issue #927

Universities see a rise in piracy among students, Issue #929

Changes in Student Loan Structures, Issue #927

Beaver family released in West London wetland, Issue #929

Gordon Brown visits LSE

LSE students join London universities for Palestinian solidarity walkout, Issue #930

Automatic Bubble Tea Machine Opens on Campus, Issue #929

LSE Rosebery Hall gets Flooded After Water Pipe Incident, Issue #928

Sports clubs struggle with Old Building refurbishment, Issue #929

Just Stop Oil protests happen across UK Universities

SPORT EDITED BY ROBERT KHANDZHYAN AND MATT SUDLOW

Uncovering Fight Night: Extra Punch for the Season to Come

by OONA DE CARVALHO & photo by LSE BOXING

take in three weekly training sessions dedicated to both fitness training and sparring, two of which are led by Coach Lewis Fattahi. Loukas Manolopoulos, the Secretary of Boxing, describes how Coach Lewis’ “way of teaching is addictive. He has a genuine interest in seeing us succeed and it shows”.

Blue team and red team candidates will then face each other during Fight Night, this year happening on 13 March 2024. Previous Fight Night candidates have described the event as a memorable and life-changing experience. The thrill of the crowd, the racing adrenaline - Katherine describes how entering the ring to fight “felt surreal, like a movie”. Melvin comments how “hearing the crowd roar right as [he] came out was truly a once-in-alifetime exhilarating experience.”

Fight Night has also inspired candidates to pursue boxing at a higher level.

Paul Kwarteng, this year’s Varsity Boxing Captain who competed in Fight Night 2022, shares how he “found a passion in the challenge of boxing, from the bloody noses to the sweat-soaked hours of pushing past limits.

After fighting in front of over a thousand people, the energy of the crowd and the excitement of being inside the ring drew [him] towards amateur boxing”.

This year, Fight Night will be back better than before. Isabelle Bowsher, the AU Executive responsible for Fight Night, explains how “Fight Night is having a major revamp. We are scaling up production with lights, DJs, a commentator, and a black-tie theme”. Winners will receive a free AU ball ticket, worth £100, and the best fighter of the night will also leave with a fresh pair of top-tier professional boxing gloves. The stakes are high. As put by Katherine, “we’re really determined to make Fight Night 2024 one of the best”.

To stay up-to-date with Fight Night happenings, check out their very own Instagram page @fightnightlse – this season is one not to be missed. In the words of Fight Night Girl herself, “it’ll be completely rage”.

Gunning for Change Fight Night season has officially begun. Trials took place last week and anticipation is building as the shortlisted fighters are soon to be announced.

So, what exactly is Fight Night all about?

Fight Night is one of the Athletic Union’s (AU) most iconic events, with tickets selling out within minutes. According to Katherine Lo, this year’s Boxing Captain and one of the 2022 Fight Night winners, it’s “bloody, exhilarating, and chaotic.” It’s about discipline, it’s about overcoming fears.

Fight Night is a chance for 20 selected students, representing a range of sports clubs, to enter the ring and show off their boxing skills in front of 1,200 people. It takes place in York Hall, a prestigious boxing venue located in Bethnal Green. Daniel Movahedi, a UFC official, referees the fights.

To compete in Fight Night, students first undergo trials in which their cardio and fitness levels are tested. Katherine explains that contestants do not need to have any prior boxing experience. In fact, most candidates from prior years had not fought previously, including herself. Selection is based more on contestants’ potential, genuine interest, and motivation.

Fight Night, at the end of the day, is “all about the mental side. If you really want to do it, then you probably can”.

During trials, the captains also select contestants based on how well they could pair them up. They look at the chemistry between fighters and identify how contestants could be matched for an exciting fight. Following trials, 20 students are shortlisted to fight, and another 20 students are chosen for the reserves team. Fighters are divided into two teams: blue and red. The blue team is supervised by Katherine, and the red team by Melvin Kirk, Boxing Vice Captain and 2023 Fight Night candidate.

Over the course of nine weeks, candidates train intensively. They par-

by IMANI ADESANYA & photo by SHANI ADESANYA

Whilst they currently sit second in the Women’s Super League (WSL) table, it is no secret that Arsenal are first when it comes to the promotion of women’s football. After selling out the Emirates Stadium last season for their Champions League match against Wolfsburg, Arsenal are committed to making the Emirates a home for the Women’s team. Importantly, this enhances the visibility of women’s football, promoting equality and sending a message to other clubs that, with enough investment and marketing, women’s football can be just as attractive as men’s. The side have begun this season in stunning fashion by playing back-to-back games at the Emirates for the first time ever and producing a record-breaking crowd of over 54,000 fans.

When compared to the match attendance of other WSL teams, there is a stark difference. This suggests that other clubs aren’t doing enough to grow game attendance and create a consistent fanbase for their women’s teams.

Arsenal’s local rival, Chelsea, have won the last three WSL titles and have come to dominate English football, much like Manchester City in the Premier League. However, whilst they have been highly successful on the pitch, this did not translate to success off the pitch in terms of attendance.

Compared to Arsenal’s record breaking season opener, Chelsea‘s opening game against London rivals Spurs only managed to attract 14,776 fans.

Thus, it is clear that winning trophies isn’t enough. It is imperative that money is Arsenal’s local rival, Chelsea, have won the last three WSL titles and have come to dominate English football, much like Manchester City in the Premier League. However, whilst they have been highly successful on the pitch, this did not translate to success off the pitch in terms of attendance. Compared to Arsenal’s record breaking season opener, Chelsea‘s opening game against London rivals Spurs only managed to attract 14,776

fans. Thus, it is clear that winning trophies isn’t enough. It is imperative that money is invested in marketing, making women’s games attractive products for consumers - this is something Arsenal have excelled at.

At the end of last season, Arsenal announced that there would be 5 WSL games played at the Emirates in the 2023/24 season. They began their marketing for the upcoming season months before their first game against Liverpool by creating a ‘home advantage package’, which provided supporters with a way to have a ticket secured for every Emirates game at a discounted price. By buying individual match tickets, fans could save up to 50% compared to general sale prices and 21% compared to early bird prices. The home advantage pack was advertised all over the main ticketing website, widening the target audience and making more people aware of the chance to attend the Emirates more frequently. It has been highly successful as it has sold out, meaning that at least 10,000 fans will be in attendance at every women’s game played in the Emirates stadium.

her. Since then her fame has grown; recall the infamous Wagatha Christie scandal in 2022. But still, to be 16, followed by cameras for no reason other than your romantic partner seems terrifying. To me, spending a life viewed as a wife and little more would feel rather unfulfilling.

Photo by Getty via The Spectator

Also, at the end of every men’s home game, the stadium announcer reminds fans of the next match at Emirates Stadium and this includes the women’s team. This reminds regular match-going fans of the men’s games that they can still make their way to the Emirates and support Arsenal women when the men aren’t playing.

Arsenal are also very good at using social media to engage fans. In the build up to every Emirates game, they announce their sales milestones, with current players and club figures encouraging fans to attend. By announcing progress and constantly reminding fans of increasing sales, they build momentum and excitement, which, in turn, encourages more people to purchase tickets. As more and more tickets sell, fans become increasingly fearful of missing out.

It is clear to see that the move towards making the Emirates home of The Arsenal women as well as the men, has seen massive progress. One might assume that within the next few years, going to the Emirates to watch a WSL match will be the norm rather than a rarity. It is important that other clubs look to Arsenal to improve attendance at women’s games, so that

WAG-ging the Finger at Misogyny

by SKYE SLATCHER WAGs. The Wives and Girlfriends of sports stars. We are obsessed with them. But what’s the deal? How has WAG culture changed recently?

In the first episode of Colleen Rooney’s Disney+ series, one paparazzo recalled the first time he was sent to photograph Colleen. It was 2002, Wayne Rooney, aged 16, had just scored his first Premier League goal for Everton. The media loved him and wanted to know everything about him, including who he was dating. The paparazzo snapped photos as she walked home from school. She was a teenager, but her life suddenly involved navigating men hiding behind bins trying to take pictures of

When she first got into her relationship with David Beckham, Victoria (then Adams) was undoubtedly the more famous of the pair as Posh Spice.

But within a few years, she found herself labelled a WAG and not much more. During the 2006 World Cup, the idea of a WAG became popularised, and Victoria became the ‘Queen WAG’. This was a time of widespread public misogyny, especially towards high-profile women in the media like Britney Spears; WAGs were subjected to the same treatment. One Daily Mail article wrote, “They possess no curiosity about anything other than clothes, champagne and their reflections.” In 2010, the Equalities and Human Rights Commission said the term was offensive and demeaning to women. It has been consistently used to demean and restrict women to a single label.

Since then, the concept has grown beyond just football. Now, any sportsman’s partner can be dubbed a WAG. F1 has seen a boom in WAG culture.

Social media accounts share their daily activities, outfits, and sightings of them. However, they remain seen as extensions of their partners. They are discussed in relation to the drivers, not as successful people in their own right. Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, Alexandra Saint Mleux, is a good example of this: she is a 21-year-old Art History student, but she is only really discussed as an extension of the driver or in comparison to his ex. Never viewing these women as individuals is concerning and misogynistic.

After Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce revealed their relationship, Swift too has been referred to as a WAG. Her celebration of the Chief ’s win, while watching from the VIP area with other players’ partners, prompted an inflow of articles discussing her WAG status. Apparently, it is now cool again to be a WAG! But are things really different now? In some ways, perhaps, the attitudes of sports corporations, the media, and audiences have changed. Sports corporations are starting to realise the value of high-profile women connected to their sports. This has been seen most clearly in the Swift-Kelce relationship. The Chiefs, the NFL, and broadcasters have taken the opportunity to attract more female fans, using Taylor’s songs and Eras Tour-inspired bracelets, with stadiums seeing more Taylor-related signs at games. These have contributed to the quick growth of media engagement, especially among women. Some might view this as an exploitative measure by sports organisations to boost profits, but it could also serve as the trigger for a vital shift towards realising the importance of incorporating women in sporting discussions.

WAG culture needs fundamental change. Women ought to be appreciated and supported for their individualism. To continue the reductive trends of the last 20 years is unequivocally misogynistic and damaging.

SOCIAL EDITED BY KAVIESH KINGER AND RHEA JETHWA

Tattoos and the Philosophy of Committment by CAMERON BAILLIE & illustrated by MITHALINA TAIB Not long ago, I had never properly considered tattoos. I didn’t really understand them, but never opposed them. Then, amidst the pandemic and major personal life troubles, my second-year housemates bought a D.I.Y. stick-and-poke kit, out of boredom more than anything. In those whimsical moments, with varying degrees of aesthetic appeal, I believe we imprinted something deeply onto our persons: commitment to our youth, our friendships, our unique situation in space-time, locked down together.

press onto our bodies. In doing so, we can demonstrate to others’ minds who or what we are (unless placement is more discreet). It is great self-affirmation, reminding us forever of what we value dearly.

Not all tattoo-commitments are as profoundly significant as others, that’s granted. But the very act itself is significant, made even more so by the significance (not to mention expense) of tattoo removal. If someone decides they no longer espouse some inky idea, then they make the equally – arguably more – profound commitment to disavow themselves of that past. The internet boasts former neo-Nazis doing just that: newly enlightened, subsequently ashamed. To do so is to create oneself anew.

So, if you’ve been considering getting tattooed, I say do it. Damn anybody who tells you otherwise! You are you: make it count, make it yours, and make yourself in that creative act.

What’s In Vogue: The Best Outfit on Campus photographed by BEN CHEN

Later, on a spur-of-the-moment holiday post-finals, came my second tattoo – a simple word: fjaka (look it up!) – inspired impromptu by a peculiarly charismatic Croatian taxi driver. I was particularly keen to mark that singular treasured moment forever, encapsulated on my forearm. I now have nine tattoos and plan many more, each with different meanings, signifying different commitments.

One might think tattoos are less significant than I. They are aesthetic body-works, after all: perhaps they are simply strong aesthetic choices? Yet to disregard them is misguided. They are well-documented acts of expression and identity-formation. They can be symbols of resistance and non-conformity. They are also correlated with risk-taking or sensation-seeking behaviour, substance abuse, and sexual proclivity, at least among students. They are clearly consequential.

Tattoos have also been fundamental to worldly cultures for millennia, from Austronesia to the Americas, African tribes to Japan, even Gallic and Pict peoples here in Britain. They have marked Russian mafiosos and Yakuza, Latin criminal gangs and navy sailors. All of these cultures and subcultures uniquely engage the ultimate act of esoteric identity-commitment: by marking their corporeal being.

Clothes or accessories may be similarly significant, but can never demonstrate such value- commitment when they are easily removable. In the darkest moment of modern history, tattoos were weaponised, perverted in their marking, to dehumanise prisoners at Auschwitz. Clothing the persecuted in infamous ‘pyjamas’ was not enough. That ultimate commitment became the worst imaginable, reducing human lives to nothing but numbers to be crossed off, enforcing upon their bodies the twisted ideology of oppression.

Under normal circumstances, however, we can create ourselves in small, but often incredibly meaningful ways by taking our mental ideas and committing them to our bodies. In such acts we confront the mind-body problem. Our worldviews – our perceptions about ourselves and our place in our society – we take from our minds and im-

Join your social editors, Rhea and Kaviesh on their search for LSE’s most stylish student.

Whilst searching for the best outfit on campus, final year BSc Management student, Korina Papapolyzou caught our eye. Her clean and glamorously effective style is definitely ‘what’s in Vogue’. Dressed head to toe in Massimo Dutti, Korina topped her jumper, belt and boots from there with Mango trousers and a structured black coat from Cos. When asked about her favourite fashiion decade, she responded with the 90s. The sleek clean silhouettes from this era stand out to her, and she emulates this with her day to day looks on campus. She also highlights Claire Rose, a personal style icon for her, who executes a chic silhouette with ease. Fashion is how Korina maintains her confidence, manifesting in the way she acts. As we ended our conversation with Korina, she stressed the incredibly personal nature of this style. It is, to Korina, important for people to ‘dress in a way they feel reflects themselves’ and we couldn’t help but agree.

Toeing the Line: Margiela’s Tabi and Orientalism by SOPHIA-INES KLEIN Growing up, I encountered cheongsams during Chinese New Year, at Chinese weddings, or other cultural celebrations with my family. The cheongsam is deeply embedded in the experiences that make me feel Chinese. Thus, when I came across one in the “mini dress” section of a thrift store in Amsterdam, or saw someone wearing one dancing in a club, I found myself trying to ignore an uneasy, awkward feeling.

With glimpses of Asian culture long present in the West, many have spotlighted the appropriation of foreign cultures in Western spaces. Solely alleging cultural appropriation overlooks nuanced and problematic forms of borrowing – upon which I focus.

Orientalism cannot be discussed without referencing Edward Said. As he explores the imperialist relations of white men in Asia, Said interestingly notes that the ‘Orient’ was “orientalised” and “made oriental”. Orientalism is understood as the Western lens for perceiving the East. Within this, it is the movement of aesthetics from the East into the West that I find particularly interesting. My conflict with using elements from Asian culture in fashion lies in the displacement and dispossession of value, and history. Oftentimes, when incorporating these symbols, Western designers carelessly displace them from their context and significance. In doing so, they undermine the cultural value and multiplicity of meaning they are borrowing from. Knowing the history of subjugation and inequality of many cultures, merely exchanging cultural pieces would only be naïve. We cannot separate the object from the historicity that encompasses it.

With this understanding, I approach the world of fashion with a discerning eye and think of the reignited fad of the Maison Margiela Tabi, first released in 1988. Inspired by the Jika-Tabi, Martin Margiela is applauded for reimagining existing pieces. The Jika-Tabi, is a soft shoe with a rubber sole that Japanese workers, like rickshaw-pullers, and gardeners wore outdoors, relying on its tough fabrication to protect their feet. Sifting through media on the truly “divisive” Margiela Tabi, as SSENSE put it, I noticed that broadly, only a brief cultural foreground is included before continuing to the allure of Margiela’s design. Vogue described the Tabi as being “part human, part creature” as it “continues to inspire preternatural fascinations among an audience of art freaks and celebrities alike.”

“It takes a certain level of brain power to see the beauty in something so hideous – or to find pleasure in the perverse – which is precisely the kind of chin-strokey architecture that Margiela hangs on.”

As I read this, the othering and alienating language positioning the Tabi toe as bizarre and inhuman only intensified. The sarcastic tone in the writing carries with it an element of outlandish peculiarity that seems to undermine its Japanese origins. Describing it as “hideous” and “perverse” illuminates the author’s perspective that is governed by Eurocentric ideas of what is ‘normal’.

I deeply appreciate the appeal of Margiela’s design, but it is this language and discussion of the design that problematises the borrowing of the Jika-Tabi silhouette. There is no inherent fault in borrowing from other cultures, but acknowledgement thereof is key. I believe that it is the designer’s responsibility to ensure awareness of their cultural inspiration amongst consumers.

Through the tokenization of Asian aesthetics, orientalism becomes normalised, positioning it as a material for aesthetic pleasure. Returning to the cheongsam, it is not a garment exclusive to people of Chinese heritage. With a consciousness of its tokenization and for the appropriate occasion, the cheongsam can be appreciated by all.

In Defence of: The Sagittarius

by TASNEEM MUSTAPHA & illustrated by MITHALINA TAIB Known for their inability to stay in one place without feeling like a room on fire, I think the Sagittarius is unfairly judged. Spontaneous, curious, restless, independent, certain and doubtful. All this to say that Sagittariuses are hiders. Excellent ones. Stay still for too long, reveal too much, and they risk you figuring out who they really are, loneliness, brilliance and all.

The Sagittarius is born with the understanding that the world is limitless, but people are constrained. They jump from role to role hoping for serendipity: for assurance that the thing they end up doing is the perfect choice.

Along the way, they become their own unique versions of disarming. A byproduct of learning to love every kind of person in every kind of room.

They have a propensity for being the safest space in a social environment, the feeling of an instant friend even if you really aren’t. Never the loudest, never dependent on a mean word for laughs — they simply exist as they are.

Fascinatingly, this authenticity is only one half of them. A paradox, I know, authentic should mean the whole of everything, but the archer is special!

Full of antinomies! Their pursuit for all the perfection life has to offer leaves them lonelier than they’ll ever admit. When you become home to many because you have been many, how do you feel truly loved for all you are?

It is this loneliness that makes the Sagittarius so brilliant. From Jay Z rapping without a pen to Rita Moreno’s devilish intonation, there’s magic in the way they see the world and translate it back to you. Sagittariuses embody the art they create, a sliver of their DNA exposed for the world to see.

Perhaps our non-restlessness as members of the other zodiacs only make us myopic. You should be conscious of this limitation when you speak to a Sagittarius. Each word is important, tone more crucially so. They are resilient, delicate ecosystems — like a solar system made of glass. Beautiful, instead of troublesome, if you care to carry the thought of them home. Don’t worry, they’re probably carrying the conversation you had home, too. While they pore over the lilt of your tone, and wonder if you actually really hate them deep down, you should do the same. Pay close enough attention and you may realise they get quieter the louder you laugh at their jokes. Not because they think there is only space for one person in the conversation, but because they feel safe enough to simply be. The Sagittarius silence is a hard-earned wonder. Bask in it.

My best friend is a Sagittarius. So maybe this is more about the way a Capricorn loves than the way a Sagittarius is, but you’ve got to wait until January to read that article.

Till then — happy discovering, our darling Sagittariuses! May your movement be a candle to our stillness. If we are to be still, let it be to adore you, attempt to understand you.

You are not behind, or alone. Trust me — you are the wonders of our worlds.

PART B EDITED BY EMMA DO AND JULIETTA GRAMIGNI

a confused poem about growing old

by SANA AGARWAL & illustrated by CHIARA GUIGOU

ageing is the most paradoxical phenomenon i say this because today it feels peaceful to be drifting past the days gone by i don’t know if I’m courageous enough to call it healing a part of growing old is knowing that not all good bears from the burnt, that not all of us rise from the ashes like the phoenix i’m entangled in this paradox like a carefully crafted sentence because i miss the deep, settling happiness of a single mango to breathe the world in through your lungs, one giggle at a time i would be naive to say i saw its face value as a child, but perhaps I saw its tenderness tenderness borne from the cracks of my parent’s home, the evening shenanigans of an apartment complex, the dusty chalkboards of a classroom for many years i’ve practised the act of feeling analogously to devouring a pomegranate, you have to patiently sit on the table stools, peeal its surface resiliently to get to the ripe seeds eat it whole, like you’ve lived for it then wash your crimson-stained hands clean a lot of what I’ve learnt about tenderness has been while washing my hands clean of crimson like a proud martyr on some days a shackle of bones on others growing old is breaking the paradox learning that tenderness is not crimson, nor is the reward for it luckily it hasn’t been tainted yet, only my hands have i don’t ceremoniously caress my suffering now, burning the body is for the dead and i’ve lived the cicatrices may not be my medal, but they are still my skin; after all, survival is an act of acceptance so i’d home both because i know now tenderness doesn’t barter it is not borne out of blood, but perhaps some of that mango, maybe your parent’s home on a good day; i’ve grown out of pomegranates though, the ones from the other week have maggots on them now, they after all are a carefully crafted sentence.

Midwinter

by JESSICA-MAY COX & illustrated by PAAVAS BANSAL bringer of light, bringer of life, my comfort in the night i give my dreams to you so i may be born anew oh, how i miss the old times orange, lemon, limes grapefruit, tied with twine in my window, calling in the sunshine they grasp at dying rays, a mere echo of you, though you never decay on the shortest day, i think not of darkness only of your loving glow my heart’s encased in snow i reunite with sunlight you burn so i may grow

You Don’t Understand written & illustrated by JULIETTA GRAMIGNI What it’s like To hold each pretty piece Of a family So fractured, So scattered.

You don’t understand How far I Grew From where my Parents and their parents Were rooted.

You don’t understand This conflict, question, Yearning I’ll never know your words Well enough, Though, they were sung to me, Guided me And brought me into A land that rings From somewhere Inside and is somehow So deeply home I break every time we Say goodbye.

Composition

by EMMA DO & illustrated by PAAVAS BANSAL I am made of grief, the first funeral I attended, and the resemblance of the people I love.

I am far from being someone who can recall everything that happened when they were nine. I barely remembered what I had for breakfast, that is if I ate anything at all. Memories are complicated. They are stories, birthday cards, the face of someone I could not make out of a blurry silhouette, and the taste of childhood snacks that somehow became just too sweet for my nineteen-year-old taste buds. I am nothing more but a dainty labyrinth of other people’s laughs, of my friends’ favourite dining spot, of my mama’s habit of pushing the lift buttons delicately with her index knuckle, or of my aunt’s delightful meals she cooks every time I return home for the break. People walked into my open, blank chapters and filled the empty pages with pieces of their hearts.

Some came late, so they added their little notes or a few annotations here and there instead. When people left me, they were never actually gone. The remnants of us are forever ingrained in those lines, the versions we created together exist within these stories, plot twists, and cliffhangers. Everyone carried a part of me with them and left theirs at my place. Suddenly, we are everywhere, but simultaneously, void, in our own consciousness.

Whenever I share the bed with my mama every once in a while we talk. There was something about the stillness of the empty streets outside or the faint moonlight seen through the thin sheer curtains that might bring my mama to tell me the stories she had kept carefully for herself and me. I have heard decades of her life packed in fragmented memories, they are like puzzles sprawled out on the blank ceiling in front of my eyes, fitted perfectly together as if everything she told me was intentional. Then, she talked about my grandma, she always did. My mama’s stories were simply a recollection of what she had learned from my grandma, the build-up of morality, some old-school naggings, how to treat the people around you with an extra ounce of kindness. My mama’s obsidian eyes reflect my grandma’s tenacious, loving soul, and kindness, and the older she gets, the more her grin resembles my grandma’s.

Someone once told me that life is nothing but a Tetris game. You are repeatedly pushed into people or situations that would never have piqued your attention otherwise, and you are expected to conquer them. I remember one day, I was coming home to my grandma’s newly baked bread sticks coated in condensed milk, and the next thing I knew, the yeasty aroma of flour and milk became cheap takeaways after a football pub night in London. Life twists and turns around the things you love, unfolds in the mun-

dane of your daily routines, yet strongly reminds you of its presence in the simple breaths you take. Life teaches you that moments do not stay forever.

My grandpa died when I was in fourth grade, and even the days leading up to his death are a fog in my mind until now. It was the first funeral I ever attended. It would be an exaggeration to say it broke the nineyear-old me, but telling the small girl that day when she was cautiously dragged out of her art class early to see her grandpa draped in medical wires and asked to say her farewell words to him would be perplexing.

I didn’t shed a tear during my grandpa’s funeral, nor the other two that came around not long after. I hold my memories delicately like the way I might pour through the old, dusty photo albums whenever we deep clean the storage cupboards. I trace my finger on the wrinkles of my grandparents in those images and saw our wide smiles when we were together.

Grief is strange. The pain doesn’t get better as I grow up, it gets deeper. The memories of my lost loved ones don’t fade, they resurface on the nights I lay awake by the windowsill, silently crying as the last autumn breeze finds its way into the room. Sometimes, when the ache gets too much, I can feel it in my beating heart, between my veins, slithering through my ribcage, and choking my lungs. I’d recall how my grandma was the maker of hearty dinners, the giver of folk medicine when I fell sick, and the one who would always have my preferred juice boxes stocked in the fridge during the summer.

I was divided between these unfamiliar discomforts when my mama asked me to compose a letter for my grandmother’s burial. Even something as effortless as writing out my thoughts became strenuous, and I could not recall how long it took me to type in the first letter on that white computer screen. I was bleeding out on a blank canvas. My words were sharp like a thousand needles were piercing through the ebbs and flows of my memory stream. And as I kept repeating the lines I wrote like a sincere prayer, I have never learned to let the grief go. Walking past the neighbourhoods where I used to live with my grandparents made me realise that grief is not purely a stage. It’s a constant ringing in my head that the stories I shared with them are real, as real as my tender skin, the wounds in my core and the light that touches where my heart was cracked open by its vulnerability.

The special thing about grief is that it defines my past, tangles part of my personality, and fabricates the trauma that writes who I am; it also turns into a justification for me to become better. I carry the yesterdays on my back, sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re bad; a gift or a burning burden. In all shapes and forms, however, they are ultimately reminders of love and comfort. I don’t think I’ll ever be truly healed, but there’s always beauty in being flawed because the emotions are unfeigned. And raw.

REVIEW

EDITED BY CHRISTINA JIANG AND SHEILA MUTUA

The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes FILM

by GIULIA MAGNI & illustrated by FRANCESCA CUOMO

Positioned as a prequel to the The Hunger Games trilogy, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes unfolds 64 years prior to the inaugural novel’s events. Now, under the direction of Francis Lawrence, it has materialised into a majestic film, possessing a robust identity that, while remaining faithful to its source: it manages to transcend the narrative confines of the novel.

It unveils the genesis of the villain—the tale of Coriolanus Snow, the future tyrannical president of Panem. The narrative unfurls when Snow is an 18-year-old student at Panem Academy, belonging to one of Capitol City’s most affluent and influential families, which had succumbed to ruin following the Dark Days and his father’s demise.

Coriolanus, along with his grandmother and cousin Tigris, navigates a life far removed from the opulence asassociated with their lineage.

The film accurately portrays Coriolanus’ discontent with his destitute circumstances, perceiving it as both a dishonour and an injustice against his birthright: “The Snows land on top.”

An opportunity arises when he is selected to mentor Lucy Gray Baird of District 12, in the Tenth Annual Hunger Games. Recognizing the potential windfall that accompanies victory, Coriolanus endeavours to secure the title, desperate to salvage his home and fund his future university studies.

The film intricately unravels the psychology of this villain. He is motivated by personal ambition and an insatiable thirst for power, as well as conflicting emotions of affection for Lucy Gray along with feeling guilty for the state of oppression exercised by Capitol City over the districts.

Despite their mutual attraction, both Coriolanus and Lucy are unwavering in their commitment to their moral principles, ultimately leading them to betray each other. In the denouement, Coriolanus is shattered but resolute, and pivots towards a devotion to ambition: the driving force consistently guiding his choices. 64 years later, Snow catches a reflection of Lucy Gray in Katniss Everdeen, her deviance captivates and challenges him.

To conclude, this film is a powerful portrayal that elucidates the origins and intricacies of the villain’s psychology without veering into a redemptive narrative. Coriolanus’s realization, over time, is that the Games exist as a stark reminder of the inherent violence within human nature, encap-

sulating the belief that the world itself is an arena. The prequel concludes with Snow’s aged voice: “It is the things we love most that destroy us,” a familiar statement now richly infused with new meaning, bringing the narrative full circle. A goose-bumpy closure.

American Fiction FILM

by VANESSA HUANG

Cord Jefferson’s acerbic feature debut sees Jeffrey Wright playing Thelonious “Monk” Ellison, a Black writer facing little commercial success and dealing with a bad spell of writer’s block. This all changes when he pens precisely the type of novel he would consider pandering drivel – one full of drugs, poverty, and crime. And thus follows a reversal of fortunes.

American Fiction aptly evinces the kind of hollow progressivism that seeks to assuage guilt by way of trauma porn – siloing marginalised communities into societally mandated stereotypes, all in the name of ‘diverse voices’ and ‘representation.’ Art for art’s sake isn’t exactly true nowadays (was it ever?).

And as media bigwigs, most sinisterly, practically salivate at the prospect of more stories of suffering, work that induces this kind of nauseating sympathy might be the only way in.

Yet the filmoffers no easy answers, equally turning its critical gaze towards Monk. This is a man so preoccupied with intellect and so desperate to join the ranks of the Great American Writers that he looks upon these ‘authentic’ stories with disdain, thinking if only they could aim higher and do better. But what does it mean to be good enough?

Beyond its probing questions, perhaps most audacious of all is Jefferson’s commitment to cultural critique from within, crafting a film that exists in somewhat meta-fictional dialogue with the subjects of its parody. For all the talk of simplification in commodification, the same criticism might be levelled at American Fiction – its quips and bits making for an exaggerated and heavy-handed tale. But that would be missing the point.

Lucky Jim NOVEL

by CLAIRE YUBIN OH I’ll start with a personal confession: when it comes to books dealing with history in academia, I might have a shopping problem. No, I don’t mean those thick non-fiction bricks on the Holocaust or McCarthy or whatnot; my 9-to-5 as a history student gives me enough of those. I’m talking about a few surviving gems like Kingsley Amis’ Lucky Jim, where protagonists willingly suffer through a series of day-to-day catastrophes while in college.

Amis’ debut novel centers around Jim, a bored, bitter, and hopelessly inept junior lecturer in medieval history (which he hates) at a prestigious British university (likewise). The novel begins with his desperate efforts to convince the head of department, Ned Welch, a similarly unlikeable and hence comedic character, not to fire him from a job that Jim himself “dislikes,” to put it lightly. The rest of Lucky Jim is an interplay of his disaster-prone academic career and personal life, which he is equally incapable of taking charge of. For a long part of the novel, Jim finds himself entangled in a relationship with Margaret Peel, his colleague and a skilled trainee of emotional blackmailing. In between the sheer awfulness of Jim’s tragic life exists a drunken fiasco rooted in his signature ‘whatever’ attitude that allows the novel to breathe in comedic unpleasantness. Can’t stand your boss talking? Run away to a pub and drink. Caught up in a toxic relationship? Get drunk.

All in all, Lucky Jim is a 250-something page description of Amis’ unlikely hero and his one defining quality: that he has no clue of what he wants to do with his life. He will likely continue in the darkness, with his inability to actively express his wants. Despite having the demanding role of a lecturer of medieval history at a red-brick university, he is the epitome of ‘fake it

became part of the comedy of the play. The challenge of several actors and timelines onstage played out wonderfully, reflecting the chaos as well as duality of ideas being discussed.

With a play such as Arcadia, there is a risk of losing the audience; its exploration of quantum mechanics, chaos mathematics, and an elaborate plot of the present trying to uncover the past certainly doesn’t deem it the most accessible. However, the strong line delivery and passionate acting ensured consistent laughter and engagement from the audience.

photo by Claire Yubin Oh till you make it’: choosing a concentration he happens to be good at, then walking a safe, stable path of an academic career (which is questionable now, but mind you this was written shortly after the world wars). A smart man, with a long-time girlfriend, coming from a supportive background; Jim is lucky. And this scares me.

I guess Lucky Jim is my showstopper. “Haven’t you noticed how we specialise in what we hate most?” asks Jim, and my worst nightmare would be to become another Jim. So cheers to yet another year full of nights starting at my bedside wall, full of post-its of existential questions, whatever.

Everything about Jim is so painfully real, and to see this on text is blissfully refreshing.

Arcadia PLAY

by JULIETTA GRAMIGNI Having already studied Arcadia, a play first performed in 1993, I descended the stairs to the LSESU Venue on closing night expecting to be greeted by a perhaps overly familiar three-hour-long production. However, Tom Stoppard’s genius of constructing a play built by two timelines, a large cast of characters, and unending intellectual discussion allows for constant new discoveries.

From the very first line - ‘Septimus, what is carnal embrace?’ - the audience was swept into what promised to be an engaging comedy of puns, cross-talking and dazzling but faulty rhetoric. Excellent acting from leads such as Konstantin Burgess (Septimus Hodge) meant that potentially awkward moments of prop issues or even strange, offset banging sounds photo by Angus Timmons and Anna Tarazevich

At the same time, the more tragic, serious matters of life Arcadia asks us to consider are delivered with careful attention. Rebecca Stanton (Thomasina) performs a soliloquy-like speech on the ‘grief’ that is loss of knowledge.

Moreover, the surprising addition of a final line confirming Septimus as ‘the hermit of Sidley Park’ serves as a painful nod to his fate living out the rest of his days trying to express the mathematical theories of his student.

After curtain fall, the director Leo Taussig addressed the LSE’s failure to value creative pursuits alongside the more academic interests of the university. In particular, students feel there is often not an adequate provision of space for the projects of visual art and drama. Arcadia certainly teaches us that literature and art are not separate from the world of science and mathematics: a lesson the LSE should listen more closely to.

Wednesday at Pitchfork Music Festival

by WILLIAM GOLTZ

I don’t think anyone could have predicted that Wednesday’s first ever London show would be such an emotional affair. So proudly local and so proudly country, it always seemed a risk that London might not be the place for their dark tales of life and love in rural Appalachia. Sometimes, though, beautiful things don’t need to justify themselves and stories are sad and songs are beautiful. Wednesday didn’t have to do pretence. You don’t have to apologise for songs about God, dogs, and opioids if everyone ends up knowing the words. Lead singer Karly Hartzmann has the most evocative voice in indie rock today and her stories glide and burn over sweet and distorted guitars which make you wonder why more bands don’t have a pedal steel player. Playing the last date of their European tour, they were tight but full of the recklessness that came with knowing they wouldn’t have to play again the next night. Every song caught and held the crowd but I suppose it’s in the nature of a review to give one triumph. Listen to ‘Bull Believer’ if you want to feel something fully.

The Beaver Review Awards 2023

The Academy has spoken: Review’s contributors tell us what moved them the most in 2023. And the winners are: For Best Album: Rat Saw God by Wednesday - voted by William Goltz For Best Single: Smoke Break-Dance by Mick Jenkins ft.

JID - voted by Fay Qian For Best Concert: Beyoncé: Renaissance World Tour at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium - voted by Sheila Mutua For Best Film: Barbie dir. Greta Gerwig - voted by Miranda Piana Parra, Honour Astill & Oppenheimer dir. Christopher Nolan - voted by Arjan Arenas, William Goltz For Best Ongoing Series: The Bear S2 (FX) - voted by Christina Jiang For Best Limited Series: Scott Pilgrim Takes Off (Netflix) - voted

by Sebastian Ching, Angus Timmons

For Best Fiction: Yellowface by R. F. Kuang - voted by Liza Chernobay For Best Non-Fiction: Know Your Place by Faiza Shaheen - voted by Kieran Hurwood For Best Poetry: Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong - voted

by Zoé Bocquillon For Best Play: As You Like It at sohoplace - voted by Vanessa Huang For Best Musical: Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) at Kiln Theatre - voted by Ophélie Logé For Best Video Game: Signalis (rose-engine) - voted by Angus Timmons For Best Exhibtion: Paul McCartney: Eyes of the Storm at the National Portrait Gallery - voted by Arjan Arenas

ADRIANA BEATTIE: life as AU president

interview interview by

by SANA SANA AGARWAL AGARWAL written written by

by ALAN ALAN NEMIROVSKI NEMIROVSKI photography photography by

by BEN BEN CHEN CHEN

The Athletics Union, commonly known as the AU, has always been, and remains, at the heart of LSE students’ social lives. From intercollegiate tournaments to Wednesday sports club nights at Sway, the AU’s presence can never be ignored on campus. The day after the AU’s flagship event, Carol, I sat down in a coffee shop to catch up with Adriana Beattie — a third-year International History student at LSE and this year’s AU president — about her experiences and journey in the AU.

A

driana got involved in sports clubs in her first year at LSE, “I [wanted to] make as much as I possibly [could out of] university. And one of the main things people always told me was, ‘you’ve got to join a sports club.’ … And I think that LSE is quite a different university to a lot of the other regular British ones … I think at LSE, it’s the social aspect [that’s special] because it’s so small.”

Adriana wanted to try something different, so she decided to join pole fitness, which she is still involved in today, “I don’t have as much time now to actually do the classes, but I am [still] part of that society … I was Secretary last year and am Secretary this year.” She noted that the pole fitness president’s accommodating nature, allows her to remain involved, whilst managing her responsibilities as AU president.

partnered with HandsOff, a student-run group campaigning, to address sexual harassment and violence on campus. “We had a HandsOff night at Sway, which sold out … and we’ve had a stall [on campus].” Adriana’s personal involvement with HandsOff went beyond the AU partnership, “I was a [Consent Ed] facilitator this year, which I really enjoyed because it made me think of how I can make sure that all the events that we put on are good and safe.”

Unfortunately, Adriana and the AU’s scope is limited in their responses to incidents, “[Sometimes] it is literally out of our hands, what the SU decide they want to do with it [an incident]. They either let us know how we were supposed to react to it, or it goes straight over us, and we have no part in it. It’s good in the sense that actual adults who are trained and have responsibility [to deal with this] know what they’re doing. But it’s also a bit Interestingly, Adriana was not always certain she annoying because we can’t do anything, we can’t would run for AU president. But she ran because advocate for or against that person. We can’t help sports at LSE was one of the defining aspects of the victim because sometimes it’s anonymous.” her campus experience, “[Sports] gave me a community that I wouldn’t have had if I was not part As a result, much of the AU’s work must be preof it. I really enjoyed it, and I [thought] it would ventative. For instance, before Carol, the SU rebe fun to be able to give back, … change things, leased a new disclosure form to increase ease of and [build] on what so many other people have reporting incidents since “they can’t do anything done before.” if they don’t have any information about [the incident].” Adriana discussed how the SU has been Her work is vital to making a more accessible AU, more involved with the AU, which has proven “I wanted to make [the AU] a more inclusive, saf- helpful. “If there’s an issue that someone raises to er place for people. I know some people have this me, Chris [LSESU Activities and Communities conception of needing to be really good at sports Officer] is my direct point of contact within the to [be involved], but no, you don’t even have to SU. I just let him know, and then he deals with play [a] sport, so many clubs now are doing social it and comes back to me.” She also used Carol as memberships.” At the end of the day, the most im- an example, “They were really good with making portant part of her job is “to make the AU a fun sure we had all the data of who’s done Consent Ed space for everyone.” … which we [cross-referenced] when [students] came to collect their Carol tickets.”

Adriana’s role is no small feat, “We’ve got 42 sports clubs now … that’s about 2,500 to 3,000 Regardless of all the support from the SU, Adristudents [who] play sports at LSE … [and] my ana still had to help the AU fund itself, “We start role is to act as a liaison between the SU and all with zero pounds at the start of the year. … We’re the sports clubs.” She also manages the AU’s rela- supposed to be a self-generating thing, so we’re tionships with other important actors, including supposed to make the money during the year and venues such as Sway Bar. Adriana compares her spend the money during the year.” This year, the busy schedule to her degree, “The AU is almost AU was fortunate enough to have some leftover constant. People are messaging me, I’ve constant- funds from last year, which helped them a lot at ly got to sort [something] out, or send emails or the start of the year - but the execs still had their talk to people. … So, it’s hard.” work cut out for them.

Having started her duties over the summer, in preparation for Autumn Term, Adriana had to quickly learn to manage stress in her role as the AU President, “I was literally dying at the beginning.” She admits, “I didn’t deal with [the pressure] very well. I was so stressed I barely slept during Freshers week.” Adriana credits her team of execs at the AU, for helping her make sure that everything ran business as usual, “If I didn’t have them, I would not be here.”

We shifted the conversation to safety at AU events, an area of previous concerns. Adriana emphasised that their “main priority is to make sure that [an event] is fun and that it’s safe.” Furthermore, she

Making revenue was also complicated by the company with which the AU used to work with to put on Wednesday sports nights: without this company, organising the club nights is “logistically is a nightmare.” The AU switched this year to working with Milkshake because “we wanted a little bit more transparency, and I thought the offer from Milkshake was better than the previous company.” Whereas the AU would previously have to barter to get a decent profit margin on their events, “I didn’t actually have to barter as much with the new company.” As a result of the switch, the AU now makes a 50% profit from their Wednesday sports nights. “It’s all very transparent, it’s all very clear.”

Adriana and the AU also work directly with sports clubs to help raise money for charity events, the most recent being fundraising for Movember in an effort to raise awareness of men’s mental health. Earlier in the term, they collaborated with the Afro-Caribbean Society (ACS) to organise an ACS night for Black History Month, a collaboration which is going to be extending into the new year, “We’re organising a flagship event with key speakers in February … to highlight Black communities within the AU.” They are also planning a week of fundraising for This Girl Can, which they plan to coordinate with fundraising events for HandsOff. “It’s basically going to be a week where we want to promote women in sports.”

Adriana said she is amazed by the clubs’ initiative, “I love the fact that the AU is a place where people actually want to make a change.”

Despite her achievements so far, Adriana recognises there is more to be done, expressing that important aspects such as transgender and disability inclusion in LSE sports is “something that [she] needs to work on for next term. There arealways things you can be doing … [to] make [the AU] as good as you possibly can for as many people as you possibly can.”

I asked Adriana what it’s like to work as a female AU president, to which she replied, “I think it’s been good in some senses and bad in others.

It’s good in the sense that I can bring a different perspective.” She thinks that she has been in a position where she is more aware of the divide between men’s and women’s sports at LSE, and so she has been “trying to make the AU more cohesive and inclusive.” Still, she had some difficulties in her role which she would attribute to her gender, for instance, having more trouble maintaining boundaries, “I think people [think] I’m a bit more accessible; because I’m a girl, for example, [they think] I don’t mind getting phone calls nonstop.”

Overall, Adriana’s experience with the AU has been rewarding and fulfilling, “I just want to have fun at the end of the day. … I am so proud of everything that I did this term.” She highlights the clubs and people as being vital to success, “the AU would be nothing without them. … [Though] what sticks? It’s always the people, definitely.”

When closing the interview, I asked Adriana how she wants people to see the AU, “The AU is more than just a club night on a Wednesday. It’s a community of people who have the same values and want the same thing. We want to have fun, take a break from our degrees, raise money, and so much more.” She hopes the AU can remain an open space for anyone to join, even if it’s only to indulge in the (iconic) social aspect of sports clubs.

“I want people to look at the AU and remember that they had fun, and had fun doing things with the people they like.”

ISSUE 930

AT WEEK 11 2023

REVIEW

PART B

SOCIAL

SPORT

Review Awards

Composition

Tattoos & commitment

Uncovering Fight Night

ADRIANA BEATTIE & the Athletics Union