Trinity Frontier Magazine, Issue 9 (May 2021) by Trinity Frontier

POLITICS | CULTURE | TRAVEL VOL. IX | ISS. II | MAY 2021

Message from the Editor: Welcome to the ninth edition of Trinity Frontier Magazine! Trinity Frontier provides a space for students to learn about global affairs in a firsthand, journalistic approach, through encouraging writers to share their personal experiences abroad or to go and seek interviewees from across the world by aid of social media. This issue brings us closer to home with its largely European orientation, from Ille-et-Villaine, to Belfast, Moscow, to Wiesbaden along the Rheinsteig hiking trail, and many more exciting places. We hope these stories will be enriching and engaging reads for you, and we welcome any feedback or ideas for our next issue. Personally, I would like to thank the Trinity Frontier staff team for their hard work and dedication in producing this issue, especially with regards to the challenges the Covid-19 pandemic has posed us this year. I would also like to thank our contributors who have shared with us some exceptionally insightful and enjoyable pieces. And lastly, I would like to thank Trinity Publications without which this issue would never have been possible. Happy reading! Eliza

Editorial Team

Dear reader,

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Eliza Meller GLOBAL POLITICS: Kate Glen CULTURE AND SOCIETY: Fadilah Salawu TRAVEL: Marie Ní Raghallaigh ILLUSTRATIONS: Anna O’Connor COPYEDITOR: Sophie Furlong Tighe DESIGN EDITOR: Julia Bochenek SECRETARY: Maya Kulukundis PUBLIC RELATIONS OFFICER: Oz Russell

This publication is partially funded by Trinity Publications

TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S GLOBAL POLITICS

4 Politics, Protests and “Putin’s Palace” by Oz Russell

6 Life under Zero-Covid by Molly Riney

8 La Familia Grande by Elvire Olmos

9 Beyond the Walls by Laura Browne

CULTURE AND SOCIETY

11 Muslim Women Need to be Heard more, not Seen by Fadilah Salawu

13 Britain’s Reconciliation with its Imperial Past by Oz Russell

TRAVEL

16 Ille-et-Vilaine: One stunning quarter of France’s Celtic Corner by Dónal O’Leary

19 Edinburgh on a budget by Julia Bochenek

21 Wine and Cheese on a Campaign Trail by Peter Delahunt

24 Walking the Rheinsteig by Emily Cantwell-Kelly

Politics, Protests and “Putin’s Palace” An interview with Financial Times Moscow Correspondent Max Seddon By Oz Russell Interview conducted by phone on the 26th February 2021. How have you found living in Moscow during the protests, and has the response on the ground from the authorities differed much from that towards previous demonstrations? I think it has. I should preface this by saying that I got coronavirus at the end of January so the only protest I actually saw with my own eyes was the first one on January 24th. Over the last few years living standards have gone down in Russia, real incomes are 11% below what they were before the Crimea annexation in 2013, and people are getting angrier and more willing to protest. We started to see that during the protests in 2019, and after the Navalny protests started it was clear that people are angrier than they were before, and they’re angrier about a much broader range of things than just what’s happening to Navalny. I’ve talked to people all over Russia who have been to these protests, and it’s more about the general sense of injustice that the treatment of Navalny represents, even if they’re not necessarily fans of his. The economic situation not getting better is also a big factor. One thing that you saw in the first protest was that people were much more willing to defy the police than I’ve ever seen before. They would throw snowballs at them, and there was a car

that had official licence plates on it that apparently belonged to the FSB (state security service) and it was completely destroyed. It’s worth pointing out that the vast majority of the protests have been completely peaceful and the vast majority of the violence has been provoked by the riot police, but the idea that you could challenge them is something really new. The Kremlin evidently decided that this was not something that could be allowed to continue, and the response to subsequent protests was really the most violent I’ve ever seen. I think the Kremlin have shown that they’re not willing to back down on this issue, and they’ve dialled up the repression further than they’ve ever wanted to. For the moment it’s working because the Navalny team basically decided to not have any more protests while they regroup with their wounds and try to shake up their strategy a little. You mentioned a sense of general discontent with the regime. One of the things that Navalny did recently was publish the ‘Putin’s Palace’ video which has achieved over 110 million views since it was first published. Do you think that these protests represent just general discontent, or maybe more specific discontent towards the regime and even Putin than might have been the case previously?

GLOBAL POLITICS The word that I hear the most when I talk to people about why they’re protesting, why they’re angry, is the Russian word ‘nakopilos,’ which means everything has sort of built up. I will say: “What are you specifically angry about?” and they’ll say: “Well everything!” What’s happened recently is there has been a shift between what people call the battle between the refrigerator and the TV. The TV is telling them that everything is great, but if you look at what’s in your fridge then you realise that everything maybe isn’t so rosy. There’s a tendency in Russian society going back to the Tsars where people will blame their local regional officials for the corruption and mismanagement that they deal with on a daily basis, and they wouldn’t necessarily associate that with Putin. The mentality of most Russians would be “Oh, if only Putin knew how bad the problems were, then he would do something about them.” Putin even has this annual, heavily stage managed phone-in where people call in and say, “The roads are all in a terrible state” and two hours later they show that the roads are already being fixed. ‘Putin’s Palace’ was so successful not only for showing such a palace, although its existence has been sort of known for decades. But also because when you have a €700 toilet brush in this palace that costs more than the average Russian salary, people are going to be peeved.

“The TV is telling them that everything is great, but if you look at what’s in your fridge then you realise that everything maybe isn’t so rosy.” You talked about the difference between the TV and refrigerator earlier. There’s also been a new wave of Russian investigative journalism online. So my question is, has this been breaking through at all? Navalny showed that it certainly has. The issue that some of these publications have is that it’s very difficult to get funding. Just five years ago these publications would have received funding, and there was actually a lot of really excellent journalism being done. But it’s basically impossible now. These new journalism websites are kind of a modern version of the Samizdat from the Soviet era, with small budgets and small staff. What gives these websites hope is that some of them don’t have to rely on grant money and they’re able to survive on their own. Does it have the kind of reach as the Palace video? Maybe not, but on the whole it's shown a real sign of vitality in Rus-

sian investigative journalism, even as conditions on the ground have become more difficult. Even finding ways around more and more censorship in the media is a real testament to that vitality. The Russian parliamentary elections are coming up in September. Is the opposition targeting these as a chance to organise? There hasn’t been anything close to real opposition in the Russian parliament for many years. It’s extremely unlikely that opposition will be able to run. Though Navalny and his allies have been planning to put forward some of their own candidates, a lot of them are under house arrest and could go to prison for years, and it’s also unlikely that they could get on the ballot anyway. Even if they did, there are new laws that would mark them everywhere as foreign agents, which is like telling Russians that these people are American spies. Navalny has this programme called ‘smart voting,’ which is basically an app for tactical voting. It tells you, according to their calculations, which of the approved opposition parties run by the Kremlin would have the best chance of beating United Russia— this would send the strongest message to the Kremlin. They had some success with this in local elections fifteen years ago, and in Siberia, and other local elections last year. They also had some success getting some Navalny people on the city council in Omsk, which was where he was poisoned. This was supposed to be the year where they tried this strategy out at the national level. The issue of course though is that with all the repression going on this will be more and more difficult to do. Photos by Gosha Bergal Taken 23rd and 31st of January in Moscow. @gosha_bergal

Life under Zero-Covid Irish residents of New Zealand call on Ireland to adopt a Zero-Covid policy By Molly Riney While many countries are in lockdown, those in New Zealand can enjoy aspects of life that many have not been able to since before the pandemic. This is due to their policy of Zero Covid, which ensures control of the virus within the community to the point of being able to successfully test, trace and isolate all individual new cases to avoid outbreaks. It involves a period of what we would understand as Level 5 restrictions until case numbers are low enough to be tracked individually. Critically, it also involves closed borders and mandatory hotel quarantine for all incoming persons to the state. When a new case is identified, small regional lockdowns are instituted for around a week to contain the virus. Once the individual cases are under control, the lockdown is lifted and a return to normality is allowed. While the Irish approach of ‘Living with Covid’ focuses on suppression of the virus, Zero Covid focus-

es on tough restrictions to virtually eradicate it. Comparisons are frequently drawn between New Zealand and Ireland when it comes to Covid, and one can understand why. Both states are islands and have similar populations of 4.9 million. At the time of writing (March 26, 2021) New Zealand has had a total of 2,479 cases and 26 deaths. Ireland, on the other hand, has had over 233,000 cases and 4,631 deaths. There are a myriad of factors that led to such a huge discrepancy, but the policy of Zero Covid in New Zealand has been the main factor in keeping the effects of the virus so low. I spoke to a group of Irish

people living in New Zealand about their experiences in living under Zero Covid and how they feel New Zealand’s handling of the crisis compares to our own. Ciaron Halligan originates from Armagh and has been in New Zealand for nearly four years. He said he felt very lucky to live in New Zealand and, much like others in the country, had a great deal of praise for New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s handling of the crisis. “At every point we had trust in Jacinda Ardern. Being from Ireland and seeing the lack of leadership over the years has really made me appreciate an immensely strong and sensible leader when I see one. Every step of the way has had a clear cut path to freedom essentially to keep the nation well and free from this virus. I can't praise her and Ashley Bloomfield enough for their fantastic job during the world pandemic.” Despite the safety and freedoms that Zero Covid has afforded Halligan and others in the state, he – like many others – has been unable to see family members for some time now, citing this as the biggest effect the pandemic has had on his life.

“I’ve lost an uncle in recent months and I believe it could have been prevented through some of the measures we have implemented here.” “I’ve missed my family growing up in a sense which is saddening at times. I was supposed to fly back to Ireland on the day of lockdown but after some hard truths and some shed tears with family members

GLOBAL POLITICS over the phone I agreed to stay in New Zealand, as it was the most safe and logical thing to do so at the time. I feel the government means well but has lost credibility through other forms of politics taking priority over Irish people’s health concerns. “I've lost an uncle in recent months and I believe it could have been prevented through some of the measures we have implemented here.” I also spoke to Kieron Browne from Kerry, who told me about his experience of living under Zero Covid. “I can happily say it hasn’t had any effect on my life. We had about five weeks in lockdown last year and even that was ok. I was living with another Kerryman. He is 85 and has been here for over 60 years. We cooked the spuds every day and chatted, so it was actually nice in some ways. I can say there has never been a moment where I was unhappy with how Jacinda Ardern handled the pandemic. She and her party have done a brilliant job and looked after the people and the businesses of New Zealand so well. You could not fault her at all when you see how our own country is and has been over the past twelve months.” Although Browne spoke highly of the freedoms he has enjoyed in New Zealand, he found it difficult to spend such long periods of time away from home. This was especially the case when he missed the one-year anniversary of his younger sister Kerrie’s death in October 2020. Though deeply disappointed, he accepted this, maintaining that it was more important for everyone’s safety. He was very critical of the Irish government’s handling of the crisis, calling “their lack of management… a disgrace”. I also spoke to Alan McElroy, a comedian and entertainer who has lived in New Zealand for twelve

years. Alan – unlike many in his profession in current times – can continue working at large events and performing gigs. “I hosted comedy events all of this week in busy bars and I shared pictures and videos online but the messages I got from friends back home in awe of groups of people, drinking in a pub... It seemed like a different world to them. We can travel anywhere in New Zealand and everybody is making the most of summer by holidaying all over the country.” While New Zealand is flourishing more than almost any other country in the world in the face of Covid-19, there has still been a considerable blow dealt to their economy. The tourism industry usually makes up around 9 percent of the country’s GDP. It was also the country’s largest export industry, making up 20 percent of total exports. While domestic tourism keeps the cities afloat, many smaller towns are feeling the effects of this, as Alan explained to me. “Pubs and clubs are shutting down in holiday spots such as Queenstown. Many here are trying their best to help these regions but the tourist dollar goes a long way. But when we look at the rest of the world, we can’t complain really.” It is obvious that New Zealand’s approach towards Covid-19 has the overwhelming support of the populous, and one can understand why. While the Irish government has previously cited the border with Northern Ireland and our European status as roadblocks to such a policy, many of those I spoke to felt that it would have been feasible. It may still be possible. But for it to succeed, the government needs a New Zealand style halting of international travel, and community transmission will need to be almost eradicated. The addition of the vaccine rollout may greatly aid this. Listening to the accounts of those living under Zero Covid prompts the question: why haven’t we adopted a similar policy? Photos by Ciaron Halligan and Alan McElroy

La Familia Grande Elvire Olmos discusses the #metooincest Movement in France By Elvire Olmos When Harvey Weinstein’s victims began to share their stories, the #MeToo movement gave a voice and a platform to sexual abuse survivors who were previously silenced. The movement brought tremendous awareness about sexual violence, its omnipresence in society, and the recurrent societal and judiciary flaws in denunciating and punishing abusers. While this liberation movement brought benefits to many, some survivors remain unheard. In France, since the beginning of January 2021, new victims have started to speak up. While these new voices are not denouncing recent abuses, it is the first time they are being heard to such extent in the public sphere. These are the voices of incest survivors. In the book La Familia Grande, the jurist Camille Kouchner revealed that her step-father, Olivier Duhamel, sexually abused her twin brother when they were thirteen years old. Camille’s step-father holds a powerful role in the French political, cultural, and social sphere. Her allegations have had a tremendous impact on French society. He is the Director of the National Foundation of Political Sciences of France, a constitutional lawyer, and a lecturer for major universities. In revealing the sexual abuse of her twin brother, Kouchner expressed that it was unbearable to remain silent when her step-father got nominated for the presidency of Le Siècle— an influential and secretive club comprising more than 700 political, economic, and media elite figures. Accompanying outrage at Duhamel was the public condemnation of his colleagues who have been accused of knowing about his abuse but keeping it secret. These elite figures in French society – including lawyers, directors, and commissioners – have been put under pressure to resign their positions. While incest survivors experience the shame and culture of silence other survivors of sexual abuse do, they often deal with a second layer of shame— that of the “family secret.” Perhaps this is why these crimes were overlooked during the first wave of #MeToo. In the wake of public outrage against Duhamel came the testimony of other victims of incestuous sexual abuse. Within the span of two days, over 90,000 French citizens published their own stories on Twitter of experiencing incestuous abuse under

the hashtag: “#metooincest”. This led to a snowball effect, with the hashtag progressively attracting media attention and public discussion. This revealed shocking numbers such as the statistic that one out of ten French children are victims of incest. The culture of silence and recurrent lack of awareness raised feelings of indignation and a larger societal reckoning within French society. Consequently, on February 15, the French Minister of Justice announced a change to the law in order to raise the age of consent to fifteen years old for all sexual acts and introduced a new law changing eighteen to the age of consent for incest.

Due to the “shameful” nature of incest and the burden placed on the victimm incest remains too often hidden in France, as well as other countries. Ignorance is not the solution. On the contrary, silence only serves to reinforce the burden placed on the victim and can therefore worsen the cruelty of these acts. In fact, most incest victims talk at some point in their lives about the traumatic experience that they have been through. However, only some are believed and given the support they need. Phenonema such as fears of repercussion, family pressure, cultures of silence, failures of authorities, and victim shaming mean that cases of rape are often underreported, making statistics misrepresentative. From the state to the individual level, it is our common responsibility to listen, report, and protect victims regardless of the taboo nature of the crimes perpetrated against them. In writing this article, I hope to do my part to support this liberation movement, spreading it outside of the borders of France. Incestuous abuse can happen anywhere, at any time, and to any person. Incest should not be ignored— it is, to all, our moral responsibility as humans to listen and hear the voices of those who have been kept silent for too long. Illustration by Anna O’Connor

Beyond the Walls

GLOBAL POLITICS

In conversation with ex-IRA bomber turned community activist, Robert McClenaghan By Laura Browne

Peace Wall murals in Belfast, March 2021

Having grown up during the Troubles, walls have consumed Robert McClenaghan’s life. From the ages of 18 to 30, he was confined by prison because of his involvement with the IRA. He then helped to build the original makeshift peace wall, which was established in 1969 to deter sectarian violence. Now, he works within the nationalist and unionist communities to take down the walls that he helped to build. I spoke to him about his advocacy for the removal of peace walls and how his community work has impacted him. As the chairman of the Falls Road Residents Association, McClenaghan is positioned in the centre of the nationalist community in West Belfast. His role within the Falls community covers many areas— delivering food packages, answering individual concerns, and representing his community at inter-community meetings on the Falls/Shankill Forum. This forum, which has existed for almost eight years, allows for the two communities on either side of the wall to share their concerns with one another. Their aim is to build a peaceful dialogue in the hope that someday the walls will be removed. McClenaghan did not always find himself in this position. In 1976, he was convicted for planting bombs across Belfast for the IRA, and was imprisoned in the H-Block (Her Majesty's Prison Maze) for twelve

years, alongside his comrades Bobby Sands, Kieran Doherty, and Michael Devine. When McClenaghan was released in 1988, he aimed to campaign for the release of the prisoners that he had left behind. But he was faced with a moral dilemma. He felt he needed to decide whether to campaign solely for his republican comrades, or for all political prisoners— including the unionists who had killed his grandfather in the loyalist attack at McGurk’s Bar in 1971. He decided to campaign for the release of all prisoners.

“The walls are an impediment to peace, governance and reconciliation between the two communities… people still have barriers in their heads.” When asked about the motivation for his work, McClenaghan opened up about his relationship with his community. Having been looked after and loved by that community for the first part of his life, his mission after being away for twelve years is to “love and cherish them” in return, he says. This is why he calls for the removal of the peace walls, which have increased in size and number over recent years. This is also why his work on the Falls/Shankill Forum is so important to him. He explains, “The walls are an

impediment to peace, governance and reconciliation between the two communities... people still have barriers in their heads.” He said that a lot more needs to be done than the removal of the walls. Dialogue needs to be encouraged between the two communities in order to remove the fearful mindsets they hold. “I believe that you lead by example,” McClenaghan said. And indeed, he has. The relationships and trust that McClenaghan has built within the forum over the years have grown to such a point that in 2019 an interface gate was successfully removed. Success stories such as this haven’t been

McClenaghan’s view, Brexit has increased discussions around the two health systems, two education systems and two separate tourist boards on the island of Ireland. In the documentary film “Walls of Shame” – where he and his forum colleagues discuss life along the interface walls – McClenaghan voices his hopes that these debates around Brexit will push forward the prospects of a united Ireland.

“Brexit is going to affect the working class in the Falls and the working class of the Shankill.”

Robert McClenaghan, March 2021, Belfast

frequent, as both communities are still dealing with the trauma of the Troubles. However, McClenaghan pointed to a recent gesture during Covid-19 which shows signs of progress. When there was a shortage of toilet roll, hand sanitiser and facemasks along the Falls, word spread around in the Shankill, and McClenaghan received a call from a Shankill community centre that offered him a share of their supplies. Aside from the obvious act of kindness, McClenaghan highlighted that himself and a colleague may have been the first people from the nationalist community to have set foot in this community centre building. He saw this as a manifestation of the shared needs of both communities— Covid-19 does not discriminate between Catholics and Protestants. He uses this point to explain to people that their problems don’t stem from religion, identity or political ideology, but from economic deprivation. He said, “Working class Protestants and Catholics have more in common than divides us.” He pressed this point in relation to Brexit and its impact on the communities in Belfast, when he said, “Brexit is going to affect the working class in the Falls and the working class of the Shankill.” In

Throughout the interview, McClenaghan reminded me of the importance of young people within these communities. He describes the youth as pragmatic people who will be necessary to create a future for these communities. For McClenaghan and his fellow forum members, the real work that needs to be done in Northern Ireland is to build respect for one another— be it between a Catholic and a Protestant, or brother and sister. Today McClenaghan works to build respect for people not only in his community, but in communities all over West Belfast. He also works as a tour guide for the “Conflicting Stories” tour in Belfast, where republican and loyalist ex-prisoners share personal stories. Making incremental change seems to be the approach for McClenaghan and his colleagues, with the aim of keeping the gates open a little longer each time. Photos by Laura Browne

CULTURE AND SOCIETY

Muslim Women Need to be Heard More, not Seen

Western industries’ ideas of “representation” can do more harm to Muslim women than good By Fadilah Salawu This June, I will be celebrating the fourth anniversary of my decision to wear the hijab. As an Irish-Nigerian Muslim woman, I am incredibly proud of my journey with faith, and my ability to represent myself and my values through my dress. When I first put on my hijab, I was a teenager with strong notions of claiming my identity and shaping the way the world saw me. Since then, my relationship with hijab has evolved drastically on a personal, spiritual, and social level. I came to realise that my entire identity as a Muslim woman had been dictated by structures which claimed knowledge of everything it means to be a young Muslim woman. I wasn’t surprised by the common misconceptions surrounding religious or ethnic minorities, but I was disheartened to realise the extent to which other voices were drowning out my own. I realized that the dominant Western idea of 'representation' with respect to Muslim women consisted of the perpetuation of a biased narrative. I also saw that they were not interested in letting me speak for myself. This is why I strongly believe Muslim women need to be heard more, rather than seen. There is a disheartening obsession with the privacy of Muslim women’s bodies. The conscious decision to cover up is being met with a perverse encouragement to uncover us by the white male. The golden example is in film, where the standard plotline

of “The Muslim Woman” character is this— poor ethnic Muslim girl from an oppressive background (usually Arab or South Asian) is saved by a white male character, offering her modern, secular freedom and sexual liberation, and she unveils for him. Whether it is an uncertain teenager in Hala or Elité, or an accomplished academic in Ben and Ara, Muslim women of all ages appear desperate to escape their communities and fall under the irresistible snare of the white male gaze and all it represents.

“This obsessive sexualization of Muslim women – where we are reduced to a veil and a body – extinguishes our autonomy and disrespects us as individuals.” This representation of Muslim women is harmful. It mirrors Orientalist tropes of the exotic woman who is mysterious and hypersexual, yet simultaneously silent and oppressed. It presents a powerful symbol of the clash of cultures, as she serves as a tool to perpetuate Western superiority over Non-Western cultures and to portray Islam as oppressive and in need of reform. On any online platform where Muslim youth gather, the parodies of this trope are

endless— everyone is aware of its toxicity. Myself and many Muslim women constantly deal with questions that assume the inevitable distancing of ourselves from religion and probe us about when our ‘sexual liberation’ will occur. We are asked: what party would be interesting enough to undress for? Or, what forbidden romances would be moving enough to compromise our values? This obsessive sexualization of Muslim women – where we are reduced to a veil and a body – extinguishes our autonomy and disrespects us as individuals.

“It mirrors Orientalist tropes of the exotic woman who is mysterious and hypersexual, yet simultaneously silent and oppressed.” Another industry that claims diversity and inclusivity, but strips Muslim women of their voices, is the fashion and beauty industry. Today there is an increase in Muslim hijabi models, but often they are subject to Eurocentric standards of beauty. Only those who are willing to be glammed up, or are of a certain complexion and body type, are included. Muslim models such as Halima Aden have left the industry altogether because of this, fed up with having to compromise their values under the direction of

Halima Aden Source: Wikipedia

feel that these glammed-up hijabi models do not represent their practice of hijab in our communities. As Afia Ahmed wrote in How the Turban Hijab Became a Symbol of the Modern Muslim Woman, “commercialisation didn’t make hijab easier, it changed what it is… people no longer ascribe to the hijab, they ascribe to a fashion trend.” It also appears superficial, as hijabi models are unable to change the social and structural discrimination which most Muslim women face for their modest religious dress. These pictures of supposed inclusivity are almost teasing the reality that we can not have.

“These pictures of supposed inclusivity are almost teasing the reality that we can not have.” Claiming that representation – selective and stubborn as it is today – solves the misunderstanding between ethnic and religious groups in society is utterly naive. In reality, it perpetuates insulting tropes and uses the guise of diversity for commercial gain. In film and in fashion, Muslim women are dressed up and told to sit quietly and look pretty while others do the talking for them. Hijabi Muslim women don’t need to be seen so much as they need to be heard. It would be far more productive to see Muslim women be given the chance to speak for themselves, where real cultural exchange can happen and the richness of religious tradition and clothing can be genuinely and authentically communicated. When June comes, I will be celebrating the hijab and the values it has taught me as a practicing Muslim. My hijab is a visible indication of my faith and adherence to the commandments of God. It is a focus on me as a person rather than me as a body— I represent my character, my intelligence and my personality. I hope that someday Western industries will be more open to listening to my own authentic experience, not one that is watered down or glammed up to appeal to a particular audience, just a woman being herself. woman being herself. Illustration by Anna O’Connor

Western fashion powers. Many Muslim women – including myself – who read such fashion magazines

CULTURE AND SOCIETY

Britain’s Reconciliation with its Imperial Past

An interview with Professor of Sociology at the University of Manchester, journalist, and writer, Gary Younge. By Oz Russell

Black Lives Matter protest, Brussels, 7th May 2020 Interview conducted by phone on March 1, 2021. Increased attention is being paid towards museums and heritage organisations in the United Kingdom over a few connected issues; namely, the legacies of empire and slavery. In your opinion, is this attention a function of their importance/role in society, or are they just one of a number of sites that are being contested? I think they are the latter. They are one among a range of sites: museums, but also statues, and curricula. They all fall under the same rubric: how do we remember what we’ve done, and how do we record, amplify and transmit what our history is? That’s what connects all those things. So, museums are part of that landscape which is our national collective memory.

sense of their histories. What kind of efforts have you seen in this regard, and do you think that these efforts in and of themselves are enough? It can and should be done on a case-by-case basis. Some things should be removed or should be returned because they’ve been stolen. Some stuff should be removed, I think, if they’re offensive, such as shrunken heads of real people. This has no place as an example in a cultural establishment. And then some things can be explained. Not explained away, just differently described, as sometimes context is not mentioned at all. Artefacts should be dealt with caseby-case, but I do think there should be some kind of a general overarching approach to this. It should be honest, just, and be led by the thinking “it happened.”.

There have been a number of attempts to contextualise different displays in various museums to make better

“Artefacts should be dealt with case-bycase, but I do think there should be some kind of a general overarching approach to this. It should be honest, just, and be led by the thinking ‘it happened’.”

I think if one starts from these basic questions then they will get there. The accusation of erasure is levelled by the right, but it’s actually entirely the opposite. It’s actually about properly teaching British history. In 1951 (as far back as that) when Britain still owned most of what was then the Empire, two thirds of British people couldn’t name a single colony. There’s a kind of willful and selective amnesia that has gone on about our past and that needs to be recollected. It’s very difficult to understand where you are if you don’t know how you got there.

“In 1951 (as far back as that) when Britain still owned most of what was then the Empire, two thirds of British people couldn’t name a single colony.”

One of the paradoxes of the British Empire is that a popular imperial culture only really emerged towards the end of its existence. So I’m wondering how much of this cultural reaction you were talking about is about the actual legacies of empire or whether it’s about something else in British society or culture. Well I think it’s never just about “the thing,” such as a statue. It’s always about a broader sense of one’s place in the world or about projecting a certain version of oneself when challenged by others. It’s never just about the artefacts themselves. You had this summer with Black Lives Matter— a challenge to how we understand or misunderstand ourselves. And so, absolutely, this is part of a broader thing

CULTURE AND SOCIETY that’s going on in Britain (which you saw with Brexit as well.) Britain is fully reconciling itself to its post-imperial status, and within that reconciliation are the people like myself and many others who are the children of that imperial legacy. We shouldn’t be too surprised when the statues in Britain, but also in Belgium, Holland, and in the Southern states of America – which are the symbolic manifestations of what went on – become the things that are most openly challenged. They are not even remotely simply historical, they always speak to what is going on now.

“Britain is fully reconciling itself to its post-imperial status, and within that reconciliation are the people like myself and many others who are the children of that imperial legacy.” The calls for restitution of artefacts or the removal of statues predate the Black Lives Matter movement, but the intensity of these calls has increased and there appears to be more pressure on museums now. Do you think that this pressure and these calls for restitution will persist into the future? Yeah, I think they’ll continue. Because the artefacts in museums and statues – whatever they are – are emblematic of a broader problem. They will continue until the problem is gone, whatever that world will look like where these problems are solved. What Black Lives Matter did was draw a keen and critical eye on a thing that had been going on for a long while. So it’s not like the people in Oxford suddenly realised that [Cecil] Rhodes was racist. They didn’t care, and now they are made to care. Similar to the [Edward] Colston statue or King Leopold II. It wasn’t new information that brought these statues down, it was politics and people in the streets. It must be said also that while I wouldn’t downplay these things, it’s also, in a sense, the cheapest response to those uprisings. You don’t have to deal with the mechanisms of the housing

market for the past five years or unemployment rates, which is what those demonstrations were also about. Which isn’t to downplay the significance of what they did do. So long as there’s racism, and so long as there’s this deeply flawed, faulty, and partial memory and understanding of what Britain has been, where it’s been, and what it did when it was there, then things will continue. And I don’t see that going away any time soon. Illustration by Anna O’Connor Photos by Eliza Meller

Ille-et-Vilaine: One stunning quarter of France’s Celtic Corner An ode to Brittany By Dónal O’Leary

Excalibur, the sword of King Arthur, Lac de Trémelin, Brittany I say France, you say Paris. I say France, but not Paris: you say the Côte d’Azur, maybe skiing in the Alps, perhaps Bordeaux. There is a region of France that rarely comes to mind when we daydream our lives of baguettes in bicycle baskets. It is a region more quintessentially French than the capital, where the love for butter is stronger, the crepes better, and the people warmer. It is the cradle of Arthurian legend, the centre of old Chouannerie, world capital of salted caramel, and our closest Celtic neighbour on the continent. I am speaking, of course, about Brittany— France’s north westernmost region. It is a far cry from Île-de-France, Nouvelle-Acquitaine and Occitanie. Brittany is the ideal place to experience both French sophistication and the humour and hospitality of home; as well as an opportunity to discover many wonders one would rarely expect from this curious corner of the world. Many of Brittany’s treasures are to be found in Ille-et-Vilaine, its easternmost department. It contains the capital, Rennes, and many of its most remarkable

seaside towns and cultural sites such as La Forêt de Brocéliande (the forest of King Arthur.) Rennes is the perfect antidote to the icy-cold, shoulder-checking hustle and bustle of Paris. One can stroll leisurely between the city’s two halves, divided by the Vilaine river and the picturesque Place de la République. While the southside of the river houses the city’s fine arts museum, largest shopping centre and fascinating culture hub, Les Champs Libres, it is on the northside of Rennes that one finds precisely what they came for. Rebuilt almost entirely after a great fire in 1720, this half of the city is brimming with rich history, quaint local businesses, and student life. A stone’s throw to the north from République is Place de la Mairie, a central square sandwiched between the city hall and the opera house. These are two stunning examples of French neoclassical architecture. The former was designed by Jacques Gabriel, prominent architect of the Palais de Versailles, and the latter built some one hundred years later following one of the 19th century’s many revolutions. Not far from

TRAVEL Place de la Mairie is Brittany’s parliament. One of the few buildings to have survived the great fire, it too is an exemplar of French architecture in its lavish baroque style. All of these buildings are illuminated at Christmas time when city councils across the country dish out their seasonal cheer with elaborate smoke and light displays. Beyond we find the heart of Rennes’ vibrant nightlife: Place Saint-Anne and the street known to the locals as ‘Rue de la Soif ’, which is lined top to bottom with bars of all sorts.

“Whether you choose to buy from a stall or to sit on a terrace with a white wine, cracking open an oyster and gazing out onto the shimmering Atlantic with Mont-Saint-Michel protruding on the horizon is the crème de la crème of life-affirming culinary experiences.”

deep roots in the medieval – it would not be uncommon to see a naked student on top of the clock which stands in the middle of the street, inebriated, showing off the goods in accordance with local ritual. It takes a little over an hour in the car to reach Brittany’s north coast from Rennes. While its geographical position may invoke images of dull, grey beaches and sombre cliff-sides of the British Isles, this could not be further from reality. Ille-et-Vilaine’s coast – which constitutes just a small portion of the Côte d’Emeraude – finds more in common with the Côte d’Azur than the Wild Atlantic Way. It boasts long golden beaches, clear blue waters, and beige cliff sides. Dotted along the picturesque seaside is a series of remarkable towns, cities and communes, each impressive in their own right with distinct personalities and specialities. St. Malo is chief among them. The walled medieval town jutting out from the coastline, destroyed by the war and built anew, is every bit as stunning draped in Christmas lights as bathed in the Summer sun. Walking along the city’s ramparts, it is possible to catch a glimpse of Dinard across the bay— a town whose beaches and buildings inspired Hitchcock and Picasso alike, a veritable postcard

Mont Saint-Michelle The intricacies of Rennes’ nightlife could fill a whole page. But, for one example: if, on a Thursday night, one were to venture down Rue de la Soif to Place des Lices – yet another historical goldmine with

come to life which is home to the annual Dinard film festival. East of St. Malo is Cancale, a town known to the seafood enthusiasts of France and beyond for its hollow oysters, which are among the best in the world.

Whether you choose to buy from a stall or to sit on a terrace with a white wine, cracking open an oyster and gazing out onto the shimmering Atlantic with MontSaint-Michel protruding on the horizon is the crème de la crème of life-affirming culinary experiences. On the topic of culinary experiences, it would be criminal to discuss Ille-et-Vilaine without briefly mentioning its favourite dish: galette saucisse. A food so loved that the hymn of Rennes’ football club and de-facto departmental anthem, Galette Saucisse Je t’Aime, is an ode to the savoury-crêpe-wrapped sausage, as delicious in taste as it is provocative in appearance. It can be enjoyed with a bottle of BrittaGalette saucisse ny’s world famous cider and, for dessert, one can treat themselves to one salted caramel confection or another. Needless to say, Ille-et-Vilaine is but one department of France’s enchanting Celtic corner. From “A food so loved that the hymn of Morbihan’s Belle-Île-en-Mer, to Finistère’s Quimper, Rennes’ football club and de-facto de- to Dinan on the banks of Rince, there is much that I have yet to see, and much that should not be partmental anthem, Galette Saucisse Je myself neglected on your next visit to our closest European t’Aime, is an ode to the savoury-crêpe- cousins.

wrapped sausage, as delicious in taste as it is provocative in appearance.”

Archipel des Ébihens

Photos by Eyes of GD @eyesofgd

Edinburgh on a Budget

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Highly affordable, and definitely enjoyable. By Julia Bochenek It is nice to be able to splurge while travelling, especially when you’re going somewhere new and want to experience it through a luxurious lens. Thinking back on places I’ve been and how I experienced them, fancy restaurants and paid tours definitely contributed to some great times. But, even so, some of my favorite travels have been with friends, and on a tight budget. Travelling economically can be difficult, but it has also forced me to make the most of my travels, and has contributed to some fantastic experiences.

“But, even so, some of my favorite travels have been with friends, and on a tight budget” One day, on a whim, my friend and I decided to book tickets to Edinburgh for a weekend trip. We quickly found plane tickets on Ryanair, our search coinciding with one of their frequent sales. We boarded the plane, backpacks stuffed to the brim, and flew over to Scotland. The plane ride was the most expensive form of transport, as we chose to walk and take the bus during our time in Edinburgh. Instead of booking trips out to a Loch or going on an expensive tour of a castle, we decided to look at low-budget things to do in the city. There were many options: walking tours, visiting famous historical sights, Holyrood Park— the list seemed endless! We decided to take advantage of these inexpensive tourism options and direct our budget to food instead. Our first day consisted of visiting all the locations we could think of which had a connection to the Harry Potter series. One of our earliest stops was The Elephant House cafe, where J.K. Rowling allegedly

penned a good portion of the books. We grabbed a table in the back near a big window, stared out at the city with our coffee and tea, and imagined Rowling doing just the same as she wrote that cherished series. One of the most interesting Harry Potter themed stops was Greyfriars Churchyard, which was the inspiration for several graveyard scenes, as well as the names of major characters, such as “McGonagall” and “Tom Riddle.”

“We grabbed a table in the back near a big window, stared out at the city with our coffee and tea, and imagined Rowling doing just the same as she wrote that cherished series.” We then decided to attend a cheap Murder-Mystery walking tour of Edinburgh, led by Dracula and his assistants, who kept popping up as we explored the tiny streets and learned about the city’s history. It was an immersive experience for sure.

As well as scrimping on the active parts of our trip, we also decided to stay in a hostel. This ended up being the best decision we made, as our room cost only £10 per night. As well as this, we met some really interesting people. One of our roommates had just come from a cycling tour of California and was staying in the hostel after having sold his place in Edinburgh. Our other roommates were only there for one night, most of which they spent out clubbing. In the common room we met a few solo-travellers who were making their way across Europe, and boy did they have some incredible stories to share.

“In the common room we met a few solo-travellers who were making their way across Europe, and boy did they have some incredible stories to share.” One of the things we did splurge on was food. We tried haggis at a restaurant and found a fancy tea room in the middle of the city where we had some pastries and coffee (my personal choice of caffeine.) But to stagger out the expenses of food, we also cooked at our hostel. Travelling can definitely be expensive, and sometimes it isn’t easy to make it cheaper. However, it’s definitely worth putting in the effort of looking for cheap or free experiences wherever you go. I have found that by compromising on some parts of travel, and prioritising others, travelling on a budget is definitely achievable and – to me – highly enjoyable! Photos by Julia Bochenek

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Wine and Cheese on a Campaign Trail A snapshot of Paris during the week of the 2017 French presidential election By Peter Delahunt A seamless arrival and transfer to the correct bus in Beauvais airport was a good omen on my first trip to Paris in April of 2017. It gave me a feeling of assurance which was so often missing on any trip to an unfamiliar and reportedly unfriendly city. Uninterested in the grey, concrete suburbia and the motorways upon which we would travel into Paris, I took the opportunity to read while my girlfriend tried to sleep with her head on my shoulder, ignoring the stale smell of cigarettes which hung about the bus driver; making me promise that I would wake her when the scenery improved. Unbeknownst to us, these few moments prior to departure were the last moments of tranquility we would enjoy. This intimate moment was interrupted by the driver who barked out instructions in French and Italian before stubbing his cigarette against the exterior of the bus. After three false starts the engine wheezed to life, much to the surprise of the driver. He proceeded to drive in an alarming fashion, swearing and shaking his fist at the passing motorists. The bus swerved and creaked in response to each erratic full turn of the wheel and the intermittent surges of power from its laboured engine. A woman to my left clutched rosary beads and turned green while a baby to the rear protested loudly against the vibrating hum of the bus. Grumbles emanated from an American couple, who made it known they were going to speak to the

driver. They could not stand or steady themselves to traverse the aisle - which was inexplicably wet and sweet-smelling – so they satisfied themselves with derogatory comments about the French instead. It is untrue that Parisians are rude, at least in my experience. I came to Paris following Ireland’s entry in the UEFA European Football Championship the preceding year. Bands of Irish supporters had won the hearts of Parisians that year by singing lullabies to a baby on the metro, breaking up fights between rival supporters, and even helping to lift a car following a minor traffic incident. Once the French worked out that we weren’t English we were plied with wine, beer and cigarettes, given a welcome in every bar, and – on one or two occasions – invited to stay out for a few drinks with the bar staff upon whose hospitality we were dependent. My French extends only to the ordering of more wine, and I could be found repeatedly excusing myself or thanking people like a drivelling idiot— a fact that was seemingly unnoticed by the people we encountered, nearly all of whom were exceedingly generous.

“Once the French worked out that we weren’t English, we were plied with wine, beer, and cigarettes” 21

I had been recommended a hotel just off the Place de la République. In pre-pandemic times the Place would have been an excellent location from which to explore Paris. It provided access to a Métro hub, as well as various markets from which we snacked on our long rambling walks through the city. As I stepped off the bus in Port Maillot and looked towards the Arc de Triomphe, I saw – crawling around its base and atop its arch – the world’s media. It suddenly dawned on me what I had done: I had arrived in Paris the week of the French presidential election. This race would pit European Liberalism’s last hope – Emmanuel Macron – against Marine Le Pen and the Front National. Turning from the pedestrian square, I was suddenly reminded of the old, if cliché, adage of French politics— that such politics is done through public protest, civil disobedience, and riot. I walked into an area filled with huge crowds of demonstrators, most of whom were indistinguishable beneath the smoke of flares casting lurid colours against the stone. They appeared to all be students, but I later learnt that there were many union officials and labour leaders present too.

“He had three children under the age of seven and a young wife whose eyes I will never forget.” It was not difficult to spot the sources of social unease on the streets of the capital which had been shocked by over a decade of economic collapse and stagnation. The effect of this was the visible inequality which separated Parisians. On every street corner migrants from the Middle East and North Africa were huddled under blankets with a cap or Starbucks cup placed plaintively in a prominent and speculative position on the sidewalk. I was twice rebuked for giving

money to migrants and was again let down by my poor grasp of the language when defending myself. While walking to breakfast in the Marais one morning, I encountered a Syrian family of five, the head of which spoke a little English and was a young man of twenty-three. He had three children under the age of seven, and a young wife whose eyes I will never forget. They were huddled together in a doorway, an island in the pavement distinct from the crushed glass and the debris of fireworks which were swept to the side each morning in preparation of another day’s demonstrations. Later, a trip out of Paris showed me the reality of the refugee crisis as small, hastily constructed settlements, without adequate sanitation and many without electricity, lining the underpasses of motorways. The sight of these settlements was so distressing and so common that I sympathised with much of the civic anger on display. To my eyes, ignorant of French society as I am, this anger seemed justifiable.

TRAVEL Filled with bravery after a few bottles of wine, I sat outside each evening, watching the protestors surge and fall back while lines of armoured police fought street battles against civilians of every possible political faction. The police frequently used force that I considered excessive, and were liable to act unpredictably. Returning home on the Metro after a day’s travel, the carriage ahead of us began to fill with white smoke. To my surprise, nobody panicked. In less than a minute we had stopped at a station and were evacuated, blinking into the sunlight before being hastily thrust against the wall by police. They roughly cleaned our faces and hands with disposable water bottles and, moments later, removed the still fuming remains of a smoke bomb from the carriage. The police then gathered themselves and ran off without any further explanation, leaving us to disperse. I am not qualified to say what these experiences have to say about Paris. However, I do know that much of the divisions which fuel such unrest are alive not only in France, but across Europe. Shocked by Britain’s exit from the European Union and the failure of the European vaccine rollout, I am curious to see the results of the upcoming French presidential election in April 2022, which will be a measure for the political temperature in Europe. As the mood sours under lockdown, the burning questions which remain are how Europe will emerge from this latest crisis, and to what extent we should be concerned about the rise of civil unrest displayed across the continent?

Photos by Kevin M. Doolan kmdoolan.com @midlifeinparis

Walking the Rheinsteig A journey through loneliness By Emily Cantwell-Kelly If you had asked me if I was lonely before I walked the Rheinsteig, I probably would have scoffed. I am 21 years old, single, and free. I love my independence and thrive on the freedom it provides me. When I first discovered the Rheinsteig route online, I thought to myself: what a cool thing to do! The last thing on my mind was loneliness. The Rheinsteig is a popular German hiking trail beginning in Bonn. It roughly follows the river Rhein upstream for 360 kilometers ending in Biebrich, Wiesbaden. On August 1, I set out early in the morning and began walking. I spent hours hiking every day, and for much of that time I would not see another person. Those were times when the loneliness hit. I would question my reasons for undertaking the journey, my feet and back would hurt more than ever before and my brain would enter a cycle of questioning my self-worth. I felt so far away from all those I loved. At those times all I wanted to do was turn around and see a familiar face to smile, laugh, or cry with— just someone who was in this experience with me. How would you describe loneliness? I think it is personal to everyone, and unique to the time and context of the situation. For me, it was a feeling of loss. For example, I climbed through the steep vineyards out of Linz am Rhein to come across a stunning view of the river and surrounding country, and came to the realisation that I was alone, that I had no one to share it with and say “wow.” This removed much of the sense of awe and achievement from completing some smaller milestones on the walk. Another time, about

a week in, I was climbing uphill out of a never-ending valley to reach Rengsdorf. I spent most of the climb swearing out loud, only to hear the whisper of the wind through the trees and that awkward silence in my head in response. A few days later, I reached my limit. The loneliness was so intense that all I wanted was for it to end. That day, I had to walk two stages in one to get to the next campsite. I was halfway between Kamp-Bornhofen and Sankt Goarshausen, hot, sweaty, and dehydrated. I couldn’t stop crying. I had nearly slipped off the slope three times, and as I reached the bottom to turn the corner, there was another incline right in front of me. The Rheinsteig trail map said I had another fourteen kilometres to go, and Google maps said seven kilometres. I broke down there and then. I was swearing at everything (thankfully, no humans) and stormed off having completely given up on the trail and furiously following google maps. At that point, all my intentions of meditating, enjoying the solitude, and giving myself time to think disappeared. The only thought in my head was, “I am done with this, I’ve had enough.”

“The Rheinsteig trail map said I had another fourteen kilometres to go, and google maps said seven kilometres. I broke down there and then.”

TRAVEL Throughout the two-week journey, I didn’t see anyone I knew from the morning I began to the minute I met my dad in London Stansted Airport. I encountered other hikers of course, but we only met for a few moments, not long enough to build a deeper connection. Despite this, it was astounding how those brief encounters with fellow wanderers lifted my mood and gave me the strength to continue a while longer. This is especially true of the couple I met in Sankt Goarshausen who were the main reason I didn’t hop on a train home. I am truly grateful to those people. The height of my loneliness came at the end. On the last day, I unintentionally walked the final four stages in onem and finished seven days ahead of schedule. The day started like any other. I kept a cracking pace until Kiedrich, where I stopped briefly to have lunch. I got caught in a thunderstorm that afternoon. But with the end in sight, I determinedly kept walking. About ten kilometres from the end, on the very long descent into Wiesbaden, my adrenaline from earlier in the day was running out. I was listening to Wild (a book I would recommend to anyone wanting to hike) when it suddenly struck me that once I arrived in Wiesbaden there would be no one there to meet me. The realisation was a punch to the gut. I had never felt more alone. Strangely, about 500 meters from the end, my mum called me. She was worried because she hadn’t heard from me all day and was checking in. On the phone to her, I could barely speak— my throat was so clogged up with emotion, exhaustion, and dehydration. Both my parents stayed on the phone with me until I finished the walk. They shouted congratulatory exclamations through the phone as I collapsed on the grass in front of Biebrich castle, moving from laughter of disbelief, to tears of shock, all mixed up in the utter exhaustion I felt. I am deeply grateful to my family for their presence both as I finished and throughout the whole journey. They were all there for me as I called in varying states of dehydration, hysteria, and pain. They constantly supported, loved, and encouraged me to keep going, believing that I would finish. It was during these

moments – on the phone to my family, or chatting in broken German to those I met along the way – that helped dispel the loneliness for a time. Those brief moments of human connection are what kept me going just a little longer.

“At that point, all the intentions of meditating, enjoying the solitude, giving myself time to think disappeared and the only thought in my head was ‘I am done with this, I’ve had enough.’” This walk was a true test, not just physically – though my feet were still recovering from blisters a month later – but on a mental and emotional level. As my grandmother politely texted me as I was walking, I am a “people person” in the best way possible. But, I’m really glad I did the walk and did it alone— without it, I wouldn’t have learned what I have. Photos by Emily Cantwell-Kelly

Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it. - Seamus Heaney

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