Warwick

Student Protest Should Not Be Written Off

Warwick protest. Photo: Michael Allen

Warwick protest. Photo: Michael Allen

Over the last few months we’ve seen a significant rise in student activism at British universities. Prompted by the anti-privatisation ‘Occupy Sussex’ protest, students around the country have sought to influence the managers of their institutions in increasingly visible ways.

Last week saw students at my own university occupy one of Warwick’s prominent administrative buildings, Senate House. The protesters complained of a ‘marketisation’ of the university – a process epitomised by the Vice Chancellor’s recent pay rise of £42,000 at a time when less well paid staff fear for their jobs.

I discussed the protest with a number of students and it is fair to say that whilst the activists garnered considerable support from their peers, they were also met with cynicism. It was hard to find students who believed that the university should be run more like a business but a far more common criticism of the protest was that it simply wouldn’t change anything.

My immediate response to this criticism was perhaps the obvious one. If it weren’t for their visible occupation of the university, we wouldn’t have have been talking about the issues the protesters wanted to see addressed. A discussion or debate in some SU meeting room or lecture hall would not have so effectively encouraged students and staff to engage with the ongoing transformation of Warwick University and higher education general. In that sense, the occupation very efficiently bought about change – it got people talking.

But the occupation of Senate House has now come to an end. The university refused to constructively engage with the protesters and claimed that their concerns would only be addressed through the officially sanctioned channel of democracy, the Students Union. Critics will now accuse activists of achieving nothing and only wasting time. Their efforts, it will be argued would have been more fruitful had they worked more closely with the university and union.

Apart from the fact that many of the protesters are active in student politics, this response overlooks something rather more important. Radical change rarely comes from the beneficence of the powers-that-be, it comes from visible grassroots activism. This is why student protest is so important. Many feel disenfranchised by the existing channels of engagement and protest provides them with a more direct way to air widely-held grievances.

Were it not for the activists of the past that pushed against rules and regulations to get their voices heard, there would be no union for the university to refer protesters to. Increased representation has historically been the result of precisely this kind of action.

Although the university refused to engage with the protesters on this occasion, this does not mean that in future protests they will not have to. Activism has seldom been met with open arms. Protests like the one at Warwick attempt to open a new dialogue with management on students’ terms. At a time when so many feel frustrated and ignored, that should only be encouraged. If cynics ever want to see a day when something can change, they must stop writing student protest off.

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Crashing the Party

Chris Carter spins some alternative tunes.

Photo: Ruby Compton-Davies

Originally written for publication in The Boar, Warwick University’s student newspaper.

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Not so long ago, I was frequenting an exclusive South Leamington cocktail bar. Compelled by housemates proffering a certain glowing green beverage, I was giving a passionate rendition of System of a Down’s alternative metal anthem, ‘Chop Suey’. Revellers at Kelseys seemed surprisingly disengaged by my efforts and some even appeared to be genuinely upset. A friend of mine told me my talents were going to waste on the patrons of this establishment. She invited me to Warwick SU’s very own rock night, Crash, where she assured me that they would be better appreciated.

A few weeks later, I took her up on the offer.

Hours before we set off, I found myself feeling increasingly apprehensive. I was worried that my lacklustre knowledge of the genre would embarrass myself and my friend. If I was put on the spot, I would struggle to describe the differences between metal, hardcore and prog. Although I cannot really remember why, at the time, I thought this would be of great importance. Perhaps I imagined there would be some sort of entrance exam. I also worried that my own tastes would get me in trouble. There was a danger I would accidentally give away a fondness for the Arctic Monkeys and be told to sit in the corner with a lemonade. I couldn’t really attempt to blend in either. I had nothing black to wear. In fact, all I had that was washed was a T-Shirt that featured a cartoon Chewbacca on a skateboard. What the hell would they make of me?

My friend let me know at the last minute that we were getting a lift in with some Warwick Alumni who were long time Crash fans. Minutes into journey, my anxieties were already starting to fade. We chatted about beer, student life and the terror of entering the real world. This instant bonding became a pretty common theme throughout the night. Crash’s attendees were some of the friendliest and most approachable people I have met over the last three years.

The evening kicked off with Warwick graduates, Stone Mirage, playing a decent set to a group of us who had turned up early. Chris Carter was the evening’s DJ and he did a fine job. He played a really good selection of rock and and it turned out, I knew a lot more than I thought. There was of course, a good amount of head-banging. Mosh pits formed for some of the heavier stuff. If anyone fell down they were immediately picked up – a courtesy that sadly seems to be disappearing from some of the larger festival gigs across the country. The entire room participated in a conga to Genesis, which was, simply, an awesome spectacle to behold. I was later told that on a previous occasion, Crash goers had congaed their way from the top floor of the Copper Rooms through a foam party going on downstairs. I could see why people kept coming back.

Apart from the music, the one thing that really set Crash apart from other union nights was its inclusiveness. This was not only manifested in a physical form (it’s hard to be left out when everyone is holding on to each other) but also socially and perhaps (if this isn’t over-egging it) politically. It soon became clear to me that my “indie” look wasn’t going to be a problem, but nor was any facet of my identity. I could have been gay, straight, bi or asexual. Male, female or somewhere in between. I wasn’t going to be told I needed to get laid and forced towards a crowd of women. Nobody was going to make me drink if I didn’t want to get drunk (although, as it happened, I did.) It wouldn’t have mattered if I was a first year or had graduated five years previously. I didn’t even have to apologize for studying PPE. People genuinely wanted to enjoy the night and help others to do the same. Weird, huh?

I had an absolutely amazing evening. Crash truly is a fantastic event. It is one that should be treasured – or at least attended – by anyone with even a passing interest in rock. The next night is on the 27th April. I hope to see you there.

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Quiet rage in the library

Quiet in the library

Image: Flickr / inubleachanimefan

Originally written for publication in The Boar, Warwick University’s student newspaper.

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Second term is now well and truly upon us, and for many it brings with it the daunting possibility of actually having to do some work. That’s right, work. Not checking your email account or meeting for a ‘catch up’ in Costa or ‘grabbing a bite’ in the Bread Oven, but gruelling, depressing, work. In order to make ourselves feel better about neglecting our various assignments and essays over Christmas, thousands of us will venture to the library. Recently however, a number of students have testified to undergoing harrowing hallucinatory experiences in our otherwise beloved library. In place of the signs which designate certain floors for group work and others for individual study, some Warwick students are being met with the ghostly apparition of Barry Scott.

The infamous TV marketer reportedly asks, “Are you an obnoxious Warwick student looking for somewhere to hang out and chat to your friends? Do you want to talk about how bloody great you all are and how you’re going to be a city banker just like your Dad and how your gap year was so fucking spiritual? Why not try the silent study floors in the library today?”

Assuming these students aren’t actually haunted by the Cillit Bang salesman encouraging them to annoy everyone in the library, we might conclude that they are genuinely confused. A sign that says, “No talking”, they might suggest, is misleadingly ambiguous. The solution, then, is probably more signs, and signs that are more specific.

The library could be decorated with decidedly useful advice like, “Use Facebook chat to talk to the person sitting three tables away.” It could also house a few home truths such as, “Nobody here gives a shit about how hammered you got last night, so shut up about it.” What is clear is that we need to take some sort of action and we need to take it now. During the exam-infested third term, the library becomes the academic equivalent of a hotel swimming pool and spaces to study are like sun beds. Students lay claim to them with coats and books instead of towels and are miserable instead of happy, but it’s only a metaphor, so get over it.

My point is this: if we don’t want to see people urinating in the pool, we need to put a stop to it before the holiday season begins. So next time you’re in one of the library’s silent areas and you overhear someone describing their favourite TV show and/or how long it usually takes them to reach orgasm, give them a piece of your mind. But whisper, because it’s a library. Now shut up and do some work.

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Hello Warwick! – Interview with Stephen Merchant

Stephen Merchant

Stephen Merchant. Image: Hello Ladies Tour.

Originally written for publication in The Boar, Warwick University’s student newspaper.

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Emmy, BAFTA and Golden Globe award-winning co-creator of BBC’s The Office and Extras, Stephen Merchant is one of the biggest names in British television. He talks to the Boar about life, the media amd being successful.

James Evans: You graduated from Warwick with a first class degree in Film and Literature and a string of radio shows under your belt, but what were you like as a student at Warwick? How do you think your experiences at university shaped you as a person and an entertainer?

Stephen Merchant: There are loads of things I did at Warwick that helped me later. I wrote for the Boar. I made some short films. I hosted a weekly show on the campus radio station, which indirectly led to me getting a job a few years later on a London radio station, which is where I met Ricky Gervais. Perhaps most importantly I helped take a comedy sketch show to the Edinburgh Festival. It was my first taste of writing and performing comedy in front of (admittedly very tiny) audiences. I would say to any student: you will never have as much free time and opportunity as when you’re at uni so get off your arse and do something.

James: You’ve won awards for your TV and Radio work, dabbled in films and are finally returning to stand-up. How do the different formats compare and which, if any, do you prefer?

Merchant: TV and films are the most fulfilling but they are very time-consuming. It’s a year or more of writing, planning, shooting, editing, then talking about what you’ve just made in endless interviews. It takes over your life. Stand-up is exciting because it’s just you involved and it’s very raw and direct. There is nowhere to hide, which is why I went back to it. I used to do stand-up after I left uni but I gave up once the TV stuff took off. I started doing it again because I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and challenge myself. It seems to have gone well so far.

James: When writing Extras, Cemetery Junction and more recently, Life’s Too Short, how did you and Ricky Gervais deal with the colossal expectations and hype? Is starting a new project a daunting experience or one you relish?

Merchant: We don’t think about expectations or hype. Pulitzer-prize winner Herbert Bayard Swope once said, “I cannot give you the formula for success but I can give you the formula for failure, which is: Try to please everybody.” That’s probably the most useful thing you can know about working in the entertainment business. If you try and please a huge unknowable audience you may get lucky and strike gold but it’s pretty unlikely. We start by writing something that pleases us and hope that other people like it as well. That’s the approach we took with The Office and that worked out okay.

James: Much of your work has satirised the media. What do you find most frustrating about this beloved institution?

Merchant: The media is a very broad term but I presume you mean TV, movies, newspapers. A free press is essential but I was pleased to see News International finally punished for years of rotten, mean-spirited sensationalist cod-journalism. Hopefully it will improve journalistic standards across the board. I also think celebrity dominates our culture in a way that class used to in the past: years ago people wished they were middle class or upper class; nowadays people want to be famous, often at any cost. I think that’s something worth examining and laughing at.

James: In the promotional material for your Hello Ladies… stand-up tour, you make it no secret you are on the prowl (specifically, for a wife). Any particular qualities you are looking for in a woman?

Merchant: Originally I joked that the show was going to be me literally trying to find a wife on stage but then I started getting some crazy love letters in the post and I saw a few odd-balls sat in the audience – so now the show is just me talking about why I’ve failed to find a wife. My life has always revolved around my hunt for a mate and the show explores every aspect of that, from teenage hopelessness to the time I got thrown out of a wedding.

I also go into detail about what a woman can expect when we’re on a date. For instance: yes, I’ve made some money but I don’t see anything wrong with still going to Pizza Hut with a two-for-one voucher. What’s wrong with that? A lot of ladies think that’s stingy but they’re wrong. What they should be thinking is, ‘This is the man I should raise a family with because he’s sensible with his money’. Think about it, ladies. It’s Darwinian. You shouldn’t mate with the guy who splashes his cash at a Michelin-starred restaurant; you should mate with the man who cuts out discount vouchers from the paper.

James: It’s probably a bit of a cliché to ask this, but it’s got to be done. If you weren’t in comedy or radio what do you think you would you be doing?

Merchant: I quite fancy the idea of being an academic but one who has specialized in something completely pointless, like translating Katie Price’s autobiography into Latin or something.

James: Finally, what’s in the pipeline?

Merchant: Ricky and I have done a new BBC2 sitcom that starts November 10th called Life’s Too Short. It stars the dwarf actor Warwick Davis, who was in Return of the Jedi and Harry Potter, and he’s playing a fictionalised version of himself. In the show Warwick is hustling for work and contending with a divorce, a failing career, a giant tax bill and the fact that he is only 3‘6”. Warwick is exceptional in it: great at comedy and drama, tremendous at physical comedy as well. He throws himself about with such abandon. I think people will be amazed at how good he is. Also in the show he often bothers Ricky and I for work because he knows us and so, like in Extras, big stars pop up on occasion. Johnny Depp, Liam Neeson and Sting are all in the show.

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