Living life in the slow lane

When I moved to South London in May of 2021, I took up swimming. I’d like to say I embarked on this healthy habit because of an inspired ‘new year new me’ style motivation, but the truth is I began swimming simply because as a resident in Southwark, I was able to go for free on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.

Fairly consistently since then, I have spent my Friday mornings and Sunday afternoons swimming. Up and down, 40 lengths, no headphones. Just me, my irregular breathing and my own mind.

Those that know me know that being quiet for 40 minutes whilst doing the same thing over and over again isn’t my natural state of being. I like to do things quickly and efficiently. If I can listen to an education podcast whilst cleaning the bathroom, I will. Killing two birds has always seemed preferable to me than killing one.

But in the pool, I choose the slow lane. It is probably the only part of my life in which I choose to go slowly. There’s something about the monotony of slowly swimming a kilometre in an old pool in South London that I find not just bearable, but necessary.

It could just be my own social media algorithms, but I’ve noticed a lot more people being drawn to the ‘slow lane’ recently. There seems to be a pull to slower, gentler living. People moving out of bustling cities to live peacefully in the country, or by the sea. Those who opt for a lower stakes job because the hamster wheel of corporate success has taken its toll.

I suspect there’s an array of factors at play here. For many of us, enforced pandemic lockdowns – whilst frightening and uncertain – bought with it a new and much needed permission to slow down or indeed stop entirely. Burnout; the state of physical and emotional exhaustion, seems to be on the rise and thankfully we’re getting better at recognising it. And of course, living in a society that tells you productivity is the currency on which your value is calculated eventually takes its toll. We can only go so fast for so long.

No wonder more and more of us are drawn to the allure of the slow lane.

It’s possible I enjoy swimming in the slow lane precisely because I go at speed in the rest of my life. Where the rest of my life asks me to be on the ball, to achieve and react, the slow lane doesn’t ask anything of me. The slow lane is gentle and constant.

In a memorable TV moment of 2022, Strictly winner Hamza Yassin recited a piece of advice given to him: “slowly is the fastest way to get where you want to be”. A classic juxtoposition. How can going slowly get you somewhere quicker? At best, going slowly sounds inefficient. At worst, boring.

In Gabrielle Zevin’s book ‘Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow’, she writes “the boredom you speak of is what most of us call happiness”. Far from being uninteresting or pointless, going slowly allows us to absorb what is around us, cultivate thankfulness even for the mundane, and buys us time to be able to fully bloom. ‘Slow’ is an essential ingredient for reflection, gratitude and growth.

So maybe I’ll take my ‘swimming in the slow lane’ philosophy into more areas of my life this year. Slow down, plod on, do less. Not killing any birds with any stones, instead watching with wonder as they fly off over the horizon. Perhaps in the slow lane, is where contentment lies.

In memory of my old life

As I write this, I am sitting in a South London cafe, the late afternoon sun illuminating my face as I while away a January Saturday. My life, in this moment, is – for all intents and purposes – pretty good right now. I’m healthy, I’m happy, I’m safe.

There was another life once though. One that, when I look back, feels very different to today. A life that never got to bloom and flourish. One whose future was cruelly taken away from it.

This is a eulogy to my Old Life.

Old Life. I now know what they mean when they say ‘rose tinted glasses’. Warm, nostalgic, glass-half full. I did a lot of learning and growing in you, Old Life. 

I loved how you made me feel safe, Old Life. I knew my bearings, north from south. Nothing too unexpected. No jarring news or omnipresent uncertainty. Feet firmly on the ground, I walked confidently forwards through work and friendships and relationships. 

I loved how you gave me freedom, Old Life. The opportunity for adventure and spontaneity. I saw wonderful places, uncovered pockets of wonder on my travels. A deep breath in and with every exhale, a new possibility. See the world, let the world see you.

I loved how you gave me confidence, Old Life. Roots planted in community, people’s generosity extended to boost me up and nurture my gifts. I tried new things and enjoyed the free fall of failure, caught by the encouragement of others. I spoke and people listened, my passions and purpose aligned. 

It wasn’t fair, Old Life, that you were cut short long before your time. Like a flower about to bloom, pruned before Spring. A plane mid-flight, engine cut off, losing height. My work, my passions, my possibilities, locked down.

Truth be told, Old Life, I’m not sure whether I’m allowed to grieve you. There are people who have had it far worse than I. Lost loved ones, perpetual separation, vitality drained through neverending expectation, disappointment, relentless service, sorrow. 

But I can’t help but feel that we all have things to mourn, and that all of them are worthy of grief. Worthy of a eulogy. We were all plunged into a liminal space, a passage of time that profoundly disrupted our expectations, our stability, our routines.

At times, the ‘what ifs’ haunt me. Where would I be, what would I be, who would I be? I convince myself that Old Life had a pandora’s box of blessings waiting to be poured out on me, but its death pushed me unwillingly into the ‘other place’. Points on a railway track switched and there is no way back. It is painful to yearn for the past. For ‘before’.

But maybe therein lies the problem. That I see two distinct time passages: before and after. That before was good, and after is… not. I have to force myself to remember that ‘before’ wasn’t always good. It had pain, and uncertainty and frustration too. The rose-tint lessens. And ‘after’ is different, but different isn’t always bad. 

Perhaps it’s not ‘before’ and ‘after’ afterall. Perhaps it is transformation, reincarnation. The same path, different scenery. A flower cannot always be in bloom. Perhaps I am yearning for something that never really went away, but is inside me still.

Regardless I will give myself grace. Grace to mourn you Old Life. Grace to believe that none of this is wasted. Grace to realise that life is not linear; there is no ‘before’ and ‘after’, there is only now. Rest in peace, Old Life.

On *that* TedX Summit session…

If you’re anything like me, your social media feeds this week will have been brimming with clips from that TedX session in Edinburgh, where StopCambo activist Lauren MacDonald called out Shell CEO Ben van Beurden for the company’s track record on climate, and walked out of the panel. And if you’re anything like me, you might have seen a range of responses to the moment.

On the one hand – and I have to confess this is largely the way my social media echo chamber swings – you have people applauding Lauren, recognising the bravery it takes to hold power accountable and agreeing that dialogue with these polluting giants gets us nowhere.

On the other hand, you have people who sound almost disappointed. People – often climate activists themselves- that argue that if only Lauren had stayed on the stage to debate him, her arguments would have had more power. Instead by calling him out and leaving the stage, she leaves his subsequent climate claims unchecked.

This tension is not one that is alien to me. It is something I think about all the time – what activism and advocacy techniques should we employ that yield the highest chance of achieving change? When I was President of a Students’ Union, it is a calculation I undertook every single time I wanted to get the University to act on something. Should I talk to the Vice-Chancellor? Ask him nicely to reduce rent on campus? Maybe write a committee paper? Or should I publicly amplify the stories of students skipping meals in order to pay their rent, catching the attention of the University comms team and spurring a reaction to prevent reputational damage? Who holds the power? What levers can I pull? What will they respond to?

It strikes me there is a fairly stark generational divide when it comes to people’s responses to what happened on the TedX stage. Generally, those who are older yearn for what ‘could have been’ had Lauren stayed for the whole panel. Generally, those who are younger believe the conversation and headlines generated by Lauren’s actions will have more impact than dialogue.

In my experience as an elected representative, having those activists and campaigners who challenge you more publicly and confrontationally does make you more likely to change your course of action. It makes you act more swiftly, or more radically. But generally only if you’ve been ‘asked nicely’ first, otherwise it feels like an ambush (whether it’s intended to be or not).

The reality is that Shell have been asked ‘nicely’ to change their ways too many times to count. Lauren did not ‘ambush’ the Shell CEO. Shell have known, for decades, that what they do kills the planet. They haven’t just ignored that fact, they’ve wilfully buried it from public view. And that behaviour isn’t only historic, with their recent appeal against a recent Dutch court ruling that they must reduce their emissions. And as Lauren rightfully points out on the TedX stage, the destruction they’ve caused reaches beyond just damage to the environment.

Those advocating for the dialogue approach tend to overlook the power dynamics at play between the male millionaire and the young woman. It is naive and unrealistic to believe intellectual arguments on a panel would have given Ben van Beurden the ‘road to damascus’ moment we need. I’ve no doubt Lauren knew that.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a place for the dialogue approach, but it tends to only work when there is relatively equal power between both parties. I would love to see the dialogue advocates demand that approach from others from whom we might make more headway: What if the investor Chris James – the other guy on the panel – had challenged Ben van Beurden in that way? What if Shell’s peer companies with better climate credentials started to hold their feet to the fire?

When it comes to the biggest polluters, we do not have time to ask nicely anymore. Young people know that more than anybody. In fact, it is absolutely vital to achieving change that there are people who are prepared to directly confront the biggest perpetrators of climate breakdown.

Lauren’s bravery on that stage is an inspiring example of somebody who did what she could with the power that she had to maximise the impact she could make on the biggest, most life-threatening, terrifying challenge of our time. And for that I applaud her.

If you’d like to watch the full clip of Lauren’s speech, you can click here.
If you’d like to support the StopCambo campaign, you can click here.
If you’d like to support Green New Deal Rising, you can click here

RBG’s Death: Fear, Hope and Legacy

Today I, like everyone else, woke up to the news that Ruth Bader Ginsburg had died of cancer age 87.

I learned about RBG through the film On The Basis Of Sex which came out in 2018. I’d gone to see it in the cinema and was blown away by the story of RBG’s life, her power and her dignity. I walked out of the cinema buoyed up and empowered that there was a woman like RBG in the world.

Despite not knowing of her for very long and being no expert in the details of her life and work, I feel distinctly deflated at the news of her death. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve felt pretty flat anyway recently; a stark rise in covid19 infections, the accelerating climate breakdown and working from home in my parents’ house away from my peers. But I’ve been reflecting on why a death like RBG’s feels particularly painful right now.

We’re living through a time where so many of the major positions of power are filled by individuals who are unmoved by suffering, abuse their authority and have flagrant disregard for those who don’t look or sound like them. So much of their power is going unchecked or worse, is ‘checked’ by those who already have a vested interest. They do not experience the consequences of their actions and the resulting perception of invincibility is terrifying.

I took immense comfort knowing that RBG, someone with integrity, who fought for the least and held power accountable, lived in this world. Someone whose voice cut through the noise of chaos and bought justice into view. She gave me hope in a hopeless world.

And so, learning of her death brings sadness and mourning, but it also brings fear. Fear that there’s one more vacancy in a position of power that could be filled by another individual whose decisions deepen our divisions, entrench inequalities and allow malevolence and injustice to prevail. Fear about the future and the persistence of injustice.

Feeling that fear can go one of two ways. It can lead to despair and hopelessness. What’s the point? Why do we bother? What good can come of this now? In the current climate, I’ve certainly felt myself pushed to this edge recently. I can’t settle on anything, even my usual favourite true crime podcasts feel too heavy to listen to and my doomsday brain spirals.

But that fear can also lead to resolve and action which brings hope. A fear that highlights the reality and says, ‘it doesn’t have to be like this’ and ‘I can make a difference’. RBG was propelled by that fear, motivated by the injustice of gender inequality and working for years to get to a point where her action made huge, lasting and hopeful change.

As I too feel that fear intensify, I cling to the RBGs of this world: AOC, Jacinda Adern, Michelle Obama. The women that give me hope and show me another way is possible. One where fear leads to resolve and action, not despair and hopelessness.

This blog is as much a sermon to myself as it is for anybody else’s benefit. RBG may have died, but the hope she embodies hasn’t. She leaves behind a powerful and rousing legacy that’s available to all of us be part of. A legacy that tells us that the fear itself is not the issue, the feelings of despair and hopelessness are. A legacy that tells us to keep fighting regardless of how hopeless you feel. A legacy that testifies that good does triumph over evil.

When asked how she wanted to be remembered, RBG replied: “Someone who used whatever talent she had to do her work to the very best of her ability. And to help repair tears in her society, to make things a little better through the use of whatever ability she has”.

That is how I will remember RBG, and that is what I will also do to honour and be part of her legacy. Propelled by fear, I will try and help repair tears in our society, making things a little better through the use of whatever ability I have. And if everyone else does too, maybe, just maybe, we’ll get through it.

Blog image source

5 Things I Learned As SU President

The last time I posted a blog post on my personal blog, it was announcing that I was running in the officer elections for the role of Students’ Union President. From the two year absence since, one might infer that I won the election and spent 2 years being too busy to blog. And one would be right.

So here I am after 2 crazy life-changing years, in my family home in Reading, taking stock of both where I am in my life and who I’ve become. My role as SU President at the University of Bath saw me deal with terrible bus provision, tense town/gown relations, industrial action, big capital projects, accommodation problems, governance breakdown and reform, the recruitment of a new Vice-Chancellor, the recruitment of a new Chair of Council and even a global pandemic. There’s a thousand things I could talk about, a thousand stories to tell, and a thousand lessons learned. But I’ve tried to condense it down into 5 succinct lessons that capture the good the bad and the ugly of this once in a lifetime role. So here goes:

Lesson #1: You are way more powerful than the people in power would have you believe

The role of President is one that decides to place themselves in close-proximity to power, but instead of choosing to yield to its direction, chooses to push against it. I came into the role conditioned to be concerned about ‘harming the relationship with the University’ if I pushed too hard. And whilst there’s always a merit to considering your moves and tactics carefully, those in power benefit from the underdog’s concern about ‘maintaining relationship’. The recruitment of a new Vice-Chancellor gave us an opportunity to recalibrate our relationship with senior management, particularly as it didn’t take long for me to notice that our so-called “partnership” with them benefitted them, sure, but it wasn’t benefitting students.

Choosing to stand in the way of power and its natural flow is mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting. My auto-immune condition can attest to that. But once you are able to notice power in your day to day interactions and meetings, it becomes pretty obvious just how much power you actually have. And that is a truth that those with power don’t want you to realise.

When you start yielding power that could change things, those with power will explain away the problem, defer back to previous work to suggest the issue is already being worked on, or cut you out altogether. All of which happened during my presidency. Hell, I even got told I’d inherited a nickname of “evil Eve” in a department whom I’d raised legitimate concerns about in countless meetings. The pushback I would feel confirmed to me I was barking up the right trees and pushing on the right doors. Which leads me to the second lesson:

Lesson #2: Sometimes, the most significant change is the most invisible

In an elected role, it’s important to communicate back to your electorate what you’ve achieved. And for the most part in the President role, it’s possible to do that. It’s easy to tell them you’ve secured more water fountains, or created an effective way of dealing with exam errors, or changed a bus route back to one that works for them.

But what’s not so easy to communicate, is all the times you prevented bad things from happening. It’s like you’re the fire blanket that sees a small flame, and puts it out before a house fire visible from the rest of the street warrants calling the fire brigade. And using the fire blanket doesn’t have quite the same impact as being the fire man. The confidentiality bound with particular meetings and aspects of your role also make this difficult.

Achieving significant scrutiny over a confidential nominations agreement that had a controversial planning agreement and significant flood risk can’t be shared with students, and yet your challenge resulted in better information flow between the Finance Committee and Governing Body, and raised questions over staff integrity.

Raising concerns about a contractor with links to Grenfell in a Finance Committee meeting can’t be shared with students, and yet your challenge improved the due diligence process and paper writing of capital projects, and prepared the comms department in advance of it becoming public knowledge.

Securing a quarter of a million pounds for accommodation bursaries for ‘just-about-managing’ students can’t be announced until it’s confirmed in the Covid19 planning rounds. The securing and writing of an accommodation strategy that will protect students from over-subscribed rooms and extortionate expense can’t be announced until it’s published. And the work you did to prevent the dropping of a crucial bus route to campus can’t be posted in a social media status.

I spent my first year achieving much more surface level quick wins that looked good as a news story on the SU’s website. But my second year was like running into brick walls over and over again to change the culture from which the issues stemmed. A culture that didn’t understand equality and diversity issues, a culture that didn’t seek out and value the views of students and a culture that struggles to be held to account. Challenging those things don’t make it into the end of year highlights video.

Lesson #3: Leading can be lonely

They always say it’s lonely at the top, and I can safely say this is true. Whilst we have a ‘flat structure’ in the Sabb team, there’s a lot of things that fall to the President that aren’t written down into a remit or contract. You’re the compass of the team, the sail of the boat. This means people, consciously or subconsciously, look to you to find their own bearings. With this need to present as ‘having it altogether’, comes a reluctance to be vulnerable, show you’re struggling or ask for help. You’re the President, a mediator, a cheerleader, a manager, a coordinator, a facilitator and a leader. You play so many different roles that complicates where you sit in your team, how you’re viewed by the University and how you’re treated by stakeholders. You are everyone’s everything at once. And that’s a lonely place to be.

The thing that I’ve noticed, since leaving, is that during my time as President I forgot how to be ‘playful’. I am a spontaneous person, I don’t take myself too seriously and I love frivolity. But as President, I didn’t feel there was room for playfulness. Room for humanity. Room to be silly and carefree. I had valuable moments sat in colleagues’ offices laughing and joking, and spending time with non-SU friends, but it never occurred to me I could incorporate that same playfulness into my external-facing visible leadership style.

When Covid19 hit and lockdown began, I realised I was really struggling without those moments to act ‘silly’ with colleagues. To feel like somebody else was more right than me, above me, in control. To feel looked after and sheltered from stress. I’d gone from having those moments to break up my days, to filling my time with 100% necessary and intentional meetings where I had to ‘perform’ as a leader all the time. And that was exhausting, and lonely.

Lesson #4: Students deserve more credit

Locally and nationally, students are portrayed as these lazy, boozy, anti-social teenagers. They’re branded as nuisances and snowflakes simultaneously. But the students I represented, worked with and was friends with were always always intelligent, passionate, forward-thinking and kind.

One thing that will always astound me, is the lengths some higher education professionals and senior managers will go to to avoid engaging with students in their plans and decision making. I’m not sure what happens, but it’s like we get to a certain point in our careers and believe that we know better than the very individuals experiencing the provision we plan for on a daily basis. A fundamental lack of respect and trust is at play that leads senior staff to presume that students views and thoughts are at best invaluable and at worst inconvenient to them. I’ve seen senior managers throw students under the bus to win favour with local residents or stakeholders with power and influence.

And yet our students are our future. They are already creating innovations for sustainable futures, working on the frontline against Covid19, engineering solutions for progressive tech, showing us what inclusivity should look like and campaigning for the change they want to see.

They’re not snowflakes, they’re a bloody avalanche, and deserve more credit. And finally:

Lesson #5: The higher education sector is a maddening and wonderful place to be

The overwhelming majority of people I’ve met in the sector are just wonderfully kind and passionate people. Lots of them have become really close friends. They believe in the fundamental good of Universities, and want higher education’s impact to be felt far and wide.

But the marketisation of the sector has also pushed some of the good beneath the surface somewhat. Driven by competition, we’ve forgotten the benefits of collaboration. University leadership is characteristically cautious, choosing not to ‘be the first’, refraining from bold decisions that students and staff are increasingly expecting on issues like climate change and equality and diversity.

And yet, it’s also the sector that took a chance on me by inviting me to speak at countless conferences. It’s where I established my views on policy issues and experimented with writing articles on my experiences. I’ve met people who’ve asked me to collaborate on projects, be participants in their research, proof-read their briefing documents and feature in their guidance. It’s a sector that invested in me and helped me become who I am today.

There is reams and reams of opportunity as we move through the pandemic to collaborate, recalibrate and prioritise our values as a sector. And though Covid19 poses serious threats to many Universities, their innate value as training grounds for life’s twists and challenges remain unchanged. And for that, I love it.

So there we are, 5 brief lessons I learned as SU President. I’m sure this won’t be the end of my reflections in the role, and if there’s a particular topic you’d be interested in hearing from me about, then do just drop me a message. But for now, I’d better get back to job hunting to find my next great adventure.

I’m running for SU President

If you know me well, this won’t come as a surprise. And I kind of hope that even if you don’t know me that well, this won’t come as a surprise either.

I’m running to be your next SU President.

If you can’t be bothered with long blog posts and would rather just read in bullet points why you should vote for me, you can follow this link to my manifesto: https://www.thesubath.com/elections/officers/eve-alcock-2018/ or watch some manifesto videos on my Facebook Page here: https://www.facebook.com/eveforprez/ (don’t worry – it’s quality content. I won’t spam you).

But if you can and don’t mind an insight into my motivations and hopes going into campaign week, then by all means read on!

Let me be clear when I say that I want the direction and priorities of the SU to be led by you guys as students. And I’m not just talking about the students that are already very involved and vocal about student issues. I’m talking about you who has no involvement besides going to Score every week. I’m talking about you who went to 4 skills training sessions just to complete your Bath Award. I’m talking about you who applied to be a Freshers’ Week Crew Member just to relive your Freshers’ Week even though you should have been looking after those freshers 👀 #AmIRight?

Because at the end of the day, you’re all students. And the SU literally exists to represent you. That is its main job. So if it’s only representing the students who’ve held 15 different committee positions and know everything there is to know about area constitutions, then it’s not really doing its job right is it?

That is why, in the process of writing my manifesto, I spoke to as many of you as I could about what student issues matter to you, and how you’d want the SU to support you with that next year. However I know that theres many of you I haven’t spoken to, so I cannot wait to come and talk to you all throughout campaign week to find out more on what you care about! If elected, I promise that I will continually have my eyes open and ear to the ground so that I can respond to issues as they arise, ensuring you continue to steer the direction of your SU.

I’ve known I’ve wanted to be an SU Officer ever since my second year. As I got more involved through organising events for RAG and societies, my general confidence grew. I went from being a fairly anxious first year, to someone who not only enjoyed organising and leading teams of people and events, but was told I was good at it too. But for a long time kept the President dream to myself for fear of public failure, and still a real lack of confidence.

But here I am 2 years later, running for President, and I could not be more excited about it. I’ve been lucky enough to work closely with past SU Officers since my first year through different roles I’ve had in the SU. I’ve therefore had glimpses into the role itself; the responsibilities, the pressure, the rewards and the battles: Balancing officer team dynamics, trying to maintain that work/life balance, negotiating with senior management, championing underrepresented voices, organising events and conferences, public speaking. The whole hog.

It’s a challenge no doubt, but it’s one I’m ready for. I could not think of a job I’d rather be ‘applying’ for.

There is no way I would have enjoyed University as much as I have without being so involved in the SU. What started as getting involved with a charity hitchhike to Paris in first year, has completely spiralled into a massive commitment and passion – holding society committee positions, chairing RAG, Diversity and Support Exec Chair, NUS delegate and much more! It is the skills and experiences from these roles that are going to get me the jobs I apply for in the future. It’ll be a bonus that I have a degree (hopefully!).

Your years at University can be the most formative years of your life. They help you work out who you are, what you’re good at and what you want to do with those talents. University should be a time where you feel invested in and valued as a person. To believe you are important, you have a voice, and that it’s worth listening to, changes lives. 

Having had such a positive experience with the SU during my time at Bath, I’m passionate that other students have a chance to have this kind of experience too. I want to do everything in my power to make this happen – and I believe that taking on the role of SU President is the perfect way to do it. That is why I’m running.

I’m confident that my manifesto promises are realistic. I have done my research, whether that be meeting with the Director of First Bus for the Southwest, or checking the feasibility of my ideas with University staff. Yes I have been ambitious, but I believe I’ve been optimistic, not naive.

So, as we head into what might well be the craziest week of my life so far, make sure you come and say hello to me and my campaign team this week around campus! We’ll be in beautiful yellow t-shirts and I promise we’re a lovely bunch. I want to know what matters to you, what you want from your SU, and most of all I want you to believe that I’m the best candidate to achieve it.

I have the experience, passion and dedication that is needed for this role. This week will be a challenge, but I’m fully ready for it. I hope you are too.

Believe in Eve for SU President. #beliEVE

All the Glyn’s horses and all the Glyn’s men

It’s been an interesting term at Bath. We’ve seen activism get up off the sideline having stayed dormant for years, and take it’s time in the limelight after revelations around our University’s governance and our Vice-Chancellor’s pay.

After the protest on parade around her pay packet, the release of the HEFCE report, our focus should really be turning to governance. The way Uni is run. The people who sit in those decision making positions.

On the 14th of November, I submitted my first FOI, requesting all the membership of all the university committees and council from 2000 to 2017. Exactly 20 working days later, as stated in the terms and conditions of submitting an FOI, I received my reply. And this is what I found.

Just before we begin let me be clear: It doesn’t look to me like any standing orders of committees have been breached. Nobody appears to have served a longer term than the rules dictate. Similarly, it’s not as if Glynis waltzes around with her henchmen who she handpicks and moulds into yes-men. This is not a conspiracy or a BREAKING NEWS CLICKBAIT EXPOSÉ. But it’s interesting to say the least, and the governance is far from perfect.

So to begin, let’s look at a law firm in Bath. Thrings is a UK top 100 law firm with offices in Bath, Bristol, Swindon, London and Southampton. As has been picked up on by the media, the current chair of Council: Mr Thomas Sheppard has held a number of senior positions within the law firm. At the latest Council meeting on the day of the protest, a motion of no confidence in the chair of council was put to a vote but fell, with 4 voting for the motion, 13 against the motion and 5 abstentions. In light of all the press attention on the University’s governance and those in positions of power in its committees and council, Thrings have clarified their position with regards to Mr Sheppard’s roles within the University and the law firm.

In my FOI, records of membership of Council indicated that Thomas Sheppard attended his first University Council meeting in January of 2008 in the 2007/8 academic year. This was as a ‘co-opted’ member. He served in this capacity until August 2013 of the 2012/13 academic year at which point he appears to have taken a year out – the standing orders dictate that lay members of council can serve up to 6 years (re-election eligible after 3) before having to take a year out until they are eligible for appointment again. After this year out, Thomas Sheppard was appointed as Chair in August 2014. This is the position he has held on Council up until today.
Interestingly, at the time Thomas Sheppard was co-opted onto council in January 2008, a certain Mr JJ Thring was a Pro-Chancellor of the University. In the University’s own words in a press released listed online (http://www.bath.ac.uk/news/2010/07/14/thring/), they stated:

“Mr Thring has been a member of the Council of the University since 1992, and was Chairman of Council from 1994 to 2003. He has served as a Pro-Chancellor of the University since 2001 and has served on many of the University’s committees, including the Finance Committee and the Investment Committee. He was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Law in 2003.”

This is supported by my FOI information. Glynis herself said:

“Jeremy’s contribution to the life and work of the University has been truly unique. As Pro-Chancellor, past Chair of Council, and a member of innumerable committees, he has been a staunch supporter of the University for the past two decades. His wisdom and willingness to take calculated risks have guided us towards excellence.”

So, like I said, whilst no rules have been breached here, it’s interesting that Thrings Law firm has had a significant influence in the University of Bath since 1992, especially considering between January 2008 when Thomas Sheppard attended his first Council meeting, and a meeting in March 2010, both Mr Thring and Thomas Sheppard served on Council, the former as chair, and the latter as a lay council member. Though in his role of Chair of Council, Mr Thring would have also chaired nominations committee – a point I will come back to shortly – it’s important to note that Thring was not chair of nominations committee or council when Mr Thomas Sheppard was appointed, he was Pro-Chancellor by then and not still serving as Chair of Council.

So who served as Chair of Council between the 2005/6 and 2012/14 academic years in the middle of the Thring sandwich I hear you ask? A guy called Peter Troughton who, as far as the FOI information goes, appears relatively uneventful as a member of council with no similar links like Sheppard has to Thring. He is listed as a Pro-Chancellor from August 2006 until the present day. However, there is this interesting article about him which draws similar parallels to Glynis’ parting-ways pay packet: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/business/wh-smith-cash-for-departing-director-fuels-pay-protests-1585603.html – so do with that what you will.

Oh and also, just as a fun add-on, though unsure of the date he was appointed, Mr Thring was serving as Deputy Lieutenant of Somerset in 2010. Glynis Breakwell was appointed as a Deputy Lieutenant of Somerset in 2010. Peter Wyman the University Treasurer got appointed as a Deputy Lieutenant of Somerset in 2014… Yeah, I didn’t know Somerset had or needed Lieutenants either, let alone Deputy Lieutenants.

Right so Nominations committee. Nominations committee is the committee that decides who gets appointed or ‘co-opted’ to Council. The current make up of nominations committee is as follows:

Mr T SheppardChair, Chair of Councilex-officio
Professor Dame Glynis BreakwellPresident and Vice-Chancellorex-officio
Dr A SaloChair of Academic Assemblyex-officio
Professor D GalbreathSenior Member of Academic Staff, appointed by Chair2020
Mr P TroughtonLay Member of Council, elected by Council2018
Mr R WhorrodLay Member of Council, elected by Council2020
Mrs C Mealing-JonesLay Member of Council, elected by Council2019
Dr S WhartonStaff Member of Council, elected by Council2020

Bearing in mind this committee decides who sits on Council, 4 lay members of council already sit on this committee, as does Mr Sheppard in his role as chair and obviously the VC. As Chair of Academic Assembly, Dr A Salo also automatically sits on Council. Professor D Galbreath is the only one in this list who doesn’t currently sit on Council, though as he is a Dean, he is allowed to attend meetings but has no say in decisions. This structure, though perfectly in line with standing orders and rules, appears to enable a fairly insular process by which people who get appointed by nominations committee to sit on Council can then be elected by Council to sit on nominations committee to choose those who get appointed to Council… you catch my drift?

I briefly mentioned Peter Wyman, the University Treasurer earlier. Let’s chat about him. He first served on University Council as a ‘co-opted’ member in October 2003, with his last appearance in April 2006. He also appears to have been co-opted onto Finance Committee as early as 2004/5, with a series of ad-hoc additions to the membership documents I received in the FOI:

 Membership 2006/7

 Membership 2007/8

 Membership 2008/9

This happens before he serves again as a lay member of Council in September 2008, before being appointed as University Treasurer on the 1st of January 2011 to serve a term of 3 years, yet must have been eligible for re-appointment as he remains in that position today. Again, that re-appointment would have been decided by nominations committee again. 
Wyman has also been highlighted by the media in the past. He worked at PWC for 40 years until 2010, and in 2015 took a job as Chair of the Care Quality Commission who regulate and inspect health and social care services in England. However PWC also happen to be the internal auditor of the CQC. Newspaper articles questioned conflict of interests, you can read them here: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/business/news/care-quality-commission-pwc-veteran-peter-wyman-s-new-role-at-regulator-questioned-a6772036.html

I could go on cherry picking individuals who have served on Council or a University Committee over the past 17 years (such as Mr Stanion, ex-chairman of Vinci construction company who won the bids to do Chancellor’s Building, 10West and Polden Corner) but we would be here for hours. Once again, it doesn’t appear that any of the information released to me in the FOI breach any kind of rules or standing orders. But what it does highlight is that the senior management, and people of influence who sit on Council all seem to move in the same sorts of circles, and as the governance structures currently stand, there’s nothing stopping the committees from being filled with the same sort of people from the same sorts of businesses whose personal relationships and agendas could endanger the objective and effective running of our University.

I’m hyped for the independent review being carried out by Halpin Partnership (http://halpinpartnership.com/). They are a new consultancy who only began in 2017. One of their team was a previous NUS president, and many of the ‘Halpin fellows’ appear to have links to Exeter University which is interesting. But my hope is that Halpin Partnership will be able to truly assess the governance structures of our University, and that this will create a wave of change across the sector, aided by the introduction of the new Office for Students in 2018, which will change the way that Higher Education Institutions are run for the better.

‘Students’ VS ‘Residents’ – Bath is full to the brim

In September 2014, I moved from my home near Reading and started life as an undergraduate Psychology student studying at the University of Bath.

As of September 2014, my predominant postcode has been BA2. I have done my food shopping in Bath supermarkets. I have drunk coffee in Bath coffee shops. I have gone to church in a Bath based church. I have spent my nights out in Bath clubs and eaten Sunday roasts in Bath pubs. I have lived next to Bath-born neighbours. I have worked for Bath and North East Somerset Council. I have mentored young people who commit crime in Bath. I have organised events which have raised money for charities local to Bath. I have spent 2 out of the 3 summers since moving here, working and earning money in Bath.

Yet, because of my age, my student status, and a heavy dose of prejudice from some who live in this city, I am not considered a resident. Some, such as Eleanor Swift – resident in Southdown Road, Bath – would even go as far to call me a ‘transitory stranger’.

In a city that is pushed for space, combined with the fact it consists of 2 popular universities, some would argue that it is no wonder there is tension between ‘residents’ and ‘students’. On the one hand you have ‘residents’ complaining that “students live in houses built for Bath families” and express the desire to “retain their communities”, and on the other you have students pleading with residents to believe that they do in fact put their bins out on the correct day.

Beyond the wave of rage that washes over me when I read such letters from residents, is an overwhelming sadness that there is such a divide and disconnect between ‘students’ and ‘residents’. And whilst I acknowledge that you will always get a rogue house of students having a house party on a Saturday night, or a front garden of an HMO that isn’t pristinely populated with hydrangeas and rhododendrons, I not only would argue that students make an extremely positive difference to the communities in their university towns and cities, but I would go as far as to say that students – specifically in Bath – have been put in a position where they simply cannot win, and the prejudice from ‘residents’ towards us will further exacerbate the evidently enormous ravine between the two groups.

Excuse me for sounding defensive, and ‘residents’ – this might be difficult to swallow, but this situation in Bath around housing: is not our fault.
We have all worked hard enough to get into a prestigious university, and will be lucky enough to graduate with a degree from a very credible university. We love this city – its stone buildings, its independent pubs, its delicious coffee and its UNESCO-worthy beauty.

It is the University, not us, who are responsible for the exponential growth in student numbers over the past 10 years, and is the reason why you view us ‘students’ as a plague driving you out of house and home.

The same reason why we struggle to find a seat in the library to revise for our exams, the same reason why we have to queue for ages to get our lunch between lectures, the same reason why several buses can drive past us at the bus stop queues, the same reason students have to decide after 2 months of being at university who they want to live with in their second year, the same reason student house viewings can be fully booked for weeks at a time, the same reason we have to scrape together the money for a deposit before Christmas. The same reason why we often live in houses not fit for purpose, because the demand for accommodation is so high. The reason why we get manipulated for every penny of our money by letting agencies who can get away with duping us.

We are all bearing the brunt of it. But because we’re not residents, this doesn’t matter, right?

Open your eyes. ‘Students’ and ‘residents’ are both feeling the pinch of the same systemic issues: increased student numbers, lack of space on campus, lack of housing in the city, and overpriced purpose built student accommodation. We are in this together.

Just a few weeks ago, news arose that some rooms in Bath Spa accommodation block Green Park accommodation were being let out to the general public, as it’s expensive rooms had priced students out of living there. The same has happened in the past with University of Bath postgraduate rooms in nomination agreement blocks.

Combine all of this with our £9000 a year tuition fees (and that’s just for home students), the fact that maintenance grants have been scrapped, a student finance system whose arbitrary income assessment methods frequently mean that students are not getting loans that even cover their rent, let alone money for food and bills, and the high cost of living in Bath, I would hope it becomes apparent that it is not as if students are swanning around, pinching all the HMOs, throwing lavish parties to piss off the neighbours and buggering off home to Mum and Dad for the summer.

If you’re a ‘resident’, you might have children that have grown up in Bath and will go off to university and become a ‘student’/’resident’ in another university city. And unless this prejudice against students is addressed, it is highly likely that the ‘residents’ of your child’s university city will tarnish your child with the same brush that you’re tarnishing us with. It’s not fair is it?

Realise that ‘students’ are ‘residents’. We serve you coffee in Bath coffee shops, we pull your pint in your local pub. We have the same postcodes as you, and walk the same streets as you. We buy your homeless people a hot chocolate, we invest in your nighttime economy. We raise money for local charities, and volunteer in community projects. We are not trying to replace your communities, we are trying to be a valued part of them.

If you’re a ‘resident’, I challenge you to get to know at least 1 student this year. Instead of keeping us at arms length and making us feel unwanted, spend time getting to know us like you would any other human being. You never know, you might even have some similarities with us.

‘Residents’ struggle to find housing in Bath. ‘Students’ struggling to find housing in Bath. ‘Residents’ love their city. ‘Students’ love their city. ‘Residents’ contribute to their city. ‘Students’ contribute to their city. Why are we so different?

She would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for us meddling kids…

I have never not been a young person.How mad is that.I have, for 7854 days, revelled in the glory of being young.
But never have I revelled so much in that glory than today.
Between the hours of 10pm and 5am this morning, my heart swelled at the growing realisation that us, young people, had turned up to churches, village halls, sports halls and schools across the country and put a cross on a piece of paper to make our voices heard.

For years and years, we have systematically been screwed over by too often white middle class adults who, shockingly, haven’t got a clue what it’s like to be a young person in the 21st century. From university fees trebling, to the scrapping of maintenance grants, to the extortionate rent increases in the housing market, to leaving the European Union which allows us to travel freely, fund educational research and study in institutions across the world, we have constantly bared the brunt of these policies whilst politicians sit comfortably in their multiple owned properties, using cash as wallpaper.

And on top of this, the reputation of the young has been repeatedly smeared and tarnished. We get labelled as lazy, naive and sensitive. We’re pitted as trouble makers, an inconvenience, unimportant. We are patronised, silenced and then overlooked.

So are people really surprised, that after persistent attacks on our ways of life, we decided to fight back?

We voted for our futures. Our ‘naivety’ is hope, our ‘sensitivity’ is passion. If a trouble maker is someone advocating for our NHS, our schools, our public services, then I’m proud to be one. If being an inconvenience means voting for a future where nurses don’t rely on foodbanks, teachers aren’t losing their jobs and children in need can get the support they require, then give me a stamp on my forehead: “I am an inconvenience”.

It’s a sorry sign of the system that is so entrenched in our society when advocating these things brands you a rebel. For goodness sake, it’s nothing less than Jesus would have done, and the authorities hated him for it too.

I am beyond proud to be part of a generation with so much fire and passion. We are those who walk into nightclubs in stilettos and skirts. We are those that stay up till 2am watching our favourite youtubers. We are those that sit in the park with some tinnies on a summer’s day. We are those that scream our lungs out at Taylor Swift concerts. We are those that take ‘gap yah’s’ to ‘find ourselves’. We are as much a part of British society as the rest of you, and tonight, we are those that brought about a significant turning point for the landscape of UK politics.

Suddenly, the entire demographic that have been forgotten and left on the fringes of political priority, have made a crashing entrance onto centre stage. No more simply waiting for the youth to ‘grow up’ and come around to the ideals of the few. We are the many, and we’re shouting louder than ever before. And the best thing? Politicians simply cannot afford to ignore us.

P.R.I.C.K

A Student’s Guide to the General Election
*links to websites might not work, so copy and paste the ones in red*

Look. I get it. We’re all sick of politics by now. We’ve all been politically saturated over the last year.Brexit. Theresa May. Trump. And now a snap general election.
But I beg you, just hang on in there another month. Then I promise, you can go on your way.

SO basically, this election is kind of a big deal.

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but basically everything we hold dear in this country is going to the dogs. And when I say ‘we’, I mean us. Me and you. Young people. Students. Those that don’t suffer from hangovers in the same way our parents do. The ones that always get asked to solve problems with iPads and Macbooks. Yes. You too. And for those of you who are like “hmm yeah that doesn’t really apply to me”…. guess what? It applies to you too.
Because it’s such a big deal, I wanna outline just 3 main reasons why you as a student shoulda) register to vote > https://www.gov.uk/register-to-vote <and b)… vote on June 8th. 

Okay here we go:

1. Education
We are so so privileged to be able to go to university. Yes, even though we pay £9000 a year for it. Education is the cornerstone of everything we know. It allows us to make sense of the world, form opinions, get jobs, make money.
Yet secondary schools around the country are physically having to shorten their school days because they can’t afford to pay teachers due to the cuts the Tory government have implemented. Using this website > https://www.schoolcuts.org.uk/#!/ < , you can see just how much money your old school will lose by 2019. Higher education (that’s university to you and me) is being attacked like never before, with still further fee increases, marketisation and the scrapping of maintenance grants meaning the poorest students graduate with the highest debt. Again – this is a result of relentless damaging Tory policy.

2. NHS
I cannot understate this. We, in the UK, can seek medical treatment for anything from a tummy bug to a life threatening illness, at a moment’s notice, FOR FREE. NO DOLLA NEEDED. Just lost your job? Got you covered. Homeless? Got you covered. Student at university with chronic freshers flu but hella broke? Got you covered.
Yet Tory government are hellbent on turning a blind eye in the hope that the whole system gets privatised. Our beloved health care system is literally falling apart at the seams.
You only have to watch an episode of Hospital > https://store.bbc.com/hospital < or Confessions of a Junior Doctor http://www.channel4.com/programmes/confessions-of-a-junior-doctor/on-demand/64765-003 < to see just how close it is to collapse.
Basic health care is not a privilege, it is a right. And under the current government, it is not getting the investment it needs, to the point of dangerous practice.

3. Brexit
There’s no shying away from it. Brexit is the single biggest political issue to grace our generation. 48% of the country voted to remain. It was almost as split as a referendum could possibly be.

Yet Tory government is accelerating towards a hard Brexit. Loss of free movement of people, decreased investment in research, no access to the single market. It’s not even delivering on promises around immigration that the whole leave campaign was founded on.

Should the Tories get a bigger mandate in government during this election, we can literally kiss goodbye to any hope of a set of negotiations that benefits the younger generation.

These are just 3 of the reasons why we need to get off our asses and vote in this election. I haven’t even begun to mention mental health provision, the housing crisis, food banks and the job market.

“WELL WHAT CAN I DO?” I hear you cry. Well, it just so happens I have a sneaky acronym for you all to remember.

PAY ATTENTION TO THIS ELECTION.

I know you’re weary. But it’s super important.

REGISTER TO VOTE. 

https://www.gov.uk/register-to-vote <&nbsp;
You cannot have your say in this election if you don’t register. It takes 5 minutes and all you need is your NI number. AND you can register in 2 locations if you’re not sure where you’ll be on the 8th of June. You have until the 22nd of May to register so get a shimmy on for goodness sake.

INFORMATION SEEK.

You’re gonna see a lot of empty promises and propaganda in this election. Seek out the facts. Read the manifestos. Critique what you read. Form your views.

CAMPAIGN.

And I don’t mean necessarily taking your placards down to your local town hall and shouting. I mean talk to your friends. Talk to your family. Talk to your colleagues. Get them to register, get them to vote, get them to consider your views!


KICK THE TORIES OUT.


Can you tell I don’t like the tories? I honestly believe the 3 things I’ve outlined, and many more issues that affect us, are in serious trouble if the Tories continue with the mandate they have. We absolutely have the power to bring back the balance, and shape our own futures (*insert any other fab cliches here*). It might come down to tactical voting to ensure your vote counts towards pushing the Tories back. If so, try this website to see who might be worth voting for.

Register. Turn Up. Vote. Be Heard. Make Change. P.R.I.C.K.