*Please note that this article primarily reflects my experiences with the undergraduate student body; my interactions with post-graduates have been significantly different.
Last Trinity, in the wake of my mid-degree neurotic breakdown, I set out to immerse myself in as many societies as possible – a questionable decision in hindsight.
I was eager to encounter as many new faces as I could, I was thrilled to hear different opinions, beliefs and cultures. I was devouring the unique Oxford subcultural scenes from music, underground art, tech all the way to politics. On my journey of self-discovery, I encountered many truly lovely people whose characters were full of depth and nuance – but I also encountered many people who felt void of any substance, who seemed to hold no depth or complexity to their personalities – for lack of better words, superficial beings. I began to wonder: Was this quality- or lack thereof – an intrinsic characteristic of the Oxford undergrad or a transferred epithet of an environment that promotes conformist attitudes, and mindless adherence towards pre-existing beliefs and political ideologies?
The culture of conformity at Oxford isn’t just an isolated phenomenon – it’s a pervasive force that subtly moulds each and every one of us. In my attempt to truly understand student life here, I was left disheartened and frankly unimpressed by the undergraduate power dynamics. It felt that most people were just seeking superficial validation, desperately looking for someone to affirm their inflated sense of importance. In this never-ending race to prove oneself, few seemed to give any thought to the bigger picture—whether it be helping others, improving their community, or making a lasting, meaningful impact.
My countless nights spent on late bar discussions and private socials, alongside my intense attempt at becoming a socialite, revealed one undeniable truth: There seems to be a pervasive lack of genuine desire to collaborate at Oxford, especially when it comes to political engagement. My seemingly never-ending conversations with Tories about Brexit, immigration policies, and whether or not doctors should be allowed to get jobs in politics (to which one lad held the utmost belief that doctors should f*ck off back to their hospitals and never step foot in government) left me feeling disillusioned. These individuals, who prided themselves on their intellectual prowess, seemed strangely disconnected from any substantial evidence or data to support their views. They seemed more impressed by getting the biggest laughs of the crowd.
But it was perhaps my most striking encounter during Trinity 24’ that truly encapsulated the disconnect I felt between someone’s true being and the meek show they would put on for others. At a P&P, a notoriously Tory political networking event, a rather attractive guy, whose name I’ll leave unmentioned for privacy’s sake, came up to me. We had ran into each other at other events, but this time we decided to talk for a good 20 minutes, during which I got to know him better as a person. After chatting for a while, it became apparent that he didn’t care much for politics – he was fairly shy and his views didn’t align with any particular faction, and his interests were mostly academic. He even admitted to never having voted.
As our private conversation turned into a larger group discussion with others about the UK’s upcoming general elections, and some made snarky comments about immigration, he began to passionately rant about how immigrants were the downfall of the country, and started to strongly advocate for a right-leaning political perspective to which I swiftly responded with “I’m an immigrant”. He then laughed and replied, “No no, darling, you’re alright, you’re not one of them.” In that moment, I was struck by the contradiction. How could someone so kind in private switch to such a callous and ignorant stance in a group setting?
We’ve all heard of the “Oxford bubble”, but how real is it? To me, Oxford feels like one big echo chamber – it is no longer a place of debate and intellectual discussions but rather a breeding ground for dull and redundant viewpoints and tired ideologies. Have we all been conned and disillusioned by Oxford’s supposed intellectual environment?
Political opinions become diluted versions of their other’s beliefs which in turn are weak echoes of their environment, rather than genuine thoughtful opinions. Conversations were often shallow, and political views were parroted more for the sake of fitting in than out of genuine conviction. At Oxford, for example, the divide between political factions is often strikingly clear: Tories stick to Tories, Labourites only engage with others who share the same beliefs, and even in less overtly political spheres, ideological groups tend to self-segregate into impenetrable echo chambers.
Oxford challenges your identity. It forces you to confront your beliefs and question who you are, but the more important question is this: Are we actively crafting our identities, or are we simply becoming echoes of the people and ideologies we surround ourselves with? The power to shape our environment is still in our hands, and we must use it—not just for self-promotion, but for real change. I leave you with a quote from a fellow I met during my travels in Kenya: “I urge you to remember your humanity and place it at the forefront of your actions, for without it we are all empty.”
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