Although the recent UBU election campaign attracted a record number of voters, I suspect this was more to do with the University’s increased undergraduate  intake for 2012/13 than a marked rise in student political interest. The university campus ought to be a hotbed for political discussion and activism, but rather than stimulate debate, the choice of who to make President was, in many cases, met with indifference and contempt. It shouldn’t be like that here in Bristol. A vibrant student body is one that is chagrined every time a government reneges on a promise, has a deep interest in the issues of the day, and (at the most basic level) participates in their own university elections. It is worth remembering that it was in the dormitories at the University of Beijing in 1989 that the movement which would culminate at Tiananmen Square was sprung, and whilst I am hesitant to equate the anger felt by an entire generation for an oppressive government with the irritation I harbour for the lack of a better bus service, my point is this; we all care about something. Maybe not enough to stand in front of a tank, but there is not a single student at Bristol who does not have some issue they would prefer to see debated or service they’d like to see improved. For this reason, I cannot see how “I don’t really care” is a satisfactory response to the question “why didn’t you vote?”

Come national election time, it is important not to confuse voter apathy with the deliberate decision made by a minority to eschew the vote entirely; many have become so disillusioned by the corrupt nature of party politics that they would rather not appear to legitimise any result by casting a ballot. To have taken such a stance in the context of our student elections however, would have made no sense at all; not voting for your University President is in no way a political statement. Indeed, American journalist George Jean Nathan once said that ‘bad officials are elected by good people who do not vote’.

So why is it that we don’t vote? Do we not have enough time in which to do it? Of course we do; going online to select your favourite candidate for the position of postgraduate senate rep, for example, would have taken no more than two minutes. In an age where we regularly manage to find the time to scroll up and down on Facebook for three hours a day, it is strange that we cannot spare just a second to help improve facilities at the gym or increase the funding for our favourite society.

It could be true that our aversion for Westminster politics has percolated so far that we are now unable to trust even the least powerful of elected officials. More likely, however, is the possibility that we grew tired of being harangued the second we stepped off the number 16 bus (it was at one point nearly impossible to walk from the Hawthorns café to the ASS Library without having a campaign poster thrust in your direction). Whether this is reason enough to have about oneself an air of abject cynicism and feigned disinterest whenever approached by someone simply looking for your vote is questionable.

Taking part in the democratic process, irrespective of the gravity of the situation, is a responsibility that we often forget we are lucky to have. At a national level, those who do not exercise their right to vote show an almost contemptuous disregard for a system of government that is being fought for by so many in the developing world. Shirking such a responsibility ought to be considered far worse a crime than it currently is; only in this way can we improve turnout, representation and our understanding of the political process. The fact that hundreds of people nearly voted for a man simply because he dressed up as a popular character from Pokémon (an admittedly cunning piece of campaigning) rather than for his sterling work on the LGBT+ support group is an indication that maybe we’re not quite as grown up as we all thought.

The details of the couple’s bitter divorce proceedings, so central to the arguments of both the prosecution and the defence in court, have hammered Huhne in the national headlines for the last twelve months. ‘Dad, you disgust me’ screamed The Daily Mirror in February, when the paper published texts between Huhne and his son, Peter, dating back to June 2010. But did they overstep the mark? Was the story still ‘in the public interest’, or had the paper blundered into a more capricious form of salacious journalism?

It’s a difficult line to tread. On the one hand, the conversations between father and son were, to an extent, pertinent to the case, with a text from May 2011 apparently implicating Chris Huhne’s ‘responsibility’ for passing the points on to Pryce. The relevant exchange was, however, only one of nine others printed – all highly emotive, but lacking any discernible journalistic purpose other than to spin out a good story. The Mirror was by no means the only paper playing on the nation’s heart-strings: The Times, The Guardian, The Telegraph, the BBC, and indeed almost every other reputable broadsheet and tabloid foregrounded the breakdown in the relationship between Chris Huhne when the evidence was made public in February. The Independent was the only paper to take the moral high ground, instead choosing to print an editorial piece condemning their publication. Editor Chris Blackhurst should be applauded for his stand on the episode, but with the outfit’s circulation dropping by 35% in the previous calendar year, their stance has also served as a timely reminder that scandal sells, regardless of content.

Pryce and Huhne have, of course, made their own respective beds to lie in after the manner in which they have both played the media over the course of the trial. Pryce, of course, fed material to The Mail on Sunday through freelance journalist Andrew Alderson as part of her efforts to ‘nail’ her ex-husband, turning to The Sunday Times – who broke the story in March 2011 – when she became frustrated with The Mail’s lack of progress. Mr Justice Sweeney, who presided over the trial, condemned her ‘weapon of choice’ as a double-edged sword, given that they had both been complicit in breaking the law. Huhne’s legal team have also carefully managed the press – it has been suggested by certain sources that the publication of the eight other text conversations was part of an effort by the defence to undermine the legal testimony of his son by calling into question his emotional stability. Even for a man as ruthlessly determined as Chris Huhne, this would represent a new and quite appalling low – an accusation which lended extra weight to Mr Sweeney’s damning conclusion that ‘any element of tragedy is entirely your [Chris Huhne’s and Vicky Pryce’s] own fault’.

There is little doubt that, directly or indirectly, Pryce and Huhne provided the ingredients for their own demise in the national papers. Nevertheless, there is no excuse for the relish with which the media served up the story of a wealthy family at war with itself. There is little defence to be had in hiding behind the facts – the glee with which the Mirror trumpeted ‘THE STORY THEY ALL WANTED…THE PICTURE THEY ALL WANTED’ was evidence enough of their desire to twist the knife as deep as it would go.

Chris Huhne has quite rightly been hung out to dry. Nevertheless, there seems to be little reason to air his dirty laundry out with him, to the full cost of his family’s dignity. Sympathy has always been in short supply in the printed press, and the Huhne case has proved no exception. Perhaps, however, the time has come to look for the bigger picture.

Several journalists have recently commented that the social pressure to drink alcohol in the UK is enormous. Teetotalers are treated with the sort of suspicion reserved for men with thick German accents during WWII or people who don’t like kittens. It is this universal acceptability towards drinking alcohol that is surely responsible for alcohol misuse costing the NHS and other bodies £55bn a year in England alone.

Therefore it comes as a surprise to me that the government has rejected proposals by a coalition of medical bodies and drinking charities in order to reverse this binge drinking trend. Proposals including banning companies such as Budweiser sponsoring major sporting events, lowering the drink-drive limit and putting cigarette style health warnings on alcohol. Several of the proposals might have been a little extreme – such as suggesting that alcohol should only be sold at certain times of the day in order to stop, what the Guardian referred to as ‘pre-loading’, the much loved social activity of ‘pre-drinking’. But overall the suggestions were certainly conducive to reducing Britain’s drinking culture.

The Department of Health responded by saying: ‘Cigarette-style health warnings are not applicable to alcohol. All levels of smoking are bad for your health, but the same cannot be said for alcohol consumption’. They have a point. If you were a professional buying a bottle of wine to have over dinner with a partner, you might feel the labels were unnecessarily inferring that, by the mere acr of consuming alcohol, you either were a hooligan or had the intention of transforming into one three glasses down the line. But equally it is a common thought that if alcohol had been discovered at the same time as something like heroin, it would almost certainly have been made illegal.

The fact is that education on the dangers of drinking alone isn’t working. It’s very difficult to tell a child that something will eventually cause considerable harm to them if they then go home and see their parents partaking in a glass of two. Alcohol consumption is normalised for children in a way that smoking is becoming more and more stigmatised. My scant memories of being told about the dangers of alcohol was less useful for instilling a fear of consuming too much, and more helpful in adding up alcoholic units in relation to a length of a hangover.

The Guardian, who reported on this story, described the measures as ‘draconian’ which I think subtly lays bare the problem with drinking in this country. The British belief in our right to drink is akin to America’s belief in their right to bear arms. When we believe the government begins to infringe on this ‘right’, we see it not as an attempt to help both us and our health system but as an erosion of civil liberties. We are automatically on the defensive. Whilst I’m undeniably partial to a glass or two, recently it’s started to dawn on me that maybe I am drinking too much. The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem, and the reaction of both The Guardian and even the Department of Health to sensible proposals to curb a serious problem in this country, suggest we have a way to go before that acceptance occurs.

Agonisingly slow progress in the reduction of the deficit has meant a complete derailment of the Chancellor’s original plans and promises. Whilst slight improvements have been made through the government’s austerity measures, VAT increases and cuts in capital spending have left the economy frail to say the least. Calls for a kinetic reanimation of the economy have been widespread, with an increase in spending presented as the sole realistic way to breathe life into a financially limp Britain.

It was recently revealed that Osborne has halted his questionable policy-making, putting on hold any parliamentary action until after the 2015 election – a vivid demonstration that the Chancellor appreciates the hole he has dug himself. His opponents will argue this is somewhat a throwing in of the towel; yet, reminiscent of a great boxing coach, Mr. Cameron defiantly stands behind him in the blue corner, lending his full support to his under-fire colleague.

Osborne’s threat to split up banks has equally raised eyebrows amongst the financial elites. Launching a scathing attack on those who acted irresponsibly in the past, the Chancellor has warned that the governor of the Bank of England will have the power to breakup a bank, ‘splitting its retail arm from its wholesale one’. Whilst politically sound, from a financial perspective Mr. Osborne once again has fluffed his lines. The key to economic recovery lies in the rebuilding of trust in the banks and a subsequent increase in the money lent by them to convalescing businesses. The proposed reforms would position the UK as the only country in the world to hold the separation of banks within its statute books, leaving London looking rather unattractive as a global financial centre. At a time when the international banking community looks to rally in order to solve global financial issues, depleting London’s appeal would prove a critical error.

One must also look to the future in order to fully analyse the Chancellor’s performance. The strategy for economic growth, set to be implemented following the 2015 parliamentary election, implies modifications only in the form of public spending cuts; alas, Osborne’s critics predict this is solely a pipedream, demonstrating either the Chancellor’s naivety, or his desperate desire to maintain the public’s faith through an optimistic prophecy.

The Institute for Fiscal Studies affirms that the £64bn deficit will not be solved solely through public spending cuts; forecasters state tax rises in the region of £10-12bn will be required in order to recover the UK economy. The promised land of post-election economic growth appears to once again be leaving taxpayers at the mercy of ruthless government policy.
Controversial government plans to launch a ludicrous -considering the current economic climate – £47bn project to build a high-speed railway system across Britain has only worsened public questioning of where their taxes are going. However, it is not just public perception that Osborne and Cameron should fear.

The recent dispute over gay marriage demonstrated internal turbulence within Mr. Cameron’s party; increasing numbers of grassroots Tories believe the Prime Minister is hijacking their beloved party and leading it into oblivion. Such discontent within the ranks unsurprisingly leads to the original modernisers tightening their already unyielding bond, with Osborne forming an integral part of this endangered herd. The modernist Tory belief is that the party must evolve or die – if Cameron were to surrender his closest ally now, any aspirations of maintaining order within his government would be extinguished.
As Mr. Osborne’s deficit reduction targets solemnly fade into the distance, the sight of Cameron by his side suggests that, if the Chancellor steers the Tory ship down, the Prime Minister will be his chief mate.

Kutcher described his ordeal to reporters covering the recent Sundance Film Festival, where ‘jOBS’ premiered, claiming he had been ‘doubled over in pain’ prior to shooting, adding: ‘my pancreas levels were completely out of whack, which is terrible…considering everything’. Kutcher of course alludes to the devastating pancreatic cancer which Jobs succumbed to in October 2011 aged just 56, following a long and painful battle. It appears that Kutcher’s desire to emulate the great Apple mogul has had severe, potentially life-threatening effects. So why then, did he choose to push his body to such extremities, to enhance a performance which is already being described by critics as below-par?

Did Kutcher lack confidence in his ability to ‘act’ the part? Did he feel he could not play without being Jobs, unable to ‘get under his skin’, without literally reproducing his pallid skin tone? Kutcher is not the first actor to go to extreme lengths, in order to emulate his character. There is a long cinematic history of artists who have suffered – both in body and mind – for their art. Christian Bale evidenced his dedication to acting in 2004, when he rapidly shed over 28kg – approximately 1/3 of his body weight – for his role in ‘The Machinist’: his diet consisting of water, coffee, and one apple per day. Bale pushed his body to the limits, yet his ‘The Dark Knight’ co-star Heath Ledger tested the parameters of his mental health, for his role as the Joker in the aforementioned film. Ledger remained in character at all times, refusing to acknowledge his real identity; this proved to be a potent mutation of method-acting, that engendered the insomnia, depression, and substance abuse that hastened his death by overdose in 2008, just months after filming for ‘The Dark Knight’ concluded.

That said, there is potential success for the budding method-actor. Most recently Anne Hathaway, in her role as fallen-woman Fantine in the epic ‘Les Miserables: the film’, acted out the scene where Fantine has her tumbling locks chopped off in real-time with beautiful, and harrowing results. Daniel Day-Lewis went to similar lengths to fulfil the role of the title character in the Spielberg biopic ‘Lincoln’, due out this week. He signed of SMS messages to cast members as ‘A’ or ‘The Commander in Chief’, refusing to speak of current affairs, and allowing Lincoln to dominate his every conversation. Hathaway and Day-Lewis have reaped substantial reward and critical acclaim for their efforts, both actors receiving Golden Globes for their respective performances. Evidently, there is much to be said for method-acting, if, unlike that of Ledger, it is carefully paroled, and kept within reasonable boundaries.

Arguably, there might be other reasons why Kutcher may want to tone down his ‘real-life’ portrayal. The intention to involve oneself so fully and intensely in a cinematic role is indeed admirable, but is it apt? As great legends of film have testified, it is the amalgamation of both fictional character and real-life enigma which produces the most gripping performances. Liz Taylor was a magnificent Cleopatra, yet, throughout her captivating performance, one was always obliquely aware of the fascinating woman behind the regal address. Taylor’s performance captured both powerful female-leader, and potent public celebrity, Egyptian goddess, and American It-girl. Further, perhaps great performances are so affecting because we can see the residuary of an artist’s previous lives and roles in their current performance; arguably, in Hathaway’s desolate Fantine we see glimmers of her innocent, nubile ‘Princess Bride’, and it is exactly that which evinces our empathy.

As Kutcher’s rather reckless attempt to embody Steve Jobs has shown, method-acting is perhaps not always the right route. Arguably, he has superseded what the audience reasonably expects from their performer; we want to see an accurate portrayal, yes, but not of a superhuman duplication. Overall, it seems that the Oscar winning performances – those which do not have a detrimental effect on the artist’s well-being, at least – maintain a careful equilibrium between character and actor; such actors immerse themselves in roles, but never allow their real identity to become subordinate to that of their characters.