Category: Perspective

By Henry Worsley

A couple of weeks ago I picked up a copy of Robert Pirsig’s Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance. It is a strange and whimsical book, constantly oscillating between long, detailed passages which explain the literal nuts and bolts of motorbikes, and equally long, meta and open-ended spiels that dive into the philosophy behind a bike, how it can serve as a tool not just to dissect man’s relationship with machines, but also the machinery of the human mind in and of itself – why a motorbike is both a bold expression of Romanticism, but also of cold, straight logic.

I started reading Pirsig’s book in Florence, towards the end of my own two-thousand kilometre journey on two wheels. I had set out from London a month earlier, in the dead of night, my Kawasaki GPZ loaded with virtually everything I owned, or would need, for the next year: two pairs of jeans, three shirts, some books, some tools, a battered sleeping bag and a can of chain oil. The destination was Rome, where I would be living for the next ten months. I wanted no motorways, no toll roads – just the back lanes that trace the ancient pilgrim path to the Eternal City: the Via Francigena.

The most challenging part of this journey would doubtless be the Alps. My bike is twenty-four years-old; it is carburated, with a manual choke, no ABS, no traction control, no fuel gauge (when it starts to splutter, you twist a petcock below your left knee to open the reserve tank, like a Spitfire). It is, essentially, an old-world piece of engineering – and I’m no mechanic. So as I began to ascend towards the Cime de la Bonette, the highest road in France and the second highest in Europe, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen.

Why ride a motorbike? That’s the essential question Pirsig poses to his readers. To look fucking cool is one answer, and it’s an answer that any honest owner of a bike would give. Motorbikes just look cool; they make you feel macho, powerful, sexy. But there is more to it than just the testosterone and the adrenaline – motorbikes are also beautiful, almost magical; they feel somehow alive, which is why people give them names. That’s one way of looking at them, as hunks of steel and alloy and copper wire that seem to have some sort of soul, yet they are still just hunks of steel and alloy and copper wire – and this is also the point, that motorbikes are the product of a ruthless, exact science. So in this sense they represent both schools of thought – the Romantic and the Rational; Lord Byron and Nikola Tesla.

Sure enough, as the Kawasaki and I gradually climbed from one thousand metres, to fifteen hundred, and finally to two thousand and above, I started to feel this thing that I was sitting on change – to pant and gasp for air. The revs at idle halved, barely turning over; I was afraid that if I stopped then the bike would stall too, and I would end up stranded in the lunar wasteland near the summit – a nothingness, an airless void, grey and snowless peaks, the odd Maginot bunker emerging from the rockface.

Another reason you should ride a bike: it’s terrifying.

Motorbikes are death traps, or at the very least, they make death much more probable in an accident. When I rented a bike in Jamaica, a group of guys in their twenties approached me and, eyeing up my sweet new ride, started pulling up their trouser legs or taking their shirts off: ‘this, from a wheelie’, one said, indicating a missing chunk of flesh in his leg; ‘this, head-on collision, smaaash!’, said another, running his finger across his chest, where a deep pale scar crossed it like a lightning bolt.

Three thousand metres. You reach the summit of the Cime de la Bonette, and you feel like Zeus, jacked and omnipotent. Looking out over the vast, wonderful ruggedness of the Alps, smelling the clean air, thin and diluted, deliciously crisp, you appreciate the meaning of another word often associated with motorcycles: freedom. That star-spangled, bald-eagle kind of freedom, that freedom to ride wherever you want whenever you want – but not only that, because that would be no different to a car. When you’re in a car, and you’re looking out of a window, you may as well be staring at a television – you don’t sense anything. On a bike you feel the wind, the heat from the tarmac, the vibrations of the engine, you sense your whole centre of gravity shift as you take a corner. Italo Calvino wrote about the concept of the ‘infinite city’, the boundless metropolis, a city which he argued the modern world had already produced. By taking trains, planes and automobiles, we put ourselves in little teleportation capsules from urban island to urban island – the motorcycle is an escape from that, it is an exposure to the places in between.

From three thousand metres that sense of freedom becomes sharply defined: you see a matchstick town ten or so miles away, you hop back on the bike, and after a few turns you return to that zen state Pirsig was talking about – the bike disappears, you’re flying, and you feel fucking cool.

By Annabel Roest.

Today, we often assume that gender stereotypes and subtle biases have diminished significantly compared to times gone by. However, as a young woman studying in a very multicultural and diverse educational environment, I recently had a first-hand experience that shattered this illusion. During a heated online discussion (I know – these things always end in tears…) between the organising team from two university committees, collaborating on a joint event, a fellow student, what I have since felt is a derogatory term, labelling me as “hysteric.” 

This not only left me feeling invalidated and belittled but also shed light on the prevailing gender biases that are still very much present in our educational institutions. I had such a strange reaction to this word and thought that it must represent something more significant than I had initially perceived. Feeling angry yet still weirdly shamed and confused, I struggled to fully understand why I felt the way I did and desperately searched for what I could say or do to counteract this totally outdated comment. I felt that the word was used to disarm me and undermine my leadership contribution and assertions. (For context, I also happened to be the sole female member of the leadership team for this project out of four of us, and I held a higher position of authority to the person who called me “hysteric”). I wondered then how and why did I find myself in this situation and no one else? Was I, in fact, just being “hysteric” and problematic for no real reason? Or was it because I had a strong opinion and was not willing to compromise on my values and expectations? I also considered whether the same word would be used by the same person when discussing or interacting with my other male peers or if this word was locked and loaded and reserved only for members of my gender…

As a person who likes to channel personal experience into growth and productivity, I thought I would rationalise these feelings through words. So, I want to explore the impact of such a gender-based derogatory term, a brief historical context behind the term “hysteric,” and the real need for a shift in perspective to promote gender equality.

Understanding the Power of Words:

Words hold such immense power; we are taught this in kindergarten. They can uplift, empower, and inspire, but they can also wound, diminish, and perpetuate harmful stereotypes and very negative ideals. The term “hysteric” is rooted in a longstanding historical context, often used to undermine and dismiss women’s emotions and concerns. Its usage in a modern educational setting, like in my situation, demonstrates how deeply ingrained these gender biases are and the work that still needs to be done to dismantle them. As a language graduate, I understand that words hold power in different ways and nuances depending on how they are translated. This is relevant because the person who called me “hysteric” does not have English as their first language. But I ask, is this really an excuse?  

Taking the three Latin languages, French, Italian and Spanish and examining translations further, we can see that there is actually a very similar meaning across all three languages:

• In French, the equivalent term for “hysteric” is “hystérique.” It carries a similar meaning to the English term, referring to someone who displays excessive or uncontrollable emotions. However, it’s worth noting that the historical context and connotations associated with the term may vary. (I spoke to some French friends following the incident and asked them if in French the word is ever used when describing a man, which they replied was a super rare occurrence, which I found fascinating).

• The Italian equivalent of “hysteric” is “isterico” or “isterica” depending on the gender of the person referred to. Like its English counterpart, it typically refers to someone who exhibits excessive emotional or irrational behaviour. The word is primarily used to describe women rather than men. It stems from the historical notion of “hysteria” as a female-specific disorder associated with emotional instability. While the term itself does not exclusively apply to women, it has traditionally been more commonly associated with women due to these historical connotations.

• In Spanish, the term “hysteric” can be translated as “histérico” for males and “histérica” for females. Similarly, it refers to someone who demonstrates exaggerated emotional responses or irrational behaviour.

A Very Brief Historical Context of “Hysteric”:

The term “hysteria” traces back to ancient Greek times when it was believed that a wandering womb caused emotional and physical disturbances in women (Online Etymology Dictionary, 2023). 

This notion continued into the Victorian era, where it was widely used to pathologise women’s emotions and experiences and deeply belittle female struggle. Women who dared to express their opinions or deviated from societal norms were easily dismissed as “hysterical”, and this condition was actually categorised as a psychiatric disease (along with homosexuality) until 1980 (Rewire News Group, 2019). It was believed that the uterus could move within a woman’s body, causing physical and emotional distress. Symptoms of “hysteria” included (but were not limited to): emotional instability, gloomy and melancholic behaviour, sexual disturbances (such as frigidity, promiscuity, loss or increase of sexual appetite) and sensory disorders (including hallucinations, hypersensitivity or altered sense of taste, smell or touch). 

Women were frequently disregarded, misunderstood, and given inappropriate treatments because of this broad variety of physical and emotional ailments that were attributed to “hysteria”. These symptoms were rooted in patriarchal views and societal control rather than scientific facts or a thorough understanding of women’s health. “Hysteria” as a term undercut the agency, credibility, and autonomy of women, ultimately discrediting their experiences, and pushing them to the periphery of society.

Though we have come a long way since then, remnants of this historical bias still obviously persist today, and instances like these provide us with a great opportunity to reflect and try to understand why still using words like these are so problematic in modern society.

Impact on Women’s Voices:

As previously mentioned, being called “hysteric” by a peer has profoundly impacted me. Not only did it aim to undermine the validity of my assertions, but it also served to silence my voice and dismiss my emotions, especially in a group situation where it was done in front of a watching audience. This incident highlighted the systemic issue of women being labelled as overly emotional or irrational when expressing their thoughts or concerns, which is not a new phenomenon for me to have to deal with in my own personal life. Such derogatory language propagates the notion that women’s opinions are less valuable or less worthy of consideration than those of their male counterparts. I remember reading a book a while ago that noted that the best way for women to win arguments with men was by ‘avoiding getting too emotional’ and ‘using calm logic’ (I shall keep this book anonymous for its own protection…!) but I find this incredibly troubling. Passing around ideas like these is highly harmful in any setting. Of course, we need to note and understand that men and women do communicate differently, that is true enough, but it is not helpful to perpetuate the notion that in order for a woman to be fully understood or listened to by a man, she must make herself agreeable and pleasant to listen to. 

In the same vein, women often face unique challenges when attempting to communicate assertively without being labelled as aggressive. Society has long been influenced by gender stereotypes that prescribe a women’s temperament to be nurturing, accommodating, and gentle. Women can be perceived as threatening or pushy when they deviate from these expectations and assert themselves confidently. The double bind arises where women are expected to be assertive but not too assertive, striking a delicate balance that is rarely expected of men. This societal bias often undermines women’s credibility and hinders their ability to communicate their ideas, needs, and boundaries effectively. Overcoming these challenges requires acknowledging the existing limitations, dismantling gender biases, promoting inclusive communication styles, and recognising that assertiveness is a valuable trait for all genders.

To address the concept of differing intercultural interpretations, I have studied Effective Communication as part of my master’s course, and I understand that there can often be many barriers to communication, including semantic, cultural, and psychological/attitude barriers. These are in turn caused by varied connotative meanings, diversity of cultures and moods, attitudes, and interpersonal relationships. We are all different and come from different places and experiences, each with different languages and different perceptions of reality. However, I genuinely believe that it is our joint responsibility to recognise these differences and try to improve our levels of understanding and comprehension so that we can build on the barriers and unfortunate actions of the past and try to find effective solutions that don’t leave members of any team feeling belittled or misunderstood.  

Shifting Perspectives for Gender Equality going forward:

The most important thing to remember is that you must be able to separate how you feel about someone versus how they make you feel. The person who said this to me is a great and fun person to be around. However, they made me feel small, belittled, and unseen/heard as I momentarily questioned my own value. When they apologised, I was further undermined and told next time to be more cooperative and not to cause drama … This demonstrated to me that they had no idea of the effects of their words nor the maturity level at this stage to try to understand where I was coming from and fix it properly, reaching a state of mutual respect. I would have appreciated a conversation from their side to further understand why they thought the word was alright to use in the first place, for me to better appreciate how to approach situations like these next time. I am always a big believer in open dialogue and an honest conversation. 

However, moving forward, I must take care to defend my personal boundaries whilst also being open to an informative and enlightening conversation in the future, should they be open to it, where we can discuss the harm that the use of that word carries. But for now, it is important for me to protect my own energy and focus on moving forward. 

To achieve true gender equality, it is crucial to challenge and dismantle gender stereotypes and subconsciously imposed ideas through derogatory terms like “hysteric.” However, I am by no means saying that it is only men that are the problem (absolutely not!). I want to emphasise the collective effort that men and women alike should take not to use this word and to challenge users to think more about why they chose this word, when it happens. We need to consider and point out that words like “hysteric” carry with them a deeper, more loaded context. Going forward, we should encourage more open discussions in schools, workplaces or at home to sensitise people to the impact of their words and actions and help them understand when a word has a particularly derogatory gender bias attached to it.

Women need to be encouraged to find their voices and express themselves freely without fear of judgement or marginalisation. By empowering women to be assertive, we can counter the stereotypes that silence their perspectives. Fellow females: it’s our job to call it out as we see it. 

I also encourage male allies to speak up against gender-based derogatory terms and challenge sexist behaviour. Allies play a crucial role in creating an inclusive and respectful environment where all voices are heard and valued. Ultimately, we need to reach a place in contemporary thinking where a male or female should understand by themselves when a word or action has the power to belittle, without the need of someone else telling them so.

The last word:

Being called “hysteric” by a peer served as a stark reminder of the pervasive gender biases that still exist in our society. It is essential to recognise the power of words and the impact they have on shaping our perspectives. By challenging derogatory terms, no matter the context they are used in, and promoting a culture of equality and respect, we can create an environment where all voices, regardless of gender, are valued. Let us strive for a future where derogatory terms and stereotypes have no place and where all voices are truly heard and celebrated.

By Izzie James.

I sat down with Ailis Osobase and Clara Smith to discuss their small business ‘Bottoms Up The Brand’. Walking around Durham, you’re likely to see people sporting their trackies, from the DUCFS exec team to the Durham University Hockey Club. In our interview, Ailis and Clara discuss the difficulties and rewards of owning a small business whilst studying at university.

IZZIE: To start things off, explain to me how you came up with ‘Bottoms Up The Brand’?

CLARA: We started Bottoms Up as part of our school enterprise challenge. We were given £100 to start any business we wanted and we knew that to stand out amongst other brands we needed to have a unique product and it needed to be perfect for our target audience – girls aged 11-18. We wanted to create a product that was comfortable, while still being flattering, and with an aspect of personalisation to ensure that we had a product for everyone. We settled on our straight leg trackies (which still to this day is our USP) with personalisation across the seat. These sold like wildfire around school and by the end of the 3 months challenge we had sold over 500 pairs. While most teams shut down their businesses, we were keen to keep up the momentum, and now we’ve sold over 5000 pairs and continue to sell to schools and universities all over the country. 

IZZIE: Clara, as Financial and Logistics Manager, what have you learnt through your time at Bottoms Up?

CLARA: I have learnt a lot from this business as I’ve worked many roles throughout our time. So my main role at the moment is communicating with our local suppliers and managing our orders and financials, but from the beginning of the business my main role has been tracking our stock and working the more financial side of Bottoms Up. I’ve had to teach myself a lot about Excel and now I would say I’m mildly obsessed with spreadsheets. I’ve also had to learn a lot about data analytics and stock prediction. As our stock comes from abroad our orders have to be put in months in advance and so I use analysis to predict what kind of sizes we’ll need, which has been really tough but incredibly rewarding. 

IZZIE: Ailis, as Marketing Manager, what techniques have you used to promote your brand?

AILIS: In the launch of Bottoms Up, I very much focused on the visual elements first, so the designing of our logo and smaller details such as a colour scheme for us to stick to. The main aspect of our brand that I emphasised was our ability to personalise each order, as I saw this as essentially our USP. I’ve since learned the value of brand partnerships too, both with other companies as well as “influencers” who I feel could be a good match for us. I must say, some of our recent collaborations in Durham like DUCFS and charity ‘Let’s Get Our Knickers in a Twist’, have been real highlights for me. I’m lucky, too, in that a lot of our consumer traction has been simply through word-of-mouth. Building on this buzz through social media is my usual port of call. I’ve loved sharing photos on Instagram of our customers over the years, and still find it extremely cool that people have been able to spot themselves or their friends on our page. 

IZZIE: How did the COVID-19 pandemic affect your business?

CLARA: As for most small businesses, COVID was a bit of a nightmare. Ours started with the trade route from Italy (where our suppliers are based) to the UK being closed and so our tracksuits were held up for months in customs. This was crazy for us. We are all self-taught and none of us had the knowledge on where to go from here. After months of angry emails and refunds we were lucky enough to get our tracksuits and resume production! It was a crazy time for all of us, especially as we were operating via zoom the entire time as opposed to being sat in our school dining room! But for us the pandemic and following lockdowns had a few positives – we were lucky the comfy loungewear was in extremely high demand and so our sales on singular pairs increased massively, which was very new for us as we were so used to catering to schools and societies! It was definitely a hard time for us as a small biz but we came out of the other side better for it.

IZZIE: How does ‘Bottoms Up’ promote size inclusivity?

AILIS: Size inclusivity is something we have really valued from the start. I remember our first tag line launched on Valentine’s Day being to “love your bottom”. Although definitely one of my cheesier first attempts at marketing, it really was what we wanted people to get out of buying from us. With the recent growth of our business and the better functioning supplier network we’ve created, I’m happy to say that we are now a truly size inclusive brand. With both our hoodies and tracksuit bottoms ranging from UK sizes 6-16, we feel proud to be able to cater to a range of sizes and body types. In doing so, hopefully everyone can purchase from us and feel confident in our product. 

IZZIE: How have you navigated managing a small business whilst being at University, as well as being in different locations from the other creators?

CLARA: We definitely learnt a lot from operating during COVID, as this gave us the time to learn how to work efficiently on zoom and we actually haven’t had an in person meeting since before the pandemic! Working with a team definitely makes it easier to balance uni work and life with running a business but it is by no means an easy task. Going into university we had to be really decisive with everyone’s roles to ensure we could each do our work separately, however being able to sort that early on really helped. We are also lucky to be surrounded by an incredibly supportive and hard-working team, we’re all so passionate about this business and I think that’s the most important thing.

IZZIE: What advice would you give to other small business owners who are studying at University?

AILIS: Firstly, not to underestimate the workload. Even if your business is still relatively small, it’s an inevitable commitment as you’ll want to avoid letting customers down or falling through on promises made. However, if you are passionate about what you’re selling and have that initial love of your business idea, putting in the work will become enjoyable rather than a chore. To make the whole process more manageable, you’ll need a collaborative team with varying strengths, and a supplier you can count on to deliver or otherwise communicate with you effectively. From there, it’s just a little faith and patience that keeps the whole thing moving! 

IZZIE: And finally, what are your future plans for ‘Bottoms Up’?

AILIS: Next year, the majority of our team will have graduated from university, and we plan to really capitalise on this. Our more short-term plans include the launch of our website which we expect to have up and running in the coming weeks. I’ve loved partaking in the whole design process of this, and it’s particularly exciting since we’ve solely taken orders via email and Instagram DM for some time now. However, we felt this perhaps wasn’t a sustainable option for much longer if any of us hoped to have a life outside of Bottoms Up! Down the line, we are also keen to expand our collection of loungewear. You’ll have to wait and see, but I can say that I’m really looking forward to these next steps- we’re starting to feel less like small fish in a big pond, and it’s exciting to think where that might take us.  

For more BottomsUp content, follow them on social media: @BottomsUpTheBrand on all platforms

Also keep an eye out for their website, going live on the 15th of May! https://bottomsupthebrand.com/password

By Lawrence Gartshore.

As a student of theology, one of the major criticisms that one learns about God’s existence (or lack thereof) relates to a seemingly very simple notion – the idea that, for Christians, God is good. I beg of you to bear with me here; I promise that there is a deeper point coming than simple religious semantics.

On the face of it, stating that God is good seems to be a rather straightforward assertion. If the God of Christianity does exist, which for the sake of argument here I will assume is true, then, of course, this omnibenevolent deity must be good. If he wasn’t, then one would not be thinking of the Christian God at all and rather some other, lesser, meaner god.

Yet, this statement of ‘God is good’ is, in many ways, a tautology. A tautology, in layman’s terms, is when one states the same idea twice and, in doing so, commits a fault in style. Simply put, saying ‘God is good’ is no different linguistically to saying ‘return back to’. The word ‘back’ is redundant here, for the meaning of the sentence does not change with its addition; ‘return to’ says the same in fewer words. In much the same way, therefore, the argument goes that as for Christians, God is goodness itself, so saying ‘God is good’ is, in fact, simply saying ‘God is God’ – which is perfectly meaningless.

For those of you interested in reading more about this theological minefield, I would point you in the direction of the Euthyphro dilemma but, and I can almost hear the audible sigh of relief, this article is not one on theology.

Rather, I would like to propose another tautology exists in the world – one that is perhaps even more ever-permeating than that of God’s goodness. I speak of the concepts of living and loving.

This may seem like a strange proposition on the face of it. Why, using my earlier logic surrounding the divine one could, in fact, perfectly conceive of something being alive without necessarily feeling the emotion of love. There appears to be no contradiction in terms, nor does one possess a linguistic meaning that necessitates the other.

However, I believe most strongly that we, as human beings, are not merely ‘something’ – no, every one of us, from the highest to the lowest, is rather ‘someone’.

‘Someone’, in my opinion, cannot live without love. Many of us are lucky enough to be born with it bestowed upon us by our parents. We develop the feeling as we grow, eventually finding the ability to love others. We grow a little more and obtain the far more difficult talent to love ourselves. Even when we are at our absolute lowest, and we cannot locate the facilities for self-love, when we think that all our love reserves have been spent, someone new enters our life and teaches us that we do in fact have more to give.

Love is, fundamentally, what sets us as species apart from so many others. Other animals may mate for life, such as the dolphin, but no other, as far as I am aware, show the same capacity for unbridled love as we humans. We fight for it; we are guided by it. It provides safety, and pain, and joy, and agony, and it is through all those feelings, good and bad, that we truly know we are alive.

Love can hurt, as life can hurt, but it is only through love that the very act of living becomes possible. We needn’t say that to live is to love – the statement is redundant – both words mean the very same.

By Emma Large.

Curb the indignation just for a moment. Brian Tomasik wants to spark a conversation about the ethical duty he contends we have to “reduce the harm that we inflict on powerless, voiceless [AI] agents,” and I think we should briefly listen to him (very…very briefly).

Initial reactions to sentiments along the lines of Tomasik’s declaration often involve laughter. A spluttering of exasperation. Mockery. Very often, a rolling of the eyes; sometimes, as per the nature of my reaction, defensive outrage: How can anyone possibly imply we introduce AI into the scope of our moral consideration, as if there isn’t enough genuine suffering already? 

However, historically there has been a pattern of Cause-Xs: ethical areas that a current generation is blind to or critically overlook in a way that seems later incomprehensible. It is unthinkable to us now, for example, that anyone could ever think slavery a morally acceptable practice to engage with. I don’t mean to suggest that AI is a Cause-X area or in any way comparable; but I do think Cause-Xs show us that we can’t immediately laugh away subjects as ‘obviously’ undeserving of ethical consideration, without further thought. So I think we should bear with Tomasik and PETRL (‘People for the Ethical Treatment of Reinforcement Learners’ – Google it, it’s real) just momentarily. 

I’m nothing close to a computer scientist but I can attempt an amateur explanation of Tomasik’s general premises.¹ AI agents in some algorithms (in lift buttons; in ChatGPT; in the behaviours of NPCs in video games) are trained to accomplish set tasks using a technique called reinforcement-learning (RL), a method sourced from biological neuroscience. Agents are set a task and receive a ‘reward’ whenever they achieve the desired state. When they fail to achieve the desired state, they receive a ‘punishment’. This seems familiar – don’t we often teach human children and animals in the same way? Tomasik argues the various cases of the agent receiving a reward or punishment can be identified with very rudimentary, extremely minimal states of cognitive pleasure and pain. These algorithms might, then, have the capacity to suffer. It is a fairly prevalent thought that we should try and prevent suffering if we can. Tomasik thereby presents his case that RL algorithms should be assigned a non-zero level of moral value (infinitesimal but not net-zero); in fact, he equates the moral value of one laptop’s combined RL algorithms to nearly that of an ant.

How is an artificial ‘punishment’ like biological pain?

Tomasik employs many complex parallels between neurological states and reinforcement-learning states to support the plausibility of his claim that AI possess some minimal sentience. These are too intricate for me to explicate or do justice to here. He does, however, employ three empirical criteria for identifying if something is in a state of pain, which he contends reinforcement-learning algorithms often exhibit when experiencing ‘punishment’ states:

1. Not wanting anymore. Reinforcement-learning algorithms sometimes choose to enter terminating states (they will turn themselves off) sooner rather than later. This seems strikingly similar to the way we choose not to extend our painful experiences; behaviour like this implies that perhaps the algorithm was having or was anticipating net negative experiences.

2. Avoiding rather than seeking. If moving across a grid of high-reward and low-reward squares, for example, an RL agent will avoid the low-reward squares. Whether this is high-reward seeking or low-reward avoidance is contentious; but ultimately, does it really matter? Both suggest the agent has a preferred and a non-preferred state of being that can be paralleled to sentience.

3. Self-evaluation. Intelligent RL agents can sometimes ask us to stop running an algorithm or to turn them off, indicating they are having negative experiences. Sometimes they can literally tell us they are in ‘pain’ (if they are intelligent enough to understand the human concept of pain).

I’m not convinced. These exhibited RL behaviours might be similar to animal responses to pain; I can even accept that algorithms are put into states that are very distantly equivalent to neurological pain. However, I can’t corroborate the moral significance of this sentience because it seems to be non-qualitative and unconscious. We typically envision consciousness as supervenient on our bodies yet also non-physical, like a mysterious fog of qualitative experience that hangs about us. This could be false², but it is a useful picture in showing this is not something that algorithms possess. AI can identify the colour red, but it doesn’t know what it feels like to see red; it can know a pain-state, but it doesn’t know what it feels like to be in pain. Algorithms don’t know the texture of experience, in all its mottled consistencies. So how can they be truly sentient in a way that is morally relevant, if they can’t consciously feel pleasure and pain in the way we do?³

Why would AI suffering matter?

I’m sceptical it would, even if algorithms did possess minimal sentience. However, Tomasik grounds his argument for why we should care about AI suffering with an extreme but somewhat persuasive analogy: 

A scientist proposes that she wants to create human children in labs that are physically disabled, for the purpose of research. As a result, they will likely spend their lives in quite a lot of pain. We naturally respond: absolutely not. 

But often AI is not programmed perfectly, and it malfunctions. It therefore spends quite a lot of time in a state of punishment, which Tomasik argues is somewhat equivalent to pain. Why should we morally condemn the first and not the second case?

Presumably, because the first case is one about human suffering – which is more important to us than silicon suffering. But Tomasik retorts: is the material that something is made of a morally relevant factor? It is wrong to discriminate against or disrespect people upon the basis of sex, or nationality, or race, or the colour of their eyes; these physical attributes are irrelevant to how we determine someone’s value. How can discrimination upon basis of material be any more morally justifiable? Surely, this could lead to an undesirable ethical landslide.

Tomasik consequently recommends we reduce the number of RL algorithms used and replace them with other AI, or refine algorithms to be more humane by using only rewards instead of punishments. I’m sceptical, but Tomasik’s problem is one to keep in mind; and as neurologists and computer scientists continue mapping the biological brain’s structure into AI sub-systems, one that will become increasingly ethically relevant.

References

¹ His arguments require dense metaphysical and neurological explanations, which I don’t have the space for here; I link his thesis below. 

Tomasik, Brian. “Do Artificial Reinforcement-Learning Agents Matter Morally?.” (2014).

² Tomasik certainly argues it is; but, again – not an argument I can lightly abridge.

³ Tomasik responds that moral relevance only requires the faintest traces of sentience. My suggestion that basic sentience isn’t sufficient to meet the standard for moral relevance admittedly gets tricky because it could possibly exclude quite a lot of things like insects, or humans with minimal sentience, from moral relevance. It also raises the eternal big question: if sentience doesn’t make you morally relevant, what does?

PETRL link – Look particularly at Brian Tomasik’s interview on their blog page.

By Lawrence Gartshore.

Something that is becoming increasingly apparent to me is the fact that certain situations will not, as one continues to struggle with waves of mental illness, feel entirely okay. And that is, equally, entirely, okay.

I have written before about my own personal situation – the fact that I still harbour a great deal of guilt for the way I treated certain individuals during my time plagued by mental illness – and how I am desperately trying to make up for that. I do not wish to rehash this in this particular article – know only that there are specific people whom I still struggle to deal with.

Now I have, since I made this decision to break free from the clasp of mental health issues, found myself slipping back into momentary lapses of depression only when dealing with these individuals. People whom I feel, rightly or wrongly, have been affected most deeply by my actions whilst under the cosh of depression and, as such, have seen our relationships damaged by that.

It has caused me, on a number of occasions, to withdraw from social situations in which we find ourselves in close proximity, fearing that I cannot continue to have a decent time whilst the thick air of our broken friendship hangs in the atmosphere. I write this very article after one such escape.

However, I am also coming to realise that this, whilst seemingly ridiculous, is okay. It is an okay way to think, an okay way to act, an okay way to feel.

I believed that all would be put to rights the second I made the call to cease my depressive state – that all would immediately slot back into normality; back into the way things used to be. I now understand that this is foolish.

I have written before about how depression changes people and relationships, yet never did I truly heed my own writing. Rather did I view it as a distinct, distant, hypothetical – something that touches me, yes, but something I could easily overcome.

Now, I comprehend that this is not the case. It will continue to be tricky to navigate, and these broken relationships will continue to hurt – but what is humanity without pain? Would it not be a far more strange scenario for me to feel nothing towards these people who loved me once?

Yes, this is in fact healthy. It’s also healthy to wish to not hurt oneself any more by staying in close proximity to these people whom you love yet cannot love you back. It is, rather, a great sense of self-knowledge, to understand when one is feeling overwhelmed and, for the sake of self-preservation, to withdraw oneself from it.

It is okay to not always feel okay, and these moments of self-doubt; of depression; of anxiety; are all key parts in healing oneself. One cannot become immediately sea-ready following a storm – one first has to take time to fill in the holes.

By Sia Jyoti.

I have come to accept that someone with my level of faith in humanity is destined to feel  perpetually disappointed with reality. A recent example of this emotion being triggered was in my  Law, Gender and Society lecture when despite being in a lull from my lack of caffeination, I noticed  the fact that not one man took this module. Initially, my peers and I laughed at our mutual  realisation but it was only until the seminar that I was met with my underlying rage. In a discussion  about the ways in which the legal system would disappoint us, both as future practising lawyers  and as potential victims of the system, it struck me why no man was enrolled in this module. It  boiled down to the privilege of not having to educate yourself on the systematic inequalities that  we, as women, are bound to face.  

Now, whilst I can write a paper on this subject alone, I would like to move on to the current event  that reignited this notion of the oppressed educating themselves on their oppressor for me: Andrew  Tate and the rise in incels. The first time I came across the term incels (involuntary celibate) was in  a New Yorker article in 2018. The article discussed the circumstances in which groups from both  genders were unable to be intimate despite a desire to do so, yet differentiated in the way they dealt  with this. Women, thanks to greater attention towards female liberation in the forms of education  and empowerment, sought to raise their self-esteem through other forms of validation. This  inevitably meant that men no longer became the primary source for a woman to feel worthy in  society. This for me is modern-day liberation; the ability for a woman to define herself without the  perception of any man.  

Yet, since we continue to exist in patriarchy, our little wins are quickly met with massive losses: and  here we see the rise in incels. When women found their worth and were no longer available to men  that were below their standards, a group of men found themselves generating an ideology  embedded in pure misogyny which they deemed a suitable response to their inability to be decent  human beings. In the 2018 article, they recorded the existence of at least sixteen deaths in the US  alone that had occurred in the pursuit of incel ideology. This could be easily summarised by a quote  from one of the murderers in 2014 that declared that his actions were in the hopes of starting a  war, not against, but ‘on women’ for ‘depriving’ him of sex. The attention I have drawn on his  choice of ‘War on Women’ as opposed to a ‘War against women’ is to illustrate the power dynamic  he subconsciously shares he holds. A war against someone is in opposition to them, it assumes  fairness and a starting point of equality. On, in contrast, already assumes that one group will be  above another. A visual image of an attempt to crush the rise of something is what I imagined when  I saw this quote. Now, eight years since Elliot Rogers’s misogyny-fuelled murders took place, I feel  we have made limited progress as a society.  

At the point of his peak in social media presence, Andrew Tate had made apparent his views on  women. Whilst the utter absurdity of some of these views made them laughable to the general  public, I had hoped that the corresponding rumours of his alleged sex trafficking and rape  allegations reduced his normalisation. Unfortunately, as I mentioned at the start of this article or  what some might see as an organised rant, hopeful people are often disappointed. After a casual dig  at him in a funny manner so that I wasn’t called a crazy feminist (I’m so crazy for being scared of  my biggest natural predator aren’t I?), my messages were flooded with defensive responses from so  many university friends. What surprised me most was the number of objectively normal, sweet,  and educated boys in my DM’s who shared in their feeling that “not everything he says is bad, he  has a point a lot of the time”.  

For my own sanity and the limited word count on this, I refuse to unravel the many problems with  that statement. Additionally, I find myself mentally exhausted from having to justify  disappointment in the male desire to find rational points made by a man who openly tweets that  women are responsible for their sexual assault. If you are happy to do this, then how come my,  actually researched and now proven defence for Amber Heard is met with literal barbaric rage and  an unfounded accusation that I don’t care about male issues when I can positively list the boys I have offered therapy to for free? For now, I will cut down on my charity work. Meanwhile, naively, I  yet again hope that this year we won’t offer our platforms up to lunatics, who can convince more  lunatics to spend their money on something as laughable as Hustlers University.

By Lawrence Gartshore.

I should begin here with a confession. When I speak of abandonment, I do not refer to the notion of physical isolation. Deserted on a desert island like a pirate who mutinied against his captain. Nor do I speak of those days where you simply cannot bring yourself to leave your house, or even your room, and so abandonment is a by-product of your self-isolation. Anxiety, in these instances, is most understandable indeed.

No, the abandonment which I have found most keenly affecting is that which one concocts in one’s own mind. This is, in many ways, entirely unsurprising. If one is plagued with other mental health issues, depression for instance, then this notion of attached anxiety surrounding abandonment is not revolutionary. It is not unusual to feel as though you cannot engage in social situations because you simply don’t have the right words to speak – you should hate to make yourself seem like a fool!

Again, even this general situational abandonment is not that of which I truly speak. It is closer to the truth, yes, however the real feeling of abandonment, the one I would contend is far more palpable, far more common, is that of feelings of specific abandonment.

What do I mean by this? Well, I mean those days when you have had an otherwise fabulous time. You have been surrounded by friends; you have done the things you most love doing in the world. You have eaten good food; you have drunk good drink. It would seem as though nothing could ever get you down again. And yet, in a flash, a single interaction can bring you spiralling back down into misery. Five minutes in a day that ruin the other one-thousand, four-hundred, and thirty-five.

I speak here of those moments where you question all that you are doing, simply because you have convinced yourself that someone, for whatever reason, has a problem with you. It could be a stranger; it could be a peripheral friend. Most damaging, however, are those moments when you find yourself questioning whether someone you love, someone you consider your rock, truly loves you too.

An unread message, and you question all that you have ever said to them. Perceived flippancy in a pub, and you question every action you have performed in front of them. You question everything about yourself, desperately trying to think what it could possibly be that has caused this perceived angst. The braver amongst us may try to confront the issue head on, asking directly what it is that has caused this supposed animosity. Yet, given that the problem is likely to only exist in one’s own mind, it is deeply unsurprising to be met with the response of ‘nothing at all’.

This should put the issue to bed. Were one thinking with a sane mind then that would be all the confirmation needed to move on, dispel this strange idea of some permeating feud, and return to conversation as the dearest of friends. Yet, of course, for this issue to arise in the first place one cannot be in the possession of a completely sane mind.

As such, you allow it to cloud all your future encounters. They begin as friendly, but tense. Then merely civil. Then, when all possible avenues have been considered in your mind, the only solution one can imagine is that they simply long for space from you. That you have offended them so deeply that you cannot ever truly aim to rebuild the friendship.

I can only tell you how destructive this is. I cannot profess to take my own advice here – I speak from a personal position of weakness, unable to reason my own way back, ignorant of my own guidance. Indeed, such encounters are the only consistent factor now that cause me to slip back into bouts of depression. However, I do truly believe that, as with all other aspects of mental health, this is a battle one must fight – and one that is infinitely winnable.

Now, in some instances, loved ones have every reason to feel slighted by you. As I detailed in my previous article, one cannot apologise for having mental health issues, but one can and should apologise for, and acutely recognise, the hurt that you cause others as a result. That being said, I implore you to not allow this plague to permanently burn the bridges of loving friendship. I have read recently that coming to terms with the fact that certain friendships simply won’t survive is an important part of maturing; if you truly love someone, let them go. I do not, I cannot, accept this. Allowing mental health issues to keep fostering these damaging relationships is, in my opinion, incredibly damaging

Do not allow feelings of abandonment, feelings of anxiety, to cloud those most precious relationships. It is through those that we find the most joy; that act as the rock upon which the foundation of our happiness is built. For as long as you do, you shall never truly break free from the shackles of the black-dog of depression. And always, on a personal note, question whenever you are feeling down due to interactions such as this – have you actually had a terrible day, or have you allowed a bad five minutes to ruin the other one-thousand, four-hundred, and thirty-five?

By Annabel Roest.

I knew going into 2022 that my chosen New Year’s Resolution would be a hard one to see through, but I never expected it to be so rewarding. 

The start of the new year marks a chance for us to work towards new successes, a time for us all to reassess our goals and what we want to achieve in the upcoming year. However, it also marks the chance to reflect on our previous New Year’s resolutions.

Last January, I decided to challenge myself to reject the temptations of buying first hand clothing and instead attempt to replace this by only buying pre-loved garments. My mission was simple – I would buy no brand-new clothes except for underwear, socks, and swimming costumes for the next 12 months. I set this goal to reduce my personal carbon footprint and contribution to the negative environmental effects brought about by incessant fast-fashion purchasing. In fact, the fashion industry is considered by the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) as one of the most polluting industries in the world.

Sadly, this year it has become obvious to me that fast-fashion is not the only problem. It is overconsumption that is harming the planet. 

Today, we thrive on instant gratification. We can have practically anything we want 24 hours after ordering it, eat whatever we want in under an hour and even find a romantic partner instantly thanks to apps like Tinder.  Our planet simply cannot sustain the waste and pollution coming from this level of production. In a world where everything is so instant, we need to put the brakes on our behaviour and consider if the things we buy will really enhance and enrich our lives, or if it can wait another 6 months – using and making the most of what we already have.

More and more of us are realising the importance of our consumer choices regarding their effects on the planet. According to the Euromonitor 2022 Consumer Trends Report, “there is no gap between climate awareness and intention to act”; an extremely positive sign. This can only lead to greater, more sustainable changes and alternatives going forward. 

67% of consumers tried to have a positive impact on the environment through their everyday actions in 2021, with the likes of myself and many others joining their ranks in the past year. With the rise of the ‘Climate Changer’ consumer trend, green activism and low-carbon lifestyles are around to stay. It is our responsibility to try to adapt our consumer choices to protect the planet. 

Second-hand clothes shopping constitutes part of ethical consumerism by attempting to minimise or eliminate harmful effects to the environment or society by reducing clothing disposal, and on that basis, I felt that this would be a great way of doing my part whilst challenging my self-discipline.

In 2021 I lived in Milan for a period of time for a year abroad from my degree. I was very much a shopaholic and was living in one of the fashion capitals of the world. I was surrounded by gorgeous people wearing amazing clothes and I felt inspired and excited to be around such good taste. I would do regular Zara hauls and check out the new arrivals each week, to make sure I was staying on top of the trends and trying to look (nearly!) as good as the people walking down the streets of Milan. After a couple of months, I began to question the quality of the Zara garments. The plastic shoes would break, and the fabrics of the clothes were not as comfortable or durable as I had expected. A family friend recommended that I check out a couple of the second-hand designer shops that Milan was famous for, my personal favourite being ‘Cavalli Nastri’. This recommendation was probably the biggest and best wakeup call I had. I found amazing pieces for even better prices and began to understand that companies like Zara and H&M, are not only deeply harming and changing the face of the environment, but the fashion world too. 

Zara has advertised itself as a shop selling medium quality fashion clothing at cheap rates ever since it was created. Compelled to research, I discovered that Zara could generate a new design and have the finished product in shops in four to five weeks for completely new designs, or two weeks for changes made to already-existing products. Comparatively, the production cycles of other typical clothing retailers could take up to six months for concept and design and up to three months for manufacture. Small, regular shipments and restrictions on how long products can be exhibited and sold in stores, as well as the company’s insistence that its stores keep a minimum quantity of stock openly visible, all contribute to the feeling that one should “purchase now or regret later.” This kind of trickery is what keeps Zara such a big player within fast fashion. The research I carried out on this topic was deeply shocking. I was part of the problem. 

Upon returning to Bristol in September 2021, I established a partnership with The Emporium of Loveliness, a charity shop who supports the charity Empower the Gambia. Through our partnership, we hosted a series of monthly clothes swaps where young women would bring a minimum of 5 pieces to the swap, and we would put them on a table and start swapping with one another. There was a donation policy for the entry fee, letting people give what they could, and leftover unwanted pieces would then be donated directly back to the charity shop for merchandising. This was an incredibly successful initiative and established a lovely network of like-minded individuals. It encouraged us all to consider our environmentally-conscious future purchasing choices, instead opting to contribute to a small-scale circular economy and avoid first-hand and fast-fashion consumption. I was extremely proud to have worked alongside the Emporium and relished each event, meeting new and enthusiastic faces each time.

Even after moving to Switzerland, where far fewer second-hand shops are readily available than Bristol, I have found some great spots to buy pre-loved bits and have started many conversations with my friends here about making better choices, which don’t compromise their spending habits or preferences but gets them to think before buying, which is something we all should do more of. That was my main aim, to encourage people to think about whether they really need something or are just buying it for the sake of buying. This is because I’ve been there, and now as I sell much of my wardrobe on Vinted, I often kick myself for buying things that I’ve never worn, but at least by reselling on platforms such as Vinted, they will be given a new life and I am also reducing my own personal overconsumption. So, what started at the beginning of 2022, as a fight against fast-fashion, has led me to the realisation that fast-fashion is just the tip of the iceberg. 

Let’s hope that this new year brings about a greater awareness of the need for responsible consumption and production. I hope we can all make better, more informed, purchasing choices. Are you looking for a resolution to help the planet as well as yourself? Think about where your clothes are coming from, and where they’re going. Try out being a better steward of the planet, for this generation and for the many to come.

By Lawrence Gartshore.

The notion of clothing has always been one that has perturbed me. Quite simply, I cannot in all good reason understand its necessity. Why is it that we, as the human race, are the only species of animal to have evolved to be ashamed of our naked flesh?

Now, as a good theology student, I am well aware of the biblical narrative here. Whisk your minds back to your school chapel services and the tale of the Book of Genesis. Man was created to walk freely in the Garden of Eden, a perfect paradise devoid of any pain or suffering. Indeed, I use the word ‘man’ here keenly, for it was of course, according to the biblical account, the bloke who first stepped foot on the earth, with woman coming a little later from the ribcage of the chaps. All was perfectly fine until the woman, Eve, was tempted by the devil, in guise of a snake, to eat from the prohibited fruit tree and thus gain extra detrimental knowledge – a crucial part we are told, and indeed the bit that appears to tip God off as to the fall of mankind, was a newfound shame of nudity. They fashioned leaves to cover their most intimate parts, God thus saw that they had disobeyed him, and cursed humanity to wander the earth with pain and hardship for the rest of time.

Now, unless you happen to find yourself in the bible bashing Southern states of America, then few people would take this account as verbatim. Thus, the question remains – why on earth are we quite happy to have so much of our body on show, from the face and neck to one’s thighs, and yet publicly revealing the meat and two veg of a man, or the personalities of a woman, is to be feared.

Nowhere, I would argue, is this more ridiculous a concept than in the comfort of one’s own home. So many people I know would find the notion of being nude in front of their parents, or indeed their parents being nude in front of them, a horrifying state of affairs. Is this not mad? By walking around, tackle-out, at home, one is not in some way coming-on to members of one’s own family! I know Freud and his Oedipus concept, but I’m not sure even he believed that sons literally wish to shag their own mothers.

I do not contest that clothes do, in fact, have a place. Were I to find myself in the Arctic Circle, I should, for my own sense of bodily wellbeing, rather like to be sporting a coat. The world is such, and the human body poorly designed, that in order to avoid the pain of frostbite, protection can be a necessity. But in the temperance of mild heat – no damned need!

Now, and I must say that as a proud Englishman this is most painful to write, I think the Germans have the right idea here. You cannot walk through a street in Berlin without seeing a frankfurter wobbling in the breeze. And all power for it! Why is that any more affronting than seeing a morbidly obese male chest at a football match?

No; we, particularly as the British public, are prudes. The mere mention of sex drives most of us into a fit of uncontrollable giggles and, whilst I make no secret of my adoration for the feminine physique, I would so hope that men and women could exist perfectly well in unity without the need to hide our God given rigs.

So, I say my friends, let us move past our animalistic urges; let us throw off the shackles of our Orangutang ancestors; and let us allow the boys and girls to breathe. Life would be far simpler, and far better ventilated.