The A* Grade Challenge Nov Update: August Decrees, Competitions and the Oxford Union

Well hello there. Some of you are wondering who I even am? Due to my absence from this space for some time, I give you permission to blast a Justin Bieber song (oh dear)…

Anyway, apart from sleeping on buses every morning due to late nights, it’s been a fairly positive November.

One topic I’ve been studying in my History lessons is the August Decrees. Just some quick background info: before 1789, France was ruled by an absolutist monarchy. The rich (the nobles and the clergy) widely practiced tax evasion, placing burden the poor – a segment most of the population were classified under. The monarchy increasingly became very anti-French (weird huh?) and disillusionment grew amongst laymen so they decided to revolt. Many exciting events took place (apart from people dying which obviously isn’t great), and one of them was the August Decrees. This marked a significant end to the ancien regime and paved way for a more democratic France that lifted the burden from the poor and nationalised the Churches. If you look at it as a short term occurrence, it was very very successful. The ‘Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen’ followed, but of course, conspiracy theories came along.

Alongside academic work, I’m participating in some national competitions which I’m pretty excited about! First up is the British Biology Olympiad which is open to all post 16 students who have a particular interest in biological sciences. After some persuasion from my Biology teacher, I’ve decided to give it a go. Second comp I’m taking part is The Julia Wood Prize, a history essay writing competition held by St Hugh’s College, Oxford. For my dissertation, I’ve decided to focus on a period of British history I haven’t studied before. I’m going to be writing about Oliver Cromwell but I haven’t yet concluded on a specific aspect of his time in power to focus on.

    

To make my study breaks more productive, I’ve decided to listen to some debates held at the Oxford Union by subscribing to their YouTube channel. The best thing...it’s free! No actually, the best thing is listening to intellectuals who know a heck amount about their field, and in the end, you completely change your perspective of that particular topic. Quite fascinating really.

That’s it for November, strikingly hard to believe that there’s only one month left till the end of the year. Where did all the time go?!

Remembering...

It’s been 95 years since the Great War had ended, and although bloodshed had halted, the consequences of sacrifice became ever so more apparent. “Your country needs you!” was the popular catchphrase of the day. Those who decided not to intervene with military matters were deemed as conscientious objectors. Women ditched their campaign to political rights, instead, demanding the ‘right to serve’. But despite patriotic fervor capturing the hearts of many Britons, little did they know of the catastrophe that was to unfold. With 995,939 military losses and a total of 1,663,435 deaths in summary, disenchantment grew. Society came to one question; what does it mean to be a hero? To die for your country knowing that you’ve taken part in the effort to defend it, or to simply walk away? Saving yourself from the mental scars that was to be engraved due to brutality.

Below is one of my most favourite poems; Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen. A perfect compendium. However, we must remember those who sacrificed their lives for good and prosperity. Vital lessons were to be learnt from the terrible tragedy – but for now, let’s remember.

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!---An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,---

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori

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