Berkley Center

Before arriving in this country, I had formed the opinion that on the whole, Britain’s past would tend to dominate its present identity. After all, the British possess a long and powerful history, and one that has influenced many of the major events in Western and non-Western history. Yet in the two weeks that I have been in Oxford, I have increasingly come to see that even here, history does not so much forcefully define identity, as subtly sway it. Legacies and traditions from the past do tend to seep into everyday life, but the past is a harmonic undertone to the prevailing melody of modern life. Oxford is, of course, a small town and not representative of Great Britain as a whole, but it has served as a fascinating case study for the roles that history and identity play in shaping each other.

I expected Oxford to be old and venerable. In fact, Oxford is extremely old and loves its many traditions. Oxford is home to magnificent buildings that have seen the likes of world renowned politicians, economists, writers, and scientists pass through them. Even outside of the academic history of the place, it is impossible to escape the small reminders of the past. The storefront of Alice’s Shop reminds me that Lewis Carroll first dreamed up Wonderland here. The stately libraries strike up images of age old centers of learning. The gowns that students still wear to sit their exams remind me that the university possesses some traditions older than our nation. History is so rich here that it folds into the very fabric of the town’s identity. Though the town has built on top of and around its past, the newer aspects mingle with the old, rather than covering them up or replacing them.

On the other hand, the present is still, forcefully, the present. The town and university provide every modern comfort. It is possible to find traditional “high tea” on one street and Mexican takeout on another. The architecture of the town may be old, but the ideas and tempo of life are exceedingly modern. And despite my previous assumptions, this “modernization,” in a sense, is wholly expected. One should expect a university—an institution at the supposed forefront of thinking—to ensure that the town in which it stands does not become lost in its past.

The students are as much a part of shaping the town’s identity as any other factor, and I’m happy to say that the students here are keen on both preserving the traditions of the past as they are on starting new ones for future students to enjoy. The balance between past and present here is very subtle. Neither part has forced the other into being; rather, the two intertwine to form the fabric of life here, achieving an imperceptibly delicate balance between the old and the new.

The same can be said for Britain as a whole. Britain has such a powerful past that its present identity could easily be overwhelmed by its history—a kind of national nostalgia. But Great Britain seems to have embraced an eclectic mix of the past and the present, achieving a balance between tradition and modernity. The Olympic Games in London a few months ago demonstrated that coming quite well. And yet when one thinks of British culture, it is still difficult to let go of the cultural stereotypes involving afternoon tea, royalty, and other Downton Abbey-esque visions. But in the end, it's this strange yet fluid mix of old and new that makes this place charming, exciting, splendid, and surprising all at once.