A guest contribution by the Editor-in-Chief of Obiter Dicta
The custom of school rivalry dictates that Osgoode Hall and U of T Law School are oft discussed in terms of their differences. Much as we like to compare statistics and vibes, a precious kinship between both schools lies in a key yet understated institution: The student newspaper. The academic journal is, of course, a staple of any law college, as are mooting circuits, and the long column of law clubs specialising in one area or another. Student journalism is a distinct space, though, which the Obiter Dicta and Ultra Vires have long carved in as a proverbial “third place” outside the monopoly of studying and working in law. It’s no less shaped by law students—their time, their views, their concerns. It is a place where student expression need not be qualified by an academic or professional affiliation. Long has it been the soapbox from which we’ve preached that you can’t quite say outside a lecture hall (or at least find an audience for it). For as long as I have read both papers, I’ve noticed a candour and sincerity in articles almost unseen elsewhere in law school circles; a space where one can feel vulnerable, but not uncomfortable speaking their mind. On the other side of the paper, there’s a readership keen to hear about all the news fit to print regarding the dread of tuition increases, courses students never cared much for, or the always fashionable frustration with endless job interviews. It is no less because of the historical continuity of these platforms that generations of students have expressed their relevant concerns and interests for so long—above all, in their voices.
Obiter Dicta, which is Osgoode’s official student newspaper, has itself been publishing since 1928. The subtitle on every nameplate proudly bears the laurel of “The Oldest Law School Newspaper in North America.” I often enjoy going back to the archives and reading about what students had to say in the editions of yore—surprisingly little different from today. There’s a melancholy in that distinction of age, though. Editions from the 1920s up to the Y2K era and little beyond that are clearly from another time in student journalism. They’re brim with advertisements that wouldn’t seem alien in the Star or the Times: Chrysler automobiles, Jersey Milk chocolate bars, tailors of both suits and barrister’s robes, The production schedules were practically weekly, and the staff list was mammoth. The news columns didn’t have to compete with the law school’s own newswire. Far from just the forum of a student voice, this was your go-to source of information, your choice of literature during a coffee break, and your reprieve from the monotony of case readings.
Today, student newspapers of any stripe may be looked onto as something of an anachronism. In law schools—where the constituency of the student newspaper is even smaller than many a high school or undergraduate campus—there’s been especially trying times to preserve their niche. Nowadays anyone can curate their own arbiters of opinion through social media, or have access to news within an instant, whether local or worldwide. Yet the student newspaper has not gone extinct, nor will it. There’s certainly been a bit of creative reinvention with its content and presentation over the years, but the message stays the same: Our platform, our voice. The law school newspaper is, conceptually, medium for student agency. It’s also an accessible medium by virtue of that mission—anyone can write for it, and with more generality and personability than in most other law school settings. Even when readership is low—which isn’t unusual—the very fact of that expression gives students a distinct voice, made more authoritative by a nameplate and editorial masthead.
Both our schools are lucky to not only have student newspapers, but leading and longstanding newspapers of their kind. There must certainly be no want for enthusiasm in seeing them prosper given their long continuity, and how eager new boards take up production year-by-year even as complete turnovers and new generational cycles carry on. Still, as a student dependent enterprise it’s fickle, and to take it for granted comes easy. It might not seem like a lot, in the abstract, to lose the means to write about a favourite show or the state of articling recruitment to the law school community. But we’ll notice if that voice is gone, and it’s our imperative to make sure that this is a liberty we may always keep. We’ll always need it, even if we don’t always know it. Even if only one student reads it, it’s worth it. So please don’t take your student newspaper for granted—whether you read in passing, write for every issue, or put the layout together, keep it up. Whether you know it or not, future students will be in your debt even as the paper gets reinvented again.
Editor’s Note: Omar El Sharkawy (3L at Osgoode Hall Law School) is the Editor-in-Chief of Obiter Dicta, Osgoode Hall Law Schools’s student newspaper.