As a fresher, many Cambridge quirks have completely mystified me. But none more so than the baffling existence of swaps. For those who haven’t experienced them, swaps are a Cambridge tradition where two societies (drinking or sporting) or groups from different colleges, meet in a restaurant, ‘fine’ each other, and carry out wild challenges for captaincy. What are they? Why do we do them? Living up to the HSPS stereotype, I have sought solace in the joy of ‘social constructs’ to answer these questions...

There is something undeniably odd about engineering a restaurant meal for an equal number of boys and girls from different colleges. Although the origin of swaps probably lies in the days of single-sex colleges, this kind of segregation only continues to exist for Murray Edwards and Newnham. Yet swaps have confidently retained their prevalent spot on Cambridge’s 21st Century social calendar. This ‘tradition’ is also hardly old; I recently spoke to an ex-Johnian who studied here between 1961-71 and admitted he’d never heard of the concept. Hence, we can’t really attribute our enthusiasm to our undying love for tradition. Our willingness to pay upwards of £20 for swaps might derive from our lack of social skills in contexts lacking predictable drinking games, but I think the novelty of swaps runs deeper than this…

In most social contexts, eating out is preserved for celebratory occasions (in fact, a statistics website informed me that 43% of the British population rarely eat out). Sit-down meals structure meaningful social events; it is a privilege to take a seat at a table while strangers prepare and serve dinner, then clean up your meal. However, by embedding binge drinking and debauchery within a restaurant context, we reduce the significance of this meal to a backdrop. I wouldn’t hesitate in labelling this a symbol of entitlement, as middle class students demonstrate contempt for the service industry. During these events, we occupy a privileged realm where a sit-down meal out isn’t worthy of respect or courtesy; an attitude which is epitomised by activities such as mixing vodka into curry (a lovely concept I know). The importance of privilege is only emphasised further by the fact that at most venues, swap food is more expensive than the usual menu prices; at Curry King for instance, a chicken korma costs around £7 from the menu but is priced at £10 at a swap. This extra price is the cost of the inevitable destructive and rowdy student behaviour, suggesting we are able to buy the right to disrespect a venue.  

The challenge for ‘captaincy’ is also really bizarre. Arbitrary status symbols, which compel us to go to extreme and uncomfortable lengths, seem to litter Cantab culture. Captaincy represents a temporary title of superiority, awarded to the most outrageous behaviour. Whilst securing captaincy might require quite vanilla challenges like getting off with someone at the table, the dares have extended to eating meal worms out belly buttons or pouring vodka into eyeballs. So why do we go to these lengths? Winning captaincy indicates acceptance by your peers, and demonstrates our desperation and willingness to go to any length to achieve this - I can’t decide whether this game is an inversion or a mirror image of our ongoing struggle to achieve a Cambridge degree. The atmosphere of rivalry and a desire to impress pervades Cambridge life - from supervisions to swaps, it seems inescapable.

"Arbitrary status symbols, which compel us to go to extreme and uncomfortable lengths, seem to litter Cantab culture"

This is an admittedly pessimistic perspective, and the joy of swaps is certainly more extensive than a simple display of privilege or superiority. Swaps could also be interpreted as a context which facilitates an evening of alternative social norms and rules. Free-will is both heightened and reduced by the combination of drinking games and a private space outside of colleges. Unusual or boundary-breaking behaviour is legitimised and excused by challenges for captaincy. Spaces which are alienated from the context of day-to-day life are perfect opportunities to experiment; our wish to behave badly in a restaurant evokes memories of bad behaviour on school trips, where we occupy a space outside our usual normality and outside the rules we usually adhere to. Outside our daily environment (be it school, college or home), social norms become less stringent. In short, swaps could be seen as an established social occasion for rule-breaking.

Lyrical Lobotomy: Protest Songs

Swaps are an admittedly odd Cambridge tradition but not one which is necessarily bad. They can be great opportunities - a chance to meet new friends, partners and people outside your usual social sphere. Plus, the solidarity created through swaps creates an increased level of identification for societies. After all, as the common saying goes -  a friend you can eat a mealworm out of a bellybutton with is a friend for life