From Tasmania to Oxford, graduate student Billy (Master’s in Public Policy) reflects on community, civic purpose, and the role universities can play in shaping not just careers, but the way we think about responsibility, opportunity, and public life.
You were recently awarded a University Medal by your undergraduate institution, the University of Tasmania. Congratulations! What does that recognition mean to you?
It’s a really satisfying recognition, particularly after having made the deliberate choice to stay in Tasmania for my undergraduate years, instead of going interstate like many of my peers from high school. More than anything, it feels like a way of tying together what was a rich and varied experience, which included a handful of fantastic professors who genuinely shaped how I think, peers I learned an enormous amount from, and some great placements and internships that were built into the coursework. I also had the chance to do two short exchange programs, to Vietnam and Indonesia, which were both amazing experiences in their own right. So in many ways the medal is a nice full stop on all of that, a reminder of just how much those years contained.
What are you focusing on in your research at Oxford and what questions are you most interested in exploring?
The Master’s in Public Policy at Oxford has given me a broad foundation, covering the philosophy underpinning public policy, political science, law as a policy tool, and the practical application of economics and evidence. This term I’ve been able to specialise further, into education policy and geo-economics with a focus on China.
Beyond the programme itself, I’m developing two distinct areas of deeper interest. The first is sovereign wealth funds, how they can build economic resilience for future generations, and how governments navigate the tension between short-term political pressures and the long-term mandates these funds are designed to serve. The second remains close to my roots: education and human capital development, and the policy levers that different countries are using to shape outcomes for their people. What excites me most is the space where these two interests converge, how institutional capital can be directed toward human capability.
How has your experience of the Queen’s community shaped your time at Oxford so far?
Queen’s has shaped my Oxford experience in ways I didn’t fully anticipate. The College did an excellent job early on of facilitating connections within the postgraduate community through the Middle Common Room (MCR), and those friendships have become a real staple of my weekly life here. Living in close quarters with fellow Queen’s students has added another dimension to that, the kind of easy, everyday interactions that make a place feel like home.
What I’ve enjoyed most is the way Queen’s has served as a hub where different worlds of Oxford converge. Some of my favourite moments have been bringing together friends from college, Rhodes scholars, and coursemates from the Blavatnik School, people who might never otherwise meet, gathered in the same room.
What I’ve enjoyed most is the way Queen’s has served as a hub where different worlds of Oxford converge. Some of my favourite moments have been bringing together friends from college, Rhodes scholars, and coursemates from the Blavatnik School, people who might never otherwise meet, gathered in the same room.
You’ve spoken about the importance of community in your earlier studies; what does that support look like in practice?
For me, community support has always been defined by reciprocity. The core conviction underlying everything I do within institutions is simple: you give back to the places that shaped you.
For me, community support has always been defined by reciprocity. The core conviction underlying everything I do within institutions is simple: you give back to the places that shaped you.
That began when I was fifteen, when a foundation scholarship to a private school in Tasmania shifted my trajectory. That relationship never really ended, I now serve on the alumni board, have spent years tutoring students there, worked in the boarding house, and contributed to their advancement office. The same principle carried through my time at UTAS, where I delivered industry showcases, workshops, and presentations to business and economics students out of gratitude for what that institution made possible for me. And it continues here at Oxford. Through the Rhodes Trust, I serve as an ambassador for the Australian cohort and join virtual coffee chats with incoming scholars. At the Blavatnik School, I’ve sat on panels and run study sessions for my peers.
The belief underpinning all of it is that no individual achieves as much alone as they can within a collective. My advice to young people is always the same: give without expectation, but give sincerely, and the institution will give back in ways you can’t always predict.
The idea of ‘civic purpose’ is important to you. How do you interpret this in your own work?
My interpretation of civic purpose is grounded in humility. Those of us fortunate enough to be at Oxford must be honest with ourselves: we arrived here through a combination of hard work, yes, but also luck, and luck is not evenly distributed. We live in a world where postcode privilege profoundly shapes the opportunities available to people from birth, and that is not something any of us earned or chose.
That recognition carries a responsibility. If you have been fortunate enough to receive good opportunities, I believe you have an obligation to dedicate a meaningful portion of your life, in whatever form brings you fulfilment, to improving the fortune of others.
If you have been fortunate enough to receive good opportunities, I believe you have an obligation to dedicate a meaningful portion of your life, in whatever form brings you fulfilment, to improving the fortune of others.
Living that out requires self-reflection: understanding where you will be most motivated to make change, and then having the discipline to resist the pull of more lucrative pathways that drift away from that purpose.
What do you think the role of a university should be today and has your perspective on that changed through your experiences in Tasmania and Oxford?
My view on this has evolved, and not always in a straight line.
My final two years of high school gave me a strong sense of what a learning institution could be at its best, a place that drives curiosity, builds confidence, and creates genuine belonging. When I arrived at university, COVID stripped most of that away. For a period, I grew pessimistic about higher education, particularly having founded businesses and worked four or five jobs concurrently throughout my degree. The professional world felt like a richer learning environment than the one I was sitting in.
What began to shift that was when my university started opening doors to experiences I couldn’t have accessed alone, such as the exchange programs to Indonesia and Vietnam, where I started to see higher education again as a vehicle for curiosity, community, and confidence in unfamiliar environments.
Oxford has consolidated that shift. What has mattered most here isn’t necessarily the content of any single lecture, it’s the fact that every class is in person, that I’m constantly in conversation with people from radically different backgrounds, and that there is a palpable sense of momentum and mutual investment in the room. I learn best through conversation, and the Blavatnik School has been an epicentre for exactly that, big, challenging conversations about the grey area. It’s a large part of why I chose to stay there for a second year. For me, the measure of a great university is ultimately the quality of human interaction it makes possible.
The measure of a great university is ultimately the quality of human interaction it makes possible.
For students considering their next steps in the world, whether it be study or work, what advice would you give them in terms of how they should make their choices?
I’d offer three pieces of advice.
The first is to not underestimate the value of trying things, including things that don’t work out. I’ve held many jobs, internships and placements over the years, and only a handful of them excited me. But the ones that didn’t were often the most clarifying. Knowing what doesn’t motivate you is one of the most reliable ways to understand what does. Breadth of experience early on means that when the time comes to go deep in a particular direction, you’re making that choice with real self-knowledge rather than assumption.
The second is to resist the pressure of the single linear pathway. I’m a strong advocate for pursuing your passions alongside your day job, continuing to learn, shifting across different areas, and expanding the range of tools and perspectives available to you. The work environment is dynamic, and the people who thrive in it tend to be the ones who’ve kept themselves curious and adaptable.
I’m a strong advocate for pursuing your passions alongside your day job.
The third, and perhaps the most important to me personally, is to build some form of reflection into your life. Living with intention is one of the great challenges of our generation. Every moment of downtime is filled with new information and stimulus, and lessons that could be formative just disappear into the noise. Whether it’s journalling, conversations with close friends, a mindfulness practice, or simply walking without a podcast, find a way to internalise what you’re learning, so it actually shapes your decisions rather than just passing through.
Whether it’s journalling, conversations with close friends, a mindfulness practice, or simply walking without a podcast, find a way to internalise what you’re learning, so it actually shapes your decisions rather than just passing through.
Can you recommend a book?
I’d encourage any young person to read The Resilience Project by Hugh van Cuylenburg. Hugh is an author, speaker, and founder of a not-for-profit in Australia built around three core principles: gratitude, empathy, and mindfulness. He’s spent over a decade working in the education sector, developing resilience programs for schools across the country, and is someone I look up to as a role model.
His book was the one that first inspired me to reflect more deliberately on my own practices, to be more intentional about how I live and how I process the world around me. For any young person navigating big decisions or busy seasons of life, it’s exactly the kind of read that stays with you.
