The rest of the blog
The English “revolution” under the St George’s Cross is no revolution at all, but a counter-revolution, a politics of scapegoating that shields the dominant class from blame.
Scapegoating migrants is just the start. When politics legitimises fear and blame, the mob never stops, and neither does the cycle of persecution.
Keir Starmer’s law-and-order theatrics have handed the far right its new saint: a self-styled free speech Joan of Arc—except this saint didn’t want to be burned, she wanted others to be.
Paul Bristow cites the Epping Forest ruling to demand hotel closures for asylum seekers, but offers no plan for what follows. The Conservatives built the hotel system; Labour inherits it; local politicians weaponise planning law while migrants disappear from view.
The arrest of a part-time cleaner for sharing Facebook posts backing Palestine Action shows how Britain’s response to Gaza has drifted from foreign policy into domestic repression.
Farage brings the noise, Starmer brings the law. The country falls apart to the sound of flags snapping and doors slamming while capital quietly clears the till.
Robert Jenrick’s Union Jack pantomime isn’t patriotism; it’s a confession of weakness. A dying political class turns to flags and ladders because it has nothing left to offer but theatre.
By sanctioning International Criminal Court judges and prosecutors, Trump’s America has openly declared that empire stands above the law. Europe and Britain now face a stark choice: defend the court’s independence, or accept a world where justice stops at Washington’s door.
Hal Draper’s ‘America as Overlord’ is a study of imperial necessity, how the United States became the regulator of global capitalism, why its dominance persisted, and what happens when the system it upholds begins to fracture.
In 2024, as the old narratives collapse and the sense of waiting tightens into dread, Joan Didion’s work feels less like a record of the past than a map of the present.
Algorithmic management does not simply discipline workers; it renders the very logic of their exploitation opaque, and in Cyberboss, Craig Gent dissects this transformation with forensic precision.
What if the greatest threat to your freedom wasn’t a government decree, a criminal act, or even a political ideology, but an algorithm? The Dream Hotel, Laila Lalami’s chilling new novel, imagines a world in which surveillance capitalism governs not only what we do, but who we are allowed to be.
Histories of 1914 and the start of the First World War continue to proliferate, yet few reflect on how those histories themselves have been shaped. Perry Anderson’s Disputing Disaster is a forensic examination of how the war’s origins have been written, but what does it omit?
A whip smart and urgent examination of videogames as both a cultural force and a political battleground, Everything to Play For interrogates the industry’s contradictions: its creative potential, its exploitative labour practices, and its uncertain future in the age of AI.
The consolidation of reactionary power in the United States is not accidental or chaotic but the result of a long-term, well-funded strategy to entrench minority rule, an argument laid bare in Owned by Eoin Higgins and Money, Lies, and God Behind the Movement to Destroy American Democracy by Katherine Stewart.
Few books have shaped the conspiratorial mind like Behold a Pale Horse, and in Pale Horse Rider: William Cooper, the Rise of Conspiracy, and the Fall of Trust in America, Mark Jacobson unpacks the strange, sprawling legacy of its author, William Cooper, a man who saw the deep state before it had a name, predicted 9/11, and died in a shootout with police. But was he a prophet, a fraud, or just another victim of his own paranoia?
Nick Dyer-Witheford and Alessandra Mularoni’s Cybernetic Circulation Complex: Big Tech and Planetary Crisis, recently published by Verso, is more than a critique, it’s an intellectual war machine. They chart how the CCC has reshaped the global economy, from Amazon’s AI-driven logistics empire to the speculative bubbles propping up Tesla and Google. They expose how Big Tech’s far-right accelerationists, from Andreessen to Thiel, are using crisis to rewire the state itself. The choice, they argue, is stark: biocommunism or extinction.
Robert D. Kaplan’s Waste Land: A World in Permanent Crisis is less a serious analysis of global instability than an extended defence of imperial power, dressing up the failures of capitalism as inevitable and naturalising the dominance of Western capital as the only alternative to chaos.