
Trump, Land, Dugin
Trump is not Land’s monarch nor Dugin’s tsar. He is their degraded symptom: the parody of a fascist synthesis of technology and tradition, replayed in the register of meme stock and casino populism.
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Trump is not Land’s monarch nor Dugin’s tsar. He is their degraded symptom: the parody of a fascist synthesis of technology and tradition, replayed in the register of meme stock and casino populism.
From PwC’s colour-coded attendance dashboard to HSBC’s biometric checkpoints and the rise of Algorithmic Affect Management, the new wave of “bossware” represents less an innovation than the latest stage in capital’s long history of making workers legible. What began with the factory bell and the punch clock now extends to our faces, moods, and keystrokes.
Zarah Sultana’s interview in Sidecar captures the anger at Labour’s complicity in genocide and austerity, but it risks becoming another broad reformist project, haunted by the ghosts of Corbynism—vulnerable to sect capture, parliamentary illusions, and the same popular-front logic that has historically disarmed the working class.
Nigel Farage’s TikTok wunderkind wants us to imagine a Britain that never fought Hitler, kept its colonies, and models itself on Bukele’s prison state. This is not contrarianism; it is fascist nostalgia dressed up as common sense.
Alexander Dugin calls the Trump–Putin summit in Anchorage “splendid,” insisting the US and Russia must find an “understanding as superpowers.” The problem is that this fantasy of bipolar order flatters two declining states while obscuring the real forces shaping the 21st century.
With armed red-state troops patrolling a blue city, Trump is not protecting Washington; he is rehearsing the mechanics of civil war.
Every August, the right reheats its old contempt for higher education. Their complaint is not about debt or “Mickey Mouse” degrees, it is about closing the gates of knowledge, keeping universities for the dominant class and consigning everyone else to warehouses and call centres.
A former insider’s quiet confession becomes an indictment of an economic experiment that reshaped Britain and still guides the hand of government, from Thatcher to Reeves.
Donald Trump’s latest scheme—expelling Gaza’s population to neighbouring countries and transforming the strip into a capitalist playground, exposes the brutal logic of imperialism. With threats to withhold aid from Egypt and Jordan unless they absorb millions of displaced Palestinians, this plan is not just a violation of international law but a blueprint for ethnic cleansing.
The UK government’s attack on dissent and protest rights echoes a long history of state suppression, revealing a deep fear of the power of a mobilised working class.
The Conservative Party’s recent by-election failures highlight more than just their own incompetence. They point to a fundamental crisis within the capitalist system itself, a system which the Conservatives strive to preserve amidst increasing dysfunction.
From silencing dissent to expanding state powers, the Conservative government is pursuing an increasingly authoritarian agenda that should deeply concern all who value human rights and democracy, argues Simon Pearson. Their inflammatory rhetoric and restrictions on protests, speech, and accountability mechanisms reflect a dangerous slide towards illiberalism.
On a seemingly ordinary Thursday, at the time-honoured Glyndebourne opera festival, an unexpected interlude of protest emerged. In the sanctuary of the arts, amid the melody of Francis Poulenc’s Dialogues des Carmélites, a dissenting chorus brought the opera to a standstill. Sparked by the cause of Just Stop Oil, the interruption blended a traditional form of high culture with the pressing concerns of our era. This is the narrative of that day, a symphony of dissent resounding from the grand opera house to the streets of London.
Here we delve into the radicalisation of former Conservative Member of Parliament, Andrew Bridgen, and his alignment with right-wing populist ideologies. Highlighting the pivotal role of disinformation networks and socio-economic factors, we explore the concerning trend of right-wing radicalisation in the UK, its implications for democracy, and potential countermeasures.
In the twilight of a kingdom, the coronation of King Charles, a stage set to display the shimmering façade of liberty, while the UK government hastens its grip on the throat of protests
In the face of mounting global crises, we must urgently re-envision our asylum and migration policies to foster a more compassionate and just world.
This post explores the growing threat of creeping fascism in the UK political landscape, particularly within the Conservative Party. It examines recent actions by the government, including the exclusion of critical media outlets from the Home Secretary’s trip to Rwanda and the policy to deport asylum seekers, in light of the “creeping fascism” thesis. The post argues that the Tories’ use of jingoistic and anti-immigrant rhetoric is a deliberate tactic to distract from the real issues facing the UK and consolidate their power.