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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.
Dan Hodges’s Mail column denouncing Palestine Action as “terrorists” is not journalism but ideological policing, an attempt to criminalise dissent while excusing the real violence: Britain’s complicity in Gaza’s destruction.
Trump’s return to power signals not just a political shift but a profound restructuring of the American state—one that fuses corporate power with authoritarian governance. This transformation, driven by figures like Elon Musk and the influence of think tanks such as the Heritage Foundation, represents the latest stage in capital’s ongoing march towards unaccountable dominance.
Picture a once-mighty empire, stripped to its underwear. Once hailed for its democratic values and global reach, the United States now staggers beneath the weight of its own contradictions—its institutions hollowed out, its alliances squandered, its climate left to burn. In the aftermath of a second Trump presidency, what was once dismissed as political theatre has morphed into a crisis so profound that even the most reluctant observers must confront the truth: the old order cannot endure.
The assassination attempt on Donald Trump has spotlighted a troubling paradox: why do liberal institutions and figures often defend fascist politicians, even when these politicians espouse values antithetical to liberalism? This article delves into the inherent contradictions within liberalism that lead it to shield authoritarian figures like Trump, arguing that these actions reveal a deeper alignment with capitalist interests and a fear of revolutionary change.
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.
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.
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.
Amidst the drip-drip of fear and hatred in our current political climate, Suella Braverman’s chilling words serve as a stark reminder of the inhumanity that lies at the heart of power.
It’s a classic case of power versus principle, and the stakes have never been higher. In the end, it’s not just about football – it’s about the very soul of our democracy.
Fascism is still a threat today, and we must call out its leaders and followers for what they are: Nazis.
Solidarity with Gary Linker as he stands firm against the fascist menace at home!
