Gaza
Killing the Witnesses
Israel killed Anas al-Sharif because it feared what he could still show the world.
The rest of the blog
Israel killed Anas al-Sharif because it feared what he could still show the world.
Jenrick’s “medieval attitudes” line isn’t about protecting women — it’s about importing the far right’s script into the Tory mainstream. From Powell to Farage, the cast has changed but the grammar is the same: the outsider as danger, the nation as victim, the politician as saviour.
Keir Starmer’s proscription of Palestine Action marks a new stage in Britain’s authoritarian turn, retooling counter-terrorism laws to criminalise dissent, define solidarity as “terrorism”, and dress up political repression as public safety.
Gilbert Achcar’s The Gaza Catastrophe is not a plea for sympathy. It is a political weapon. Written in the midst of genocide, it strips away the euphemisms, the diplomatic theatre, and the moral fog. This war, he argues, is a settler-colonial project. Accelerated to its most brutal form, with the full backing of the Western powers who claim to uphold human rights. Achcar names the system, maps its historical scaffolding, and indicts not only Israel but the global order that enables it. This is not a book of mourning. It is a call to act.
Right to Buy was never just a housing policy. It was a weapon. It stripped councils of their power, turned tenants into property owners, and recast collective provision as individual gain. The result wasn’t freedom but fragmentation: social housing gutted, rents soaring, and the right to strike undermined by the threat of eviction. Thatcher didn’t just sell homes. She sold a new class alignment, and we’re still living in its ruins.
In 1984, we built a nuclear bunker out of cardboard boxes in the corner of our classroom. Each of us brought something for survival—Look-In mags, tins of beans, but no tin opener. Even as kids, we knew it was useless. That was the point. You couldn’t market nuclear war as survivable. Forty years on, the language has changed but the logic remains. The bomb hasn’t gone away, it’s just become background noise. The treaties are gone. The madmen are in charge. And the system that built the bomb still holds it, not to use necessarily, but to remind us who gets to decide if we live.
The modern-day barons don’t run trade unions, they sail £100 million yachts and bankroll governments. Yet it’s the rail cleaner or the guard who’s cast as the threat. What’s truly appalling is not that Eddie Dempsey wants to strike fast, but that workers can’t strike in solidarity with Palestinians, can’t refuse to load weapons bound for Gaza, can’t use their collective strength to win better conditions across sectors. The right fears not chaos—but class power.
There was a time when the production line ordered more than goods, it ordered life. Work meant wages, wages meant stability, and stability gave the illusion of progress. That was Fordism. What remains now is the shell of that promise, retrofitted as nationalist fantasy. The factory is gone, but its myth has been repurposed. Not to build, but to blame.
Dugin’s latest tract is less geopolitics than geopolitical psychosis. An unhinged blend of Orthodox ultranationalism, fascist paranoia, and terminal online posting. But buried in the hallucinatory sprawl is a blueprint for what Russia’s ideological vanguard now sees as the next phase: war with Europe, justified not by security, but by metaphysics.
Trump hasn’t changed, he’s doing what strongmen do: cutting deals, starting wars, appeasing generals. It’s Dugin who’s panicking. The fantasy’s collapsing, so he calls it a globalist takeover. The world isn’t ending. Just his script.
Alexander Dugin’s Trump Revolution is less a political treatise than a fascist gospel for the post-liberal order—mythic, dangerous, and perfectly in tune with the mood of the new authoritarian right.
The fascist right can’t decide if the country is bursting at the seams or facing demographic collapse. One minute it’s “no more room”, the next it’s “have more babies”. Strip away the rhetoric, and the truth is clear: this isn’t about numbers. It’s about race and it always has been.
The United States is no longer sliding toward fascism; it is actively constructing it, one arrested judge, one silenced journalist, and one gutted civil rights protection at a time
Power posed, punishment filtered, the spectacle made beautiful.
Trump’s congressional address wasn’t just another rambling performance. It was a blueprint for a more chaotic, authoritarian world. His wavering on Ukraine signalled open season for Putin, while his economic nationalism masked a deeper agenda: consolidating power by pitting workers against each other while serving the same ruling class that fuels crisis and war. This isn’t just about Trump. It’s about a capitalist system in decay, turning to reaction and repression to sustain itself. The question isn’t whether we can stop him, it’s whether we can break the cycle before it’s too late.
Trump’s tariff war is not about economic nationalism, it’s a desperate attempt to prop up a failing system through class warfare, digital authoritarianism, and mass repression. As capitalism stumbles deeper into crisis, the dominant class turns to protectionism, billionaire governance, and algorithmic control to maintain its grip, ensuring that workers, migrants, and the global precariat bear the cost.
The transition is complete. The bureaucracy is being purged, executive orders rain down like decrees from a throne, and opposition is branded treasonous. The state is no longer a neutral machine for capitalist management—it is becoming an instrument of direct class war. Trump’s second term is not simply a rerun of his first; it is something darker, more disciplined, more openly repressive. The threats against political enemies are no longer bluster—they are policy. The FBI and CIA are being reshaped in his image, turned from institutions of surveillance into enforcers of ideological loyalty. Official diktats appear not just in government memos but on X, where Musk, the regime’s favoured oligarch, polls his Twitler Youth on whom to exile next. The question is no longer whether American democracy is eroding but whether we are watching its final transformation into something else entirely. Neoliberalism is collapsing, and in its ruins, a new order is emerging. The only question is: what kind?
