Book Review
Who Gets to Tell the Story?
Journalism doesn’t need saving by those who made it toxic. Wright names the rot—Murdoch, the lobby, the Oxbridge cartel—and shows how the presses keeps running.
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Journalism doesn’t need saving by those who made it toxic. Wright names the rot—Murdoch, the lobby, the Oxbridge cartel—and shows how the presses keeps running.
Trump didn’t just return to NATO; he returned as “Daddy”—a role not earned through diplomacy, but conjured through spectacle. Baudrillard warned that when image overtakes reality, politics becomes performance. The bombs may have hit Iran, but the real strike was rhetorical. What mattered wasn’t destruction, it was the appearance of obliteration, the meme of authority, the myth of restored order. In the empire of simulation, the sovereign returns not with treaties, but with merch.
Labour won power by promising stability, but what it offers now is paralysis. It has no strategy to counter Farage, no defence against a Tory right fightback, and no imagination to confront the ecological and economic shocks coming fast over the horizon. While Reform sets the agenda and the left reorganises, Starmer retreats into technocratic caution. The government is not leading Britain—it’s managing decline, and doing it badly. Unless Labour finds the courage to confront the forces tearing the country apart, it risks becoming the caretaker of its own collapse.
Pankaj Mishra’s The World After Gaza is a searing indictment of Western complicity in Israeli aggression, exposing the ideological, economic, and political forces that have enabled the destruction of Palestine.
The work isn’t fake because it’s imaginary—it’s fake because it pretends to matter. We clock in, log on, file the forms, and call it a life.
Matt Goodwin’s claim that “London is over” isn’t analysis, it’s a panic attack in column form. Behind the talk of pints and train delays lies the same tired script the Mail rehashes every few weeks, just in time for its readers to rage over their cornflakes. Crime becomes a cipher for immigration, anecdote stands in for data, and the city’s diversity is framed as an existential threat. But what really offends Goodwin isn’t decline—it’s that London no longer looks or sounds like him.
Alexander Dugin’s latest polemic is not political analysis but fascist sermon—an apocalyptic blueprint in which nuclear war is both inevitable and desirable. Cloaked in the language of sovereignty and tradition, it is a call to arms for a new ideology of holy Russian power. What begins with Fordow ends with the end of humanity. And for that reason alone, it demands scrutiny—not celebration. You listening, tech bros?
The next state to cross the nuclear threshold won’t be doing anything new. It’ll be following the path Israel already took—building the bomb in secret, shielded by silence and strategic utility. The real precedent was set decades ago in the Negev. That’s the hypocrisy at the heart of the so-called international order: one bomb is a threat to civilisation, the other a pillar of it. This isn’t about non-proliferation. It’s about who gets to own the apocalypse.
Trump’s bunker busters, Netanyahu’s theological realism, and Starmer’s threat to criminalise Palestine Action reveal a world in which violence is moralised, empire is rationalised, and dissent is once again labelled terrorism.
A bureaucratic blueprint for empire cloaked in civilisational jargon, Russia 2050 lays out a revanchist plan for domination—one now legitimised by Western contrarians too busy opposing the West to see they’re cheering on its mirror image.
Kneecap aren’t the danger. The danger is a British media machine that still treats Irish defiance as terrorism and harks for empire. What the Daily Mail fears isn’t incitement but memory, and that the wrong people might start singing their history out loud
Jeffrey Sachs wants you to believe the world’s problems can be solved by breaking U.S. dominance and letting other powers rise. But that’s not anti-imperialism, it’s just a multipolar fantasy.
JD Vance went to Greenland to play imperialist. He left rebuked, ridiculed, and unwelcome, a fitting emissary for a decaying superpower.
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.
The left’s long struggle against empire has often been distorted by its own blind spots, nowhere more so than in the contradictions of campism, where opposition to Western imperialism too often becomes an excuse for silence, or worse, complicity, in the face of other empires.
Trumpism and Putinism are reshaping the global order, through a new brand of reactionary nationalism. As the world looks more unstable, the left cannot afford to rely on old slogans or abstract theory, because when bombs fall and occupations expand, resistance is not a thought experiment.
As global tensions intensify and militarism gains momentum, how do we maintain principled opposition to war while effectively confronting authoritarian threats? Reflecting on recent debates, I explore the urgent need for genuine internationalist solidarity.
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.