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This month, the British state made its position on violence unambiguous: while ex-generals and loyal newspapers led the charge, Parliament followed. The result was clear: Impunity for its own, criminalisation for its critics. In the same month it moved to quash investigations into war crimes in Northern Ireland, it voted to proscribe Palestine Action under terrorism law.
Trump is no longer a politician in Dugin’s hands. He is a prophet who fell short. But the prophecy lives on. That’s how Dugin works: he turns failure into myth, betrayal into destiny. Putinism becomes the sacred, Trumpism the fallen. Everything is wrapped in theology, because the politics (when you look closely) aren’t up to much. It’s not tradition he’s defending. It’s accelerationism with a whiff of incense.
The state demands loyalty from its killers, and contempt for those who ask why. To question the SAS is treated as heresy. To investigate them, as betrayal. But no one is above the law. Not even the men with night-vision goggles and state-sanctioned impunity. If the victims of British state violence are to be denied justice so that the myth of military virtue can remain intact, then we are not a democracy. We continue to be an empire that refuses to admit it.
You don’t have to like the tactics. But if protest that disrupts power is treated as terrorism, then the state has rewritten the definition to suit itself.
The Labour Party under Starmer has become a machine for silencing dissent. Abbott, Shaheen, Driscoll, and others have been smeared, blocked, or expelled. The party has moved right on immigration, welfare, protest, and Palestine — and done so proudly. Sultana’s resignation wasn’t a betrayal of Labour values. It was a defence of them. And if a new left party is to be more than symbolic, it needs more than moral clarity. It needs leadership. Corbyn remains the figurehead, but John McDonnell (articulate, disciplined, and trusted) is the one who could anchor this project. He may not want the crown. But that is exactly what makes him the right person to hold it.
Labour’s problem isn’t just that it inherited a broken economy. It’s that it refuses to say so. The party acts like governing is a performance for bond markets and newspaper editors, rather than an act of political leadership. Hard choices are made without explanation. Rollbacks happen without apology. And the public is left wondering: if even Labour doesn’t believe in what it’s doing, why should anyone else?
Murray calls the IDF a “citizen army”, as if it were Dad’s Army with drones. In truth, Gaza is a laboratory, where missiles are tested, faces scanned, and children used to perfect the next export.
Twenty-two years ago, millions marched against the invasion of Iraq. I was one of them. We were right; the war was wrong. And yet it happened anyway. That was the moment I realised: marching doesn’t cut through when empire’s at stake.
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 realm of the spectacle is a treacherous landscape, where commodities distort truth and opinions manipulate desires. The United Kingdom’s decision to wage war in Iraq stands as a chilling testament to this phenomenon. In this post, we will explore how words and images were craftily deployed to create a mirage of deception and illusion, justifying the invasion. We will delve into the roles played by key figures like Tony Blair and Alastair Campbell, as well as the influence of the neoconservative agenda, in shaping this narrative. In the end, the consequences of this sinister dance between truth and spectacle emerge from the shadows, providing a harrowing reminder of the dangers of succumbing to the allure of falsehoods and manipulation.
As we approach the anniversary of the start of the Iraq War, there has been a surge in retrospective articles examining the conflict and its aftermath. These introspective pieces provide an opportunity for us to reevaluate the decisions that led to the war, its far-reaching consequences, and the lessons we can glean from this turbulent period in history. By engaging in such reflection, we can better understand the complexities of war and work towards preventing similar catastrophes in the future.
The Iraq War was not just a regrettable event but a calamitous blunder that continues to reverberate to this day. In scrutinising the reasons behind the conflict and its lingering effects, I’ve delved into three recent articles covering the legacy of the Iraq war, two in Foreign Affairs and one from The Atlantic. These articles detail the ideological and strategic forces that drove the US and UK towards invasion, leading to catastrophic outcomes that were both unforeseen and brutal. The war’s impact gave rise to widespread displacement, which in turn became a breeding ground for violent extremist groups. The dire consequences of misguided military interventions serve as a harsh reminder that war always comes at a great cost, and that those in power must take heed of the lessons of history.
