Britain’s War Factories: Building Bombs, Not Homes
Starmer’s weapons pipeline is less about deterring war and more about embedding militarism into the heart of Britain’s economic model.
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Starmer’s weapons pipeline is less about deterring war and more about embedding militarism into the heart of Britain’s economic model.
Ryan’s Second Strike is a taut, post-Brexit techno-thriller in which privatised warfare meets Cold War ghosts, and the real enemy is the story you’re told to believe.
Geoff Dyer’s Homework shows childhood not as innocence, but as class training—plastic toys, unwritten rules, and a welfare state already fraying at the edges.
Britain doesn’t need a softer Starmer or a greener liberalism—it needs a new party of revolutionary ecosocialism, built by those brave enough to walk out and fight for class power, not manage its decline.
They say prisons are overcrowded, as if the cages are too small. As if the problem is spatial. As if all we need is a few more acres of razor wire and reinforced concrete and the crisis will vanish. But prisons aren’t full because we lack space. They’re full because we lack imagination.
Nigel Farage isn’t the voice of the working class—he’s their grifter-in-chief, selling tax cuts to the comfortable while Labour trails behind him, too timid to name the real enemy.
Some might be fooled by the swivel-eyed sermons about “free speech” or “common sense.” But Farage is no friend of workers. His party would criminalise strikes, deregulate labour protections, and deport those without paperwork faster than you can say “hostile environment.” The deeper appeal comes not from anything tangible, but from the thrill of performative cruelty.
There’s something grimly farcical about the current state of British electoral politics. Four parties—Labour, the Conservatives, Reform UK, and the
Farage’s tanks aren’t new, they’re the tanks of the 1970s, steered by mad generals and aimed squarely at working-class power.
Faragism dresses up reactionary economics and authoritarian instincts in the costume of working-class revolt, but delivers only nostalgia, nationalism, and neoliberalism in disguise.
As Starmer’s Labour government deepens public sector cuts, the silence from Reform UK is as revealing as the policy itself.
Nigel Farage has never needed to hold power to wield it, his true influence lies in his ability to warp the political landscape, forcing the mainstream ever closer to his vision of permanent insurgency.
Reform UK has never run so much as a parish council, yet it styles itself as a government-in-waiting. Now, amid internal purges and power struggles, the contradictions of Faragism are laid bare.
Labour’s embrace of hardline immigration rhetoric isn’t a show of strength but a performance of weakness—an attempt to appease Reform UK’s base while maintaining credibility with big business. By mimicking the far right’s script, Starmer risks alienating the very voters Labour needs, offering border crackdowns instead of the economic transformation that could actually address their grievances.
As Farage’s Reform Party gains traction, the rise of right-wing populism across Europe signals a looming threat to UK stability and democracy.