The rest of the blog
They came for Glastonbury, the BBC, and a punk band. Then they came for students, civil servants, and anyone else who dared speak clearly about Palestine. What we’re watching is not a debate—it’s a crackdown. Armed with legal threats, media outrage, and the ever-flexible label of antisemitism, Britain’s pro-Israel lobby doesn’t just influence politics. It polices speech. And when even a chant against a military force under ICC investigation is treated as hate speech, the message is clear: the violence can continue, but naming it is forbidden.
The ICE raid at Home Depot isn’t law enforcement. This is performance of sovereignty. Armed agents posing in camo and Kevlar to detain migrant day labourers is not about public safety, but about staging dominance. It’s capitalism enforcing its border through spectacle: a theatre of control, broadcast from a retail car park, where labour is criminalised and militarism is aestheticised. This isn’t about stopping migration. It’s about punishing poverty and reassuring power.
Eight years on, Grenfell remains a wound that hasn’t healed. Netflix’s documentary gives voice to the survivors, while Peter Apps’s account lays bare the systemic failures that made the fire inevitable, and the justice that still hasn’t come.
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.
This is what it comes down to: the Labour government wants to put a group of activists who threw red paint at arms factories in the same legal category as ISIS.
As Labour signs off on bombers and benefit cuts, Britain is being reshaped—not by necessity, but by choice. Welfare is being gutted while defence sails on untouched. This isn’t fiscal realism. It’s a war budget in peacetime.
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.
If Reaganism found its myths on the big screen, Trumpism built its own spectacle—and may now be searching for its Riefenstahl.
A film about marines and monsters, yes—but also about empire, capital, and the systems that survive by turning crisis into opportunity. Watching Aliens now is like reading the minutes of a future board meeting: the Company adapts, the hive expands, and the mission continues.
Kristi Noem’s visit to El Salvador’s mega-prison wasn’t about enforcing policy, it was about staging power for the camera in a theatre of authoritarian realism.
Pete Hegseth’s rise to Defence Secretary marks the moment Christian nationalism stopped playing insurgent and started running the world’s most powerful war machine.
Alienation is the defining condition of modern politics. The gap between power and the people has never felt wider; work is increasingly precarious and meaningless; and the sense of community that once bound societies together has frayed. In this vacuum, neo-fascism has flourished, not by resolving alienation, but by weaponising it. Trumpism, Reform UK, and their European counterparts do not seek to challenge the economic structures that produce this disaffection; they thrive on it, repackaging frustration as grievance and grievance as political identity.
