by Richard Seymour And that will be England gone, The shadows, the meadows, the lanes, The guildhalls, the carved choirs. – Philip Larkin The British crisis has a human form. A shabby, caecilian smile. The rorty bray of an arriviste thug. The exasperated air of a lone trader fighting the Inland Revenue for every last
by Richard Seymour This is an extended version of a blog originally published on Lenin’s Tomb You don’t see the consensus in all of its suffocating conformity until someone challenges it. If you want to know what the consensus is made of, just look at what the media considers a gaffe. Corbyn, a republican, doesn’t
by Richard Seymour Towards a genealogy and analysis of a loathsome British symptom, and on the shrewdness of faux dissidents and hard-right ‘clowns’. This article is not yet online. To read it now, please buy this issue.
by Richard Seymour We were exhorted by Labour’s supporters to ‘vote with hope’ in this election. What now that hope has been so cruelly dashed? What now that neither the ‘Edstone’, nor ‘Milibae’, nor pink buses for women, nor condescending to Scottish voters has been enough to deliver victory?