If the central imperative of revolution – in its immediate phase – is to upturn wholesale the existing Order of Things, then no concepts or structures are immutable.
The deeply embedded discontentment in the collective unconscious of British culture is plainly palpable in all aspects of life in this country.
Only now, as the crisis phase of the pandemic fades, can we begin to comprehend the full scale of its catastrophe.
The toponyms of a region contain within them much more than a mere etymology: they also form a system of signs, a web of interconnected meanings through which we can chart societal processes.
The activities of Parliament and its members, rather than being the sphere in which the distribution of the sensible is contested and defined, is instead the very place whose performances enacts its own erasure.
While lobby journalists have been enraptured by politicians receiving undue influence from private interests at the expense of democratic popular consent, the underlying causes and wider consequences of this misconduct remains largely obscured.
I noted while walking the streets this Halloween that the collective totems of horror and fear no longer primarily invoke the supernatural, but adopt an altogether more corporeal form.
Let us acknowledge that the industrial history of the Severn Estuary’s urban sprawl provides an indicative snapshot of the entire historical trajectory of capitalist production.
The British-nationalist Right’s use of digital platforms is already well documented, but perhaps relatively under-examined is the extent to which that other transgressive tendency in Welsh politics – the liberal-left independence movement – is beholden to the structures of online organising.
Solidarity to all those currently receiving targeted abuse and harassment from far-right ghouls, simply for attempting to forward the idea that a Welsh independence movement should necessarily be grounded in egalitarian principles.