With the third global crisis in six years and the arrival of proper AI, it’s time to try a new way of managing our economies: the case for universal basic income has never been stronger.

The Hostile Environment policy was introduced first under the Cameron government in 2012. The idea was to make the process of immigrating to the UK so laborious, so humiliating, and so hostile that people would ‘voluntarily leave’.

“No art without art work-ers!” might not have rolled off the tongue, but an abundance of rhythm and improvisational skill amongst assembled workers, artists, students and activists outside the Tate Britain late last year ensured the truth of the chant was powerfully felt. Huddled in the cold, a ‘Palestine Day’ on the picket line expressed the strength of feeling shared by culture workers across the country. Out on strike for over a week, rage had built against disappearing wages & pensions, mouldy vending machine sandwiches in place of a subsidised canteen, and their employer’s continued relations with companies embedded in the ongoing genocide in Palestine.

In a DOPE Magazine first, our cover design for Issue 34 is a stained-glass piece. We sat down with Keira McLean in her Glasgow workshop to discuss the artwork and her work.

As authorities crack down on London's free party scene, the ravers pushing back say that resistance is the point.

For the third time in a decade, the British left has found its saviour. First it was Corbyn. Then it was Corbyn again. Now it's Zack. He's got a rent control policy and a TikTok strategy!

One hundred years ago, two million workers joined Britain's largest-ever general strike. They faced up not just to their bosses and the government, but also their own union leaders. For over two weeks, this momentous event shook the very core of Britain.

In 2014, the small Kurdish-majority town of Kobanê near the Syria-Turkey border became the focus of global attention. Surrounded by ISIS and expected to fall, Kobanê resisted, survived, and inspired one of the most radical democratic experiments of our time. During the siege, I was translating Hemingway’s The Old Man at the Bridge and imagined the story set along the ancient Euphrates River, near some of the world’s oldest settlements. Hemingway’s Old Man fled the Spanish Civil War, leaving behind his animals, his home, and his life. Nearly eighty years later, in Kobanê, the Old Man was Kurdish. He left his goats, cats, pigeons, olive trees, and a home built over generations. The bridge in Spain became a river crossing in northern Syria; history had changed its language, but the fear and the loss remained the same.

‘We call on all cultural workers to put down their tools and cease to make, distribute, sell, exhibit, or discuss their work from January 1st 1990, to January 1st 1993'. So begins the Art Strike Handbook, published in 1989, with the hopes of initiating an international cessation of artistic labour. Organisations were formed, banners and badges were made, and pickets were organised. The goal wasn't just to shut down the art world, but threaten the very notion of art itself.

As we write, the world is on fire. Trump threatens Greenland and Venezuela, Iranians are being killed for protesting against their regime and the Gaza genocide continues. Climate breakdown is quickly entering a critical period. There is a desperate need to shift towards peace and reconstruction, and ideas for how to do so without relying on the state, government, or political parties are becoming increasingly popular. But those ideas are not equally accessible for all. As deaf people who use British Sign Language (BSL) as our first language, we face barriers that prevent us from participating in these discourses of resistance.

On the evening of 15 December 2025, just before 9:40 PM, a large group of people dressed as Santa Claus and his elves went into a supermarket in Montreal. They moved calmly through the supermarket aisles, filling their sacks with food. Within minutes they left taking thousands of dollars' worth of groceries, none of which was paid for. Santa and his masked elves then went to the Christmas tree in the central square. Underneath the twinkling lights, they laid out the stolen food and attached signs that read ‘Christmas is expensive, free food’. The remaining groceries were distributed to community fridges across Montreal.

Class is a touchy subject. It’s a lens we use to judge others and ourselves. Over the last 50 years, categories of class have become increasingly blurred by neoliberalism, despite Victorian-era poverty making a comeback. We are forever sold the dream of social mobility, but these days, most of the ‘socially mobile’ are hurtling downwards. Austerity has played a part in this. Families and friendship networks have been financially and energetically trying to care for those around us after years of health and social services being defunded, a burden that left many of us unable to accumulate our own personal safety nets. Many of us have had to move to big cities for work, and the precarity of the housing crisis has been another boot on our necks. At the same time, we watch through black mirrors those with more money than we have ‘living their best life’ on social media, taunting us with pleasures we will never be able to afford.

Traditional capitalist businesses are dictatorships. Small groups of managers and shareholders make all decisions, and reap most of the profits. In contrast, a workers’ cooperative is a business where the employees own and control everything. Workers are members, which means they have an equal say in decision-making and decide how profits are invested.

The movement of people is as old as humanity. Countries are fundamentally invented shared myths; borders, immigration controls and passports are just a blip in history. For most of human existence, movement was free if you could afford it - although money to move was another problem. People flee war, starvation, and seek better economic prospects in other countries. This is especially true of people coming to the UK, where its rulers have historically looted the world's wealth, resulting in improved living conditions relative to the rest of the world. And these same elites continue to sponsor global war, genocide and invasion, increasing the need for people to flee their homes.

In January 1997, Friends of the Earth called a rally at the construction site of the Newbury Bypass. The plan was for a candlelit vigil, followed by speeches, and then a march to the building site to tie ribbons and messages to the fence. The event was billed as a one-year anniversary reunion for all the activists and campaigners who had spent the previous winter occupying tree houses, dodging vast armies of security guards, attaching themselves to barrels full of concrete and using many other inventive tactics in an attempt to slow or stop the felling of more than 10,000 trees to make way for the construction of the road. The eviction of over 30 different treehouse camps along the route of the planned bypass from January to March of 1996 had become a national cause celebre, attracting thousands of activists in freezing conditions to try and stop the clearances.