Ian Angus, editor of Climate and Capitalism, compiles a new list of essential readings for ecosocialists.
-
-
-
-
-
-
Over the years, it's often been hard to find enough political music to fill this monthly column. But this year, as Donald Trump became US president, it seemed every artist suddenly wanted to call themselves political. Here, we highlight those who truly had something to say.
-
Two decades ago, barely anyone called themselves an ecosocialist. Yet today the term is widespread on the left.
This comes from an awareness that any viable alternative to capitalism must do away with the current destructive relationship between human society and the wider natural world. It also stems from a recognition that too many socialists in the 20th century failed to take environmental issues seriously.
-
Adam Mayer’s book on Marxist currents in Nigeria is what it says on the cover — a rich history of Marxist and revolutionary thought and struggles that are little known outside the West African nation.
-
Here's a look back at this month's political news and the best 10 new albums that related to it (plus a few extra - count them). This column is taking a break and will return at the end of January. In the meantime, look out for "The 10 best political albums of 2017", which will be online by Monday, December 4.
-
Margaret Atwood is blessed and/or cursed with the credit for this year’s go-to feminist analogy. Any time an old white man makes it clear that women are best kept silent and pregnant, someone says that it’s “just like The Handmaid’s Tale”.
-
Nick Cave and his band the Bad Seeds ignored pleas by Palestinians and international artists for a cultural boycott of Israel in protest at its polices of apartheid and occupation, playing two shows in Tel Aviv on November 19 and 20.
Cave also took the opportunity to belittle and denigrate the Palestinian-led boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS) movement. He repeated false claims used and marketed by anti-Palestinian lobby groups to discredit the campaign.
-
In 1960, trainee priest Thomas Keneally abandoned the seminary at Manly on Sydney’s North Shore without any qualifications other than a Bachelor of Theology and with no skills other than medieval Latin.
His escape from his crisis of confidence in the Catholic Church, says Stephany Steggall in her biography of the Australian novelist, was through writing. This was both Keneally’s attempt to understand, and keep at bay, the “madness and melancholia” of the human lot, and his own course of personal therapy for exorcising the mental demons that haunted him for six years in an uncaring, dogmatic institution with its “anti-human moral code”.
