“Pregnant and need help?” the placard writes, next to the group of Catholic pro-life believers. They stand for up to 8 hours a day, rosary in hand, quietly praying and handing out flyers. Each day at around 8am a different group of varied ages and races set up on the corner. Now, the ground on the street corner of Brixton Hill where Catholic pro-life activists were stood, has been defaced with claims that US President Donald Trump funds these groups.

Claims circulating among activists in Brixton suggesting that anti-abortion demonstrators outside local fertility clinic are being funded by Donald Trump or networks aligned with him. While there is currently no evidence of funding directly reaching specific UK protest groups a growing body of research shows that US-linked money has flowed into European organisations opposing abortion rights.

Investigations by the European Parliamentary Forum for Sexual and Reproductive Rights (EPF) and openDemocracy have mapped what they describe as a transnational “anti-gender” funding network. EPF’s widely cited Tip of the Iceberg report found that at least $280m was channelled into European organisations opposing reproductive rights between 2008 and 2018.

Among the most prominent actors are Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF) and European Centre for Law and Justice (ECLJ). ADF, a US legal advocacy organisation with revenues in the tens of millions operates in Europe through ADF International. It has supported legal cases and provided training to activists and help shape litigation strategies around abortion and religious freedom. ECLJ, which has ties to US evangelical networks has been active at the European Court of Human Rights and in UN forums, promoting similar positions.

While neither organisation is funded directly by Donald Trump, both gained increased political alignment and access during his presidency, particularly through shared policy agendas around abortion and religious freedom. Trump’s administration also implemented the expanded “Global Gag Rule” (Protecting Life in Global Health Assistance), which restricted US global health funding to organisations involved in abortion services. This policy redirected billions of dollars toward organisations aligned with anti-abortion positions, though primarily outside Europe.

EPF’s latest reporting highlights that anti-gender advocacy is active across Europe with events and campaigns taking place domestically . However, these activities are typically supported through legal infrastructure and network coordination, rather than direct payments to local demonstrators.

What hasn’t been widely reported is the extent to which influence flows through non-financial channels. Legal toolkits and strategic litigation often developed by US-funded organisations can be adopted by local groups at minimal cost. This creates the appearance of grassroots activism.

Despite these connections there is no publicly available evidence that US government funding has been directed to anti-abortion protest groups in Brixton or elsewhere in the UK. Searches of d-portal show US reproductive funding overwhelmingly supports global health programmes in Africa.

The evidence therefore points to an indirect chain of influence from US private donors to European advocacy organisations to local activism rather than direct financial backing. While claims that these groups“Trump-funded” currently are unsubstantiated, there is evidence to suggest that anti-rights groups are being supported.

A cloud of smoke was still rising over the Fairmont Hotel when Will Bailey hit record on the evening of 28 February.

In the background, the distinctive beats of club music played on. Stood against a backdrop of palm trees, the British fitness influencer’s white shirt contrasted starkly with the plumes of black smoke now curling over the famous Dubai skyline. It was at this point that Bailey began documenting the scene in which Iranian missiles had struck the UAE for the first time to his 130,000+ followers.

Within hours of Bailey posting the footage, his comment section was alight. “White guy in Dubai,” one Palestinian man commented, “finding out the reality from our world.” It was not long until comments were disabled.

Across hundreds of UAE-based influencer accounts that night, a similar discourse was unravelling. Louise Starkey, an Australian expat with over 16,000 followers, posted shaky stories of missiles from her balcony, claiming that “It’s not meant to be happening here.” An unmistakable emphasis was placed on the final word – “here”. Hours later, Starkey had removed the video.

Miles Nazaire, a former British reality TV star with almost half a million followers, was one of the silent voices that night. Less than 48 hours later, however, he spoke to his followers, topless, from his Dubai apartment. His silence was owing to a tweaked neck from jujitsu, Nazaire explained. He’d be using the experience as an opportunity for personal growth. be using the experience as an opportunity for personal growth.

A City That Sold Safety

For the last two decades, Dubai has made every effort possible to position itself as the Middle East’s ‘exception’: a place whose borders are impenetrable to the region’s instability and where the rule of law is legible and fair. The infrastructure, marketed as world-leading, offers the perfect backdrop for Western professionals to build a comfortable life isolated from the friction of life elsewhere.

The story has, by almost any measure, been a successful sell. British immigrants (politically referred to as “expats”) make up the emirates most sizable Western demographic. Major commercial interests — including Goldman Sachs, Citi, and Standard Chartered — all boast regional hubs at the Dubai International Financial Centre; the same towers that would be targeted by Iran in the first weeks of March.

Speaking to CNBC in mid-March, Glen Pawson, managing partner of Dubai-based digital agency M3, commented on the juxtaposition that the threat of impending missiles has brought to life in the region. “Living in Dubai right now is a strange mix of normality and quiet tension.” “It’s surprisingly easy to get absorbed in the rhythm of day-to-day life and almost forget the wider situation.”

Pawson’s words are telling. To many, ignorance is a cornerstone of life as a Westerner in the UAE. The rhythm of day-to-day life in Dubai, they allege, has long required a degree of selective attention by those that reap its rewards.

What the Feed Left Out

Since the outbreak of war in Sudan in 2023, Abu Dhabi has repeatedly faced documented accusations that it has funded and armed the Rapid Support Forces (RSF); a paramilitary militia group that the United Nations accuses of causing the world’s worst humanitarian crisis. As of early 2026, fifteen million people across Sudan are reported to have been displaced, with the scale of sexual violence committed by RSF troops against Sudanese women and girls documented extensively.

The movement demanding accountability for the UAE’s role in this crisis long predated the arrival of Iranian missiles. By October 2025, following the RSF’s violent seizure of El Fasher – the last major city in Darfur resisting paramilitary control – calls to boycott the UAE and Emirati-linked companies began spreading across social media. One post, shared hundreds of thousands of times on Instagram, read “Habibi boycott Dubai (and the UAE)” in a deliberate inversion of the viral tourism slogan used to promote the city. Prominent figures, including activist Greta Thunberg and rapper Macklemore, were amongst those who amplified the message. Rice University Baker Institute researcher Kristian Coates Ulrichsen warned that Dubai’s soft power may be at risk of decline.

Reputational demise was further threatened in January, when the scale of the UAE’s involvement in anti-rights campaigns was laid bare by leaked documents from European Parliament investigations. These investigations detailed a covert UAE-funded influence operation that ran across eighteen European countries. At the heart of the operation lay a Swiss intelligence firm, Alp Services, who, the investigation revealed, was enlisted to run smear campaigns targeting Muslim communities, journalists, academics, and civil society organisations.

The very same month, it was revealed that Reform UK leader Nigel Farage had accepted an Emirati-funded trip to Abu Dhabi. The visit, which included accommodation, flights, and Formula 1 hospitality valued at around £10,000, was declared in the UK register of members’ interests. During the trip, Farage is reported to have met with senior officials who shared opposition to the Muslim Brotherhood; a position that he has since formalised as official Reform UK policy in an act that raises an uncomfortable question about the role of the UAE government in influencing the rise of far-right movements across the UK.

Who Stayed

When the arrival of missiles shattered a long-held illusion of safety, some who could afford to, left. Private jet charters out of the UAE reportedly reached $250,000 in the days following the strikes. Reports emerged of pets being abandoned on the streets of Dubai, with dogs tied to poles or left alone in the desert.

Those who had no other option, stayed. Widely omitted from the media’s reports was the sobering fact that the three civilians killed in the earliest UAE attacks were a Pakistani national, a Nepali, and a Bangladeshi. Days later, a Palestinian woman was killed in Abu Dhabi. On 7 March, a Pakistani driver was killed. Almost without exception, the casualties of Iran’s missiles were migrant workers – the very backbone of Dubai’s metropolis who built and maintained the city from far outside the gated compounds of “expat” communities.

These workers’ human rights are frequently cited as amongst the most violated in the world.

Also staying put are many of the expats for whom the benefits outweigh the risks of a conflict that, for now, has spared white bodies. “Life goes on if you operate a business and call the UAE home,” one resident told CNBC. An evacuation alert arrived mid-dinner at a restaurant, he said, handled “efficiently and without panic”; the venue, he noted, still reasonably busy.

There is something in those details that captures what has been constructed here: a city so comprehensively engineered for the comfort of its Western residents that even a missile alert becomes evidence of good management. The Habibi Boycott Dubai campaign features nowhere in these accounts. Neither do the reports on RSF atrocities.

Beneath it all is the ordinary operation of proximity and benefit for Westerners; structural complicity working through the daily practice of not looking too closely at the systems enabling their tax-free salaries and educating their children.

By mid-March, at least 21 people had been charged under UAE cybercrime laws for the simple act of filming or sharing footage of missile strikes. Amongst them is reported to be a 60-year-old British tourist. The law, which prohibits the capturing or distribution of images of “sensitive locations”, carries a minimum sentence of two years in prison and a fine of up to 200,000 dirhams (around $54,000). For many, the conditional nature of Dubai’s “freedom” has become visible.

It would be reductive to render Dubai’s immigrant community part of a single political formation. The city’s population is overwhelmingly composed of people who arrive for work, stability and survival. Many are drawn by the promise of employment – in construction, domestic work, and service industries – arriving from countries that have already failed them. For many, the UAE is not a choice of comfort but a location at the end of a windy road of dwindling alternatives.

The question being asked in the weeks since the strikes does not concern itself with such residents. Instead, it latches onto a more specific and visible culture of performative apoliticism that monetised a city’s image whilst carefully maintaining distance from the political conditions underwriting it. It is a culture the UAE has, by its own admission, every incentive to sustain. The government’s 2017 Soft Power Strategy – documented by Human Rights Watch – lists “cultural and media diplomacy” as a central pillar of statecraft, with a stated objective to establish the country’s “reputation as a modern and tolerant country that welcomes all people from across the world.”

Researchers studying the UAE’s demographic model have noted that expatriate civil society groups operate in a condition of deliberate apoliticism, their dependence on the host state ensuring dissent is contained before it can coalesce.

The Westerners projecting normalcy from a Dubai rooftop are not incidental to the UAE’s project. They are a component of it.

Outside the Ritzy Picturehouse, I met Zvikomborero – and his two small dogs – just over a week into the start of his campaign. Born in Zimbabwe and raised in Birmingham, the Green party candidate for Rush Common says his politics prioritise the disappointments locals face, rents that rise faster than wages and residents who feel unheard. “Listening to residents is my biggest priority,” he says. “Lambeth council promised to build a thousand homes and so far, they have only built four.”

Lambeth’s own New Homes Programme says there are more than 28,000 households on the borough’s waiting list and more than 4,600 families in temporary accommodation. The council’s current target is a minimum of 600 affordable homes by 2030 on council-owned land.

He is quick to widen the frame beyond housing and to anti-social behaviour. In Rush Common, he says, anti-social behaviour is a key concern for residents. “There is a lot of anti-social behaviour in addition to the lack of services for people.” His understanding of the area through canvassing is supported by official data. Lambeth council said last October that Brixton town centre was facing “persistent anti-social behaviour” and had increased outreach and police coordination in response. The Metropolitan police’s ward page for Brixton Rush Common shows anti-social behaviour as one of the area’s top reported crime categories with 19 reports in January 2026.

Then there is education – Zviko points to “nursery and school shutdowns” as another recurring anxiety on the doorstep. In January, Lambeth recommended consultations on the future of Effra, Maytree and Triangle nursery schools in which they cited a 38% fall in pupil numbers over five years and a collective deficit of £2.4m across maintained nurseries. While the council withdrew those proposals on 16 March the episode still exposed the strain on early-years provision in the borough.

“Lambeth also has the highest rate of psychosis in Western Europe, specifically here in Brixton,” Zviko says. “It’s because the people are not offered the services that they need.”

His striking point reflects longstanding concerns about mental health inequalities in south London. Lambeth has historically recorded high levels of severe mental illness, particularly among Black communities, with structural factors such as housing instability and unequal access to care often considered as contributing causes.

What seems to distinguish Zviko from others local candidate is his style. He wants residents to directly message him and he wants an open discussion on TikTok and Instagram. “There’s a way to bring local politics into the age of influence,” he says, that many candidates have previously claimed, yet the Green Party holds a stronghold of supporters on social media.

His politics also extends beyond the local and to the international. “I promised to uphold the inalienable rights of Palestinian people,” he says. Such positions sit outside the formal remit of a local councillor but reflect how international issues shape local political identity and freedom of speech.

Over the weekend, March Together Against the Far Right gathered Brixton residents in Windrush Square before heading to Trafalgar Square to join half a million in largest anti-far-right march in British history. Where Green Party leader Zack Polanski was cheered on by the crowd.

And there is one more layer to his candidacy. “The response that I’ve had as a young black man running for council in Brixton has been phenomenal,” he says. “There’s young black boys around here that will see me do this and genuinely think, hold on, he looks like me” In the end the heart of his pitch is not that local politics should look and sound more like the people asked to trust it.

by Anastasiia Iurshina

On March 29, 2026, demonstrations planned by the youth-led movement “Scarlet Swan” were expected to take place in Moscow and St. Petersburg in protest against Russia’s growing internet shutdowns and censorship. But as the initiative spread online, it was quickly overshadowed by suspicion, with numerous likely fake profiles appearing alongside genuine calls to protest, raising concerns about provocation, surveillance, and manipulation. The rallies were ultimately banned by the authorities under the pretext of COVID-19 restrictions.

Despite bans, small groups and individual protesters still took to the streets across multiple Russian cities, resulting in at least 17 detentions, including minors, along with reports of police violence, intimidation, and restricted access to legal support.

What follows is the testimony of an IT specialist living and working in Russia, describing what internet control looks like in practice in early 2026. They have worked in IT both for Russian and international companies for over 20 years, including software development, machine learning, and information security.

How extensive is the blocking now?

Without circumvention tools, many foreign websites no longer work – even those that are not officially blocked – because they are hosted on providers that have been restricted. Telegram, WhatsApp, and Google Meet do not work. Mobile internet is disrupted as well.

These shutdowns are implemented through the deployment of TSPU1 systems across internet providers. As a result, protocols like WireGuard and OpenVPN2 are often blocked or unreliable.

If you compare Russia’s system to, let’s say, China’s, in many ways it is worse. Chinese developers have built tools that still work there, and there is a long history of adaptation to censorship. In Russia, many of those same tools no longer work.

Some bypassing methods can still potentially work, such as Amnezia WireGuard and Xray-core with unconventional configurations, but it should be something not so obvious, the ones shared on YouTube might not work. Telegram proxies still work for Telegram messages, but calls do not work with them.

In the past, it was sometimes possible to find an IP from a whitelist range and route traffic through it. That has now been largely closed. A lot of the simpler loopholes people relied on even a year ago are disappearing.

How does it feel to be online now compared to before?

I don’t feel secure online. I can’t write anything freely anywhere. It feels like a minefield. You are constantly thinking not only about what is blocked, but about who is watching, what can be logged, and whether a tool that works today will stop working tomorrow.

What do people in the industry think about MAX, the state messenger?

Everyone is forced to install it, especially elderly people. Now, for example, one can only book a doctor’s appointment through MAX. The only other option is to go in person and wait in a line – it’s impossible to book appointments through the website anymore.

And of course there are security concerns; there is no end-to-end encryption. Everything is stored on the servers and can be read. Everything can be analysed at scale. And, obviously, it will be; authorities will look through correspondence using AI and automated systems. That is the real fear – not only surveillance, but surveillance that becomes cheap and universal.

What do people outside the industry still not understand?

In my opinion, sooner or later it may become almost impossible to avoid shutdowns. It will simply become too difficult for ordinary people to circumvent them. Maybe a small technical minority will still manage, but the vast majority will not. Ninety-nine percent of people could be cut off from the internet outside Russia. In practice, this would effectively mean unlimited digital control. With MAX, a person already loses agency.

And there are real-life consequences that should be taken into consideration as well, and especially with mobile internet restrictions; devices for diabetes no longer work, alarm systems stop working. Without mobile internet, you lose access to news, to navigation, even to very ordinary forms of coordination. You go outside and suddenly cannot check what is happening, where to go, or whether a service is functioning.

Is there anything to hold on to?

The only glimpse of hope comes from fast-moving grassroots communities that react quickly and fix things. There are technical networks of people sharing knowledge, testing workarounds, and patching what has been broken.

A recent example is when a workaround3 stopped working. It had allowed users to disguise encrypted internet traffic as ordinary video calls using infrastructure from VK, Russia’s largest social network, which remains accessible under government restrictions. The loophole had been closed – but by the end of the day, it was working again, restored through collective effort.

Where do you see hope in the longer term?

In peer-to-peer, fully anonymous networks, something closer to blockchain logic. Systems where you can communicate and make payments without depending on centralized control. I don’t want my taxes to be spent on things I am against. And I want to be fully anonymous.

What this interview reveals is not just the tightening of censorship, but the slow construction of a closed digital world: one in which communication is centralized, movement is constrained, and even basic daily routines depend on platforms tied to the state. The internet, once experienced as a space of openness and anonymity, is being remade into an instrument of control. And yet, for now, small pockets of resistance remain, collectively keeping alive the possibility that total control is not yet complete.

It’s no secret that OpenAI, the parent company of ChatGPT, has cultivated close ties with the Trump administration. Earlier this year, the company donated $25 million to MAGA Inc, Donald Trump’s largest political action committee, making OpenAI the administration’s biggest corporate donor.

The relationship has had clear consequences for OpenAI’s competitors. After Anthropic AI declined to grant the Pentagon full access to its systems – including for mass surveillance and autonomous weapons applications – the Department of War (DoW) turned to OpenAI instead, blacklisting Anthropic as a “supply chain risk.” OpenAI has also been accused of providing screening tools used in the hiring of employees for ICE, an agency that has faced serious allegations of unlawful detention and excessive use of force throughout the US. All of this has occurred against the backdrop of a multi-million dollar fight against the regulation of AI.

On February 27th, when OpenAI moved to replace Anthropic in its deal with the Pentagon, the conditions of the agreement were vague at best. CEO Sam Altman said the company “will build technical safeguards to ensure our models behave as they should.” OpenAI has since released a statement outlining three red lines in its contract with the DoW: the prohibition of AI for mass domestic surveillance, the direction of autonomous weapons systems, and high-stakes autonomous decision-making. While these parameters matter, critics argue that by grounding enforcement within existing US legal mechanisms rather than independent oversight, the agreement raises significant questions about how AI is becoming embedded within national security infrastructure.

Meanwhile, a movement of democracy advocates is mobilising to challenge what they see as rising authoritarianism. QuitGPT has rapidly gained support, with over four million people in the US and worldwide joining the boycott. The campaign’s motivations go beyond OpenAI’s political ties. Its website opens with an unsettling quote attributed to Altman himself: “AI will most likely lead to the end of the world, but in the meantime there will be great companies created.”

Organisers are primarily calling on OpenAI executives to cease all donations to the Trump administration, MAGA Inc, and affiliated super PACs – and to stop what they describe as the enabling of authoritarians and the undermining of democratic accountability. The movement also raises concerns about AI-induced emotional dependence, citing communities on platforms like Reddit where users describe romantic relationships with ChatGPT, and referencing OpenAI’s own internal estimates that “half a million weekly ChatGPT users show signs of mania or psychosis.” The environmental impact of large-scale AI infrastructure is also on the agenda, particularly OpenAI’s lobbying for “fast, unregulated expansion of their data centres.”

Celebrities including Katy Perry and Mark Ruffalo have publicly backed the campaign, while OpenAI, facing pressure from multiple directions, is preparing to introduce advertisements to ChatGPT, a move Altman himself has previously called “a last resort.”

Historian Rutger Bregman, writing in the Guardian, sees the boycott as something larger than a consumer campaign. “This is not about rejecting technology,” he writes. “It’s about rejecting the idea that we have no choice but to fund a company that’s bankrolling authoritarianism.” Bregman describes OpenAI as the “perfect target,” pointing to its plummeting market share and forecasts that the company is on track to lose $14 billion in 2026. Writing on X, financial analyst George Noble noted that OpenAI needs to generate $200 billion in annual revenue by 2030 to justify its investor projections.

With the QuitGPT movement still growing and the company’s costs continuing to mount, the future of OpenAI is far from certain.

Palantir is a US-based software company that was founded in 2003 by Peter Thiel with the financial backing of In-Q-Tel, CIA’s venture capital arm. The company specialises in big data analytics, data integration, and artificial intelligence.

Palantir has been receiving a lot of criticism over the recent years over its collaboration with the state of Israel with the integration of its technologies into Israel’s Ministry of Defence and their subsequent use against the Palestinian people in Gaza. Palantir’s AIP (Artificial Intelligence Platform), that has been used by the Israeli military in Gaza, is designed to aid in battlefield intelligence and decision making by analysing enemy targets and proposing battleplans

The company has also been obtaining contracts with Defence Ministries in multiple countries, including the US and the UK. Its attempts to integrate its technologies and obtain government contracts do not always succeed, as recently seen by the Swiss government rejecting a contract with Palantir in December 2025.

Palantir has also stirred controversy that has erupted a plethora of demonstrations in the US in 2025 over its contract with ICE and the creation of ImmigrationOS, a surveillance platform used by ICE, developed to “streamline” the identification and arrest of immigrants. According to the American Immigration Council, ImmigrationOS has three main components which include targeting and enforcement prioritisation, self-deportation tracking and immigration lifecycle management.

In January 2026, and as the ICE raids in Minneapolis continue and escalate, ICE agents shoot two US citizens to their deaths; Renée Good and Alex Pretti. On January 15, an investigation by 404 Media, revealed more details about another Palantir App, ELITE, that is used by ICE. According to investigation, this app receives peoples’ addresses from the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) among a range of other sources for ICE to find and detain people deemed illegal immigrants.

Given the activity of Palantir, from defence contracts to its participation in war crimes and targeting of civilians in Gaza in addition to targeting immigrants in the US and processing data of millions of US citizens, the UK government’s decision to award Palantir with £330m NHS contract in 2023 has been met with significant pushback. There is scepticism regarding how sensitive NHS patient data is going to be analysed by Palantir and what that would mean for the safety of the UK population, especially within the context of the current political climate and anti-immigration rhetoric.

Coalitions and groups against the embedment of Palantir into the UK public sector have been forming and educating the public about Palantir’s AI tools being used in global conflicts. These groups include Amnesty International, the Good Law Project, Privacy International, Just Treatment, Corporate Watch, and the United Tech and Allied Workers Union. These groups have been urging hospitals not to follow NHS England’s instructions to sign a memorandum of understanding to use Palantir’s Federated Data Platform (FDP), as set out in planning guidance issued in October.

In the London borough of Hackney, the Hackney Keep Our NHS Public (KONP), who have been actively campaigning against the FDP since 2022, connected with the also very active Hackney Palestine Solidarity Campaign, and together decided to form the Hackney Coalition against Palantir. The coalition has been campaigning and protesting against Palantir, while also urging the Homerton Healthcare NHS Trust’s Board of Directors to not enter a contract with Palantir.

We meet with George Binette, a Hackney citizen and former Unison Branch Secretary at London Borough of Camden, who is an active member of the Hackney Coalition against Palantir. George Binette has been campaigning and rallying with the coalition and also spoke during a peaceful demonstration organised by the coalition outside Homerton Hospital in late November 2025.

How did you first learn about the NHS England’s contract with Palantir and how did you begin to organise against it?

I first learned of Palantir winning the contract probably through mass media, but it was really Health Workers for Free Palestine who made me much more aware of Palantir’s involvement with the Israeli military in particular. So, the NHS England contract that was awarded in the autumn of 2023 is now very much my radar at a personal level. That’s how I first became aware of Palantir in a broader sense and did have some involvement with Health Workers for a Free Palestine.

But then things went into abeyance for some time, until really the second half of last year, and Keep our NHS Public, which is an organisation that’s been going for roughly a quarter of a century, had identified Palantir as an increasingly important player and NHS privatisation. A woman from the local Hackney Keep our NHS Public, Marion MacAlpine was very keen on doing something around Palantir, partly from the angle of keep the privateers out of our National Health Service, but has also been involved with our local Palestine Solidarity Campaign. So, essentially, the local Keep our NHS Public campaign and Hackney Palestine Solidarity got together and decided that we wanted to do something around Palantir and our local National Health Service Trust, Homerton, which, as we understand it, has been involved in trials of aspects of this so-called Federated Data Platform. But it has not yet fully signed up to the Palantir FDP.

Can you help us understand the importance of the timing of this campaign at a local level?

There is pressure from NHS England for all trusts and integrated care boards to adopt the Palantir FDP by next spring, when, as I understand it, there’s a break clause in this current contract. The break clause apparently kicks in in spring 2027. And I think nationally that there’s obviously a need to put pressure on West Streeting and the Labour Frontbench to cancel the contract at that point, nationally. But in the meantime, obviously, there are a number of local campaigns that have sprung up to actually try and stop individual trusts from adopting the FDP.

So locally, we’re putting pressure on the Homerton Trust, and what we would like to do - and the outcome of the May elections locally is quite important in this - is to also focus on Hackney Council, because its pension fund under the local government pension scheme, has almost certainly quite substantial investments in Palantir stock. The last time the National Palestine Solidarity Campaign issued an FOI (Freedom of Information) request in the autumn of 2024, the answer came back that Hackney’s pension fund had over £258,000 worth of shares in Palantir. Now, that may have gone up, it may have gone down, we don’t know. I suspect that there will be further FOIs later this spring after the elections and after there is a move to further consolidate local government pension schemes.

We’ve had this rather modest local campaign going since last autumn and got Duncan McCann from the Good Law Project to give evidence to the Council’s Scrutiny Body on health and well-being in the Borough in mid-October. And I think he made something of an impression, even on Labour councillors. They’re concerned obviously about privacy. They are concerned about the erosion of public trust. And some I think are also concerned, sadly not so much about Gaza, but about the involvement of Palantir with ICE.

How are Hackney locals engaging with Hackney Coalition against Palantir and are you seeing an impact of the campaign?

Obviously not everyone will engage, but there is an audience there, and our experience in stalls has been people that are vaguely aware, and if they are, they’re almost universally in favour of suspending this contract. And then there are people who are interested in finding out more. I mean, particularly after the murders, effectively, of Renée Goode and Alex Pretti in Minneapolis, there’s much more awareness of ICE, and from there, an interest in what is the relationship of Palantir to all this.

We have also had a role in helping the Defend the Whittington Hospital Coalition, which is mainly in Islington. They are now campaigning around Palantir, and they’ve actually borrowed from our work. They set up their own petition and used as a model the letter that we’ve sent to the NHS Trust, and they submitted something similar to the Whittington Trust and to the Scrutiny Committee in Islington that deals with health issues.

What are your personal concerns in regard to Palantir?

You’ll be aware that Palantir was awarded a £240 million MoD contract for which there was no tendering. There was no competitive bidding. And at the moment, it looks like in the public sector in the UK, Palantir holds probably more than £600m worth of contracts.

I have to say that my objection is more ideological, but I think there are legitimate concerns on the basis of Palantir’s track record. In particular, there’s now evidence compiled by 404 Media in the United States, that Palantir has been sharing Medicaid data as part of its AI package that it supplies to ICE. Medicaid is the kind of public health insurance programme for poorer people in the US. And so, what we would consider, surely, private medical data is effectively being used to identify targets for arrest and deportation in the U.S. So, there’s Palantir’s track record in that regard. I think there’s an increasingly understandable suspicion about big tech.

So, what drives me as a campaigner is what Palantir has been doing elsewhere. And there is a question mark over what is essentially a tech surveillance corporation moving into the NHS. There are also issues around privatisation in the NHS, and why is it they can’t develop an in-house capacity in terms of better management of patient data.

I think Palantir’s track record should sound alarm bells for patients. And also, my understanding from listening to Duncan McCann is this concern about a vendor lock-in. Palantir embeds itself and winds up, in perpetuity almost, having control over patient data management long beyond the expiry of the current contract. So that’s, again, a concern that he’s identified for me listening to his presentation in Hackney back in October last year.

How do you see the future of this campaign and what are you hoping for?

Palantir is directly and indirectly responsible for the deaths of possibly thousands of civilians in Gaza and is probably targeting people on the West Bank for arrest. And I think the incredibly arrogant attitude of Palantir’s leadership as people hear about Peter Thiel and his relationship with Trump. The fact that he says the NHS is making us sick, he talks about Britain suffering from Stockholm Syndrome when it comes to the NHS, and of course Alex Karp, the Chief Executive, is completely unapologetic about their involvement with ICE in the United States.

So, when people learn more about who leads this corporation, what the hell are they doing in the NHS? It’s one thing to, in a sense, have a contract with the Ministry of Defence - bad enough – but the Health Service? Part of the crown jewel of what remains of the British welfare state.

Locally, obviously, we’re hoping that we can still persuade the management of the Homerton not to adopt the FDP. Although they’ve acknowledged that they were involved in an earlier trial with the London Ambulance Service. We have this local focus, because there are many trusts that have not yet adopted the Palantir FDP, so we are keeping pressure on that, but there is clearly a need for a national campaign.

We currently have the support of the Greens and the Independent Socialists, and we have the ear, I think, of some Labour councillors. But of course, while they don’t make the decisions for Homerton, they could exercise more influence. We have established a relationship with Defend the Whittington Hospital Coalition in Islington and people in Liverpool have also been contacting us. So, we don’t know how many campaigns there are, so they need to link up and actually form a proper national drive on this issue. This is something that we would definitely like to see.

If you are interested in getting involved with the Hackney Coalition against Palantir campaign, head to Keep our NHS Public website.

To find out if your local NHS trust is involved, head to Medact’s website, for more information and FOI requests.

To take action against Palantir in the NHS, follow the link to the email campaign by the GOOD Law Project and Just Treatment, from where you can email your local NHS Trust.

On 15 April 2023, following a power struggle between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) a conflict erupted with open fighting in Khartoum and across Darfur. It has since evolved into a nationwide and internationally funded conflict with alleged actors from UAE, Saudi Arabia, Iran and Egypt.

According to the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR), more than 10 million people have been displaced, making it the world’s largest displacement crisis. Over 25 million people now require humanitarian assistance. Famine conditions have been identified in parts of Darfur, with conflict monitoring group ACLED reporting tens of thousands killed.

The RSF has been accused by UN experts and investigative outlets of receiving support linked to networks in the United Arab Emirates, particularly via gold trade routes through Darfur. The Sudanese Armed Forces is reported to have longstanding military ties with Egypt and since 2023, Iran.

According to the UNHCR dataset on Sudan, from 2020 – 2025 there has been an 83.7% overall growth of forcibly displaced individuals of Sudanese origin in the UK. This closely aligns with the increase in conflict incidents across Sudan. Additionally, from 2022 to 2025 the number of Sudanese asylum seekers has reduced by 36.8% while the number of Sudanese refugees has increased by 77.9%. This comes as more displaced Sudanese individuals are being recognised as refugees.

Samira* is mixed-race and living in the UK, the daughter of a British mother and a Sudanese father from Keli, a small village in northern Sudan. She spent part of her childhood in Sudan, and her mother learned Sudanese Arabic, helping the family stay closely connected to relatives there. Since the conflict began her relatives in Sudan have continued running projects on the ground through her family’s established initiative, the Issam Charitable Organisation.

“There’s a really strong sense of hopelessness and disconnection. Media coverage has been poor, Sudan doesn’t move people in the same way as Ukraine or Palestine, and that’s very painful as a Sudanese person,” Samira begins. “In 2019 [following the fall of President Al-Bashir] there was real hope that things would change for the better.”

Samira’s family were forcibly displaced by the conflict, “Most of my family had to leave, but leaving was extremely dangerous – their house was completely looted, everything stolen, and they had to flee in the middle of the night to avoid the children seeing dead bodies in the streets and to reduce the risk of being shot.”

Sudanese refugee and asylum-seeking families have been forced to take unsafe routes to cross the border. “Some people we know had to pay traffickers to get family members across the border as there were no safe legal routes. Some of our relatives managed to reach Saudi Arabia and Oman as refugees.”

As banks closed and front lines shifted, sending money into Sudan became increasingly complicated.

“Port Sudan was a crucial access point,” Samira explains. “Family could get there and use the banks that were still operating to receive funds. But as routes tightened, our network of family members had to adapt. Money is now often sent to relatives in Saudi Arabia, who then transfer it onwards through trusted networks.”

Across the UK, the war has prompted a visible shift in community organising. Sudanese-led fundraisers have sprung up in London, Manchester and Birmingham, raising money for emergency medical supplies and evacuation support. Protests have also taken place outside Downing Street and the Sudanese embassy, calling for greater international pressure on the warring sides.

Many Sudanese families, she says, have lived through coups and conflicts. With nearly one third of displaced Sudanese nationals to the UK being children according to UNHCR data, a generation of children are growing up forcibly removed and without a memory of ordinary peace.

*Name changed.

Recently, political leaders and media outlets in the US, Hungary, and Germany have frequently blamed “Antifa” and left-wing activists for a wave of violent crime. For example, US officials have labeled Antifa a “left-wing terrorist organization”. Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán announced in 2025 that Hungary would follow the US and designate Antifa as a terrorist group. However, these claims clash sharply with the facts. Empirical data make clear that ideologically motivated violence overwhelmingly comes from the far-right, not the left. The supposed threat of “left-wing crimes” is largely a strawman, used to divert attention from real, documented increases in right-wing violence.

By the numbers: Consider the actual crime statistics. In the United States, a study commissioned by the Department of Justice found that since 1990, far-right extremists committed far more homicides than far-left groups – 227 attacks killing 520 people, versus 42 attacks killing 78. In 2024, all 13 extremist-related murders in the U.S. were carried out by right-wing assailants. A counterterrorism analysis notes that the only fatal attack by a self-identified Antifa extremist in recent decades was a 2020 shooting in Portland that killed one far-right activist. By contrast, violent far-right incidents (from Charlottesville to January 6th to random murders) are far more common.

In Germany, official security reports show a similar gap: in 2024 there were about 5,857 left-wing extremist offences (including only 532 violent ones), whereas reported right-wing extremist crimes exceeded 57,000 (with roughly 2,976 violent offences). Even accounting for differing definitions, German authorities have highlighted a “significant” surge in right-wing crimes, and note that one in four of the 38,000 identified left-wing extremists is “violence-oriented”. Hungary lacks transparent public data, but European analysts point out that Hungary’s “case against Antifa” cites foreign incidents, not any domestic attacks. In short, throughout the 2000s and 2010s, the violent extremists have overwhelmingly been on the right – a pattern confirmed by FBI, DHS, and think-tank studies.

United States: Rhetoric vs Reality

In the US, this dynamic has played out in recent headlines. Conservative media and politicians have highlighted isolated events and labeled them “Antifa violence”. For instance, Alabama’s Attorney General wrote an opinion piece claiming an “Antifa radical” detonated an IED in 2024. In Congress, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene introduced a 2025 resolution that describes “the extremist organization Antifa” as engaging in “domestic terrorism”. In late 2025, the Trump administration (via Secretary of State Marco Rubio) designated several European leftist groups as “terrorists”, calling them “violent Antifa groups”. Yet analysts warn that these moves misrepresent reality. The Brennan Center noted that there is no evidence of any nationwide left-wing terror conspiracy, and that Antifa is not an organization that can legally be listed as an entity. Even FBI and DHS assessments focus overwhelmingly on far-right threats in recent years.

The data tell the true story: far more Americans have been killed or injured by far-right extremists than by Antifa or the radical left. One DOJ study (cited by Congress) found that since 1990, far-right attacks have killed about 520 people versus 78 in far-left attacks. Another analysis (ADL 2024) showed all extremist murders in 2024 were by right-wing attackers. Researchers emphasize that violent “Antifa” episodes are virtually non-existent outside of small clashes; a Center for Strategic & International Studies report confirms only one fatal Antifa-related attack in decades (Portland 2020). By contrast, dozens have died in far-right mass shootings and riots (e.g. Pittsburgh synagogue, Charleston church, Buffalo supermarket, etc.). In short, the narrative of a new surge of leftist terror is not supported by the trends. It is seen as a distraction from the well-documented rise of right-wing political violence.

Hungary: Government Claims vs Facts

Hungary’s government has joined the chorus against Antifa and the broader left, but also with questionable basis. In September 2025, PM Viktor Orbán announced Hungary would “classify organizations such as Antifa as terrorist organizations”, following the US example. He publicly declared: “Antifa is indeed a terrorist organisation… in Hungary, too, the time has come… following the American model”. Yet independent reporting notes that “antifascist groups rarely engage in political actions in Hungary”, where Orbán’s party has near-total control. In fact, Hungary’s own decree listing Antifa as a terrorist organisation explicitly bases its case on violent incidents outside Hungary – i.e. stabbings and attacks in Germany and France, not domestic crimes. As one analysis notes, Hungary’s ban is “mostly based on the perception of an external threat rather than on actual domestic incidents”. In practice, Hungary sees far more ultranationalist violence than leftist. Ironically, Orbán has also boasted “zero tolerance” for hate crimes – claiming “no hate crimes, no violent migrants” in Budapest.

Hungary’s rhetoric thus appears aimed at projecting vigilance while deflecting attention. By vilifying an amorphous “Antifa” abroad, the government shifts focus away from any right-wing violence at home. Analysts observe that Budapest’s actions follow far-right agendas in Europe (flagging an invented Antifa threat) rather than any Hungarian crime wave. In fact, Jewish and immigrant communities in Hungary report feeling less safe largely because Orbán’s regime suppresses dissent, not because leftist violence is real. In short, Hungary’s claims of an Antifa threat have no factual grounding in local crime data.

Germany: Far-Right Rhetoric vs Crime Trends

Germany has seen its own episodes of left-wing violence (e.g. the recent “Hammer Gang” trials), but even here the numbers are small compared to far-right crime. Berlin has spent decades monitoring both left and right extremists. Domestic security reports show that the annual crime burden from far-right extremists dwarfs that of the left. For example, in 2024 German authorities recorded roughly 57,700 right-wing extremist offenses (violent and non-violent), up 46% from 2023. By contrast, there were about 5,857 left-wing extremist offenses (mostly non-violent) in 2024. Violent attacks on opponents or police by leftist groups are relatively infrequent; many left-wing crimes consist of vandalism or small-scale clashes. Notably, official German analyses have voiced concern about the spread of far-right ideology across different groups, while the notion of “Antifa as terror” has not been a priority.

Still, the far-right AfD have seized on media stories of Antifa arrests to demand a ban. In late 2025, AfD’s Alice Weidel called for a nationwide prohibition of Antifa. Even after the US labeled a German Antifa faction “terrorist”, the German government explicitly declined to follow suit. In other words, Berlin recognizes Antifa is not an organized terror group and has not moved to outlaw it. In short, the reality in Germany is that far-right extremism is far more serious: for every one leftist extremist recorded, there are roughly ten times as many right-wing extremists in the official counts.

Trends and Takeaways

Looking at the broader trends since 2000, the picture is consistent across multiple countries. Studies of political violence find that far-right extremists commit far more lethal attacks than far-left extremists worldwide. A bipartisan 2025 DHS threat report noted (for the U.S.) that political violence remains relatively rare overall, and that the significant incidents in recent years have come from right-wing radicals, not the left. Likewise in Europe, the deadliest terror attacks (e.g. Oslo 2011, Munich 2016, Halle 2019) were right-wing, not Antifa. Even when leftist extremists are active, their impact has been far smaller.

In summary, the rhetoric about an “Antifa terror wave” in the US, Hungary, and Germany is not supported by evidence. News stories about left-wing violence often ignore context and use isolated cases to imply a broader threat. In reality, all available data show far more violence from the far-right. Law enforcement and security experts warn that exaggerating a leftist menace can mislead public policy. The likely motive of this rhetoric is political: it casts opponents as dangerous radicals and deflects scrutiny from actual right-wing violence. The facts speak for themselves: in all three countries, true extremist violence is dominated by the right, and framing it as a “fake left” problem is a baseless straw man.

December 1st usually brings a shared sense of joy in Romania. Marking the Great Union of 1918 (the unification of Transylvania, Basarabia, and Bukovina with the Romanian Kingdom), Romanians celebrate with family gatherings, military parades, concerts, special television programmes and, more recently, marathons. A sense of unity fills the air.

Except in 2024. On 1 December 2024, the country was profoundly divided.

A week earlier, Romanians had voted in the first round of the presidential elections, and the results sent shockwaves through the country. The two mainstream parties (the Social Democratic Party (PSD) and the National Liberal Party (PNL), dominant since the 1989 Revolution), had both failed to reach the runoff. In second place was Elena Lasconi of Save Romania Union (USR), then the third-largest parliamentary party.

But first place, with more than two million votes, went to Călin Georgescu, an independent candidate the internet, mainstream media, and established parties all described as “unknown.”

Unknown, that is, to everyone except the more than two million voters he had managed to mobilise.

Videos and scattered media appearances of Mr Georgescu began surfacing: promoting a hardline sovereigntist agenda, amplifying conspiracy theories, pseudo-scientific claims, and legionary (an interwar fascist and martyrdom-centred movement) narratives, supporting Putin, and declaring that “feminism is absolute filth.” His promotional clips (swimming in cold water, practising judo, riding horses) echoed Vladimir Putin’s image-building style. His tone was confident and authoritative, with frequent references to Christian values.

Mr Georgescu was rapidly endorsed by far-right and sovereigntist parties such as the Alliance for the Union of Romanians (AUR), S.O.S. România, and the Party of Young People (POT). Yet, the more information emerged, the more polarising and alarming his profile became. A deep, seemingly irreconcilable divide began cutting through Romanian society.

The unity missing on 1 December 2024 began to re-emerge, in a different form, in the days leading up to the second round. Romanians mobilised with renewed urgency. Civil society, artists, academics, journalists, communities, and even rival political parties came together. The idea of a pro-Vladimir Putin, hardline sovereigntist, conspiracy-minded president triggered widespread alarm.

Mircea Cărtărescu, one of Romania’s most famous writers, said: “It’s completely irrelevant what we think of her [Elena Lasconi] now. We have to vote for her in the second round, because the alternative is frightening.”

But Romanians never got to vote for her. Days before the runoff, the election was cancelled on the grounds of Russian interference. Both sides described the move as a blow to Romanian democracy.

One year after Romania came close to a far-right victory, how has the movement evolved?

We now know that Mr Georgescu’s surge was fuelled by an aggressive social media campaign, particularly on TikTok, believed to have been amplified through Russian-linked actors and organisations. Romania’s Prosecutor General has since deemed the campaign a form of hybrid warfare, involving disinformation and attempts to incite public panic.

Mr Georgescu was barred from participating in the rescheduled presidential elections. In May 2025, however, George Simion, the far-right contender, leader of AUR, and a supporter of Mr Georgescu, made it to the second round. Independent candidate Nicușor Dan (International Mathematics Olympian, with a PhD from Paris 13 University, and co-founder of USR) ultimately won the presidency, and to many, the country seemed to have “returned to normal.” But with 46.4% of the vote, the far right had once again come dangerously close to victory.

Pictured: George Simion; Source

In June, with the formation of the new government (PNL, PSD, USR, UDMR), AUR became the main opposition party. In July, a parliamentary vote-intention poll reported a significant increase in support for AUR, surpassing traditional parties. In September, AUR filed four no-confidence motions against the coalition, criticising its reform package aimed at reducing the national deficit.

In November, Simion was re-elected AUR president. “I cried out of pain, because our elections were stolen from us and our right to decide our own destiny was taken away”. “This is not a time for tears, not a time for lamenting, not a time for relaxing. It is a time for fighting” he is reported to have said. “We are the future”.

Throughout 2025, AUR positioned itself as the voice of those disillusioned with the political system, and Mr Simion repeatedly demonstrated his power as a populist orator. Phrases such as “our right to decide our own destiny was taken away” (Romanian “ne-a fost furat dreptul nostru de a decide propriul destin”) were particularly striking, echoing the wording of the national anthem: “Now or never, forge yourself a new fate” (Romanian: “Acum ori niciodată, croieşte-ţi altă soartă”), a line known to almost every Romanian.

On 1 December 2025, in Alba Iulia, the city where the Great Union was declared in 1918, thousands attended hardline sovereigntist events supporting far-right parties such as AUR and S.O.S. România, as well as Mr Georgescu. The strong turnout, reinforced by growing online followings and engagement (as tracked by Social Blade, a website that monitors social-media statistics, and illustrated in the graphs below, and by election polls) suggests that far-right mobilisation remains strong and continues to grow.

AUR Facebook monthly gained likes

Source

AUR Tik Tok monthly gained followers

Source

In what appears to mark the final major far-right political advance of 2025, Anca Alexandrescu, AUR’s candidate for Bucharest mayor, secured 22% of the vote on 7 December, finishing in second place. The winner, Ciprian Ciucu, a political analyst from PNL, former Bucharest District 6 mayor and backed by the governing coalition, obtained 36%. Ms Alexandrescu’s performance reinforced the narrative of a far-right movement that is not retreating but rather consolidating a significant urban electoral base.

“In 2026, anything could happen”, Mr Simion said in his November speech, “from ending up under arrest to forming a government with AUR, one that many Romanians are placing great hopes in.”

Time will tell.

On Monday the 17^th of November, Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood addressed the House of Commons to present significant reforms to the UK’s asylum and returns system. In her foreword, the message was clear: the UK’s asylum system needs to be harder, faster, and more restrictive. In her opening statement, Mahmood pointed explicitly to the notoriously hardline Danish model of asylum as a beacon of inspiration.

“We must act too. We will do so by making refugee status temporary, not permanent. A grant of refugee status will last 2 and a half years, not 5. It will be renewed only if it is impossible for a refugee to return home. Permanent settlement will now come at 20 years, not 5.”

The idea that a self-proclaimed centre-left British government would take cues from Denmark, a country whose immigration system has been internationally criticised for racialised, far-right policies indicates an ominous political shift. The UK isn’t simply reviewing procedures, it is absorbing detrimental far-right ideologies.

The policy paper titled “Restoring Order and Control” published subsequently to Mahmood’s statement sets out what she calls “the most sweeping asylum reforms in modern times.” In reality, this means reducing the number of asylum arrivals, increasing removals “of those with no right to be here,” and making refugee status temporary until their home country is deemed safe to return to. The paper also outlines a decidedly longer path to permanent settlement for asylum seekers, extending the period from 5 to 20 years.

These standards for asylum systems are not uncommon in Europe today, but what is strikingly symbolic is the use of Denmark as a benchmark. The Danish model includes infamous “ghetto laws” and “parallel societies” which divide neighbourhoods by “Western” and “non-Western” residents, as well as tight restrictions on family reunification, and the “jewellery law” which enables the state seizure of jewellery from asylum seekers to cover the cost of their asylum. Danish Social Democrats embraced these measures precisely because of their harshness, in a successful attempt to outflank the far-right by adopting its priorities. The far-right Danish People’s Party lost ground not because its ideas became less popular, but because the centre-left implemented them.

This is the model Labour is now praising. Although the UK won’t replicate every Danish policy on immigration, the political signal is clear: Labour is sending the message that they are willing to adopt hardline policies in a way that is traditionally associated with the right and increasingly the far-right; a point even Nigel Farage seized upon when he jibed that Mahmood’s language sounded like an “audition” to join Reform UK.

This political signal bears heavy consequences. When a centre-left government adopts a narrative toward immigration of threat, upheaval and deterrence, it legitimises these concepts across the political spectrum. The idea that the rights of refugees must be viewed as conditional and easily revoked has long been led by the far-right, but is now being increasingly articulated by a government who once prided themselves on internationalism and inclusion.

Mahmood has faced backlash from within the Labour party about her “shameful” immigration package which is aimed at deterring migrants from seeking safe asylum in the UK rather than tackling the material issues which require investment such as housing and integration support.

Labour should “stop the scapegoating of immigrants because it’s wrong and cruel. We should push back on the racist agenda of Reform rather than echo it” said Labour MP Simon Opher, while Labour MP Richard Burgon claims the policy “scrapes the bottom of the barrel”, suggesting that it is “a desperate attempt to triangulate with Reform.”

Key reforms included in the policy paper on asylum and returns include:

• Refugees will receive around 30 months of leave to remain instead of 5 years, with settlement delayed for up to 20 years.

• Automatic family-reunification rights will be removed and refugees must move to a separate “Work & Study” route to reunite with family members.

• State support will become discretionary rather than guaranteed and financial support will be denied to refugees who are able to work.

• The government will aim to prioritise removals and pressure countries that refuse to accept deported nationals.

• The government plans to allow the seizure of asylum seekers personal assets to offset the cost of their asylum.

The UK’s asylum system is undoubtedly flawed, but importing Denmark’s racialised and discriminatory model will not fix it. If Labour abandons its politics grounded in inclusion and internationalism, little remains to distinguish it from the far-right.

Australia is going through a silent national crisis. Affecting 1 in 3 Australians, and costing the economy a staggering $2.7 billion per year, loneliness is a problem Australia can’t seem to shake. Young people are paying the price. Earlier this year, 43% of Australians aged 14-25 were declared lonely.

Against this backdrop, last week saw the convening of Australia’s National Ending Loneliness conference in Melbourne; attended by grassroots activists, policy makers and government officials.

Across two days, an emerging political debate made inroads. In her keynote address, Professor Julianne Holt-Lunstad, Director of the Social Connection & Health Lab at BYU, discussed the link between loneliness and political extremism. Minister Kearney, Australia’s Assistant Minister for Ending Domestic Violence, framed the argument more explicitly, warning of a “male loneliness epidemic” that is breeding violence across the country.

A clear warning is apparent – for nations serious about tackling the rise of extremism, understanding the political nature of loneliness must be a priority.

Photo taken by the author

When Isolation Turns Dangerous

The potential link between social isolation and acts of violent political extremism has long been discussed. After Germany’s 2019 Halle synagogue shooting, a socially withdrawn profile emerged of the 27-year-old male perpetrator who was suspected of being radicalised online. According to The New Yorker, the shooter was living alone with his mother and was clearly “isolated”.

In New Zealand, the Inquiry into the 2019 Christchurch mosque shooting

found that the perpetrator was socially isolated and “largely avoided social situations”. Three years later, the Investigative Report into the Buffalo shooting found that the largely isolated individual had found a sense of community within extremist forums.

That social isolation poses a risk factor for acts of violent extremism is increasingly reflected in national anti-extremism efforts. In the wake of the Christchurch attack, the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) claimed far-right violence made up 40% of its counter-terrorism incidents, according to the Guardian.

A Shift to the Far-Right

Yet, whilst far-right violence poses significant risk to national security, in the majority of cases disconnection results in a more insidious shift to far-right thinking. A study published earlier this year in the journal Social Science and Medicine confirmed this link, concluding that loneliness is “positively associated with populist radical right support.”

Increasingly, it appears that the world has established a loneliness economy, in which it is the so-called community and meaning provided by far-right content that provides the antidote to disconnection. Alarmingly, the role of this economy on formal political mechanisms has become clear, with a separate 2025 study spanning 15 years of data revealing that in the Netherlands, lonelier individuals were more likely to support radical right-wing parties at the polling booth.

The Unspoken Male Factor

In her conference speech, Minister Kearney’s acknowledgement of a “male loneliness epidemic” addressed the fact that the crisis has a clearly gendered edge. This reality strikes at both ends of the spectrum – men are not only more likely to resort to extremist violence but also to experience loneliness in the first place.

According to Relationships Australia, there are structural factors underlying this. Not only are men less likely than women to report having close relationships, they are more likely to report losing social ties during major life transitions such as relationship breakups.

It is within this context that online communities promoting hostility and anti-feminist narratives, known as the “manosphere”, can exploit vulnerable young men.

These findings resonate on the ground. At the conference, grassroots community workers told stories of lonely young men falling into the influence of far-right figures like Andrew Tate whose forums quickly became their only form of social contact.

Why a Framework of Connection Matters

In her keynote address, Professor Holt-Lunstad emphasised the need to recognise connection as a key form of public infrastructure. This sentiment underpins the World Health Organisation’s definition of health as “a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.”

This insight, whilst largely absent from mainstream policy, is beginning to make inroads into prevention strategy. Researchers at Deakin University’s Centre for Resilient and Inclusive Societies emphasise that counter‐extremism must be reframed as a social cohesion and public-policy priority. This philosophy has been adopted by Step Together, Australia’s community prevention service, who recognise “social isolation, loneliness, the need for significance, and the need to belong” as motivators for extremism.

Moving Forward

In order to tackle the issue more broadly, nations must reconsider what they consider public infrastructure. Initiatives that foster belonging, such as social prescription initiatives that link patients to community-based supports, can play a key part in reducing loneliness amongst young people and therefore curb the epidemic of far-right extremist violence.

Australia’s loneliness crisis and the global rise of the far right are part of the same story. They demonstrate the risks posed to our societies by the increasingly transactional nature of connection. What emerged most strongly from the National Ending Loneliness Conference was a simple but powerful idea: social connection is a form of democratic infrastructure that, if taken seriously, offers the solution to social fragmentation and counter extremist efforts.

A lawmaker turned international fugitive, an anti-gender pastor who supports LGBTQ+ initiatives, and a former topless protester bisexual activist now authoring anti-feminist books: Brazil’s far-right women bring colour, passion, and contradictions to the political stage. What does their rise mean for women’s rights in Brazil?

Western media have covered Bolsonaro’s political wins and failures at length, yet far less editorial real estate has been devoted to Brazil’s far-right women and not for lack of scale. Despite his violent rhetoric toward women, Bolsonaro still appealed to more than one in four women who indicated their intention to vote for him in 2022 polls. As Bolsonaro could now spend the rest of his life behind bars, Brazil’s right and far-right women continue to shape perceptions, policies, and movements. Who are their flagbearers?

We begin with Carla Zambelli. A powerful political figure, known since 2013 for her activism to impeach former president Dilma Rousseff, Ms. Zambelli is a prominent figure in the Bolsonarista movement.

Photo: Carla Zambelli in São Paulo, Celebration of Independence Day 2021. Credits: Clauber Cleber Caetano, Original file

Previously associated with feminist movements, Ms. Zambelli used her time in Congress to adopt anti-feminist stances (including tabling a bill making it more difficult for rape victims to obtain an abortion) and has positioned herself as one of the most vocal opponents of gender and feminist agendas. Still, Ms. Zambelli’s support among female voters has remained remarkably resilient. One YouTube video titled “Black women show solidarity with Carla Zambelli [...],” published in 2024 following what the Chamber of Deputies’ Secretariat of Women condemned as a racist incident, gathered almost 30,000 views, 4,500 likes, and hundreds of supportive comments.

Photo: Carla Zambelli pulling a gun on people after a dispute in São Paulo, 2022 Photo Source

Despite her legal troubles (sentenced for chasing a man with a gun on the streets of São Paulo, convicted for cyberattacks against the National Justice Council, placed on Interpol’s Red Notice list and arrested in Rome), Ms. Zambelli’s extensive media coverage and strong social media presence (with over 3.6 million followers on Instagram), ensure she continues to capture headlines and public attention. Thus, she remains a prominent and polarising figure within Brazil’s far-right political sphere.

From gun threats and international arrests to religious authority and moral politics: next comes Damares Alves.

Photo: Senator Damares Alves. Credits: Agência Senado from Brasília, Brazil. Original file.

An evangelical pastor, former lawyer, Bolsonaro’s ex-Minister of Women, Families and Human Rights, and now a senator, Ms. Alves has advocated for harsher punishments for human trafficking and sexual abuse, organised training to encourage women to run for office, and engaged with LGBTQ+ communities. In July 2025, she voiced support for social quotas for trans people, a notable shift from her long record of anti-gender ideology stances.

Photo: Damares Alves wearing a T-shirt with the inscription “I love life”. Photo Source

Figures like Ms. Alves, whose moral authority is reinforced by personal adversity (having survived sexual abuse at the age of six), appear compassionate, authentic and even inspirational to many. Her symbolic importance to Bolsonaro’s movement, particularly in appealing to evangelical voters, conservative women, and lower-income and rural communities, is easy to grasp.

Yet some highlight the dangers posed by politicians like Ms Alves, who use the language of women’s liberation to ultimately subvert feminist principles, describing her as “an example of abusive feminism”, “a corrosive agent”. For example, she is known to have intervened in a high-profile case involving a 10-year-old rape victim, attempting to prevent a legal abortion and her rhetoric often overlapped with (and reinforced) the Bolsonarista discourse: “Women are born to be mothers”,“We want a Brazil without abortion”.

Whether viewed as a pastor guiding the faithful or tending the flock while feeding the wolves, Ms. Alves plays a significant role in shaping Brazil’s moral and political agenda.

From pastors backed by the far right to a far-right icon who participated in a topless same-sex kiss outside Rio de Janeiro’s Church of Our Lady of Candelária. Spotlight on Sara Huff.

Photo: Sara Huff at the “How to Get Your Daughter Out of Feminism, A Workshop for Desperate Parents” event held in Mexico, before an audience of more than 400 people. Photo Source.

Once protesting against patriarchy and the Church’s control over sexual and reproductive rights, Ms. Huff now brands herself as a Former Feminist Turned Anti-Feminist Pro-Life Advocate. On Instagram, where she addresses an audience of over 100,000 followers, she speaks about defunding planned parenthood, what she calls the Left’s hatred of the traditional family, and her belief that the West will be saved by “mothers with an apron and rosary, who cook quietly while their children play, read, or pray nearby.”

Photo: Same-sex kiss Church protest in Rio de Janeiro, showcasing Sara Huff’s early activism. Photo Source

In Brazil, Ms. Huff is known for her far-right activism, notably as the founder and leader of the “300 do Brasil” a pro-Bolsonaro, paramilitary-style movement, linked to anti-democratic rallies that eventually led to her arrest.

Now living in Texas, USA, Ms. Huff has adopted a more global strategy, sharing content in English and Spanish that aligns with conservative activists and political figures in the United States and Mexico, and speaking at events such as ExpoFamily in Chile, the Conservative Political Action Conference in Mexico, and Beyond Tomorrow: Imagining the World for Our Children in Hungary.

This reflects how Brazil’s far-right women, whether driven by ideology, opportunity, or personal ambition, are extending their influence beyond national borders, exporting conservative activism and securing Brazil a visible spot on the global far-right map.

In Brazil, a new wave of women supporting the far right has demonstrated mastery of one of the world’s most powerful arenas in today’s digital age: the attention economy. Through prominent political roles, media appearances, and significant social media followings, their voices echo in places not many other politicians can reach. And when those voices speak about women’s issues (or against them) the impact can be deep and lasting.

As their visibility grows and the line between empowerment and control sometimes eludes the public eye, one question remains: are Brazil’s far-right women redefining power, or merely giving the old patriarchal order a new face?

On October 14^th, 2025, the Independent published that Erika Kirk, widow of Charlie Kirk, will be presented Charlie Kirk’s Presidential Medal of Freedom by US President Donald Trump. Charlie Kirk, who was assassinated on the 10^th of September 2025, was the founder of Turning Point USA, a non-profit organisation, which according to their website “[...] has embarked on a mission to build the most organized, active, and powerful conservative grassroots activist network on high school and college campuses across the country. With a presence on over 3,500 campuses, Turning Point USA is the largest and fastest-growing youth organization in America.”

Erika Kirk is a self-proclaimed entrepreneur, former Miss Arizona and the creator of the podcast Midweek Rise Up, a podcast that blends meditation with the bible. Since her husband’s assassination, she has also taken over as CEO for Turning Point USA and has given an emotionally loaded speech, also loaded with populist and religious rhetoric, emphasised on the ideals of nation, faith and patriotism while also promoting the revival of the American family and prompting its listeners to organise with their local Turning Point USA chapter. On the 21^st of September 2025, Erika gave yet another speech during Charlie Kirk’s memorial service in front of 100,000 attendees in MAGA hats. The memorial was also attended by President Trump, Vice President Vance, and Elon Musk.

Through her newfound fame, Erika Kirk has joined the likes of other far-right and alt-right US female political figures, from politicians such as Marjorie Taylor Greene, to internet personalities such as Laura Loomer and Candace Owens. These women are unapologetic for their opinions and rhetoric, have supported Donald Trump’s re-election and politics, have actively supported anti-abortion legislation, and through their social media and platforms have spent years promoting policies and ideas that target female bodily autonomy and women’s rights. They have also publicly engaged with hate speech, racist rhetoric and conspiracy theories and Candace Owens has gone as far as platforming alleged human trafficker and sexual abuser Andrew Tate on her podcast.

During the latest US presidential elections, we saw a spike in female voters, and more specifically white female voters, voting for the Donald Trump administration. Apart from 51% of white women voting in favour of the current administration, this percentage rose from 47% of white female voters that voted for Donald Trump back in 2016. It is also worth noting the rise from 6% to 15% in Black, non-Hispanic voters as well as the rise of 28% to 48% in Hispanic voters voting for the Trump administration from 2016 to 2024.

Pew Research Center, 2. Voting patterns in the 2024 election

Of course, it is not a surprise that white women would uphold white supremacist values. It is worth noting however, that the far-right is in addition being upheld by people that belong to minority groups, despite the fact that the same minority groups are directly impacted by the far-right policies that are currently being implemented in the USA. This only demonstrates the intersectional aspect of the far right and how the work of far-right political figures that belong to minority groups can have the power to legitimise far-right rhetoric and normalise it amongst those more vulnerable.

In the Global South, the Far Right presence is presented in a different form to the West. In the African continent the Far Right is on the rise, but unlike the Western world, it is not shaped by white supremacist values and as it is not shaped by race. The Far Right in Africa is mostly rooted in fundamentalist religious values with ethnic nationalism impacted by the post-colonial struggle, yet in practise it mirrors Western logics of anti-immigration and xenophobia. An example of materialised fascism in Africa is Operation Dudula, an anti-immigration political party in South Africa that looks to migrants as the cause of widespread unemployment, rising crime rates following the post-COVID economic hardship.

Cities within Africa have been treated as global hubs for right-wing networks to meet, structure and spread religious ideologies. Accra, in Ghana has been used as a hub for international conservative groups, including those from the West and other countries within Africa, to meet and build partnerships based on Evangelical and Pentecostal religious values that spread anti-abortion and anti-LGBTQ+ beliefs. These groups, alongside external strategists and funding build political trust. A direct outcome in the West African region was the advancement of Ghana’s anti-LGBTQ+ Bill in 2024, widely condemned by human rights organisations.

The positioning of the Far Right in Africa relies heavily on nationalism and a political culture that ties belonging to religion and tradition. By framing migrants and minority groups as threats to national stability, far-right movements can mobilise social fear. In Tunisia, President Saied’s 2023 remarks, labelled as racist by Amnesty International, blame sub-Saharan migrants for crime and unemployment reflect a localised form of far-right xenophobia.

In parts of Africa, far-right and ultra-conservative movements draw on Christian Zionist ideas to legitimise nationalist, anti-LGBTQ, and anti-pluralist agendas. While Christian Zionism itself is not inherently far-right, it can be politically mobilised by far-right actors. These movements frequently portray Israel as a model of divinely sanctioned nationhood and moral discipline and use it to justify their own conservative or exclusionary visions.

Women in the African far right often occupy roles that symbolically legitimise patriarchal and conservative ideologies. Their leading roles are fronting faith-based campaigns that reinforce nuclear heterosexual traditional family structures and oppose abortion and LGBTQ+ rights. Female leaders within Ghanaian Pentecostal networks use their visibility to present far-right religious politics. In this case gender can be seen as a political tool and the women who appear as protectors of family and morality help rebrand reactionary politics as socially acceptable. These women mirror European figures like Giorgia Meloni and Marine Le Pen in their strategic use of femininity to promote nationalism.

Additionally, US-based evangelical organisations have been central in exporting anti-abortion rhetoric to Zimbabwe and Uganda embedding American “pro-life” ideology within local politics. Family Watch International (FWI), are reported by the Guardian to have held workshops with religious and political leaders promoting anti-abortion and anti-LGBTQ+ agendas under the themes of family values. Investigations by OpenDemocracy found that the American FWI were providing strategy materials to lawmakers to advance the currently restrictive reproductive laws. Similarly, the American Center for Law and Justice (ACLJ), through its East African Centre for Law and Justice (EACLJ), has worked with government officials to oppose abortion rights and promote conservative constitutional reforms. These groups demonstrate how American Christian-right networks are shaping reproductive politics cross-continentally.

Data from Afrobarometer (2023) shows that 57% of Kenyan’s believe the government should reduce number of foreign jobseekers or eliminate such immigration altogether (19%). These figures reveal how far-right rhetoric has found grounding in post-pandemic economic anxiety alongside populist, faith-based networks can translate social frustration into exclusionary politics.

The rise of the far right in Africa reveals a complex blend of local forces and influential global forces. Rooted in religious fundamentalism and nationalism from post-colonial legacies these movements mirror Western far-right ideologies in scapegoating of migrants and minorities. Similar to the West, female religious and political figures increasingly legitimise these agendas, framing them through morality and family values. With growing foreign funding and media influence, Africa’s Far Right demonstrates growth across the continent.

Japan

EPA

In October, Sanae Takaichi made waves when it was announced that, after two previous attempts, she had finally secured the leadership of Japan’s Liberal Democratic Party. Dominating the political scene since its inception in 1955, the LDP has enjoyed near continuous rule, guaranteeing its leader the top job of prime minister. For Takaichi, however, the last week has thrown roadblocks to her path to premiership, with the LDP losing its coalition partner of over 20 years. Whether or not her path to victory prevails, one thing is clear: Takaichi is a real contender to make Japanese history as the first female Prime Minister of a country ranked 118th in the World Economic Forum’s 2025 Gender Equality Index.

Delve a little deeper, however, and the seemingly progressive nature of Takaichi’s rise is called into question. Following in the footsteps of her European counterparts, Takaichi has made a name for herself as a fervently nationalistic political figure, aligning herself with the far-right as a prominent member of the ultranationalist Nippon Kaigi lobbying group; a stance that has crowned her the title of Japan’s “Iron Lady.”

Foundational to Takaichi’s far-right portfolio is her hawkish approach to China, indicative of her broader ‘Japan first’ mentality. Often preferring to speak to voters directly, Takaichi utilises her official YouTube channel adopting a traditionally masculine identity through a blend of corporate precision and nationalist resolve. In one example during her tenure as Minister of State for Economic Security, Takaichi utilised typical right-wing sentiment, conflating a strong capitalist economy with defence in warning that “To protect Japan, we need strength and innovation. Through crisis-management investment, we will direct funds into defence, semiconductors and AI”.

The implied need to protect Japan carries the typical ultranationalist implicature of a misunderstood nation at risk from hostile outsiders. Takaichi’s adoption of such a narrative is further evidenced by her visits to Yasukuni Shrine. On 15 August 2023, a Cabinet Office transcript records her taking questions about her Yasukuni Shrine visit; a visit confirmed via broadcast footage from ANN News. The controversial memorial is often critiqued as an endorsement of Japan’s wartime aggression, interpreted by many as downplaying the horrors of Japan’s wrongdoings and signalling adherence to the revisionist right.

In recent months, Takaichi’s conservative approach to social values has also drawn attention. In a video on her YouTube channel titled “夫婦別氏制度 (Separate-Surname System)”, she opposed reform of the family-registration system that would allow married couples to keep different surnames. Such a stance places her within the LDP’s traditionalist bloc and at odds with the 70% of women who expressed support for the reform in a 2024 FNN poll.

The contrast between the views of Japanese women and their potential first female Prime Minister highlights the paradox of far-right female figures who utilise identity politics to win ultra-conservative support at the expense of women’s rights. In a country long burdened by patriarchy and loomed over by the legacy of WW2 comfort women, the rise of Takaichi is evidence of Japan’s complex relationship with gender.

India

While Sanae Takaichi frames nationalism through moral order, in India, Sadhvi Ritambhara combines faith and militarism to advance her Hindu majoritarian vision. A controversial figure, Ritambhara has long been charged with stirring up anti-Muslim sentiment through her extreme far-right rhetoric, with her sowing of divisions even cited as the cause of civil disorder in the UK.

Sadhvi Ritambhara after getting bail in Ayodhya Ram Mandir-Babri Masjid Demolition case at CBI court in Lucknow in Lucknow, India, May 30, 2017. (Subhankar Chakraborty/HT FILE PHOTO)

Rising to prominence in the early 1990s, Ritambhara gained national attention for her outspoken sermons during a Hindu nationalist campaign to replace a mosque in Ayodhya, known as the Ram Janmabhoomi movement, that catapulted the BJP to power. In 1991, she solidified her leadership as a founder of the Durga Vahini, the women’s wing of the right-wing Vishva Hindu Parishad organisation.

The recent resurgence of Ritambhara in the Indian political landscape reflects the ascendancy of religious nationalism and gender politics as state policy. Earlier this year, she was awarded the country’s third-highest civilian honour, the Padma Bhushan, from President Droupadi Murmu for her contributions to “social work” and “women’s empowerment” - a clear public endorsement by the Modi government of her nationalist ideology.

Yet, for many Indian women, her rise represents the unsettling adoption of militant Hindu nationalism under the guise of feminism. On her YouTube channel, Ritambhara frequently delivers critiques of feminist ideals. In 2023, in a sermon captured by NDTV, Ritambhara appeared to denounce women’s right to autonomy, stating, “I feel ashamed to see Hindu women. Will you earn money by being naked?” before concluding, “I don’t understand how their husbands, their fathers accept this” [translation: NDVT].

The growing celebration of Ritambhara, long known for hate speech and inciting communal violence, evidences how for some far-right figures, the issue of gender is a weapon. For Indian feminists, the uniting factor of Ritambhara’s ideology is a politics of exclusion: both of women, whose equal rights are threatened by her patriarchal attitudes, and of Muslims, whose are under threat in the Hindu nationalist vision.

In recent years, Europe has also witnessed a striking political trend: the far right is no longer the domain of angry men. A new generation of women has risen to the forefront. They are reshaping nationalist and anti-immigration parties across the continent: not softening the message, many have sharpened it, blending traditional femininity with hardline rhetoric and internet-age culture war tactics.

Alice Weidel, Marine Le Pen and Giorgia Meloni (Composite via Getty Images)

Take Giorgia Meloni, now Italy’s first female prime minister. Her political roots lie in the post-fascist Italian Social Movement, and though she now insists her party, Fratelli d’Italia, has moved past those origins, the shadow of Italy’s radical right continues to echo in her party’s identity and rhetoric. Meloni has declared herself a “Christian woman, mother, Italian” positioning herself as the defender of traditional values. Her speeches warn of “ethnic substitution”, a conspiracy theory claiming that native Europeans are being deliberately replaced by non-European immigrants through policies that encourage mass migration and undermine traditional culture.

In Germany, Alice Weidel co-leads the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD). Openly lesbian and a former Goldman Sachs banker, Weidel embodies the contradictions and rebranding of the contemporary right. She is fiercely anti-immigration and opposes LGBTQ+ rights, except, apparently, when it comes to her own life. Weidel decries the erosion of “traditional family values”, but claims to see no contradiction between her party’s definition of a family as “a father, a mother, and children”, and her own marriage.

Marine Le Pen in France is perhaps the prototype. After inheriting the National Front from her father, she worked hard to humanize it, rebranding it as the Rassemblement National and expelling her own father over Holocaust denial. Yet her platform remains rooted in nationalist, anti-Muslim sentiment. In her 2022 presidential campaign, Le Pen ran on banning the hijab in public spaces; it was framed as a defence of secularism, though many critics saw it as a cultural attack. She posed with cats, smiled softly, and promised “common sense”, all while normalizing once‑taboo discourse on race and identity.

In Spain, Rocío Monasterio leads Vox in Madrid, a far-right party that rose after the Catalan independence crisis by promoting nationalist rhetoric and opposing feminist policies. A former architect with Cuban heritage, she has called for the closure of mosques linked to extremism and the deportation of undocumented migrants. During local elections, she supported campaign posters that falsely claimed unaccompanied migrant minors cost more than pensions for Spanish seniors. When confronted with fact-checks in televised debates, she defended her claims by saying, “That’s the information I have”.

Sylvi Listhaug in Norway, of the Progress Party, built her brand on being blunt. She posted on Facebook accusing the Labour Party of putting “terrorists’ rights” before national security just days before the anniversary of the 2011 Utøya massacre. She later said she felt no regrets about the post. Her style blends populist provocation with victimhood, positioning her as a truth‑teller silenced by elites.

Finland’s Riikka Purra, leader of the Finns Party and current finance minister, has become a case study in far-right digital history. In 2023, journalists linked her to racist and violent comments posted under a pseudonym in an old blog. She used a Finnish slur comparable to the N-word and described fantasizing about shooting people who annoyed her on a train. Her response was “Those comments were made a long time ago, and I was angry”. She did not resign, and her party remains in government.

Despite differing styles and contexts, these women share some key traits: they are media-aware and skilful at balancing harsh messages with appealing public image. Many emphasize “common sense”, national identity, and the defence of women, paradoxically while opposing feminist ideas. They often present themselves as maternal figures protecting the nation from cultural decay.

In a strange twist, they have become more recognizable to mainstream audiences than their male counterparts, not despite their extremism but partly because they cloak it in femininity, irony, or supposed pragmatism. They are not anomalies but part of a broader pattern that shows how the far right is modernizing. European voters are not just watching; many are choosing them.

What could be the reason for women participating and leading far-right movements and ideology on a global scale? One might argue that it is easier for women to succeed in politics when they adopt extremist rhetoric, as it allows them to appear strong in spaces still dominated by men. But many of these women chose this rhetoric before it became politically advantageous, which suggests that something else is at play. Perhaps it is not that they shape the movement, but that the movement selects them. This combination, a woman delivering hardline messages, works well to package far-right ideas in a way that feels more reasonable and less threatening. Men with the same views often come across as dangerous or aggressive. Women, by contrast, are more easily perceived as calm, rational and even maternal. But the outcome is the same. Policies that marginalize vulnerable groups, attack rights and inflame social divisions.

Unknown author / Deutsches Bundesarchiv / via Wikimedia Commons / Licence: CC BY-SA 3.0

Giorgia Meloni in Italy, Marine Le Pen in France and Alice Elisabeth Weidel in Germany have been all over the news for the past years. We are constantly seeing more and more women in high positions of power, being mouthpieces for far-right politics, anti-immigration, anti-abortion, anti-LGBTQIA+ policies, as well as producing religious, racist, xenophobic, transphobic and misogynistic rhetoric.

Neoliberal girl-boss feminism is calling us to celebrate Italy’s first female prime minister. It is calling us to celebrate Maria Corina Machado for being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. It is also calling us to celebrate Sanae Takaichi’s potential win at the Japanese elections.

When we discuss the Far Right and the rise of conservatism as a phenomenon, our focus tends to be through a European or Western lens. We tend to either forget or ignore how this political ideology is established in the Global South, how it is affecting the Global South, and what systems are being put in place to support it.

As our current economic system is hanging by a thread, conservatism and far right movements are on the rise globally. And women are not only playing a major role to these movements’ survival, but neoliberalism also rebrands them as feminist figures that women should look up to.

This series offers a global overview of how the far right is structured today, how gender operates within it, and how women are shaping, and being shaped by, these movements.

In the coming parts, we explore:

• Part I — Asia: How nationalism, religion, and gender intersect in Japan and India.

• Part II — Latin America: Brazil’s far-right women and the attention economy

• Part III — United States: Tradwives, Christian nationalism, and the alt-right.

• Part IV — Africa: Faith networks, post-colonial nationalism, and imported conservatism.

• Part V — Europe: How female leaders are rebranding and normalizing extremist politics.

Together, these pieces trace a global pattern: far-right movements increasingly rely on female figures not to soften their ideology, but to amplify it and make it palatable. Women are not exceptions within these systems — they are central to their evolution.

When Bangladeshi photojournalist and activist Shahidul Alam was kidnapped by Israeli forces in October 2025, it exposed far more than the fate of one journalist. He was held hostage for being aboard one of the vessels, Conscience, sailing to Gaza as part of the Sumud Flotilla, a humanitarian mission attempting to reach an enforcedly starved population. This incident, however, highlights not only the brutality of the Israeli occupation but the way truth is policed, and for Palestinians, the acts of witnessing crimes and showing them to the world have been criminalized too.

The flotilla never made it to Gaza and was illegally intercepted in international waters on October 8th after being attacked by an Israeli military helicopter. It was then boarded by Israeli forces, and its passengers, including Shahidul Alam, were kidnapped. Alam’s detention underscored the growing risks faced by journalists reporting from conflict zones and raised questions about press freedom, state accountability, and the control of information during genocide.

In a recent discussion with Professor Justin Schlosberg at the University of SOAS, London, Shahidul Alam described his experience of being abducted as horrific intimidation by Israeli forces. According to Alam’s account, Israeli forces boarded the vessel in international waters and detained all participants. The group was transported under armed guard to an undisclosed location for questioning.

He described the detention environment as tense, as detainees were being moved back and forth between buses and holding cells. He recalls, “They would come into the cell itself with machine guns, shout, scare, bang the guns, point the guns… pretty random behaviour.” Alam also noted that the treatment of the hostages varied by nationality and perceived political affiliation. Palestinian detainees were subjected to the harshest conditions, including verbal abuse and threats using military dogs. Another Bangladeshi detainee reported being told, “You’re Hamas, we’re going to shoot you inside.” Interrogations focused on participants’ backgrounds and political views. While some detainees faced physical coercion, most described the process as psychological intimidation designed to extract compliance rather than information.

Despite restrictions, Alam and others attempted to preserve evidence of their treatment. He retained his blindfold and prison clothing after release, describing them as part of an ongoing effort to maintain a public record of detention conditions. “The first thing I checked was whether the headband (blindfold) was there. It’s part of our archives,” he says. Such items serve as material documentation of how journalists and activists are treated in custody; physical proof in environments where independent observation is limited.

Before the interception, Alam had been publishing regular updates from the flotilla.

His posts documented both the logistical challenges and the purpose of the mission: “As the last person to board the ship, I had no space here. I had slept on the open deck on the last night, but with the storm outside, that option had gone. I found a tiny alcove next to the exit gate… I slept like a log!” He also noted the growing attention the mission was receiving internationally, recalling, “Messages of goodwill and prayers have been coming in from all corners of the globe.” This account highlights significant insights into life aboard the flotilla, reflecting the wider global interest in attempts to challenge the starvation of Gaza.

After several days in detention, Alam and other international participants were released and transported to Istanbul. He later returned to Dhaka, where his arrival drew significant public and media attention, as he says, “I realized very soon that I was actually carrying Bangladesh with me.” His return was widely covered by local outlets and prompted renewed discussions about journalistic freedom and the safety of reporters documenting politically sensitive events.

The detention of the Conscience Flotilla participants sheds light on urgent broader issues surrounding journalism in conflict zones and the policing of humanitarian missions. Reporters are being criminalized, and journalists attempting to document human rights conditions are increasingly treated as political actors. Nationality and political identity shape how detained journalists are handled. Detaining or restricting journalists allows states to influence how events like the ongoing genocide are represented globally. Even small acts of record-keeping such as saving a blindfold, keeping notes, etc., help maintain public accountability.

Human rights organizations have previously raised concerns about Israel’s handling of journalists operating near or within Gaza. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ, 2025), “Israel is engaging in the deadliest and most deliberate effort to kill and silence journalists that CPJ has ever documented.” Israel has killed over 270 journalists in Gaza since October 2023 alone, injured over 150, and unlawfully detained nearly a hundred. There has been a systematic demonization of Palestinian journalists, allowing the occupation to target and murder journalists with perceived justification. This is amplified by platforms such as Instagram, owned by Meta, that have further pushed the voices of independent journalists like Saleh Al Jafrawi into oblivion after he was contracted by Israel to be murdered following false accusations of him being a member of Hamas.

Alam’s case reinforces the idea that journalism under blockade cannot be separated from politics. The simple act of documenting becomes contentious when access itself is restricted. His experience raises a central question for journalism: what happens when neutrality becomes impossible because truth itself is treated as a threat?

The detention of Shahidul Alam and other Conscience Flotilla members demonstrates how states extend control over information during heightened crises. The incident shows how reporting, even when humanitarian in intent, is reframed as a security risk.

For journalists, such conditions demand both caution and persistence. For the public, they serve as a reminder that many of the world’s most contested stories remain untold, not for lack of witnesses but because those witnesses are silenced before they can speak.

The author works at SOAS, University of London, and is an MA in AI, Data, and Communication graduate. Her work explores journalism, information control, and digital narratives in conflict contexts.

At 3:15 p.m. on day two, the main stage starts to fill up. Attendees secure their seats early for the Farage interview as security enter the room eying the audience. Fifteen minutes before it begins, an announcement instructs everyone to clear the room. A winding queue forms outside as people shuffle nervously, hoping for a good view and lamenting their lost seats. Bags are checked, drinks are confiscated and the anticipation thickens. I find a spot on the third row. As an introduction echoes, amid the applause, Nigel Farage happily steps toward the flashing cameras with Union Jack socks and a broad grin.

The interview centres on Farage’s views on entrepreneurship, regulation, crypto and the current government. Farage repeatedly contrasts the “innovative 1980s” with what he now sees as a sluggish and over-regulated Britain by claiming that the Financial Conduct Authority (FCA) and the Bank of England have strangled businesses. He frames crypto as a freedom movement, links it to his de-banking incident, and rails against central bank digital currencies (CBDCs) as authoritarian control. He criticises Diversity, Equity & Inclusion (DEI) and climate policies in finance, praises Brexit as liberation and positions himself and Reform UK as the only hope for business innovation.

“The FCA should be there to provide sensitively regulated markets, not to ensure that employers have the right DEI policy… all that madness has to end.”

The innovative 1980s golden era of entrepreneurship and deregulation overlooks the serious downsides of the time including widening inequality and financial greed. CBDCs are also a double-edged sword. CBDCs give governments the technical ability to track, limit and even block individual transactions. In the wrong political context this could move from simple financial management to complete social control.

“So an innocent business gets de-banked… and yet, Turkish barbers and Lebanese takeaways on every high street in the country.”

Nigel Farage’s remark about “Turkish barbers and Lebanese takeaways on every high street” could be perceived as weaponising xenophobia to frame British decline. By contrasting these foreign-owned businesses with “innocent” ones that have been unfairly de-banked, he seems to imply that immigrant-run enterprises are somehow less legitimate or less deserving of protection. This kind of language trades on nostalgia for a whiter and more homogeneous Britain, casting multiculturalism as a symptom of national decay. It’s a subtle but dangerous strategy as he evokes familiar stereotypes that blame outsiders for the country’s economic stagnation.

His later claim that “more people are having their doors knocked on for things they said online than in communist China or Russia” similarly seems to distort reality to inflame grievance. Comparing Britain’s policing of online hate speech to totalitarian censorship minimises the harm caused by racist and extremist content. These statements rely on exaggeration and fear by painting foreigners as threats to British identity and law enforcement as enemies of free speech and creating resentment rather than encouraging genuine debate about regulation.

“We can become a world leader and a centre for this industry… with thousands of well-paid jobs and tax revenues. What’s not to like?”

Farage is right about a few things with points that may well help him position himself as a political voice within the crypto movement: business and technology companies are very quickly leaving Britain, offshoring their finances to other hubs; nations are considering building Bitcoin treasury reserves while the UK is falling behind, (even while holding seized Bitcoin); MPs are complacent when it comes to crypto assets. He is also not wrong in that Britain is losing ground in business, and technology is moving much faster than this country can currently follow.

But his culture-war framing misses the point and fuels hatred. The real problem isn’t immigration or identity, but the UK’s outdated systems and timid regulation. In the run-up to the next UK elections, crypto could mark a new frontier where digital finance becomes a tool of political mobilisation.

In July 2025, the Patriots of Europe, the far-right alliance in the European Parliament, consolidated an influential role in re-drafting EU climate targets. Patriots chair Jordan Bardella rejected the EU’s 90 per cent emissions-reduction goal for 2040, emphasising the need to protect industry.

This week, EU leaders met in Brussels to debate the bloc’s new 2040 climate target. Whilst national leaders reportedly agreed on vague language that set out broad conditions for reaching the goal, a final decision has been delayed until early November.

Days earlier, it was widely reported that European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen had circulated a letter to Europe’s leaders in an attempt to appease climate-sceptics. According to Politico, von der Leyen offered compromises on issues including carbon pricing, international carbon credits and targets for forests and soils. Most notably, she expressed willingness to lower the domestic 90 per cent reduction target, on the basis that the difference would be made up in international credits.

Von der Leyen’s concessions are telling. Underlying her efforts lies a subtle shift in the far-right’s climate strategy: the days of pure climate denial are no more.

Photo: Marcin Jozwiak, Pexels

Speaking to Mapping the Far Right this week, Dr Bernhard Forchtner, political theorist and Associate Professor at the University of Leicester, offered insight into the shifting rhetoric: “[Climate] mitigation policies are delegitimised through claims of the ‘alarmism and irrationalism’ of their proponents, as well as warnings of the nation’s de-industrialisation.”

In recent years, this approach has made inroads across the continent.

In 2024, speaking at COP29, Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orbán exemplified this shift in messaging. Praising his country’s emissions record, Orbán acknowledged the need for a “green transition” but insisted it “should not be done against the business community.” Instead, he argued, further cuts must occur “on Hungary’s own terms”. Such terms include continued reliance on coal, gas, and nuclear power.

Orbán’s rhetoric aligns with Forchtner’s warning that the far-right routinely frames “alarmist, detached elites” as the true threat. His appeal for “common sense, not ideology or panic” places him at the forefront of a growing far-right tactic: the rebranding of climate delay as pragmatic.

In Austria, the Freedom Party (FPÖ) follows a similar playbook. During a parliamentary debate in April this year, the party’s environmental spokesman Thomas Spalt denounced the Green Deal, the EU’s flagship strategy to achieve climate neutrality by 2050, as an “anti-business burden package,” criticising the “paternalism” of supranational intervention. In a similar vein to Orbán, Spalt’s portrayal of “commuters, families and businesses” as victims of foreign interference situates the FPÖ’s climate policy within a framework of cultural defence.

Meanwhile, Germany’s largest opposition party, Alternative für Deutschland (AfD), offers a starker approach. In its 2025 manifesto, the party outrightly rejected climate measures, claiming that “the supposed scientific consensus on man-made climate change has always been politically constructed.”

The manifesto equates the climate crisis, and the policies seeking to address it, with an attack on German sovereignty, warning that it “threatens our freedom to an alarming extent.” Unlike other European examples, the AfD employs the kind of obstructionist rhetoric Forchtner identifies, outrightly denying the legitimacy of climate change while pairing this denial with a nationalist defence of sovereignty and industry.

Even where typical climate denial remains, the case of the AfD demonstrates how the centring of domestic has become central.

Likewise, France’s National Rally (RN) has long channelled ecology into a nationalist narrative. In a 2022 document L’Environnement – Pour une écologie française, the party declared:

“Our project will ensure the environmental, health and food security of France and of the French people. Preference for French products, for the employment of French workers, and for investment in French companies is the first lever of an ecological transition that will benefit our prosperity and purchasing power.”

This fervently nationalist approach continues under the leadership of Bardella, who earlier this year demanded the suspension of the EU Green Deal, branding it an infringement on French sovereignty in a display of ecological patriotism.

A consistent antagonism emerges across these cases. While outright denial has not disappeared, Europe’s far-right movements increasingly adopt more sophisticated forms of rejection. Many claim to back “common-sense” climate policy with one key caveat: it must adhere to national interests and protect domestic industry.

Across the continent, far-right leaders charge EU climate targets with being ideological, portraying themselves as defenders of ordinary citizens’ rights against distant elites.

In seeking to conceptualise the far-right’s relationship with the environment, a variety of labels have been applied, including the more extreme eco-fascism, which describes overtly racialised or authoritarian ecological ideologies largely confined to the fringe.

Dr Forchtner urges caution with such labels – describing these movements as eco-fascist risks overstating their radicalism and obscuring the mainstreaming of their climate rhetoric.

Instead, Europe’s far-right approach is perhaps better understood as anti-green populism: an opportunistic rejection of mainstream environmentalism portrayed as elitist, alarmist and technocratic. Through this strategy, appeals to sovereignty and nationalist sentiment are enabled by framing climate action as an assault by foreign elites on ordinary people. With far-right parties continuing to gain momentum, it is likely that anti-green populism will continue to consolidate its stake in the continent’s climate politics.

As European leaders prepare to reconvene in November, a new question emerges: just how deeply will the far-rights “common-sense” narrative shape the future of Europe’s climate agenda?


Dr Bernhard Forchtner is Associate Professor in the School of Media, Communication and Sociology at the University of Leicester and editor of “The Far Right and the Environment: Politics, Discourse and Communication”. His research examines how right-wing and populist movements frame environmental issues in Europe and beyond.

All translations from original sources are the author’s own.