There’s a certain kind of art that appears whenever politics gets too involved in culture. It’s grand, symbolic, completely certain of itself — and often, unintentionally, a bit absurd. You see it in Stalinist skylines, Soviet statues, gold-plated presidential monuments. Different countries, same instinct: culture not as something messy and alive, but something to simplify,…
On Homer’s return, the right’s suicide pact, and the peculiar madness of men who invite their own devourers There is something deeply reassuring about the fact that, in 2026, we have decided—collectively, enthusiastically—that what this moment really needs is more Homer. Film studios are adapting The Odyssey. Theatre directors are reinventing Penelope. Musicals are turning…
If you don’t follow Spanish regional politics, the name María Guardiola may not mean much to you. She is the current president of Extremadura, one of Spain’s poorest regions — a place rich in history, agriculture, and chronic underinvestment. But her recent political trajectory offers something far more universal than local intrigue: a near-textbook case…
For fifteen minutes during the Super Bowl halftime show, Spanish took center stage in one of the biggest cultural spectacles on the planet. Across Spain, many viewers felt a surge of pride. But for parts of the nationalist and far-right political sphere, the moment also exposed an uncomfortable contradiction: celebrating the global success of the…
Where are the anthems of repression? If reactionary movements claim cultural dominance, mass followings, and moral certainty, one might reasonably expect a soundtrack to match. Where are the rousing MAGA and far-right hymns that people will still be singing in fifty years? Where are the unforgettable choruses celebrating racial division, exclusion, or the romance of…
🎃 Trick, treat… and tradition with a twist 🎃 What if your Halloween bucket of candy held more than sweets—what if it carried a message about identity, culture, and the absurdity of purity? In my latest column for SUR in English (“The Purity Panic: Notes from the Museum of Imaginary Nations”), I peer into the…
They Call It a Pause. We Know It’s a Ban. In my latest rabble.ca column, “The lists we keep, and the ones that keep us”, I unpack why Danielle Steele’s so-called “pause button” isn’t a timeout — it’s a warning sign. What’s being sold as “reflection” is, in truth, a move to ban books, stifle…
The Republic of the Self-Inflicted Wound Canada’s politics has always loved its myths. But now? They’re stitched out of cowboy hats, polyester suits, and old-school Calvinism. That’s the story I dig into in my new CounterPunch article on Cowboy Calvinism. What is “Cowboy Calvinism”? It’s the gospel of grievance dressed in rodeo drag — a…
In a world that often shouts about what sets us apart, there’s something quietly radical about embracing what brings us together. In this week’s Camino a Ítaca a counterdance against the demagogues threatening to deport an imaginary eight million immigrants. From the rhythms of Castile’s town squares and narrow streets to the rare shared silences of…
God help us. The war drums are beating again. Somewhere between the tortilla and the gazpacho, the far-right guardians of Spanishness are having a collective nosebleed — purity tests for everything from ham to human beings. I couldn’t sit idly by and watch the madness. No, I strapped on my battered typewriter and unleashed a…