The dominant modern understanding of freedom is increasingly framed not as the capacity for fulfilment, but as liberation from constraint. Freedom, in this register, is imagined as emancipation from limits—biological, moral, cultural, historical—so that the individual may define himself without reference to any given order. Constraint is recast as oppression, and authenticity is identified with the absence of obligation.¹ What is presented as liberation is, in fact, a profound re-description of the human person.

The term "Fascism" has become increasingly ambiguous over time, stripped of the weight it once carried. Once associated with the terrifying realities of the 20th century, it has now morphed into a term often wielded like a spectre to frighten those who disagree. A notable example of this misuse is the frequent comparison of Donald Trump to Adolf Hitler. Recently, amidst the turmoil surrounding immigration enforcement, some have gone so far as to liken these agents to the Gestapo following a tragic incident involving pro-immigration protesters in Minnesota. Such parallels not only distort historical truths but also trivialize the suffering experienced during the Holocaust.

Last Saturday I received a letter, apparently from the Council. My initial reaction was that it must be a scam, as it demanded payment of Council Tax plus debt collectors’ fees for a property I haven't owned or lived in for over three years. But as I looked again, I noticed a barcode atop the letter for paying at a Post Office. Would scammers have a contract with the Post Office for payment?

The difference between someone who is intellectually asleep and someone who is intellectually awake is not merely academic—it’s existential. It’s the difference between being a passive consumer of ideological hand-me-downs and an active producer of independent thought. In today’s Britain, this distinction is more urgent than ever.

In the history of Britain’s labour movement there is a curious paradox. The early trade unionist, the chapel deacon, and the Catholic social reformer all found themselves united, though often unwittingly, around a single conviction: that time is not the property of capital. The working man, whether in a Lancashire mill or a Durham colliery or Cornish mine, was not merely a beast of burden to be driven until collapse. He was a creature made for worship, leisure, and fellowship.

Humanists UK’s report Rising Christian Nationalism: A Threat to Us All treats Christian conviction in public life as if it were inherently extremist. The argument is framed in stark terms: ordinary believers who oppose abortion or euthanasia, who defend the family, or who affirm Britain’s Christian heritage are accused of plotting to “fuse politics with Christianity” and to roll back rights. What is actually happening in Britain is far less sensational, and far more significant: a quiet but real renewal of Christian belief among young people.

Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, there has been a hidden war which most Western media have failed to report on. The split between theUkrainian Orthodox Church (UOC-MP), loyal to the Moscow Patriarch, and the Orthodox Church of Ukraine (OCU) may sound like a scene out of Monty Python’s Life of Brian - essentially a split within a split - but it in fact cuts to the core of the Russia-Ukraine War.