Techno-populism’s bid for hegemony—perhaps the dominant expression of contemporary populism—rests on what might be called a boomer-doomer dialectic. Daniel Felstead and Jenn Leung’s video Literally No Place (2023) takes this dyad as its premise.1 Over an eighteen-minute runtime, the piece stages the competing positions of figures such as OpenAI’s Sam Altman, AI researcher Eliezer Yudkowsky, and Oxford catastrophist Nick Bostrom. The video digitally reprocesses the voices of these figures into feminized, queer tonalities in a rather hilarious gender-bending denaturalization that riffs against the transhumanist, post-natural imaginaries the video also criticizes. In so doing, the work explores—and lampoons—the ongoing “AI wars” that animate contemporary debates around artificial general intelligence: on one side, utopian promises of fully automated luxury communism; on the other, apocalyptic fears of extinction-level catastrophe.
Its final sequence cuts to an audiovisual torrent pairing MQX’s 2022 hardstyle track “Heaven’s Door” with a synchronized barrage of then-viral social media imagery—soon to become commonly known as “AI slop”—producing a sensory overload of machinic desire and memetic virality. Throbbing imagery unfolds in seemingly endless sequence, as if a metonymic cut from media’s infinite scroll. Synchronized to the music’s heavy beat, visual stills flash at the threshold of legibility in a pulsive sonic-visual drive. The spool demands an unblinking, machinic perception, generating the dopaminergic thrill of rapid-fire cognition. An addictive, hypnotic tempo continually promises satisfaction while endlessly deferring it, mimicking AI’s libidinal economy.
At once image-archive and stroboscopic montage, the sequence, ending on a trendy Barbenheimer jingle, suggests a new AI time-image in a post-Deleuzian makeover: vast plateaus of data deterritorializations plugged into neuro-affective fields of aesthetic sensation, bursting human perception. Lingering afterimages hover at the edge of recall, against the drift of amnesia: a puffed-up Pope, surplus fingers, a creepy Zuckerberg, a dancing Musk changeling, shards of Gen Z anti-capitalist bedroom culture. Is this brainrot merged with communal hallucination, techno-alchemy with rage bait? Or is it maybe an image of some kind of populism?
Indeed, the piece models a contemporary digital populism, a techno-populism perhaps, while offering a version that seeks to interrupt populism’s all-too-quick assignment to rightwing politics. For within our current mediascape, an ongoing struggle is unfolding between competing populist formations. On one side there is the techno-fascist right exemplified by Elon Musk’s imperial infrastructural planetarity, Peter Thiel’s Christo-fascist end-times messianism, and Alex Karp’s militarized governmentality.2 On the other there’s a persistent left economic populism, evidenced by the democratic socialism put forward by Zohran Mamdani, Bernie Sanders, Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, and Jeremy Corbyn, by Zach Polanski’s Green resurgence in the UK, and other analogues internationally.
Given its pervasive visibility and disproportionate resources, populism appears to be the cultural logic of late fascism. Yet populism is better understood as a contested terrain rather than a settled formation. The question then becomes how this struggle might unfold further within the cultural sphere, and under what conditions might a left populism emerge as a compelling political and aesthetic project.3
AI Populism
As AI cannibalizes finite data sets, including the very data it generates—what media theorists call “MAD” or “Model Autophagy Disease”—it shows morbid signs of visual pathology, as in the catalog of slop aesthetics in Felstead and Leung’s video. Already we can ask, what is this but a new stage of what Frederic Jameson long ago designated as the “dialectical intensification of the autoreferentiality of all modern culture, which tends to turn upon itself and designate its own cultural production as its content?”4
AI has become what Kate Crawford calls “metabolic media,” an auto-consumptive infrastructure whose hyperscale data centers appropriate vast quantities of energy, minerals, and freshwater, deepening what eco-Marxists describe as the metabolic rift between computational capitalism and the ecological systems upon which life depends.5Right techno-populism emerges in and intensifies this metabolic rift, an instrument for mobilizing masses against hallucinated villains like AI superintelligence, invading dark hordes, and the Antichrist of regulators (for Thiel, possibly Swedish climate activist Greta Thunberg), even as the technology colonizes attention on the platform capitalism of a Silicon Valley billionaire class built on gilded-age accumulation, ostentatious corruption, and neo-imperial ambitions.6 AI populist virality now fuels the slopaganda wars, pitting MAGA media operatives against Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps counter-agitprop, generating an asymmetrical geopolitics fought through hyperreal aesthetics and memetic struggles for hegemony—so far, much to the US’s disadvantage.
In MAGAganda we see a fascist recombinative iconography of the settler-colonial ethnostate, fantasized in sloppy avatars of pioneering ego-ideals pursuing high-tech military adventure. This is pathetic beyond words, yet terrifying when it serves to incite ICE forces during militarized anti-migrant domestic policing operations. In response, Iran’s Legoganda unleashes infectious English-language memes that merge pop-cultural fluency with anti-imperialist messaging, mocking US power.
Fascist AI
The allegiance between AI and late fascism emphasizes extreme-right populism’s angling for a sloppy hegemony. This formation and Alberto Toscano’s “late fascism” both exhibit the morbid symptoms arising from crises within neoliberal capitalism, a morbidity expressed in AI’s degraded visuality. Rather than a distinct position, late fascism functions as a radical, exclusionary, and violent acceleration of right populist tendencies. While fascism, for Toscano, is “a dynamic that precedes its naming,” it often repeats “the racial fantasy of national rebirth and the manic circulation of pseudo-class discourse”—think MAGA’s palingenetic ultranationalist embrace of AI, a populism enacted with growing military threat nationally and internationally.7 As the AI-enabled assault on Gaza—coupled with proposals for postwar real-estate redevelopment—emerges as a prototype of unprecedented annihilatory fervor fused with accumulation by dispossession, AI reveals itself as a “new aesthetic of fascism.”8 By automating reactionary cruelty, it becomes the latest extractive machinery for neutralizing labor and the racial other.
Slopaganda’s aestheticization of politics perverts what Ernesto Laclau views as an otherwise positive populism. Flourishing in institutional crises and broken democracies corrupted by decades of neoliberalism, populism forges a “people” as a “chain of equivalence” linking disparate, unsatisfied social demands and rallying them as working-class interests against a common elite enemy.9 For Chantal Mouffe, too, a left populism could offer a democratization of institutions and a “return of the political” after years of “postpolitics.”10 But as a top-down variety, far-right populism is ersatz populism: It invents a people on hollow ground, mobilizing anxieties and desires detached from reality while serving elite interests. It’s a fragile inflation of Trumpism’s political conceit fed on an infinite regress of identificatory hallucination, or in other words, an AI-abetted visual manifestation of a fascist cult of personality functioning as sovereignty. AI doesn’t so much reflect any popular reality, as it generates its semblance.
Part of AI populism’s appeal lies in its ideological promises: Altman’s quasi-religious vision that AI could end poverty as we know it, or Musk’s fantasies of “sustainable abundance.”11 These are weak, lurid, and misleading proposals that, given today’s doom-looping unaffordability crisis and lurking climate catastrophe, couldn’t be a more transparent cover for self-serving extractive capitalist motivations. Yet AI’s greatest danger lies less in these false decoys than in its reshaping of our own cognitive and affective systems. By modulating the relentless flow of images, narratives, fears, and desires, AI hacks our biology and rewires perception itself, thereby assembling the new populist subject that is hailed into being.12 It’s not only that AI menaces machinic domination; it simultaneously accelerates humanity’s own drift toward psychoneural automation.13
Woke Mind Virus
Though it often seems farfetched, the populist, tech-bro debate between so-called techno-optimists and techno-pessimists is consequential. The distinction between these positions presents an epochal fork that may decide humanity’s fate. This is where billionaire “effective altruism” projects its concerns millions of years into the future, prioritizing hypothetical existential risks to humanity (such as AI’s superintelligence) over the urgent redistribution of resources needed to address present crises such as poverty, inequality, and climate change.14
Even as their takedown is filled with analytic insights—and captures the sickly feel of slop aesthetics—the Felstead and Leung video intervention ultimately only makes a plea for AI criticality in media studies, exposing the doomer-boomer agonism as, in the artists’ words, merely “the same old white dude shit of power, greed and colonial ideology.” Their video demands an inquiry into where exactly, if anywhere, “we”—artists, critical thinkers, creative minions—“actually have some agency.”15 But there’s much more to this for Musk and related hegemons. Purchasing Twitter, colonizing suborbital space with thousands of SpaceX comm satellites, and building Colossus, the world’s most powerful AI supercomputer, is clearly a bid to own the new means of production. It also aims to contain a perceived threat: that current AI models are all being trained on data scraped from the 2010s, the era of Occupy, the Arab Spring, BLM, #MeToo, and other movements that set the agenda. In other words, techno-fascism’s plans are a counterinsurgent response to an anti-imperialist, anti-patriarchal, anti-fascist politics that, as Tarnoff and Slobodian explain, Muskism derides as a collective “woke mind virus.”16
As AI gobbles up the world, uploading and processing exabytes to zettabytes daily into a global cyborg brain, the question of who controls the makeup of the datasets on which they are trained is, for the tech elite, paramount. These foundational models will determine whether future AI will amplify mass “lib psychosis,” or generate the new civilizational nomos of the earth and stars preferred by techno-fascist billionaires like Musk, Thiel, and Karp. Grok is one bid for this destiny: a prehensive futurity accompanied by enormous real-world resources to bring its preferred reign into being.17
However, this is also where some maneuverability for insurgent movements from below can be devised: re/politicizing aesthetics by short-circuiting techno-fascism’s operating system. One question looms: How might artistic practices correlate with, network, and amplify existing and growing social justice movements, militant labor unions (including of militant data workers), and cooperative ownership models to target not just the archives of techno-populism but their financial base and infrastructure?18
One way to think about the struggle against techno-fascism is as a fight over who will own the platforms. In that case, where is our present day “cognitive mapping,” enabling a “situational representation on the part of the subject to that vaster and properly unrepresentable totality, which is the ensemble of society’s structures as a whole,” to turn to Jameson again?19 And once we have developed such an analysis (and many are working on it20), how can we intervene in its forms and structures rather than just its content? What would a track for a genuine left populism look like? And how would it evade fading irrevocably into the niche of subcultural marginality, a non-place of its own making?
De-fascization
Paramount to such a project would be contesting the normalization of techno-fascist logics. Artistic projects can be a powerful instrument in this resocialization. Consider Forensic Architecture’s (FA) Triple Chaser, which retools AI’s image-recognition capabilities to serve human rights and environmental justice struggles. The work was exhibited in the 2018 Whitney Biennial, later withdrawn by the group in solidarity with the movement to remove Whitney Museum trustee Warren Kanders—CEO of US-based arms manufacturer Safariland, LLC—from the museum board. FA’s détournement of AI’s functions into an insurgent machinery answers calls for a non-fascist AI that abets collective human needs rather than capital’s genocidal greed.
One passage from the video shows AI being trained to recognize Safariland teargas cannisters against diverse backgrounds for future use in holding chemical weapons producers accountable for war crimes. The video’s mesmerizing image rush unspools under Richard Strauss’s Four Last Songs, music played at the Aspen Music Festival to celebrate Kanders’s $1.5 million philanthropic donation. The video’s vibe could not be further from Felstead and Leung’s driving techno soundtrack. The songs, written by Strauss in the wake of the Nazi Holocaust, could be understood to dramatize German Romanticism’s resignation following the composer’s de-Nazification, a farewell to the genocidal culture of mass death and destruction of which it was a musical part. For Adorno, to produce such monuments after Auschwitz within its uninterrupted cultural conditions was to deny and perpetuate barbarism, reinforcing reification and foreclosing genuine critique.21 Replayed today within a techno-fascist convergence threatening a new threshold of human extinction—including the machinic superintelligence haunting the dreams of techno-doomers—the Straussian hermeneutic in FA’s Triple Chaser might now read as responding to more recent genocides, including those driven by supercharged AI militaries, as in Israel’s atrocities in Gaza.
If “machine realism” connects to populism, then perhaps it’s through what Trevor Paglen recently called, after Harun Farocki, AI’s “operational image,” which names what images do rather than what they represent, and identifies how these activations, or stimuli, trigger automated, preconscious, and affective responses.22 Viewed in this light, Triple Chaser can be read as a reconfigured, justice-seeking prototype of non-fascist AI, operationalized in the service of emergent social and labor movements aligned with struggles to liberate cultural institutions from toxic philanthro-capitalism, including the successful takedown of Kanders from the Whitney Museum board.
Here then we have one critical recipe for ongoing struggle: to bring technology into alliance with anti-imperialist mass popular struggle. But if it is possible to recalibrate AI as non-fascist, then it will also require reconfiguring the economic bases of networked sites of distribution and exhibition—as groups like FA and Strike MoMA show—liberating museums and digital platforms alike to aid majoritarian human ends according to a left-populist convergence.23 And what is this majority? As Mamdani has often repeated, “There is only one majority in this country,” and we might say in this world, and “that’s the working class.”
Sonic Solidarity
Another potential model for conceiving of what I’m calling leftist populism in artistic practice is Arthur Jafa’s Apex (2013), a video made more than ten years ago, but nearly coincident with the automated data steams forced through social media’s first algorithms, as feed logics moved from recency (chronology) to relevance (clickbait). Relevance for Jafa was never simply about analyzing techno-populist virality, but rather assembling an image bank of Black liberation, which might also be wielded against techno-fascism’s neo-apartheid white supremacy. Its source material (collected over a ten-year period) unleashes a similar pulsatile drive as Felstead and Leung’s video, and its pacing also operates at the threshold of legibility. But Jafa’s insurgent catalog takes on different material: The piece critically replays the horrors of anti-Black violence, as if attempting to splice an anti-racist subjectivization protocol into the viewer’s optical unconscious. Considered today, it might be asking: How can one put critical mediation back into AI’s precognitive immediacy of racialialzed normativity?24
Mixing documentary footage of gruesome police terror, clips of world-destroying aliens from sci-fi horror flicks, Black celebrity shots, and dystopian futurist worldings, Jafa’s composition gathers a lexicon of monstrosity: terrible scenes of dehumanizing violence, world-destroying xenomorphs, and reptilian behemoths, oscillating between traumatized subjects of identification and targeted objects of annihilation. Its digital counter-archive remakes the stroboscopic effect of the flicker films of the 1970s in powerfully updated ideological terms. It is set to the driving, minimalist electronic track “Minus” from Detroit techno pioneer Robert Hood’s 1994 album Internal Empire, a throwback to a futurism now past. Yet its obsolescence might still be something of a sonic antidote to the current AI-generated tracks of techno-fascism—including those coming from the White House—just as techno once intervened in the playgrounds of late-stage rust-belt deindustrialization.
Apex precedes and reinforces DeForrest Brown Jr.’s call for assembling a Black counterculture by reclaiming Detroit techno’s radical lineage from appropriation by European techno scenes, reconnecting its beats to Black Radical Traditions opposing US racial capitalism and police brutality. These tensions are also embedded in Brown’s own multimedia project Black Nationalist Sonic Weaponry (2020)—including conceptual album and video—which stages the contradictions of Black cultural production under contemporary white supremacy. Drawing on accounts of “sonic Afro-modernity,” Brown foregrounds what Alexander Weheliye describes as “the ‘tremulous treble and darkening bass’ veiled by scopic racial formation, as it throws phono-optics into the mix of the phonographic grooves” of Black electronic sound.25
Central to Brown’s call is the concept of the “ghost beat,” proposing another kind of veiling: rhythmic structures sensed more than they are directly heard, their present absences interrupting Eurocentric expectations of techno progression and reliable automation. Jafa’s parallel gesture in Apex is the blank cut interrupting each image’s plenitude, or horror, and thus potency, with the flicker’s Black negativity and indeterminate potentiality slicing through the visuality of racist revulsion, cut by cut. This also works in reverse: at the perceptual hinge of dread, manifested in both the seeing of the intolerable image and the horror of closing one’s eyes and opening one’s mind to the video’s intolerability colonizing fantasized recall and programmed anticipation.
Meanwhile, Black Nationalist Sonic Weaponry, for Brown, offers “dubbing in stereo for solidarity,” invoking Amiri Baraka’s call for a Black “unity music” capable of assembling an imagined community beyond the logics of capitalist hyper-individuation.26 In addition to reanimating historical Black Power movements, Brown’s project also moves beyond ethno-nationalist closure, I would suggest, in proposing “a mobilization beyond the savage free market capitalist industrial system, and towards a future that isn’t indebted to the fictive and failing socio-economic ‘progress’ imagined within the frames of white American techno-utopianism.”27 This is an emancipatory position entirely beyond the boomer-doomer debate.
If “stereo solidarity” can exceed reactive or defensive identitarian formations, then maybe cultural practices like Brown’s and Jafa’s can connect to broader emancipatory movements, like insurgent forms of anti-racist left populism organized against techno-fascism. Could Brown and Jafa’s projects possibly provide the prefigurative soundtracks to contemporary worker and community struggles—for instance those against AI hyperscale data centers and those for socio-environmental cross-racial justice?28 If so, then these might open new imaginaries for intersectionalist stereo solidarities between cultural politics, labor struggles, and ecological movements, to redistribute power, knowledge, and material resources.
Beyond the Screen
The danger of a techno-fascist worlding in which AI, algorithmic governance, and platform monopolies shape the conditions of perception, communication, and political life looms large.29
Where can insurgency be organized other than in the ruins of liberal free speech, in and within the owning class’s data centers and infrastructure? In the cracks, there remains the vision of a majoritarian politics organized around life rather than extraction: a counter-techno-populism of the anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist left that aims at reconfiguring systems toward serving collective needs.Within this mediascape, the practices of artists modeling an anti-fascist aesthetics may appear politically interstitial, ever inconsequential. However, their potential significance lies in their prefigurative force. We must never give up on that potential. Against the collective defuturing threatened by fascist techno-populism, these works—and many others—imagine another horizon: technologies organized around solidarity, liberation, and collective flourishing. Their value may lie less in immediate mass accessibility than in scripting possible worlds to come.
Aesthetics alone, however, are not sufficient. Radical content circulating on platform capitalism risks dissolving into niche subcultures, shadow-banned echo chambers, algorithmic-driven irrelevance, or representational acquiescence. Because billionaires own the infrastructure of digital communication, aesthetic interventions must connect to broader forms of organizing for seizing the means of production. It’s an old story with new parts.
If a more durable model may be built from the early successes of Mamdani’s municipal democratic socialism, then it’s because it has so effectively transformed online virality into political infrastructure, converting populist visibility into volunteers, door-knockers, and long-term organizing. The lesson is clear. Digital culture becomes politically transformative when it produces collectivization and institutions capable of contesting power beyond the screen.
Literally No Place can be freely viewed here →.
See Ben Tarnoff and Quinn Slobodian, Muskism: A Guide for the Perplexed (Harper Collins, 2026); Laura Bullard, “The Real Stakes, and Real Story, of Peter Thiel’s Antichrist Obsession,” Wired, September 30, 2025 →; Alex Karp and Nicholas W. Zamiska, The Technological Republic: Hard Power, Soft Belief, and the Future of the West (Crown Currency, 2025); and Marc Andreesen, “Techno-Optimist Manifesto,” October 16, 2023 →.
See, for instance, Zach Blas’s critical mimicry of AI at the 2026 Whitney Biennial, and Ben Davis’s critique of it, arguing that Blas’s work ultimately fails to compete with AI’s own inimitable maximalist aesthetic overwhelm: “You cannot out-creep A.I. at this moment, and attempts to do so make the subject feel less, not more, threatening.” Ben Davis, “The Tensions Seething Beneath the Surface of the 2026 Whitney Biennial,” ArtNet, March 17, 2026 →. Meanwhile, Simon Denny makes a bid for a critical artistic approach to defense tech, in the process offering a useful examination of its fascist military aesthetics and their resurrecting Italian futurist varieties; but his analysis remains more compelling than his artistic deconstructions. Simon Denny, “Epic Fury: The Dark Art of Defense Tech,” Artforum, April 20, 2026 →.
Fredric Jameson, “The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism,” in Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism (Duke University Press, 1992), 42.
In “Eating the Future: The Metabolic Logic of AI Slop,” e-flux Architecture, September 2025, Kate Crawford elaborates “metabolic rift” via John Bellamy Foster, Marx’s Ecology: Materialism and Nature (Monthly Review Press, 2000) and Jason Moore, “Environmental Crises and the Metabolic Rift in World-Historical Perspective,” Organizaiton & Environment 13, no. 2 (June 2000).
See Alex Karp’s “Technological Republic” post on X, April 18, 2026 →; and Peter Thiel’s recent lecture series on Rene Girard’s mimetic rivalry between katechon and antichrist, glossed in Bullard, “The Real Stakes, and Real Story, of Peter Thiel’s Antichrist Obsession.” See also Giorgio Cesarale and Matteo Pasquinell, “The Algorithm and the Antichrist: Political Theology at the Sunset of Silicon Valley,” e-flux journal, no. 164 (June 2026) →.
Alberto Toscano, Late Fascism (Verso, 2023).
Gareth Watkins, “AI: The New Aesthetics of Fascism,” New Socialist, February 9, 2025 →. See also Dan McQuillan, “Non-Fascist AI,” in Propositions for Non-Fascist Living: Tentative and Urgent, ed. Maria Hlavajova and Wietske Maas (MIT Press, 2019).
Ernesto Laclau, On Populist Reason (Verso, 2005).
Chantal Mouffe, For a Left Populism (Verso, 2019).
See Karen Hao, Empire of AI: Dreams and Nightmares in Sam Altman's OpenAI (Penguin, 2025); Tarnoff and Slobodian, Muskism; and Musk’s many X posts, as on December 18, 2025 →.
Perhaps most literally exemplified in Musk’s Neuralink technology—suturing computers to human brains—which Tarnoff and Slobodian call a form of “cyborg conservativism” in Muskism, 119.
McQuillan writes that “the risk posed by AI is not a machine-tyranny of automated decisions, but the amplification of existing human tendencies to automaticity.” McQuillan, “Non-Fascist AI,” 116.
Alice Crary, “The Toxic Ideology of Longtermism,” Radical Philosophy, no. 214 (April 2023).
Daniel Felstead and Jenn Leung, interviewed by Günseli Yalcinkaya, “Watch an AI, Julia Fox, Deliver a Sermon About Tech Doomerism,” Dazed Digital, October 27, 2023 →.
Tarnoff and Slobodian, Muskism, 116ff.
On “prehensive futurity,” see Jasbir Puar, The Right to Maim: Debility, Capacity, Disability (Duke University Press, 2017), 148.
As Crawford concludes in “Eating the Future”: “The question that remains is whether we will choose to embrace slop or cultivate desire for something else entirely: cultural forms moving beyond synthetic reproduction, oriented toward flourishing rather than extraction; toward ecological regeneration rather than a hyper-metabolic state of exhaustion and breakdown.” Yet this formulation leaves two crucial questions unresolved. Who, precisely, is the “we” capable of making such a choice? And what can “choice” mean in an era when AI increasingly operates through the preconscious modulation of attention, affect, and desire, shaping subjects before reflective judgment has the opportunity to intervene?
Jameson, “The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism,” 51.
See Kate Crawford and Vladan Joler, Anatomy of an AI System, 2016 →; and Kate Crawford, Atlas of AI: Power, Politics, and the Planetary Costs of Artificial Intelligence (Yale, 2021).
Theodor Adorno, “Cultural Criticism and Society,” in Prisms (MIT Press, 1983).
Trevor Paglen, How to See Like a Machine: Images After AI (Verso, 2026).
In other words, “institutional liberation” has only gained in urgency. See MTL Collective, “From Institutional Critique to Institutional Liberation? A Decolonial Perspective on the Crises of Contemporary Art,” October, no. 165 (Summer 2018); Not An Alternative, “Institutional Liberation,” e-flux journal, no. 77 (November 2016) →; and Françoise Verges, A Programme of Absolute Disorder: Decolonizing the Museum (Pluto, 2024).
See Anna Kornbluh, Immediacy: Or, The Style of Too Late Capitalism (Verso, 2024); and Michael Hardt, Subversive Seventies (Oxford University Press, 2023) on “the end of mediation” as domination, which must now be reversed.
Quoting Alexander Weheliye, Phonographies: Grooves in Sonic Afro-Modernity (Duke, 2005), 44; cited in DeForrest Brown Jr., Assembling a Black Counter Culture (Primary Information, 2022), 46.
Quoting poet and scholar Tsitsi Ella Jaji, from the verso cover of Brown’s album.
Tsitsi Ella Jaji.
See →.
On these dangers, see Jonathan Crary’s rather doomer but lucid critique in Scorched Earth: Beyond the Digital Age to a Post-Capitalist World (Verso, 2022).
