This chapter explores the writings of working-class female activists during and after the 1984–85 miners’ strike, highlighting the numerous books and pamphlets produced that combined autobiography, group histories, photographs, and poetry. These works were primarily published by radical publishers, reflecting a boom in community publishing in the 1970s and 1980s, which sparked interest in working-class history and the experiences of ‘ordinary’ people. The chapter investigates the writing and publication processes of these texts, as well as their intended audiences. It situates these works within a longer tradition of working-class autobiography and poetry, with roots dating back to the nineteenth century, often serving political purposes - such as the poetry inspired by the Chartist movement or the autobiographical accounts of the Women’s Co-operative Guild, like Maternity (1915) and Life As We Have Known It (1931).The chapter analyses the moral economy created by women’s strike literature, focusing on how personal narratives were used for political impact, even when the authors downplayed their political identities. It argues that through authentic expressions of personal experience and emotion, women sought to establish themselves as legitimate political actors, thus validating their political aspirations within the leftist discourse of the time.

This section present some final reflections from three artists and groups of artists who offer some thoughts on art and anti-racism and on their experiences with the CARLA project. There are contributions from Arissana Pataxó, an Indigenous Brazilian artist; Miriam Álvarez, Lorena Cañuqueo and Alejandra Egido, Mapuche and Afro-Cuban actors and directors behind the Argentine theatre companies Grupo de Teatro ‘El Katango’ and Teatro en Sepia; and Wilson Borja, an Afro-Colombian graphic artist.

Africa and Europe have had an economic partnership for decades, first around the notion of friendship, then, since the 2000s, around the idea of solidarity. Despite this moral rhetoric, Europe is sanctuarizing itself, cultivating an anti-migratory fantasy and working for a resolute control of African migration. This policy is formalized with the “readmission clause,” whereby certain African immigrants are being posed as unassimilable, undesirable and disposable because they are useless for the neoliberal productive order. Therefore, any flight from exploitation on the continent must be blocked. As this perspective has led to extensive violations and aroused criticism and opposition, this chapter proposes, no longer a hybrid ideology but care. By means of a reading of the history of ideas, we insist on the impasse of the perspective that rejects migration in the name of autochthony. We propose a utopia: to work for the access of all peoples to the general cycle of industrial civilizations; this will bring equality between peoples who will negotiate migrations, taking into account concrete forms of solidarity.

This chapter interrogates the ‘solidarity turn’ (i.e. the increased prevalence of 'solidarity' in international legal discourse or practice) and the extent to which it truly marks a break from the ideas and practices that have characterized the neoliberal age which have shaped the international legal order and arguably led to an aggravation of the very crises solidarity is now called upon to tackle. It does so by using one of the oldest legal expressions of solidarity in international law, namely the law of collective security (CS), exploring its connections to neoliberal ideas. My argument is: (a) that neoliberals made the institutionalization of the market order the only means of securing peace; (b) that they envisaged CS as a system of international policing designed to spread and secure the international market; (c) that this neoliberal vision of CS played a role in shaping the duty of solidarity in the international law of CS; and (d) that existing critiques do not provide us with sufficient tools to challenge neoliberal (market) solidarity. The conclusion sounds a note of warning to the enthusiasm that has surrounded the adoption of solidarity in international law and calls for a renewed engagement with its ideological and material underpinnings.

This chapter analyses the literary, textual, and propaganda work of the two main British fascist organisations in the interwar period: the British Fascisti (1923–1935), founded by Rotha Lintorn-Orman, and Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists (BUF, 1932–1940). The evolving styles, structures, and aesthetics in fascist publications reflect shifts in policy and strategy, often influenced by opposing political movements. Fascist literature was a strategic tool in a war of words and ideas, and as such was crucial for promoting fascist ideology. The chapter highlights the dissemination of fascist materials, including newspapers sold at events, manifestos for recruitment, and pamphlets on diverse topics. Songs, short stories, and poems aimed to mobilise and instruct, while public speeches were central to fascist rallies and demonstrations. The BUF trained its members, the Blackshirts, in public speaking, making speeches integral to their propaganda efforts; these speeches were later published, recorded, or filmed. This ‘gestural politics’ is exemplified by the BUF’s newspaper Action!, a title that symbolised the movement’s focus on public performance and outreach. Through these varied forms, the chapter shows how fascist propaganda intertwined literary efforts with political activism to influence British society.

The conversation is curated from an online event, Anti-Racist Art in the UK and Latin America: A Conversation (11 November 2020), with Daiara Tukano, Liliana Angulo, SuAndi, and Ekua Bayunu. The line-up was designed in order to explore differences and similarities between experiences of and ideas about racism in Latin America and the UK from the perspectives of Black and Indigenous artists.

Solidarity is a collective moral relation, and political solidarity, more specifically, is “a committed unity of peoples on a range of interpersonal to social-political levels” connecting their actions for a cause. Collective action to bring about social change in political solidarity includes a variety of potential harms for participants and for the collective whole. Although numerous accounts of solidarity describe the assumption of collective risks, I demonstrate that the solidary relation also includes a willingness to take up associated commitments meant both to mitigate social risks from the larger society within which it forms and ensure the ability for some members to contribute from their particularity. In addition, the relation of solidarity itself carries its own set of risks that participants accept with the belief that collective action offers a better prospect for social change than acting alone. Using examples to illustrate what is at stake, I discuss four facets of risk in solidarity: collective risk, personal risk, social risk, and relational risk. Assessing the potential for harm or exposure to danger in solidarity offers a way to think about expectations against domination and fostering trust within the moral relation.