When the Intifada Goes Local

Contra Trump

Our media and government(s), like most in the Western World, have spent the days since Israel began its Holocaust in Gaza living in a highly fragile parallel universe stitched together by cope, delusion, bloodlust, and greed. This recursive snake-hoop highly expensive and focus-grouped make-believe has severely frayed their ability to grasp the bubbling volcanic suds of our white hot reality.

Patrick Marlborough on ‘the visit of bomb-signing war criminal/genocidaire/death peddler Isaac Herzog’, Israel’s president in February 2026. The Australian government invited Herzog to visit Australia after an antisemitic attack at Bondi Beach. It claimed that the visit ‘would help the Jewish community heal’, despite objections from pro-Palestinian groups.

The NSW government introduced restrictions on public protest after December’s shooting, and subsequently introduced additional ‘major event’ powers effectively giving police authority to shut down areas of the city. The rules allowed demonstrators to gather but forbade them from marching. Violent clashes in Sydney resulted. Peaceful protesters decrying the violence of state power were met with and quelled by violent state power.

During the protests, activist Grace Tame, a former Australian of the Year, led the crowd in chanting: ‘from Gadigal to Gaza, globalise the intifada’. As the BBC noted:

The term intifada came into popular use during the Palestinian uprising against Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip in 1987.

Some have described the term as a call for violence against Jewish people. Others have said it is a call for peaceful resistance to Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and actions in Gaza.

Pro-Palestinian groups had objected to Herzog’s visit, citing a UN commission which concluded that Herzog was among Israeli leaders who ‘incited the commission of genocide’ against Palestinians in their speeches and statements. Herzog had declared ‘it’s an entire nation out there that is responsible’  for the 7 October 2023 Hamas attacks on Israel. He was also pictured signing a shell to be dropped on Gaza. Former Deputy Prime Minister Barnaby Joyce , a former deputy prime minister and trenchant right-winger, called for Grace Tame’s Australian of the Year honour to be rescinded.

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Below we reprint an essay by novelist, story teller and cultural commentator Patrick Marlborough that reflects the disposition of China Heritage. In light of Australia’s heedless involvement in America’s death spiral, it is included in our Contra Trump series. See also:

earlier chapters in Contra Trump.

— Geremie R. Barmé
Editor, China Heritage
10 February 2026

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Israel today is dynamiting the edifice of global norms built after 1945, which has been tottering since the catastrophic and still unpunished war on terror and Vladimir Putin’s revanchist war in Ukraine. The profound rupture we feel today between the past and the present is a rupture in the moral history of the world since the ground zero of 1945 – the history in which the Shoah has been for many years the central event and universal reference.

There are more earthquakes ahead. …

— Pankaj Mishra, The Shoah after Gaza, London Review of Books, 7 March 2024

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LOCALISE THE INTIFADA: Herzog on Her Hog til i SCREAM!!!

— Albanese wants you in on his psychosis

Patrick Marlborough

9 February 2026

Honestly, why bother? We’re being made to absorb acts of unadulterated sick-fuckery so regularly, on such a scale, that it’s a miracle we haven’t burst. In the Wonka Tunnel Hell we’re made to float down daily, between flashes of the Pedo World Order and 4th Reich Prolapses, through the infinite and unyielding haze of Mass Death and Carnage short form video content, before the cut to the chicken being decapitated and the dissolve to a boa constrictor regurgitating a baby goat — just for a half-frame blip — appears the Australian Prime Minister, the global equivalent of a small town mayor, smirk-shrugging grogily as his dead eyes explains that it’s just the way it is: we must be sucking Israel’s shrivelled cock at all times, always, or else.

Anthony Albanese hates you. You’ve fucked this whole thing for him. He was meant to be having a good time, but he hasn’t been, because you keep insisting that killing half a million people is wrong. He needs you to shut the fuck up for a second and let him think. He’s tired. His mum is whirring in her grave like a rotisserie chicken, and it’s keeping him up at night. He’s built a perfect simulacrum of his childhood council flat, and he sits in there like a naked Darth Vader in his meditation chamber, repeating his mantra (“buuuuuhhhhh, uhhhhhhh”) again and again, wondering whether choking us out for the past two plus years is the reason people talk to him like they’d spit in his face right now if the cameras weren’t rolling and/or if they had evolved the ability spit sulphuric acid.

Social Coheez Deez Nutz, he weeps.

Our media and government(s), like most in the Western World, have spent the days since Israel began its Holocaust in Gaza living in a highly fragile parallel universe stitched together by cope, delusion, bloodlust, and greed. This recursive snake-hoop highly expensive and focus-grouped make-believe has severely frayed their ability to grasp the bubbling volcanic suds of our white hot reality. Their nerves are frayed, they are sodden with psychosis, and they are running on fumes. They over committed to the bit, and like any desperate open-mic comedian soul-bent-sideways by the need to appease an over-zealous megalomaniacal room runner or MC, they are sucking up to kiddy fiddlers and baby killers for an audience that is now 90% hecklers. The agony is eternal, the ecstasy is cut with bath salts, and they shelved it in a panic. The balloon has burst, and they’re dying.

In the most Robert Wyatt voice imaginable: is it worth it?

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The visit of bomb-signing war criminal/genocidaire/death peddler Isaac Herzog makes one thing clear: Anthony Albanese hates Australia. So does Chris Minns, Penny Wong etc. etc. just about everyone in power, and all the little foreskin flicking flunkies that are the Australian press. They are frothing at the mouth with contempt for you specifically, and they see your grief for the Gazan dead as an act of high deviancy, designed to upset and upstage them, the least ensouled wonks alive, a contrived, cruel and cosmic affront to their sense of themselves as level-headed wisemen who know what’s best for everyone, having mastered the art via decades of well practiced incuriosity and self-abasement.

It’s as if they’ve applied their trademark strain of Australian Tall Poppy envy to that charming news-hogger, Jeffrey Epstein, and have decided, more than anything, that they want to show him up. Afterall, Australia is The Biggest Epstein Island in the World — a sort of Epcot for touring warlords, tyrants, pedos, Nazis, scum-suckers and nerf herders of any and all (fascistic) stripes — a Safari Zone where the 21st century’s orc-spew answer to Rudolph Hess can strut about beloved, his red carpet unrolled over the still buzzing corpses of our recent dead.

Do you get it? Do you follow? Do you cohere? You better, or it’s a swift wack with the billy-club and a $5500 fine. We are a Cuck Country with a findom daddy fetish — we must prostrate ourselves before the reigning empire of the day and have our prostate massaged lest we start lactating at the G8. If you’re not horny for jack-boot ball-stomping embarrassment, then buddy, you’re plum out of luck. The holy act of suckholing is the closest we have to national prayer — get on your knees you mongrel and pucker up, any hesitancy will be duly noted.

This national self-loathing has pivoted far beyond debasement into something undeniably murderous. Our Prime Minister has been made to hate himself (acknowledgment of the self being political death in our system), and he’s projecting that discomfort on the country at large as means of revenge. He has been made to feel incredibly itchy for too much of what was meant to be the happiest days of his life, so he’s putting the rest of us in flea collars.

Dog acts, for dog times.

Imagine a pit bull broke into a primary school and chewed through three classrooms worth of children, then, a week later, the principal of the school your kid attends announces they’re holding a ceremony celebrating the pit bull, and that you’re all expected to attend, pet him, scratch his chin, and rub his art-class-fattened belly. Failure to do so is proof you hate kids. Wouldn’t you want to give that principal a wedgie so hard it confuses the Higgs boson people?

Anthony Albanese is a million craft beers deep, throwing us Cards Against Humanity-style hypotheticals so crude and obnoxious that he’s all but begging for a Fremantle kiss. This is a man who has spent his Prime Ministership in full Gollum-mode, oscillating between his Smeagolic sensible centrist shruginator 9000 desktop killer sleeves-rolled-up supplicant public servant goon and his jagged fanged frustration farming factional ratfucking corpse climbing skull-sucker sell-sword cut-throat imperial enforcer, the gap between modes deteriorating under duress, so that the monster he always was can’t help but reveal itself, its fate inevitably to tumble arse over man-tit into the volcano’s maw in chase of its elusive sense of want.

The resulting slag will be recognisable only to those who squint.

For reasons unknown to me, I’ve found myself googling images of the Assassination of Luis Carrero Blanco this past week. We must find comfort where we can, I say. I know it feels like we are in a time loop of gore and supplication right now, but all that’s left to those of you who haven’t already is to radicalise and organise. You can not hold enough hate in your heart for these bastards. Feed it and grow it and carry it with you for the rest of your life. Go to sleep dreaming about pissing on their graves, and you’ll wake up smiling and ready to fight. Let them be tugged around by a rabid dog on a leash, snapping at all comers. Soothe your soul knowing that any leash can be wound into a noose, easily. Let your repulsion be propulsive, and let it drive you to the inevitable end point of this long and nasty fight. Localise the Intifada, the rest will follow.

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