Iceland will soon vote on a referendum to reopen its application to formally join the European Union. After World War II, the European Continent transformed from one marked by centuries of violent conflict between competing superpowers into one marked by unparalleled stability under the European Union (EU), which today encompasses 27 member states across the continent. However, there are four additional countries economically connected to it via the European Single Market (ESM). The ESM is governed by the EU’s member states, which aim to spur economic growth across the continent by removing international barriers to trade and economic activity. Specifically, the ESM’s four freedoms: free movement of goods, services, capital, and labor, establish it as one of the world’s largest single markets, rivaling NAFTA in North America or Mercosur in South America, controlling trillions of dollars of the global GDP. The EU is not just an economic union but arguably the world’s only supranational one, meaning most of its laws take precedence over national regulations within its member states. Therefore, aspiring members of the EU must assess whether surrendering major aspects of their sovereignty is a worthy price to pay for the economic benefits of a broader market. One of the four ESM members that remain outside the EU is Iceland, which is set to vote on reopening talks to formally join the EU on August 29th. The island country’s current status denies it participation in the EU’s governance, in exchange for a partial exemption from the supranational union’s jurisdiction. Specifically, unlike EU members, Iceland does not have any members of the European Parliament, the Council of the EU, or the European Commission, which act as the organization’s legislative body, nor does Iceland have veto power that is reserved for rare and consequential scenarios. More importantly, Iceland still participates in the single market in most industries and abides by their respective regulations, except for key sectors like fisheries and agriculture. Additionally, Iceland maintains independence over their monetary policy, nonrequirement for adopting the euro or joining the European Central Bank, and trade-policies with non EU states. However, the results of surrendering national sovereignty over domestic matters should compel Icelanders to appreciate their EU-lite membership status. Indeed, the benefits of a unified market have been vast, with trade increasing drastically across the continent and free immigration between states unlocking new employment opportunities for millions. However, the EU’s strangling regulations have hampered innovation, small businesses, and growth in key sectors. Administrative burdens from compliance costs and navigating the red tape cost over 150 billion euros annually. Its agricultural policies forced farmers into financial ruin, sparking widespread civil unrest and soaring food prices. Regarding fisheries, Greenland and Norway have remained outside the EU to restrict harvests and profits from their coveted North Atlantic seafood to their local fishers, and Iceland, with its similar geography, has made the same consideration. Regarding monetary policy, many EU members have been reluctant to adopt the euro due to their differing approaches to economic recovery from financial crises, recognizing that a one-size-fits-all policy is risky for such a diverse continent. As an economic union, the EU’s success is unequivocal. However, forcing political integration has arguably only left the continent more divided, with populist movements and figures such as Brexit, Orban, and the AfD gaining prominence amidst each crisis. Iceland currently sits on a healthy balance between full integration into the European economy and exclusive sovereignty over its domestic affairs. It should seek to preserve that at the end of this month.
By Edward Kim
LinkedIn as Late-Stage Capitalism LinkedIn is easy to mock because it often feels ridiculous. Feeds are lined with posts of people claiming corporate prestige with saturated jargon that no one really understands. Layoffs become “new chapters”, and desperation is portrayed as being “open to new opportunities”. Ordinary employment is narrated as a moral awakening, with those who can’t follow the cryptic lexicon as being simply not on their level. The language is so polished it begins to feel inhuman, as if every post is passed through a motivational filter and carefully stripped of any real insight. But the absurdity of LinkedIn is not the most interesting thing about it. The surface-level jeering about its content and audience, while amusing, overshadows the more serious question of whypeople feel compelled to perform this way at all. In the United States, work has never been just a job. One’s profession has been treated as evidence of character, discipline, education and personal worth. LinkedIn takes this philosophy and gives it a platform and a name. It repackages the worker into a public profile, an SEO project, and hosts a space to permanently market employability. It seems the point is not just being suited or capable for the job, because having the right requirements and a well-established CV is outdated in this age of corporate recruitment. Instead, you need to accompany this with a digital, legible mandate with at least 500 connections, or else who are you? The platform is the epitome of late-stage capitalism. It not only connects people to jobs, but it also teaches people how to behave in a labour market where employability itself is theatrical. In 2025, LinkedIn reported 1.2 billion members globally and $17.8 billion in revenue, a staggering amount in any case. Following suit with many other social platforms, they have introduced new AI tools for job seekers, hirers and sales. This is important because not only do you have to perform within this stagnant job market, but you are also judged on this by AI. Reuters reported that LinkedIn’s AI hiring agents were projected to bring in $450 million annually by “helping” recruiters identify suitable profiles across the network. This shifts the focus entirely. In this respect, the game is no longer about experience; it’s about SEO and corporate literacy. The worker is not simply applying for jobs. They are processed as a signal, not a human; transformed into a set of keywords, a network, and a history of ambition within the confines of AI-approved jargon. The introduction of AI in workplaces across the U.S. has undeniably reduced job openings and is now cutting into the recruitment sector. Not only did you lose your job to AI, but you were denied your next one because you didn’t meet the lexical quota. To Karl Marx, this advent is unsurprising. He argued that capitalism turns labour power itself into a commodity: the worker must sell their capacity to work in order to survive. LinkedIn expertly shows how far that logic has travelled, and how conceited the job market has become. The worker is no longer selling only time, skill or effort. They are expected to sell personality, resilience, digital consistency, network capabilities, and a narrative of constant self-improvement. One becomes part of the package. This commodification is the real poison of the platform. It makes the crisis of work, or lack thereof, a flaw of self-presentation. If you cannot get a job, the implied solution is to optimise your profile. If nobody replies, message better. If you are invisible, post more. If none of the above work, you can buy an “affordable” subscription of around $40 a month to help boost your presence. The subscription becomes even darker when it’s realised that visibility has become monetised. Of course, capitalism and the ruling class have always understood this premise, as has society. But LinkedIn has attempted to remove these barriers in a way that fills its own pocket instead. The premium advertises AI-powered tools for job searches and profile optimisation, InMail, profile view numbers, personalised insights and access to “top applicant” jobs. There is something dystopian about a labour market in which workers are already forced to compete for attention, then offered, as a necessity, a plethora of paid tools to become more visible in the competition. These class politics are not subtle. Despite LinkedIn’s attempts to profit from class visibility, they present as a neutral space for opportunity. They reward those who already understand the architecture of professional culture, have polished profiles, institutional confidence, internship language and established networks. A working-class person may boast intelligence, be capable, reliable and perfectly suited for a role, yet still be punished for not knowing how to read themselves in the approved style. Pew Research Centre found that LinkedIn use in the U.S. is sharply divided by education. In 2024, a reported that 53% of Americans with at least a bachelor’s degree said they use LinkedIn. This compares sharply to the 28% who have a college education, and 10% of those who have high school degrees or less. This disparity paints an illustrative picture. If LinkedIn becomes part of how opportunity is accessed, then paradoxically, the unequal access to LinkedIn’s culture becomes yet another class barrier. This is why LinkedIn is not just bad, it’s an active obstacle for those trying to find work in modern society. It is bad because it reveals a labour market that increasingly demands shallow performance. It is bad because it asks people to translate fear into marketable self-growth and instability into ambition. It turns structural insecurity into an expensive subscription. The cruellest part is that opting out becomes even harder. Online resources are more essential than ever for American job seekers. Pew found that as early as 2015, a large majority of recent US job seekers had solely used online resources to look and apply for work. The point is that digital presence has become increasingly difficult to
By Adia May
Most citizens of America are well aware of the seemingly obscure opinions of RFK. Yet, RFK is just one tip of the “natural health” iceberg. The natural health trend, seemingly reminiscent of antivaxxing, is a movement surfacing on the internet which implies the claim that natural alternatives are highly capable of being superior to modern medicines. Although this movement may seem unproblematic, it carries some deeper meaning. The natural health trend oftentimes serves as a promotion of overhauling modern healthcare altogether — unless extremely necessary. This includes mental health medications, and even ADHD medications for children. Many of the creators which make up this movement claim that things such as herbs can replace the need for medicinal interference. They criticize things like preservatives in food, and resort to drinking raw milk and consuming unsafe cuts of meat. At some points, natural health creators go as far as to claim the entire pharmaceutical industry is a scam. Some natural health creators have attempted to push back against this narrative. An expanding number have used their profiles to demonstrate realism, showing their processed foods and pills, alongside their herb gardens and teas. This calls into question the nuance that separates radical primitivism and rich tradition. Natural health isn’t in itself harmful. In fact, it was reported under the Harvard Medical School’s blog that herbal teas such as ginger and chamomile can have positive effects like decreased risk of heart disease death, or even cancer protection (https://www.health.harvard.edu/diet-and-nutrition/the-health-benefits-of-3-herbal-tea). However, even on their blog does it say that these teas should not be used as a substitute for medicinal care. Arguably, having a nice cup of tea before bed, or encouraging fibrous diets is not inherently bad. Still, we should be wary about how natural health can quickly become natural extremism. As a society we are responsible for distinguishing between the two.
By Megan Fincher
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