We live in a world profoundly shaped by the military-industrial complex, yet we are consistently drawn, especially through media and pop culture, to stories of resistance, rebellion, and anti-authoritarianism. The term military-industrial complex (MIC) was popularised in the 1960s by President Eisenhower, warning of its growing influence on national policy due to the powerful and often opaque relationship between the military, defence contractors and government policymakers.

The omnipresence of MIC is embedded and normalised in our daily lives. Global surveillance such as satellites and drones and technological advances like GPS and voice assistants all have roots in military defence projects. It not only moulds foreign policy and global economies but also defines whose lives are protected and whose are expendable.

Yet, despite living under these omnipresent structures of control, we remain enamoured with narratives that glorify fighting back against them. Literature, film, and television celebrate characters and communities who rise up against dominant powers, challenge authoritarian rule, and resist systemic control. The threads of these are also at the core of commercial franchises that rebel against militarised regimes (Star Wars), resist government control and exploitation (The Hunger Games) and revolt against an artificially surveilled reality (The Matrix). 

There is something deeply human in the contradiction of living comfortably within systems built to suppress dissent while simultaneously dreaming of dismantling them.

This irony reflects a core tension between conscience and comfort, between the security of the status quo and the yearning for true freedom. Nowhere is this contradiction more stark than in the global response to the genocide unfolding in Gaza. It exposes the rift between how we live, how we are governed, and the stories we like to tell ourselves about justice, morality, and resistance.

Today we witness history in real time. No longer depending on grainy newsprint or fleeting 5-second clips of shellfire narrated by foreign correspondents in flak jackets. Social media delivers unfiltered glimpses of war, displacement, and survival to our screens within moments. The rawness of this immediacy has created a dual effect, intensifying public empathy but also causing oversaturation and eventual desensitisation. It’s no wonder that many turn away from real-world horror, seeking instead the catharsis of fiction.

While we may recoil from real images of war, fictional refugees, rebels, and outsiders continue to hold our fascination. On screen and in novels, we root for protagonists who defy authority, challenge empires and resist. These stories feed a collective craving for moral clarity, courage, and hope. They allow us to believe in the possibility of rebellion, even if we rarely act on it ourselves. The media sells rebellion through romanticising resistance while governments criminalise protest. The myth that resistance is always noble and protected is shattered by the reality that those who resist in real life are often punished, isolated, or erased.

This contradiction is vividly apparent in the mass media’s handling of Gaza. The global systems we live in paradoxically enable both spectacle and silence, where widespread suffering can be eclipsed by celebrity culture, diluted through sanitised media or sport or culture washing. The Eurovision Song Contest prioritised entertainment over accountability as it maintained its apolitical stance through the inclusion of Israel. Threatening to sanction media broadcasters who mentioned Gaza during the competition is inconsistent with Eurovision’s proclaimed values of unity, inclusion, and respect.

Fiction remains a safe space to explore resistance. Disney Plus Star Wars series Andor’s fictional plot mirrors reality as people are massacred for resource control and politicians who use the word genocide are eradicated, silenced, or discredited. Songs sung by characters resisting fictional empires are echoed in the chants from real-world protests against occupation and erasure. Do goosebumps collectively rise on our arms as we realise how closely these imagined rebellions resemble real ones? 

We are conditioned to root for the underdog. Gaza fits that mold. But the  world’s tepid response to its suffering reveals the dissonance between the narratives we consume and the moral realities we uphold. It is easier to imagine a revolution on screen than to acknowledge one in front of us.

To begin dismantling this system, we must first reckon with our own conditioned responses to resistance and recognise that solidarity demands more than symbolic gestures; it demands disruption, dissent, and decisive collective refusal.

Below are some ways to take action. 

• Choose your media wisely; seek out credible and alternative sources of information. Which could involve organisations working on providing media justice, like the Slow Factory.
• Follow and amplify Palestinian Voices on social media. A few examples are @Motaz_Azaiza, @Eye_on_Palestine, and AlJazeera.
• Use your economic voice for justice by being intentional with how you spend. Avoid brands with ties to weapons manufacturing or the Israeli occupation; check out BDS movement to learn more.
• Understand the context. Watch the Oscar winning documentary No other land by Palestinian activist Basel Adra and Israeli journalist Yuval Abraham
• Donate and support organisations actively working on the ground. A few examples are Trócaire, Medical Aid for Palestinians, Palestine Children’s Relief Fund (PCRF). 

Words by Anna Borrie