ast week, in the midst of lockdown, I attended a DPAC (Disabled People Against Cuts) online event for Ellen Clifford' s book launch and rally (DPAC 2020a). Ellen' s book, The War on Disabled People (2020), recounts DPAC' s struggles against the past decade of austerity in the UK, situated in the historical context of exclusionary capitalism, whilst providing a contemporary activists' guide for a more socially-just alternative. Ellen said the hardest thing about writing her (brilliant) book was not the writing or the research, but the authorial demand that she put herself forward as an individual, not as a collective. The book launch, therefore, was a deliberate return to collaboration, consisting of a rapid and rousing succession of speakers, a solidarity event kick-started by a radical poem and accompanied by kick-ass live music. The event brought DPAC campaigners and supporters together, eliding space as participants connected from across the UK, Greece, the United States and Uganda. A solidarity event full of love, shared pain, remembrance and intention. This is just one example of campaigning in the time of coronavirus. Writing about a moving target is an unstable business, but we can begin to think about what new connections, concepts, practices and potentials are emerging from the technologies of lockdown and the modalities of crisis. The calm and the storms of these Covid-19 times are generating new forms of struggle, a hybrid urbanism (Leontidou 2015, 2020) combining online and on-the-streets campaigning, generating a productive dialectic. I speak from my position in London, the UK, but try to make sense of what I have heard and observed through my own campaign networks of resistance in the broader international context. It may seem ironic that while we are being contained in so many spatial, social and economic ways during the coronavirus pandemic, resistance is being URL