Decades after the UK called me a terrorist for defending my community, it now targets young activists resisting genocide with the same label.
In a troubling echo of the past, the UK government is now moving to officially label Palestine Action, a nonviolent direct action movement, as a terrorist organisation. This decision threatens not only the freedom of young activists but also the moral conscience of a country grappling with its role in global injustice.
I’ve seen this before. In 1981, I was part of the United Black Youth League in Bradford. Faced with rising fascist violence and police indifference, we took the path of community self-defence—even constructing crude petrol bombs to protect ourselves. For that, I was arrested and charged under terrorism laws, along with 11 others, in what became known as the Bradford 12 case. We were painted as domestic threats, despite fighting against real fascism in our streets.
Today, Palestine Action is being targeted in much the same way. But unlike us, they haven’t lifted a single weapon. Their methods are nonviolent, creative, and rooted in deep moral urgency—spray-painting warplanes, occupying weapons factories, and disrupting the arms trade that fuels Israel’s genocide in Gaza. And for this, they may soon be declared terrorists.
The government’s logic is deeply flawed—and dangerous. If opposing genocide is terrorism, what does that say about our values as a nation? A recent poll found 55% of Britons are against Israel’s war on Gaza, and 82% of those believe its actions constitute genocide. There’s a chasm between public sentiment and official policy—a disconnect that becomes even more glaring when nonviolent activists are criminalised for acting on that very public conscience.
In the 1980s, our actions in Bradford were born from the state’s failure to protect us. We defended our community when no one else would. The same can be said of Palestine Action. They emerged from the failure of marches and petitions, and from the stark reality that British-made weapons are slaughtering Palestinian families. Their direct action is a refusal to be complicit.
Our acquittal in 1982 set a historic precedent: that armed self-defence against fascism could be justified in extreme circumstances. But Palestine Action doesn’t need such a defence. Their actions are already legal, moral, and peaceful. What they represent is not terror—but a moral compass. And that’s what terrifies those in power.
The UK’s decision on Palestine Action will define more than just one movement’s fate. It will speak to the kind of country we are becoming—one that punishes justice, or one that finally begins to live up to it.