The proposed ban, rooted in colonial counter-insurgency law, could end up demystifying direct action and increasing public resolve
~ Blade Runner ~
This week, the UK Parliament is expected to approve the proscription of Palestine Action under the Terrorism Act 2000. This follows the group’s recent breach of RAF Brize Norton, where activists sprayed red paint into the engine of a Voyager aircraft. The decision, pushed through by Home Secretary Yvette Cooper, will make it a criminal offence not only to participate in or support the group’s actions, but to be affiliated with it at all—even through symbols or verbal expressions of solidarity.
Proscription under the Terrorism Act does not require a threat to life. It only requires “serious damage to property” for political or ideological purposes—language elastic enough to include sabotage, paint, glue, and disruption.
The 2000 Act was not simply a response to armed threats, but echoed Britain’s colonial counterinsurgency playbook. Refined in Ireland through internment, criminalisation, and the stripping of political legitimacy, it is a way to target domestic resistance, what its architects called “sub-state terrorism”. The Act created a framework to criminalise any group that threatens the legitimacy of Britain’s role in the imperial order, even symbolically. It is designed to preserve imperial infrastructure from dissent and to outlaw solidarity.
Since its founding in 2020, Palestine Action has carried out more than 300 actions of sabotage and occupation against UK-based arms firms—especially Elbit Systems, which supplies drones and weapons to Israel. Its actions have included rooftop occupations, factory shutdowns, and symbolic interventions like defacing a Balfour portrait at Cambridge. These actions have caused damage in the millions, forced site closures, led to investors and suppliers abandoning the company, and brought the UK’s complicity in the Gaza genocide into public consciousness.
So is Palestine Action simply being punished for its effectiveness? There might be more to it than that.
Throwing paint into jet engines is symbolic, but the threat the State responds to is the potential for replication. The government fears that if these tactics go unchecked, they might signal a broader refusal: permission-less revolt, viral sabotage, and the spread of generalised dissent. The occupation of a factory or breach of an airbase is less dangerous than the contagious idea that such things can and should be done. As Palestine Action put it: “When our government fails to uphold their moral and legal obligations, it is the responsibility of ordinary citizens to take direct action. The terrorists are the ones committing a genocide, not those who break the tools used to commit it”.
Palestine Action’s example has already inspired offshoots abroad. In the US, a group formerly called Palestine Action US rebranded as Unity of Fields, aiming to apply similar tactics to disrupt the U.S. military-industrial complex. They’ve staged demonstrations at Elbit-linked sites in Massachusetts and were removed from social media as their messaging intensified. In Belgium, a pro-Palestinian group known as “Stop Arming Israel” vandalised an Elbit-affiliated warehouse, causing significant damage to equipment.
The State isn’t only targeting disruption, however. It’s trying to discipline public consciousness. Palestine Action has become a symbol of courage. The group’s actions and social media presence have helped demystify direct action by restoring its ethical imperative and framing it as an accessible, effective method of struggle. Against this, Labour is pursuing a broad strategy of dissent management, where surveillance and legal frameworks merge into pre-emptive criminalisation. This is governance by threat projection: people are punished not only for what they do, but for what they might inspire.
Finally, the proscription takes place against the wider backdrop of far-right resurgence in the UK, Europe, the US and elsewhere. The governments are adopting reactionary logics like border control, militarism, and nationalism that have become bipartisan policy. Starmer’s Labour has fully embraced securitised nationalism, promising tougher borders, hedging on arms embargoes, and reinforcing British militarism.
The mainstream left, in favour of ineffective mass protests, has consciously failed to defend disruptive action. By drawing lines between “legitimate dissent” and “extremism”, repression has been legitimised. Yet historically, this often backfires. UK state overreach can galvanise popular support: from Bloody Sunday swelling IRA ranks, to recent juror acquittals of Palestine Action activists affirming their actions as justified.
The State’s repression should be met with solidarity across movements. In the group’s impact, there is inspiration—and a reminder that even in an age of technocratic authoritarianism, small, determined collectives can still shift the ground.
Image: Mural in Gaza in recognition of Palestine Action (photo: Olive Palestine)