Craig Murray: UK Attempt to Name Non-Violent, Anti-Genocide Group as ‘Terrorist’ Is Challenged in Court
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The activist group Palestine Action was designated a terrorist organization by the British government last month after it splashed red paint on a British war plane in protest of it assisting Israel’s genocide in Gaza. The non-violent group is in court challenging its designation by a violent government. The author, a former British diplomat, has been in the courthouse and filed this report. This is the first installment of his two-part article.
By Craig Murray / Consortium News
I headed to the Royal Courts of Justice in London on July 4 for the hearing brought by Huda Ammori, a co-founder of Palestine Action, on an application for relief from the government’s proscription order against the group as a terrorist organisation.
Huda had applied for judicial review of the legality of this order. There is to be a hearing on whether a judicial review will be granted in the week beginning July 21.
What the July 4 hearing was about, was whether the proscription should be suspended until that hearing on whether permission will be given for judicial review.
This is called interim relief.
The legal precedents on interim relief are that this question should depend on three points:
— The first is the probability that a full judicial review might ultimately succeed, in other words a preliminary assessment of the merits of the case.
— The second is whether irremediable damage will be done to anyone in the meantime if the order is not suspended, should the result of the process eventually be a successful judicial review.
— If those two hurdles are passed, the third is whether on a “balance of convenience” the irremediable harm that might be done if the order is not suspended but ultimately is set aside on review, is worse than the irremediable harm that the public might suffer from losing the benefit the government intends by the order in the interim, should the judicial review be denied or eventually confirm the legality of the order.
At this stage I presume you are deciding whether to bother to read that six times until it makes some sort of sense, or whether this is going to be an impenetrably dull article full of arcane legal nonsense and you would rather browse something else.
I do sympathise.
I had spent the train journey down from Edinburgh trying to get my head round all this; at one stage I had a lovely tourist couple from Hungary, who had the bad luck to share the train table with me, each kindly holding sheaves of documents and using their thumbs as placeholders.
I rose at 6 a.m. on the day of the hearing to ensure I would get into the courtroom. I was anticipating that, as with the Julian Assange hearings or the International Court of Justice hearings on genocide, there may be a long queue waiting to enter. In fact there was nobody at all at 7 a.m. except a great many policemen and me.
I had a coffee opposite the court building, and a constant stream of policemen came into the coffee shop to buy coffee and doughnuts. By 07.45 there was not a doughnut left within a mile of the Strand.
Anthropologists should study this. British policemen have no history with doughnuts. They never occupied any place in Metropolitan Police culture. However a continual barrage of American films and television programmes portray policemen as doughnut-eating; so presumably British police think this makes them cool. In fact it makes them fat.
I shall not be paranoid about the fact the police kept photographing me as I hung round waiting for something to happen. They had nobody else to photograph. I tried to think of things I might do that look suspicious, to make their morning more interesting, but I don’t think my imagination had managed enough sleep.
I am not going to sugar coat this. I kept going to the cafe loo to vomit. In fact I kept having to go and order coffees in various establishments to have somewhere to vomit. I had been up most of the night being sick. I hadn’t eaten anything suspect, and I assume it was a virus. This continued into the afternoon, and once court proceedings started I would race away at less charged moments to be sick.
Fleet of Police Vans
At 8.30 a.m. I went down the Strand to Boots to buy some medicine. On my return 10 minutes later, I saw an entire fleet of police vans arrive and park up around Arundel Street, about 150 metres from the court but out of sight.
I counted 16 vans and 11 cars. The vans appeared to have 12-to-15 policemen in each. That was only around one side of the court. It was a stern reminder of the issues at stake, and that proscription as a terrorist group gives colossal police-state powers. There are penalties of 14 years in prison should you merely “appear to” support a proscribed group, or be “reckless” as to whether you say something that may cause someone else to support it.
This is the Terrorism Act 2000 as originally passed, by the horrible combination of Jack Straw and Tony Blair. It has since been amended to be even worse and make plain that no intent is required — if you “appear” to support, “recklessly” a proscribed organisation, you can be liable for 14 years imprisonment.
For some reason the amended version is not available on the official government website.
At 9 a.m. I entered the the Royal Courts of Justice. I have spent many more days here than I would wish, and have described the place before:
“The architecture of the Royal Courts of Justice was the great last gasp of the Gothic revival; having exhausted the exuberance that gave us the beauty of St Pancras Station and the Palace of Westminster, the movement played out its dreary last efforts at whimsy in shades of grey and brown, valuing scale over proportion and mistaking massive for medieval. As intended, the buildings are a manifestation of the power of the state; as not intended, they are also an indication of the stupidity of large scale power.”
Well, here I was again. Previously I had only been in the more prestigious courtrooms, off the main hall, courts 1 to 15. This case was to be heard in court 73. It was in the East Wing. This required an extremely complex feat of navigation through endless corridors where your footsteps echoed from the vaulted stone ceilings, through uncountable pointed arches, passing open courtyards and cloisters, up stairs and then down.
With every stage the arches got lower, the architraves shallower, the corridors narrower, as you receded from the show of pomp to the mundane exercise of power. By the time you were in the cramped L-shaped corridor outside court 73, you might have mistaken it for a 1950s unemployment benefit office in Solihull.
I was first there but other people started to arrive for the hearing and the corridor became crowded and uncomfortably hot — it was one of the hottest days of the summer. At one point I felt about to faint, and Deepa Driver came to my rescue with a bottle of water.
We were told the court would open at 10.15 am. In the ensuing hour I twice lost my place in the queue as I had to leave to go vomit. This did enable me to have a quick chat on the stairway with [the attorney] Gareth Peirce about the prospects for the case.
I managed to get back towards the front of the queue each time, either because of immense personal charm or because people got out of the way as I smelt faintly of sick, you decide. But in the end it availed nothing as only accredited media were allowed into the courtroom.
I am famously not a journalist in the U.K., as ruled by Lady Dorrian in the High Court of Scotland — it’s a long story — so I was not admitted. I was sent instead to an overflow room in court 76 on the floor above, where proceedings could be watched on live screens.
So for this section of proceedings I was not in court. While sound and picture quality were excellent, this was not the same as being in the court itself in terms of picking up the atmosphere and all the little things which the camera does not show. It has never happened to me before in all my reporting.
Martin Chamberlain
The hearing was before Justice Martin Chamberlain. He has a liberal reputation. In a case earlier this year, he stated that he had no confidence in statements by MI5 [Britain’s domestic intelligence service.]
In cases involving secret intelligence, British “justice” has an extraordinary procedure whereby the defendant is not allowed to know the evidence against him, but can be defended on that point in a closed court, without the defendant, by a court-appointed barrister known as a “special advocate.”
Martin Chamberlain was such an advocate for 10 years, and it is impossible for anybody with a slightest modicum of honesty to view a large quantity of intelligence reports without understanding that a high proportion of it is simply inaccurate.
I speak as someone who read an average of perhaps 12 secret intelligence reports every day over a 22-year career.
This is hopeful because the secretary of state had indicated that in the substantive hearing, there will be intelligence reports on which the government will rely in its evidence against Palestine Action.
It has been widely leaked to the press that this includes intelligence reports that Palestine Action receives funding and backing from foreign states – which really is nonsense.
Justice Chamberlain also ruled against the legality of certain British arms exports to Saudi Arabia if they would be used against the civilian population in Yemen. He has argued for the strengthening of the freedom of speech provisions of the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR).
It was therefore not a shock that he was prepared to annoy the legal Establishment by agreeing at least to hear the case as to whether there should be a judicial review of the proscription. He might be the only High Court judge who would have agreed.
Proscribing Palestine Action had been an extremely high profile action by Prime Minister Keir Starmer and Home Secretary Yvette Cooper in facing down mounting public anger at the Gaza genocide, and seeking to restore the Zionist narrative that Palestinians and supporters of Palestine are terrorist.
For the court to prevent the proscription from taking effect subject to legal proceedings, would be massive news and a further blow to Starmer’s authority.
So the stakes were very high. Chamberlain gave no indication of this. He appeared enthusiastic to engage intellectually with the subject. He was eager and inclined to muse aloud in his discussions with the lawyers, interrupting sometimes almost out of excitement. He was like a slightly less annoying version of Robert Peston.
Raza Husain
Raza Husain KC opened the case for the claimant, Huda Ammori, in the standard form by introducing both teams of bewigged barristers. This took some time as the teams were large – six barristers on each side, while Huda had in addition two firms of solicitors. It was one of the few immediate indicators of the gravity and import of what was happening.
But another was the demeanour of Raza Husain. Normally the smoothest of operators, he rather stuttered into his opening. This struck me throughout the case: Huda’s lawyers sounded slightly detached, not because they did not believe what they were saying, but because they could not believe that we were in a situation that required them to stand there and say it.
Husain opened by stating that civil disobedience has a long and honourable history in the U.K. Very often people who had broken the law had been vindicated by history, such as the suffragettes. This was the first time in that long history that a civil disobedience group not advocating violence had ever been branded in law as terrorist.
Five U.N. special rapporteurs had written to oppose the proscription of Palestine Action, including Professor Ben Saul, the United Nations special rapporteur on the promotion and protection of human rights and fundamental freedoms while countering terrorism, who had asked to intervene in the case.
The special rapporteurs identified three fundamental flaws in the U.K. legislation. There was an overbroad definition of terrorism, an overbroad definition of a terrorist organisation and an overbroad definition of what constituted support for a terrorist organisation.
The overall effect of deprivation of liberty was characteristic of an authoritarian state.
Husain referred to the evidence of Andrew Feinstein. He had experience of the liberation struggle in Southern Africa and had become an ANC MP. Feinstein testified that Nelson Mandela himself had been designated a terrorist by the British state for decades, and that the anti-apartheid movement used all of the direct action methods used by Palestine Action.
Husain then turned to the evidence of Huda Ammori, who stated that in founding Palestine Action she had been directly inspired by the long history of civil disobedience movements in Britain and the many instances where courts had found such methods, including direct action against the arms industry, to be lawful.
Palestine Action had never included or targeted any violence or injury to persons. Their actions were focused on Elbit, an Israeli state-owned enterprise which was fundamental to the Israeli military system. Elbit themselves referred to their staff as “civilian soldiers.”
Husain continued that the proscription of Palestine Action was ill-considered, discriminatory, authoritarian law. It was contrary to both the common law and the Human Rights Act.
For 20 months the Israeli military had been committing acts which most genocide scholars and experts consider to be genocide. The population was now being starved, and the very distribution of humanitarian aid had been turned into a killing field, according to the U.N. Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA).
To say that Palestine Action were committing terrorism was the precise opposite of what they were doing. They were rather seeking to prevent terror and genocide.
At this stage Judge Chamberlain interposed what appeared something of a non sequitur. He asserted that he would have the power to create an order suspending the operation of the proscription to a later date, and that this was accepted by the secretary of state.
Chamberlain continued that this could be done one of two ways. He could issue a statutory injunction, or the secretary of state could submit a fresh order to Parliament. The proscription order also proscribed two other organisations, including the Maniac Murder Cult, so the suspension would need to be crafted to benefit only Palestine Action.
Judge Chamberlain stated that the need was to do justice or to cause the least injustice to persons affected in the interim should the case be decided the other way. The secretary of state had not evidenced a national security reason for the proscription to be introduced immediately.
After this apparently heartening judicial intervention, Husain continued that the definition of Terrorism in the Act referred to serious damage to property. “Serious” in this case must be read, as argued by Professor Saul, in relation to international law standards. That was not a measure of financial loss, but damage that threatened further consequences such as to nuclear facilities or civilian aircraft.
The powers of the secretary of state must be exercised proportionately within the ECHR rights, such as freedom of speech and freedom of assembly. Therefore it could be that even if an organisation fell within the overbroad definitions of the act, it still could not be proscribed.
Judge Chamberlain countered this by citing a Supreme Court ruling in another case (Gould) that overbreadth in legislation can be mitigated by prosecutorial discretion.
(To translate this into plain English, this means that because a law gives the state far too broad a power, it does not mean that the state will choose to exercise that power in all cases. Which gives of course power to the state selectively to prosecute only its chosen “enemies” using overbroad legislation.)
Husain countered that when the legislation was passed through parliament, the then secretary of state had given a categorical assurance that the power of proscription would never be used against domestic direct action groups. Yet here we are.
Judge Chamberlain responded that to reverse the proscription on the grounds Husain proposed, he would have to demonstrate that it led to an absurdity, citing another case (Hunt).
Husain replied, “It is absurd. It is absurd to pronounce a non-violent group terrorist.”
Judge Chamberlain said that what counted was whether if fitted the statutory definition of terrorism, not “some colloquial definition of terrorism”.
Husain said the statute specified that terrorism was designed to induce a climate of fear, influence the government or intimidate the public. None of these applied to Palestine Action.
Judge Chamberlain asked what was the purpose of the attack on RAF Brize Norton if not to influence the government? Palestine Action’s own submissions claim that Brize Norton supplies RAF Akrotiri which is supporting the Genocide.
Husain said that one isolated or sporadic incident did not define the purpose of the organisation, which was to disrupt Elbit and the arms industry. Palestine Action has a non-hierarchical nature. Ascribing responsibility for individual actions was complex.
Judge Chamberlain stated that in December 2024 the U.K. government had suspended arms licenses to Israel. Could it not be inferred that Palestine Action was attempting to attain this end?
Hussain replied that was not the design of the organisation. It is designed to disrupt the arms supply chain.
He then attempted to make further ground with his next point: documents showed that the government had engaged both the Israeli government and Elbit Systems in the decision making process to proscribe Palestine Action.
Judge Chamberlain noted that some of these documents were heavily redacted. It was not plain what some of them meant.
Raza Husain referred to a document which involved the phrase “act of vandalism” and reference to “a certain person” intervening. It appeared this process had taken place in March. The decision had therefore been taken before the Brize Norton incident.
Judge Chamberlain asked why it would be unlawful to take into account the views of the state of Israel?
At this point Raza Husain dropped his papers and stared at Judge Chamberlain in incredulity. “Israel to interfere? In our criminal law? In our domestic process?”
Chamberlain responded that the government took a range of views into account. Why should it be unlawful to listen to Israel? Husain replied that interference by another state in domestic criminal matters was unconstitutional.
Chamberlain stated that there was nothing in the legislation that precludes taking Israel’s views into account.
Husain again asked incredulously, “To decide if it is terrorism?”
Chamberlain responded, “They are the victims. They suffered criminal damage.”
Husain said that does not go to the definition of terrorism. Chamberlain countered they could evidence the seriousness of the damage. Husain said he returned to the international definition underlined by Ben Saul. The damage to property had to go to the level of endangering nuclear installations or civil aviation. We were not in that territory.
Husain continued that while both Israel and Elbit were consulted on the decision to proscribe, no pro-Palestinian group had been consulted.
Judge Chamberlain replied that the statutory basis may preclude any common-law right to due process. The secretary of state had stated that pro-Palestinian groups could not be consulted, because in effect that would give Palestine Action 21 days’ notice of proscription, in which period it might take pre-emptive action.
Husain responded that may be a claimed reason, but how does it apply the law?
Blinne Ní Ghrálaigh
Chamberlain had rather destroyed the flow of Raza Husain’s argument. He now handed over to his colleague Blinne Ní Ghrálaigh KC. Readers of my blog last encountered Blinne when she held spellbound the International Court of Justice in the Hague, speaking for South Africa in the Genocide case against Israel.
There the world stopped and held its breath, and the dramatic architecture of the great hall of the Palace of Justice matched the occasion. Here Blinne stood in the much more modest circumstances of court 73.
A plain, three-tier dais of utilitarian wood occupied one long side for the judge and clerks. It is the kind of unnatural wood finish that you get on steel-legged stacking tables, a peculiarly dark reddish brown with unbroken black lines of grain running straight across.
The bench seats for the lawyers were in the well of the court, four rows of those, and then there was a small platform at the back for the public gallery, containing fourteen seats — occupied by the press, as was the jury box. Everything was the same kind of wood or veneer. Fitted bookshelves covered the walls around the court, and a very few contained cloth-bound tomes of law, but it appears that someone had forgotten to buy any books for most of them.
Judge Chamberlain was perched on the top dais of the bench, in a rather austere black gown with a neat pressed linen collar known as “court bands” around his neck, which featured two long tabs of about six inches hanging down in parallel at the front. He rather resembled a Danish Lutheran preacher.
I was in court 76 watching the large screens, as though in the world’s dullest sports bar. The construction was identical to court 73, of the same wood, only the entire thing was three times the size. We observers occupied the well of the court. There was a public gallery of 48 seats which was almost entirely empty.
Had the hearing been held in court 76, everybody could have been in the actual courtroom itself. Why the large courtroom was the overspill court and the proceedings were in the tiny courtroom is an interesting question in itself. The result was that no members of the public were in the actual court, despite their right in law to attend.
I raced out to be sick again before Blinne started, so for her first three minutes I am grateful to the whispered advice of my neighbours.
Blinne was addressing the irreparable harm that would be caused in the next two weeks were the proscription not to be set aside pending the next hearing.
She said that the context of the situation in Gaza was that the Palestinian people there faced annihilation and genocide. The U.N. secretary general himself had described what was happening as “A stain on our common humanity”.
The explosive force that had been landed on the tiny area of Gaza was the equivalent of six Hiroshimas. There was firm evidence that Israel was now conducting daily massacres of those Palestinians attempting to obtain food for their families.
Judge Chamberlain interposed that, since December 2024, it is not permissible for the U.K. to provide any arms to Israel save for F-35 parts.
Blinne replied: “That’s a big ‘save’ when people are being massacred.” There was much evidence of continuing arms supply and other forms of military support.
This massacre is what Palestine Action have been attempting to disrupt and prevent.
If the proscription goes through, how will you differentiate between Palestine Action supporters and other people who hold similar views and take similar actions?
Irreparable harm will be done to protestors. Some will carefully follow the law. Some will attempt to walk the invisible tightrope on what expressions of support for Palestine are permitted and what expressions are not, and will fall off. Some will openly defy the proscription as an act of civil disobedience — and some, such as Sally Rooney, [the Irish novelist] live in other jurisdictions.
This was all the unprecedented impact of the unique proscription of a grassroots protest group.
Three key offences would be created immediately upon the order coming into effect.
It would be an offence to belong, or profess to belong, to Palestine Action.
It would be an offence to invite, or to recklessly encourage, support for Palestine Action.
It would be an offence to arrange a meeting to support Palestine Action or to hear from a member of Palestine Action.
All of these carry a sentence of up to 14 years in prison.
Wearing clothing or a badge associated with the organisation were offences of strict liability, bringing a six-month prison sentence.
Any person convicted would be branded a “terrorist”. A policeman could arrest at any time on suspicion of these offences. They could stop and search. They could enter and search people’s homes and remove property. All of these without a warrant from a court.
Any refugee convicted of any of these offences is deemed a danger to the community, justifying expulsion from the U.K.
All of this will chill free speech. Those who have supported Palestine Action in the past will fall under suspicion for actions which were perfectly lawful at the time.
Judge Chamberlain interrupted to say that this would not happen; the general principle of non-retrospectivity would apply.
Blinne said that Palestine Action was a non-formalised body. How did you become a member, and how do you stop being a member? How can you prevent being suspected of being a member if you take direct action on behalf of Palestine without any connection to Palestine Action?
Direct action and civil disobedience were not necessarily against U.K. law. A great many of those charged for direct action by Palestine Action had in fact been acquitted by the courts, and therefore their actions had been perfectly legal. There had been few actual convictions. The basic activity was not illegal.
Any organisation, for example one called “Yvette Cooper”, could be “suspected” by the police of being Palestine Action. (A new pro-Palestine direct action group has been announced named ironically after the secretary of state.)
How would the police decide what symbols showed support for Palestine Action? Were red boiler suits now banned?
Judge Chamberlain attempted to pooh-pooh these questions, and Blinne retorted that people had already been arrested for carrying Palestinian flags and wearing keffiyehs. There had been an actual trial for carrying a banner showing a palm tree and two coconuts.
What about republishing? What of those who had Facebook photos wearing a Palestine Action T-shirt that might still be seen? How could you argue for de-proscription of the organisation if any mention were likely to bring you under “reasonable suspicion” of support?
Judge Chamberlain replied that in due course he would like to hear the government KC, Mr. Ben Watson, address the question of the legality of arguing for deproscription.
Blinne said that the harm caused during proscription would be irreparable.
Palestinians will continue to be killed while the efforts to disrupt the arms supply to kill them would be banned.
The chilling effect on free speech would be extreme. There were hundreds of thousands of supporters of Palestine Action on Twitter and other platforms. There would be mass mobilisation. Over 40 organisations opposed the proscription, including Liberty and Amnesty International (both had representatives in court).
This was a fundamental attack on free speech.
Judge Chamberlain responded that they would be able lawfully to advocate for deproscription.
Blinne replied that they would not, because this would give rise to the offence of appearing to give support.
Judge Chamberlain asked her to specify which offence was that? Blinne replied that under Section 12, giving intellectual support to the organisation and appearing to support the organisation were both covered.
Judge Chamberlain persisted, asking how arguing for deproscription can be confused with this?
Blinne responded that the answer is that nobody knows how it will be applied, and therefore it will chill free speech. The definition of support for terrorism is really widely drawn. It is therefore certainly capable of being interpreted in that way.
What would be the consequences of simply saying, “I think Palestine Action did the right thing in protesting the Genocide?” The consequences of straying the wrong side of the invisible line were potentially extreme.
Furthermore what would be the position of lawyers acting for Palestine Action in future? Would they be permitted to take instruction? How could they be paid?
In addition to violating Article X of the ECHR on freedom of speech, there was a clear violation of Article XIV on non-discrimination due to the discrimination in selecting a pro-Palestinian direct action group for proscription, when similar direct action groups concerned with other subjects of protest, such as climate change, had not been proscribed.
According to the Human Rights Act it was unlawful in domestic law to violate the c. Articles X, XI and XIV were all engaged. (Freedom of Speech; Freedom of Assembly; Non-Discrimination.) There was clear Strasbourg case law that neither violence nor financial loss can abnegate Article X and XI rights.
Judge Chamberlain replied that the secretary of state stated that there was “significant damage to key national infrastructure” affecting “components that supply U.K. and allied forces” and “damage that amounts to hundreds of millions of pounds.”
We broke for lunch, and I reacquainted myself with the bathroom. The sound of my dry retching reverberated around the vast, unflinching stone vaults and halls of the Royal Courts. I trust it was not taken as an _expression_ of support for Palestine Action.
I emerged into the sunlight, and for the first time I saw the large demonstration outside. I did a number of interviews for media all around the world.
I had intended to give a quick speech to the crowd explaining what was happening inside, but the protest was extremely lively and involved bare-chested young men rapping and a great deal of dancing, so I figured nobody would want to hear from a fat old man in a suit.
There was a massive police presence, and I witnessed two instances of young men being dragged from the fringes of the crowd by the police and searched – for no reason I could discern, other than an attempt by the police to provoke a violent reaction that would discredit the protest.
This is the first of a two-part article.