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The government has cracked down on protest – but revelations about arms industry lobbying raise urgent questions about transparency and democratic dissent.

A planned demonstration against the proscription of Palestine Action as a terrorist organisation has become a lightning rod for political and legal tensions – especially after it was revealed that a former Army chief, who now advises one of the group’s corporate targets, lobbied for action against it.

The event, organised by the campaign group Defend Our Juries, became a matter of principle after Downing Street issued public warnings against participation and the Metropolitan Police threatened arrest under terrorism laws for anyone seen to be supporting the banned group.

Already, this is not simply a matter of routine protest and policing. At its core lies a high-stakes confrontation over the right to protest, the expansive powers of anti-terror legislation, and the growing sense among many that the government is seeking to suppress dissent by equating it with terrorism.

Palestine Action is known for its unapologetically militant direct action tactics, targeting premises associated with Elbit Systems, an Israeli arms manufacturer.

The group has conducted break-ins, occupations, and acts of sabotage aimed at disrupting the production and export of military technology it claims is used against civilians in Gaza and the West Bank.

The actions of its members are illegal and deliberately disruptive – but they are also non-lethal, focused on property, and framed explicitly as civil resistance against what they regard as British complicity in war crimes.

In response, last month (July 2025) the Home Office added Palestine Action to the list of proscribed terrorist organisations.

The official rationale cites a pattern of criminal damage, break-ins, and what Home Secretary Yvette Cooper described as a “campaign of violence and intimidation”.

Government spokespeople have insisted that this is not a peaceful group, and that its activities fall squarely within the definition of terrorism.

But that definition is broad—arguably perilously so.

Under the Terrorism Act 2000, terrorism is defined as action that “is designed to influence the government or to intimidate the public… for the purpose of advancing a political, religious or ideological cause” and that involves “serious violence against a person”, “serious damage to property”, or actions “designed to seriously interfere with or seriously disrupt an electronic system”.

This wording allows for a significant degree of interpretation.

In practice, it means that a group which causes damage to property for political reasons, even if it harms no one, may fall within the definition of terrorism. And that raises urgent questions.

Can we equate sabotage of property with terrorism?

Does damaging military infrastructure constitute a terrorist act if it is done to prevent what the perpetrators see as greater violence?

Can a campaign of civil disobedience be considered a public threat on the same level as violent extremism?

Critics of the ban, including human rights lawyers, academics, and civil society organisations, argue that the government is overreaching.

They suggest that the use of anti-terror laws to suppress what is essentially political protest represents a dangerous conflation of activism and extremism.

Some point to the precedent: if Palestine Action can be banned on these grounds, what stops future governments from applying the same logic to environmental protestors, trade unionists, or anti-racism campaigners who engage in disruptive, unlawful action?

The implications are not theoretical. As it stands, anyone participating in Saturday’s protest who is seen to support Palestine Action—by holding a sign, making a statement, or sharing a slogan—may be arrested and charged as a terrorist.

Defend Our Juries has urged protestors to hold signs stating “I Oppose Genocide, I Support Palestine Action”. Police have indicated this alone could constitute a criminal offence.

The Metropolitan Police, reportedly planning for mass arrests, has stated that the number of detainees will not deter enforcement. Past protests have seen demonstrators swiftly processed and released on bail, a tactic that facilitates high-volume arrests while deferring the legal burden until later.

Whether all or any of these charges lead to convictions is another matter.

That is important because, in parallel to this unfolding confrontation, a legal challenge against the ban has been allowed to proceed by the High Court.

The co-founder of Palestine Action has been granted permission to contest the proscription, raising the possibility that the ban itself may be found unlawful.

If that happens, the arrests made under its authority may be revealed as not only politically motivated, but legally unsound.

And now, new revelations have cast a further shadow over the ban’s legitimacy:

Lord Richard Dannatt—a former head of the British Army and a sitting member of the House of Lords—personally lobbied ministers to act against Palestine Action after its activists targeted a factory operated by Teledyne, a US defence firm.

Crucially, Dannatt is a paid adviser to Teledyne and began that role in the same year as the factory protest.

According to trial transcripts from a subsequent criminal case, a senior police officer in charge of the investigation raised concerns at the time about Lord Dannatt’s involvement, warning Teledyne executives that it would be “unwise to have a member of the House of Lords poking around in a live criminal case”.

The officer noted that it was unclear exactly what Dannatt wanted, but that his communication with the company had raised eyebrows.

Although the trial judge ultimately ruled that there was no evidence of improper interference by Dannatt, the police concern itself is revealing.

Furthermore, it has since emerged that Dannatt wrote directly to then-Home Secretary Suella Braverman, and later to Labour security minister Dan Jarvis, urging action against Palestine Action, and framing the group as a threat to national security and the economy.

He signed both letters using his full military titles and used the House of Lords letterhead, although admittedly he did also disclose his role as a paid adviser.

These details, while not proof of causation, raise the possibility that the proscription of Palestine Action was not the result of an impartial assessment of national security, but was influenced—even if only indirectly—by lobbying on behalf of a private arms company with a financial stake in silencing a critic.

That suggestion adds a deeply troubling layer to the story.

It is one thing for the government to argue that disruptive protest crossed a legal line.

It is another entirely if a protest group targeting a powerful corporation ends up banned as a terrorist organisation following pressure from an unelected peer with financial interests in that very corporation.

A broader legal concern: the scope of the law

Let us now discuss this matter from a hypothetical standpoint – as This Writer does not want to court accusations of supporting terrorism due to any of what follows.

Hypothetically, the current wording of the UK’s Terrorism Act 2000 allows for very broad interpretation.

The law defines terrorism to include actions that cause “serious damage to property” if they are politically motivated and designed to influence government or public opinion.

While this may have been intended to address threats to national security, such a definition could—depending on interpretation—extend to acts of civil disobedience, symbolic sabotage, or targeted disruption of businesses associated with foreign policy.

This creates a troubling possibility: that the state might use terrorism legislation not only to prevent violent extremism, but also to suppress effective protest, especially when it challenges powerful economic or foreign policy interests.

Whether this is an intentional overreach or an unintended consequence of broad legislative drafting, the effect could be the same—a chilling of dissent, and a narrowing of the space for political expression.

The revelations about Lord Dannatt’s lobbying raise the stakes considerably. If the government acts on advice from a defence industry adviser who stands to benefit from the silencing of a protest group, then the issue is no longer just the ambiguity of the law—it becomes a question of corruption of process.

Proscription, one of the most serious powers the state can exercise, must be above suspicion.

It must not only be fair; it must be seen to be fair.

To be clear, going back to Palestine Action, that organisation is very far from beyond criticism: its tactics are provocative and confrontational. Some of its actions may well exceed the bounds of lawful protest. But that is precisely why we have criminal law.

Vandalism, trespass, criminal damage—these are all existing offences, and the courts have repeatedly demonstrated their ability to weigh context and intent.

In fact, juries have at times acquitted Palestine Action activists, accepting arguments that their actions were proportionate responses to far greater harm.

The terrorism label short-circuits that process. It places a group outside the bounds of legitimate political discourse. It removes the nuance.

And it places supporters and sympathisers at risk of criminal prosecution for acts as simple as holding a placard or sharing a slogan.

Moreover, it raises a profound moral question: what does it say about a society when those who act to disrupt arms sales to a state accused of war crimes are labelled terrorists, while the corporations profiting from those arms sales are protected by the full weight of the law?

The danger here is not merely legal overreach. It is the erosion of democratic legitimacy.

A state that cannot tolerate disruptive protest is a state that fears accountability.

A government that relies on counter-terrorism law to silence critics is one that has lost confidence in its moral authority.

Saturday’s protest will test more than the resolve of its participants – it will test the commitment of British institutions to the principles of free expression, proportionality, and justice.

The outcome will send a message—not only about Palestine Action, but about the health of political dissent in the UK.

That message will be heard far beyond Whitehall.

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