Celebrating sabotage: how the Palestine Action ruling undermines the rule of law

By Avesta Afshari-Mehr 

In mid-February, the High Court ruled that the proscription of Palestine Action was unlawful. The ruling has triggered substantial celebration as a victory for ‘protest’ and ‘free speech’. But strip away the slogans and celebrations, and a far more troubling reality emerges: the quiet normalisation of politically motivated sabotage and violence under the moral cover of activism.

In Great Britain, protest is not only tolerated but protected: it is a cornerstone of democratic life. Citizens have the right to gather, to speak, and to oppose the actions of their government. But that right has never included the freedom to break into secure facilities, sabotage millions of pounds’ worth of national infrastructure, or violently assault law enforcement officers unprovoked, leaving them with life-altering injuries.

And Palestine Action’s activities have repeatedly crossed this line. These are not symbolic gestures that fall within the remit of our right to protest. They are calculated acts designed to inflict economic and operational damage in pursuit of political objectives.

That is precisely why proscription exists.

Proscription is simply not a tool designed to suppress political disagreement. It is a legal mechanism intended to protect the public from groups whose methods rely on systematic criminal disruption, intimidation, or violence. It reflects a fundamental principle: that political ends do not justify unlawful means.

If that principle erodes, so too does the foundation of the rule of law itself.

The rule of law cannot, and must not, function on a sliding scale of political sympathy. Britain’s democratic system depends on the consistent application of the law

The High Court’s ruling risks sending a signal, whether intended or not, that politically motivated sabotage may be treated with a degree of tolerance if framed under the guise of activism. That is a dangerous precedent. The law cannot function selectively, applying strict standards to some causes while relaxing them for others deemed morally sympathetic. Once such distinctions begin to take hold, enforcement becomes inconsistent, and public confidence in legal neutrality begins to fracture.

And yet, in the wake of the ruling, some political figures have chosen to celebrate rather than reflect. Zack Polanski, leader of the Green Party, publicly welcomed the verdicts connected to Palestine Action activists, framing them as a moral vindication of protest. What was notably absent from his remarks, however, was any acknowledgement of the police officers injured while enforcing the law during these confrontations. And that omission speaks volumes.

After all, police officers are not responsible for foreign policy decisions. They do not determine defence contracts or international alliances. Their role is to uphold the law impartially and protect public safety. When they are injured in the course of that duty, the response from political leaders should be unequivocal: recognition, concern, and support.

To go on and celebrate the outcome of such cases without acknowledging the harm inflicted on those enforcing the law risks sending the message that such harm is incidental, or worse, acceptable, when it occurs in pursuit of certain political causes. And the rule of law cannot, and must not, function on a sliding scale of political sympathy. Britain’s democratic system depends on the consistent application of the law. Protest must remain protected, but sabotage and violence must remain prohibited. The distinction between the two is not arbitrary; it is essential.

Proscription is not about suppressing political views. It is about recognising when an organisation’s methods cross the threshold from protest into systematic, unlawful disruption and violence. It exists to protect the public, to deter escalation, and to uphold the principle that political ends do not justify unlawful means.

Polanski’s recent electoral success in Gorton and Denton, and the broader momentum of political movements sympathetic to Palestine Action’s cause, make this moment especially significant. With greater political influence comes greater responsibility. Words spoken in celebration of such verdicts do not exist in a vacuum. They shape perceptions. They signal what is acceptable. They influence behaviour.

Let’s conduct a role reversal. How would we react if a member of a far-right militia were to maim a Palestine Action protestor, or members of ISIS were to break into RAF Brize Norton and destroy millions of pounds of equipment… both under the guise of ‘political activism’ – would we react the same? Surely not. Surely Polanski would not be hailing the ISIS member’s actions as righteous; and the maiming of a protestor as an unfortunate footnote to an otherwise ‘justified’cause. 

He would condemn it immediately and without qualification, as he should. And that is precisely the point. Our moral and legal standards cannot depend on whether we personally sympathise with the underlying political objective. Violence, sabotage, and the infliction of harm do not become more acceptable simply because they are committed in the name of a cause some find compelling. The rule of law demands consistency. If we would rightly condemn such actions when committed by groups we oppose, we must be equally willing to condemn them when committed by groups whose political aims we may understand or even agree with. 

Anything less is not principled: it is selective outrage, and it erodes the very legal and moral framework that protects us all.

Palestine Action should remain proscribed not because of its political views, but because of its methods.

Image: Leicester Gazette via Flickr