And They Know It
I’ve marched for justice for Palestine for years.
Hundreds of thousands. Over the years, millions. In cities across the country. Packed shoulder to shoulder. Families. Veterans. Teenagers. People in wheelchairs. People pushing buggies. People crying. People chanting.
And I want to say something that shouldn’t be controversial — but somehow is.
A hell of a lot of the people I’ve marched with have been Jewish.
Jewish mothers. Jewish students. Jewish rabbis. Jewish Holocaust survivors. Holding signs. Speaking out. Marching with keffiyehs and grief. Marching for Palestine. Marching for life.
Their voices have been completely erased from the mainstream narrative.
Because that narrative — the one used to justify arresting people for holding cardboard signs — depends on pretending those people don’t exist.
Because if the British public truly understood how many Jewish people are at the heart of this movement, the whole “supporting Palestine equals hate” line collapses.
And if that lie collapses, so does the law.
Today, I am handing myself into the police. I have broken the law, I did it on purpose. I have said multiple times in the last week these seven words, which the UK government now classes as a terrorist offence, punishable by up to 14 years in prison.
“I oppose genocide. I support Palestine Action.”
That’s it.
No violence. No threat. No incitement. Just an expression of solidarity.
So far around 200 people have been arrested in this country for the same offence. Not a single one of those people has been charged with terrorism.
Because this isn’t about terrorism. It never was.
This is political policing. Arrest as intimidation. Law used as theatre.
But arrests aren’t convictions. And intimidation doesn’t scale.
I have marched on the streets. I know how massive the support for justice really is.
And if just one in a hundred of the people who stood beside me picked up a sign today that said “I oppose Genocide. I support Palestine Action”…
This law would break.
Not in court. Not in Parliament.
It would break in practice. On the pavement. In public.
Let me be blunt.
You can’t arrest what’s everywhere.
This isn’t Trafalgar Square. This isn’t a march they can kettle.
This is 100 people in every town centre. This is cardboard and conviction.
This is mothers and students and pensioners standing silently on a Saturday morning.
This is what civil disobedience looks like when it’s decentralised.
It’s what made the poll tax unworkable. I remember that too.
I was born in 1974. I came of age in the early ‘90s. I remember the poll tax.
I remember what it looks like when a government pushes too far — and people say no.
It ended the career of “The Iron Lady” Thatcher.
We’re there again.
And they know it.
That’s why they’re arresting people. Not to punish them — but to scare you into staying home.
But what happens if you don’t?
What happens if 100 becomes 10,000?
If 10 towns becomes 100?
If silence becomes saturation?
If police stations are swamped with others handing themselves in for terrorist offences?
What happens is the law folds.
Not the movement.
And many of those holding signs now — facing arrest — are Jewish too.
You won’t hear that on the news either.
So say it louder.
You can’t arrest what’s everywhere.
But you can be part of it.
I am Spartacus.
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