Starmer Crushes Palestine Action — And Hands Israel a £2Bn Payday

Right, so the United Kingdom has long presented itself as a nation committed to international law, the defence of human rights, and the maintenance of rules-based order. Yet recent developments in its relationship with Israel and Israeli defence contractors suggest well, otherwise lets put it. Last month, the government under Keir Starmer formally proscribed Palestine Action, a grassroots protest network that had made its name by targeting the UK operations of Elbit Systems, Israel’s largest private arms company. This move came at a moment of acute global scrutiny of course. The International Court of Justice had already ruled that Israel’s war in Gaza posed a plausible risk of genocide and had issued binding provisional measures ordering the state to prevent such acts. At precisely the moment when international law required caution and distance, Britain was criminalising its own citizens for dissent though and moving closer to Israel’s defence industry at the same time.
The deeper irony is that the fightback against that proscription, the announcement of a judicial review into the legality of it, has coincided with revelations that the Ministry of Defence is close to awarding Elbit Systems a contract worth in the region of two billion pounds to train British soldiers. According to reports, the arrangement would place Elbit at the centre of the British Army’s land warfare training programmes, with responsibility for preparing some sixty thousand troops annually. For activists who had long described Elbit as “Israel’s war machine on British soil,” this looked like a crushing defeat: the criminalisation of their movement had been the prelude to a massive deepening of UK–Elbit ties. So the timing raises a rather obvious question therefore. Was the banning of Palestine Action not a measure to protect security, but a political manoeuvre to clear obstacles for a controversial defence deal? And when Britain buys into Elbit at this moment in history, is it really buying “security” — or something far darker? After all, this means the British Army will be trained by the same entity that trains the IDF. So what does that say about us? Whose security is really being protected here, and at what cost?
Right, so the proscription of Palestine Action represented a dramatic shift in how protest is treated in the United Kingdom. Until July of this year, the Terrorism Act had been used primarily against organisations involved in violent plots or direct attacks on civilians. You know, actual terrorists. Palestine Action, by contrast, had built its campaign around sabotage and disruption: occupying Elbit offices, spraying paint on buildings, scaling factory roofs, and damaging military equipment, we all know their craic by now do we not? Its activists prided themselves on “direct action against war criminals,” but they had not engaged in acts designed to cause physical harm to people. Indeed, leaked assessments revealed that the Joint Terrorism Analysis Centre, JTAC, who advise on matters of proscription to the Home Secretary had concluded that the group’s actions were focused on property, not life. The Foreign Office reportedly warned that designating the network as terrorist would look like silencing dissent and aligning with Israeli interests rather than protecting national security. I bet David Lammy didn’t like that much and Yvette Cooper clearly didn’t like what JTAC had to say either.
Because despite these warnings, proscription pressed ahead under Keir Starmer. It was his government, his ministers, and his Home Office that signed off on one of the most far-overreaching uses of the Terrorism Act in decades. The official justification centred on the high-profile action at RAF Brize Norton, where activists entered the base and defaced aircraft. The government claimed this endangered military readiness and demonstrated a willingness to cross into terrorism. Yet critics pointed to the extraordinary breadth of the move. Seventy per cent of Labour members opposed the ban, a striking demonstration of how far the leadership had moved away from its base. Civil liberties groups called it an unprecedented attack on the right to protest. High-profile figures, such as novelist Sally Rooney, pledged to continue funding Palestine Action in defiance of the proscription, prompting the Home Office to issue chilling warnings against “material support.” Well she lives in Ireland, so good luck with that extradition order.
The deeper context reveals the significance of timing though. Palestine Action had focused relentlessly on Elbit Systems. By disrupting its sites, vandalising offices, and generating headlines about its role in Gaza, the activists had cost the company millions and damaged its reputation. If Elbit was on the verge of securing a contract worth two billion pounds to deliver British Army training, the criminalisation of its principal domestic opponent was politically expedient to say the least. The question must be asked therefore: was this counter-terrorism, or was it corporate counter-insurgency? When protest is suppressed not because of violence but because it threatens commercial relations with a foreign arms company, an Israeli one at that as Israel commits genocide, democracy itself is diminished isn’t it? And you can’t help but wonder if the hand of the Prime Minister, that Zionist without equivocation, is visible.
To understand the gravity of Britain’s entanglement here, its worth appreciating Elbit’s role. Elbit is Israel’s largest arms company, producing Hermes drones, Skylark reconnaissance UAVs, Iron Sting guided mortars, and advanced surveillance platforms. These technologies have been used extensively in Gaza, where drones provide constant aerial monitoring and mortars are deployed in dense urban environments. The company markets its products as “battle-tested,” a phrase widely understood as a euphemism for weapons tried and refined on Palestinian civilians because we know this is what happens.
Elbit’s presence in Britain is long-standing already though, those factories of theirs targeted by Palestine Action, didn’t appear out of nowhere after all. Through Project Vulcan, it runs a fifty-seven million pound contract providing simulation training for tank crews. It supplies artillery and mortar simulators for the Army, contracts awarded in 2023 under the Tories. It has sold night vision goggles to the Ministry of Defence under deals worth more than twenty-five million pounds between 2021 and 2022. Through a partnership with Babcock, it has delivered seventy-three million pounds worth of electronic warfare systems to the Royal Navy. Historically, it worked with Thales to deliver the Watchkeeper drone, a project costing around 1.35 billion pounds before its retirement earlier this year. It also has a joint venture with KBR under the UK Military Flying Training System, a five hundred million pound, eighteen-year arrangement providing aircraft and synthetic training.
So the picture is clear. Elbit is already embedded in British defence infrastructure. The proposed two billion pound contract, covering collective land training for sixty thousand soldiers annually, would not be an entry point for them but very much a continuation, albeit a very big one. It would place Elbit even more at the heart of Britain’s military doctrine, shaping mission rehearsal, combined-arms training, and after-action analysis for an entire generation of troops. As Middle East Eye and The Cradle have reported, this is not a marginal deal but one of the largest training contracts in Europe. To award it to a company synonymous with Israel’s war in Gaza is to accept complicity not only symbolically but structurally without a second thought.
The government and Elbit insist that the training contract is about simulation and technology, not politics. Yet this is nonsense because everything is political, there is no such thing as not doing politics. Elbit’s UK website describes “deployable collective training environments,” integrating live and virtual exercises, as well as gunnery trainers and artillery fire rehearsal platforms. From one perspective, these are neutral tools for soldiers to practice coordination, target acquisition, and communications. Yet optics matter. The International Court of Justice has ruled that Israel’s conduct in Gaza presents a plausible risk of genocide. In that context, contracting the IDF’s chief supplier to train British troops is obscene.
The rhetorical question then resonates in our minds: what do people think soldiers are being trained in by such as Elbit? How to conduct genocide and get away with it? Sociopathy 101? How to take the best selfies in a scene of abject devastation perhaps? Sure this is me being flippant, but upon hearing this news and wondering what our troops might be trained in, given what the IDF have been doing for 22 months in Gaza, such thoughts I feel are an unavoidable association. Elbit’s systems are “battle-proven” precisely because they have been used in Gaza. Its training tools mirror the environments of dense civilian populations, the very spaces where the IDF has levelled neighbourhoods. Its drones are the same as those circling Gaza’s skies. Its battle management software is what coordinates Israel’s combined arms operations. To the public, the distinction between “simulation” and “doctrine” collapses here. Soldiers may be practicing on virtual platforms, but what were those platforms built off the back of, because we know all to well now don’t we? To ask what British troops are going to be trained in, the answer is basically methodology that belongs on trial at The Hague.
The reputational cost is immense. Britain risks being seen not as a defender of law but as a student of impunity. Allies who have moved to distance themselves, such as the Netherlands, will see Britain’s choice as an outlier. Citizens who oppose complicity will feel silenced and criminalised. In effect, Elbit’s training contract becomes not simply an exercise in preparation, but what critics will inevitably call a “genocide school.”
The Elbit contract sits alongside Britain’s broader arms licensing policies, which reveal a consistent pattern of double standards as well. Last year, the government announced the suspension of around thirty export licences to Israel, citing a clear risk of misuse in Gaza. At first glance, this looked like a step towards compliance with international law. But the suspension was selective. The most significant supply lines—particularly the provision of components for the F-35 fighter jet programme—continued unabated.
This is no technicality either, no matter how much Starmer’s regime hide behind such claims. Israel operates at least thirty-six F-35 aircraft, with more deliveries planned. Every single one contains British-made components. These jets have been central to Israel’s bombardment of Gaza. Thus, even as ministers boasted of suspensions, Britain’s factories continued to produce parts for the very aircraft bombing civilians. When challenged in the High Court, government lawyers argued that there was “no evidence” of genocide. Yet this sat uneasily beside the ICJ’s binding orders recognising the risk. The government managed a split screen I neffect: on one side, limited suspensions to appease critics; on the other, ongoing supply to sustain Israel’s war machine.
This hypocrisy corrodes credibility. To the public, it looks like deception, because it is. To lawyers, it edges towards complicity. To international observers, it suggests Britain prioritises industrial commitments over human rights, which looks even worse when we’re led by a supposed former human rights lawyer. And it raises the central question: is Britain’s defence policy driven by principle, or by a refusal to jeopardise lucrative programmes even at the cost of enabling atrocities? For Keir Starmer’s government, the answer seems pretty clear.
Elbit’s role in destabilisation is not confined to Gaza. Just last week, the company announced a 1.63 billion dollar contract with an unnamed European country which turned out to be with Serbia, supplying Hermes drones, precision missiles, electronic warfare systems, and command-and-control platforms. Serbian media described it as a historic upgrade, but regional analysts warned of grave risks. Such a vast injection of advanced weaponry into the Balkans could prompt neighbouring states—Croatia, Bosnia, and Kosovo—to respond in kind, igniting a new arms race in a region still scarred by war and certainly the people of Serbia have not been happy about this, mass protests having broken out.
The relevance to Britain lies in reputation. By embedding Elbit in its training systems, Britain is aligning itself with a company not only implicated in Gaza but also in the destabilisation of Europe. The optics extend beyond complicity in genocide to complicity in regional insecurity. If the Balkans descend into renewed conflict, Elbit’s role will be scrutinised—and Britain, as one of its most prominent partners, will not be immune from association. Once again, the question arises: is Britain safeguarding its own security, or importing instability and entanglement by tying itself all the more to Elbit’s fortunes?
Underlying these developments is the economic dimension. Israel’s economy has been battered by the war on Gaza. Tourism has collapsed, foreign investment has slowed, the tech sector has seen layoffs, and credit ratings have been downgraded. Defence exports, however, remain robust. Contracts like the UK’s two billion pound training deal or Serbia’s 1.63 billion dollar procurement inject critical cash. They support the shekel, reassure investors, and sustain tax revenues. They allow Israel to finance its military operations despite reputational damage and partial sanctions.
Thus, Britain’s deal with Elbit is not just about training. It is a financial lifeline. By awarding contracts of this magnitude, and incidentally as we’re being warned of further cuts and tax hikes, Starmer and Reeves can still find money for war and defence contracts, lining Israel’s pockets in the process, Britain helps keep Israel’s war economy afloat. The complicity is therefore not only symbolic or doctrinal but fiscal. Britain is paying into the coffers of the company most directly associated with the destruction of Gaza. In doing so, it undermines the efforts of international civil society to isolate Israel economically through boycotts, divestments, and sanctions. It becomes part of the machine — a willing financier of destruction dressed up as procurement. Those behind it belong in The Hague.
The Genocide Convention obliges states not only to punish but to prevent genocide. In the Bosnia v. Serbia judgment of 2007, the ICJ held that this duty arises when a state knew or should have known of a serious risk. The ICJ has already determined that Israel’s actions in Gaza constitute such a risk. Britain is therefore under a positive obligation to take measures within its capacity to prevent genocide, that case has been proven, so now we’re being made complicit by the Starmer government. Continuing to provide arms and contracts moves in the opposite direction.
International law also recognises complicity through aid or assistance. Article 16 of the International Law Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility states that a state is responsible if it knowingly assists another in committing an internationally wrongful act, where the assistance significantly contributes to the act. Supplying parts for F-35s used in Gaza, awarding major contracts to Elbit, and silencing domestic protest all contribute materially. The government’s argument that Elbit Systems UK is a separate entity is legally weak, as Israeli arms companies cannot export without state approval. The nexus with the Israeli state is unavoidable.
Thus, Britain is not only failing in its duty to prevent genocide. It is edging perilously close to liability for complicity. In my view we’re past that point. Ministers may protest that these are routine procurement decisions, but international law is clear: knowledge plus contribution equals responsibility. If genocide is eventually confirmed, Britain will not be a bystander. It will be an enabler.
Beyond law and optics lies democracy. The proscription of Palestine Action occurred despite overwhelming opposition within the Labour Party. Seventy per cent of members opposed the move, yet the leadership proceeded regardless, because the membership should know their place. Cultural figures were threatened for pledging support. Protest was criminalised while corporate contracts were advanced. This inversion—citizens punished, corporations rewarded—raises profound questions. Whose voices count in Britain’s defence policy? Not the public, not party members, but the foreign arms companies that profit from war.
This democratic deficit is compounded by secrecy. Defence contracts are negotiated behind closed doors, with limited parliamentary scrutiny. The public is told that security requires such arrangements, yet the outcome is a policy that aligns Britain with genocide while silencing dissent at home. The legitimacy of such governance has to be questioned. A democracy that criminalises protest to protect corporate contracts ceases to act as a democracy in any meaningful sense. Starmer’s government has, in effect, chosen to treat solidarity with Palestinians as criminal while solidarity with Israeli arms dealers is state policy.
Contrast Britain’s path with that of the Netherlands for a minute, because they’ve just chosen a different course. Organisers of the Netherlands Defence and Security Exhibition in Rotterdam have just barred Israeli firms—including Elbit, Rafael, and Israel Aerospace Industries—from participation. The decision was justified on security grounds but clearly reflected the broader context of the Gaza war. The Dutch government has also curtailed military exports, suspended Israel’s access to EU research programmes, and reviewed its bilateral agreements.
This demonstrates that alternatives exist. That there is such a thing as leadership being shown in the face of genocide, it just isn’t happening here. Western states can choose to distance themselves. The Netherlands has taken steps to signal disapproval and reduce complicity. Norway has divested from Israeli companies. Even within the EU, there is a growing recognition that normalising ties while genocide is alleged is untenable. Britain, by contrast, has moved in the opposite direction, deepening its ties and criminalising dissent. This makes it an outlier, not a leader. It suggests a government more determined to protect arms deals than to uphold law. For a country that so often invokes its history as a defender of law and liberty, the hypocrisy is blatant and gut churning.
The consequences of Britain’s choices are grave. Legally, the UK risks being drawn into proceedings at the ICJ or ICC, either for failing to prevent genocide or for aiding and abetting it. Politically, it risks diplomatic isolation as other European states move to disengage. Reputationally, it risks being seen as a nation learning from genocide rather than resisting it. Domestically, it risks alienating its own citizens, criminalising protest, and undermining democratic legitimacy. Strategically, it risks embedding Israeli doctrine in its armed forces, a doctrine condemned worldwide for disregard of civilian life.
These are not hypothetical risks. They are already materialising. Britain’s courts are hearing challenges to arms exports. Civil society is mobilising and thank God for it. Allies are questioning its choices. History will judge harshly those who chose complicity over prevention. Starmer’s rancid government is already reaping what it sows after a year in power, with voter intention for Labour now standing at just 18%, it has never been that low in the party’s history and a year ago, they enjoyed polling of more than 40%. Never has a government become so hated, so quickly save that of the idiot Truss. The haunting question is whether Britain will be remembered as a state that upheld law, or one that paid billions to learn impunity from a company accused of fuelling genocide.
Britain did not accidentally align itself with Israel’s war machine. It did so by design. It silenced dissent by proscribing Palestine Action. It deepened contracts with Elbit Systems even as Gaza burned. It continued to supply F-35 parts while boasting of suspensions. It ignored the ICJ’s orders while claiming adherence to law. And it rewarded corporations while criminalising citizens.
This is not neutrality. It is complicity. The UK is not merely failing to prevent genocide; it is financing, embedding, and legitimising the companies that enable it. In years to come, when historians ask what Britain did during the Gaza genocide, the answer will not flatter. This will come to define Keir Starmer. The UK did not stand aside. It did not protest. It chose to learn from, fund, and protect the very apparatus of destruction. This is complicity by design—and it is a stain on us all that will not easily be washed away.
In light of all of this, the ban on Palestine Action is reflecting even more foully on this foul government and particularly on Yvette Cooper the Home Secretary, who is still defending her stance, despite the judicial review coming and the news that JTAC’s report to her, to advise her on the correct course of action, leaked into the public domain as it has been, completely contradicts her. Should the proscription be lifted, she probably won’t survive the fallout. Get all the details of that oh dear, how sad, never mind story in this video recommendation here as your suggested next watch.
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