This week, in Westminster Magistrates’ Court, two fellow civil society leaders — Ben Jamal and Chris Nineham — were convicted for actions they took as part of a peaceful protest. Their conviction marks a chilling moment for democratic rights in the United Kingdom, sending a stark and ominous message about the shrinking space for dissent.
Jamal and Nineham, were convicted for failing to comply with conditions that had been imposed on a peaceful protest and, in Jamal’s case, inciting others to do so. The incident involved Jamal and Nineham attempting to take a small group to lay flowers in memory of Palestinians in Gaza to the BBC , which was beyond the police line, and if permission was refused, at the feet of police officers. They were sentenced to 18 and 12 months conditional discharge respectively. They are each required to pay £7500 in prosecution costs.
That such an act has led to criminal conviction, hefty fees, and lengthy conditional discharge periods should alarm anyone who believes in our basic democratic human right to protest.
Jamal is chief executive of the Palestine Solidarity Campaign (PSC), and Nineham is vice-chair of the Stop the War Coalition. They have been involved in organising mass, mostly peaceful protests of thousands of people in the UK against Israel’s atrocities over the last two years. Their conviction raises a troubling question: what does this mean for civil society in a country that is increasingly treating protest and dissent as crimes?
In the recent Human Rights Watch report Silencing the Streets, we highlighted Jamal and Nineham’s case as emblematic of the sweeping powers police now possess to strangle peaceful protest. Police justified banning the original march route on the grounds that it might cause “serious disruption” but provided no coherent criteria for what constitutes serious disruption and ignored offers to alter the route or timing to address their concerns.
The court emphasised that protest rights, while fundamental, are not absolute. But in balancing competing rights, the state has a positive obligation not just to prevent disruption, but to facilitate peaceful protest. That balance appears to have been discarded in this case. In recent years, the UK has significantly expanded police powers to restrict protest, and our current government is accelerating that effort. While officials have presented it as a response to public order and safety concerns, legislation currently making its way through Parliament would further extend police discretion over protests — including the criteria for curtailing the right to assembly, the conditions that can be imposed, and how broad and vague those conditions can be.
The danger goes beyond any single protest. It is a reshaping of a culture – one in which protest and dissent may become hesitant, more conditional, and ultimately more easily deterred.
The recent judgment will not end with Ben Jamal and Chris Nineham. Such prosecutions can deter protest. Jamal and Nineham’s lawyer told the court that their organisations would be unable to pay the prosecution’s costs and would have to crowdfund for any such orders imposed. One is left to wonder whether that chilling effect is not incidental, but the point.
This would be troubling at any time, but it is particularly so now, given the context in which these protests are taking place, and the contrasting approach of the government to suppressing protest with its failure to uphold international law.
Jamal and Nineham have been convicted of a criminal offence after peacefully protesting against a catalogue of crimes that Israel has committed in Gaza and the West Bank. This contrasts with the few meaningful steps the UK government has taken to hold Israel accountable under international law. Limited measures—such as the suspension of some arms export licences and targeted sanctions— are woefully inadequate alongside the continued supply of components for F-35 fighter jets, ongoing trade with illegal Israeli settlements, and failure to take other meaningful steps to implement the July 2024 International Court of Justice (ICJ) advisory opinion on the legal consequences of Israel’s policies and practices in the OPT.
The contradiction is stark. Protesters calling attention to atrocities face jail time; the state that is committing these crimes receives little more than toothless statements of condemnation. Beyond atrocities in Gaza, the Israeli government is pushing ahead with a vast settlement project in the heart of the West Bank, long considered a “red line” by the international community because it would sever the northern part of the West Bank from the southern part.
Discussing the plan in March, Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich boasted it would “in practical terms nullify the cursed Oslo Accords…while encouraging [Palestinian] emigration from both Gaza and Judea and Samaria [the West Bank]”.
In this context, restricting protest does not merely raise domestic human rights concerns; it risks weakening scrutiny of serious violations of international law and shielding UK officials from democratic accountability for failing to address atrocities.
It is not only the freedom of Jamal and Nineham that is at stake but the very direction of this country. When peaceful protest is constrained, it is not just campaigners or activists who suffer—it is the health of democracy itself. It is not too late for Keir Starmer’s government to change direction and take a stand for human rights, democracy, and international law. That would mean both abandoning the criminalisation of peaceful protests and pursuing justice abroad. The government should be responding to peaceful protests about international crimes by finding ways to hold Israel to account and to end all risks of complicity in atrocities. Locking up peaceful protesters and civil society leaders is never the answer. It undermines British values, British democracy, and is a weapon of tyranny. It doesn’t belong here. Yasmine Ahmed is UK director of Human Rights Watch. Have questions or comments? Email us at: editorial-english@newarab.com Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.