On a Saturday last August, I spent the morning admiring the pelicans in London’s St James’s Park, then sharpied a solicitor’s number on my inner arm and committed a terrorist offence – or so the government thought. I did nothing violent: I only sat in a public park, holding a piece of cardboard scrawled with the phrase ‘I support Palestine Action’. 

A staggering £10 million was spent policing actions like this last summer, with veterans, doctors, and vicars among those risking arrest to support the group, which was controversially proscribed as a terrorist organisation in July. As Palestine Action only damages property (namely that of Elbit Systems, the largest manufacturer of weapons for Israel), the proscription sparked outrage from Amnesty International and the UN, with the latter declaring it a misuse of terrorism legislation, and “at odds with the UK’s obligations under international human rights law”. 

Now, six months, over 2,700 arrests, and one heavily contested trial later, the High Court has agreed that the ban on Palestine Action contravenes the Human Rights Act and must be lifted. While this result has come as a relief to many, those of us arrested for holding placards are still facing an uncertain future. As the government plans to appeal the court’s decision, the original ban and charges are being kept in place through the remaining legal process.

Raj Chada, a criminal defence lawyer who has previously represented Greta Thunberg, among other activists, tells me that this could take a while. “[The case] will go to the Court of Appeal first, which will take a couple of months. Then it could go to the Supreme Court, which will take until the end of the year, and if they decide in favour of the government, it will go to the European Court of Human Rights, which will take two or three years at least”, he says. Throughout all this, thousands of people are set to be stuck in legal limbo, unsure when – or if – they will go to court. While they wait, some are already paying a price.

37-year-old Sinéad, from Limerick, says that since her arrest, she has been “looked at like a proper criminal” in her community. Having travelled to London to attend one of the protests last August, she now fears being extradited back to the UK to stand trial, something she‘d respond to with a hunger strike. “I feel it’s important to show the UK government that if they do try to imprison us, we won’t be taking no for an answer”, she says. “I doubt I’ll be imprisoned. I’d say it’ll be community service, a fine, and a slap on the wrist – but we don’t know because everything is up in the air. Because many activists have been arrested over a short period of time and the courts are so weighed down by it, it’s very difficult to know what they’ll try to do”.

This sense of uncertainty is weighing on a lot of people. “It’s hard to plan, as you don’t know if or when you’ll need to go to court”, says Saffy, 44, from North West England. She has faced considerable stress since her arrest, particularly in hiding her legal situation from her mother, who has dementia and for whom she is a carer. “I have to make sure I get to the post first in case there’s an envelope from the police”, she tells me, adding that “the only time I cried was in custody, when they asked me about any caring responsibilities, and I had to explain about my mum”. 

Others have been penalised more directly. Following her arrest, 78-year-old Sue, from Essex, was suspended from the volunteer role she’d worked in for seven years. Although the charity’s CEO had initially agreed she could continue working for them, Sue later received a phone call telling her this would not be the case as the organisation feared losing government funding if she was kept on. “It’s been my passion and structure, and now I feel I’m a leper. I even asked if I could work out in the back kitchen washing up – but no”, she says. “It’s bad enough for me being denied the opportunity to return to volunteering, but for those who have lost jobs, it’s much more worrying”. 

I believe this action has been the most detrimental to my career, but I don’t care, it doesn’t faze me at all

That was the case for 54-year-old Caeryn, from Wigan, who was sacked from her role as a senior manager following her arrest last year, with, in her words, “no suspension, no hearing, no warning, no appeal”. Her new employer is more understanding, but the job’s considerably lower pay has been tough on her as a single parent and sole breadwinner for her family. She says they now have “quite a restrictive life, so no luxuries. We can afford to eat, but no extras”. 

Although Imogen, who is 30 and lives near Hastings, hasn’t lost her job, the stress and recurring nightmares she suffers over her arrest recently led to her being booked off on health grounds. Having previously considered becoming a teacher, she now doesn’t see herself applying for training in the foreseeable future. “I probably wouldn’t pass an enhanced DBS check”, she says. “In the context of a teaching shortage, I think I have a lot to offer – I have degrees from Bristol and Oxford – so it seems so silly that I’m deemed a terror threat for taking a principled stance. Being in legal limbo feels like punishment by process”.

To prevent this ‘punishment by process’, Chada suggests it would be “sensible” for the Crown Prosecution Service to dismiss these charges until the appeal process has concluded. Of course, any time and public money spent prosecuting sign-holders now would be wasted if the government’s appeal is rejected, which is what he foresees happening. “I do not think that they will win. In a competitive field of disastrous decisions by the government, the decision to appeal has to rank up there as one of the worst”, he tells me, noting the absurdity that “the most common terrorist in 2026 in the UK is a pensioner holding a placard”. 

Despite the legal consequences, participating in the protest has changed Sinéad’s life for the better. “I’d been so numb to the world, and it’s the first time in my life where I actually feel like I’m human”, she says. “I believe this action has been the most detrimental to my career, but I don’t care; it doesn’t faze me at all. In any other action I’ve done, I never felt it had any impact. This particular action, it just felt like I was making a dent”. Elbit Systems certainly felt that dent in January, when the government abandoned its previous plans to award them a £2 billion contract, something many attribute to the pressure applied by Palestine Action. “That was a huge win for us, and it was way more of a win than this judicial review”, Sinéad says. “I feel so proud of what we’ve done, all of us. The UK government stopping that deal with Elbit – there’s our victory, our real victory”.