There is a long history of political prisoners using hunger strikes to resist the British state. Over the last month, the tactic has been taken up by eight Palestine solidarity activists, some who have been imprisoned for their alleged involvement in a direct action at RAF Brize Norton and others – members of the “Filton 24” – for their alleged involvement in a direct action against Elbit Systems, Israel’s largest weapons manufacturer. Their names are Amu Gib, Jon Cink, Teuta Hoxha, Heba Muraisi, Qesser Zuhrah, Kamran Ahmed, Lewie Chiaramello and Muhammad Umer Khalid.
Some of the group have now been held on remand for over a year without having been convicted of any crime, an unusually lengthy pre-trial detention which leading human rights group Amnesty International and several UN experts have described as a misuse of counter-terrorism laws. “These activists and their families were subjected to violent dawn raids by counter-terrorism police, and though they haven’t been charged with terrorism offences, are being treated as terrorist prisoners and mistreated by the authorities,” Naila Ahmed, Head of Campaigns at CAGE International, tells Dazed.
During their time in prison, they have reported experiencing “systematic abuse”, including being held in solitary confinement, denied books, letters and phone calls, and a range of Islamophobic incidents, including Qesser Zuhrah being ordered to remove her keffiyeh hijab. The hunger strikers are demanding not only an end to these alleged conditions but release on bail, the overturning of the ban on Palestine Action and the closure of Elbit Systems’ sites in Britain.
Their situation is growing more urgent with each passing day. A doctor supporting the families of the hunger strikers has described himself as “extremely concerned”, warned that there is a “very, very high risk of death” and alleged that the strikers are receiving inadequate medical care within prison. Five of them have already been hospitalised. There has been an outpouring of international solidarity – including from high-profile figures like Sally Rooney and Democrat Rashida Tlaib, who called on the UK government to meet their “basic, moral demands” – and a series of protests across the UK, but the reaction from the British establishment has been muted. There has been little coverage by the BBC and other mainstream media outlets. Confronted by activists earlier this week, Justice Secretary and Deputy Prime Minister David Lammy claimed, “I don’t know anything about this”.
A Ministry of Justice spokesperson declined to comment on the allegations of abuse, citing the fact that the prisons in question are independently run, but said the Deputy Prime Minister was being kept informed of the situation and that prisoners’ wellbeing is “continually” assessed, including hospitalisation where deemed necessary by medical professionals. The Ministry of Justice, Sodexo and UCL were all contacted for comment on the allegations raised in this interview.
We spoke with 20-year-old Qesser, who has now been on hunger strike for over a month. Her condition is rapidly deteriorating. Because Qesser is not permitted to speak to the press, interviewing her involved submitting questions to a friend, who relayed them during a visit, transcribed her answers and sent them back. Below, she discusses why she has decided to go on hunger strike, the conditions she has experienced while in prison and her unwavering commitment to the freedom of Palestine.
Over a month into a hunger strike, how are you holding up?
Qesser Zuhrah: I have watched and felt my body get weaker and smaller, which no amount of planning or knowing in advance can actually prepare you for. It’s scary. I have struggled quite a lot with the cold and fatigue and muscle pains, and the only way I have been able to endure and persevere through this is not just by remembering why we are doing this, but also by remembering how much the Palestinians have endured. My mind takes me to Gaza, where I ground myself by reminding myself that there is a pain and suffering that I will never have to know, because the Palestinian people have been the front line in the struggle for our collective humanity for so long. This thought really humbles me and keeps me going, and all the suffering we have endured as prisoners and as hunger strikers has only further connected us to the Palestinian cause by giving us the smallest of glimpses into their pains. So while my body is getting weaker, my will and commitment are only becoming more determined.
While my body is getting weaker, my will and commitment are only becoming more determined
Why did you decide to go on hunger strike?
Qesser Zuhrah: As an imprisoned direct actionist, the most suffocating thing is to see injustice and not be able to act to stop it. Over the last 15 months, we have experienced and witnessed such levels of violence inside this prison system, all the while the genocide in Gaza rages on. This suffocation encompassed us. Every form of vehicle for ‘justice’ was continuing to fail Palestine and to fail us. And so we were left with no choice but to oppose our dehumanisation and reassert our rights and the rights of the Palestinian people with the battle of empty stomachs, as our Palestinian friends call it.
With the hunger strike, we are forcing the state to look us in our eyes and recognise the life within us that we have been denied, the same entities that deny the Palestinian people their right to life. The prison system has worked really hard to mistreat us to further the state’s assault on the Palestinian cause and to try to convince us that we have no more power or agency. The hypocrisy of the justice system has finally made us realise, in the words of Manar from Gaza, that freedom is not given but seized through determination. So here we are, taking direct action to seize our freedom from inside these prisons, reminding the state and our movement that resistance does not die in prison.
[A spokesperson for Sodexo, the private company which runs Bronzefield prison, said it could not comment on individual cases but stated that prisoners refusing food receive regular medical assessments and support, are managed in line with UK-wide prison policies, and are encouraged to raise any complaints through internal prison channels.]
What do you miss about your life before you were arrested?
Qesser Zuhrah: I was 19 when I was imprisoned, and I will turn 21 in a month. I was a university student at UCL who, since my arrest, has decided to aid the authoritarian state in this offensive by suspending me, now for a third time, because of my activism for Palestine. [Asked about this claim, a UCL spokesperson said: “We do not comment on individual cases, which are treated confidentially and handled in line with our academic regulations.”]
After the genocide began, there was no more regular life because I, like millions of other human beings, became completely disillusioned and committed to justice, and so what I miss is organising on campus with new and old students for our collective future. What I miss is the hope that being so embedded in the global struggle for justice gave me. Now all I see is the seemingly unending rotation of prisoners, which often leaves me feeling so far from the hope I was encompassed by. But this is a unique struggle of the imprisoned freedom fighter, to battle this hopelessness every day and remember how the struggle marches on outside these concrete walls.
Our imprisonment has inevitably displaced us from the societies we used to be so embedded in, not just through the loss of my educational path and hope, but also in our relationships. I am a big sister to four little brothers, one of whom is in prison alongside me. My little brother Salaam had just turned 19 when counter-terrorism kidnapped him from his bed in the darkness, just as they had done to me eight months prior. Now in the UK’s maximum security men’s prison, Belmarsh, they are holding a boy, my little brother, in one of their cages. Now I am a big sister to a little brother whom I cannot speak to, nor see, nor protect as my duties require. This is the emptiness in my stomach, not the lack of food, but a pit that has swallowed my heart and can never be filled by food, only freedom: his and mine together.
The only way that I can look Hind or every other Palestinian in the eye is by taking direct action. It is the only tangible means of preventing the immediate and ongoing harm in Gaza
Have you thought about what you’d like to do when you get out of prison?
Qesser Zuhrah: I don’t think I’m giving much thought to my future right now. I haven’t really been able to since the genocide began. and even less so since my imprisonment. It’s not that life has stopped, but in the face of such encompassing and immediate harm, it’s really hard to look forward to anything but the end of that harm. All I want is the genocide to end. All I want is to see Palestine decolonised. All I want is to endure each day of this hunger strike until our demands are met by the British state.
It’s hard to want anything more than calm during the storm, and the more I struggle, the more I realise that this storm has been the enduring human condition for far too long, and the calm has been the only human goal. All I want is to go home. From Palestine to Bronzefield, to indigenous America, the future we look forward to is home with our loved ones. It’s really that simple. Unfortunately, I can’t subdue the cries of the Palestinian people and the screams of my fellow prisoners and the heaviness of my own breath, to sleep soundly enough to dream properly. But I hear this dream in our screams.
Why is the Palestinian cause so important to you?
Qesser Zuhrah: Firstly, it returned my faith to me, something for which there is no measure of gratitude. Secondly, because it is truly so encompassing. It has raised a level of humanity, of love and care, like no other. The deepest of love, born from the deepest of pain. I think especially here of Palestinian men, and the depths of human emotion they reside in and operate from, of love and care and sacrifice. As they tell the children they dig out from the rubble with their bare hands and starving bodies, ‘inti zay il amar’ – you are like the moon – to comfort them. We here in the sheltered world can only admire and honour them for this.
Why do you believe in direct action?
Qesser Zuhrah: Palestine demands more from us than just our support and solidarity, our artwork and national marches. It demands our resistance. On the international day of solidarity with the Palestinian people this year, Palestinian journalist Hind Khoudary raised a very important question: the Palestinian people are aware of the global support, but what impact is it having on the reality on the ground in Gaza? What impact is our solidarity having except soothing our own guilty conscience or keeping us comfortable? And the only way that I can look Hind or every other Palestinian in the eye is by taking direct action. It is the only tangible means of preventing the immediate and ongoing harm in Gaza.
