A Threshold Has Been Crossed
The withdrawal of Sally Rooney’s novels from circulation in
the United Kingdom marks a decisive and unprecedented moment in the country’s
political life. For the first time in modern British history, anti-terror
legislation has made a major contemporary novelist's entire body of work effectively inaccessible to readers. This is neither a symbolic gesture nor a
dispute between a publisher and an author. It is a concrete expression of a new
political reality: Britain is becoming a state where political dissent,
artistic expression, and even the circulation of fiction are subordinated to
the demands of national security and imperialist war.
Two lines capture the essence of this shift with stark
clarity:
“Faber has announced that it will no longer distribute Sally
Rooney’s books in the UK, as a result of legislation that prevents it from
giving the author earnings from UK sales of her work.”
“A novelist’s royalties, a publisher’s contracts and the
circulation of works of fiction are now subject to the terror laws.”
These sentences are not rhetorical flourishes; they describe
a legal reality created by the Labour government’s proscription of Palestine
Action under the Terrorism Act 2000. Rooney’s stated intention to donate
royalties to the group—a non-violent direct-action organisation that targets
arms manufacturers supplying Israel’s war in Gaza—now puts her publisher at
risk of prosecution. The result is censorship unprecedented in scope and
significance, exposing the authoritarian logic behind British state policy.
The July 2025 proscription of Palestine Action was itself a
watershed. For the first time, a direct-action movement targeting property
rather than people was designated a terrorist organisation. The government
cited damage to two Voyager aircraft at RAF Brize Norton, an action that caused
no casualties. Yet the group was placed in the same legal category as
organisations responsible for mass-casualty bombings. This redefinition of
“terrorism” was no technical adjustment; it was a political manoeuvre—a
deliberate expansion of the state’s coercive powers to include forms of protest
that threaten the interests of the military-industrial complex.
The consequences were immediate and sweeping. Belonging to
or expressing support for Palestine Action became a criminal offence carrying a
maximum sentence of 14 years. Pensioners, clergy, students, and workers were
dragged off by police for holding cardboard signs. On July 30, police arrested
117 people outside Westminster Magistrates’ Court, where more than 2,000 cases
related to supporting the group were due to be heard. Even sections of the
judiciary baulked. In February 2026, the High Court ruled the proscription
unlawful, finding that Palestine Action’s activities did not meet the threshold
to justify a ban. But the government did not retreat. In June, the Court of
Appeal overturned the decision, with five judges declaring the ban “justified
and proportionate” and asserting that assessments of “future risk” were “pre‑eminently”
matters for the executive. In four months, the judiciary moved from scepticism
to full deference, signalling the consolidation of a legal doctrine designed to
insulate the security state from democratic scrutiny.
The Rooney affair must be understood in this context. Her
novels have not been withdrawn because of their content or an editorial
dispute. They have been withdrawn because the state has criminalised the
author’s political convictions. Rooney’s intention to donate royalties to
Palestine Action—a movement opposing British complicity in Israel’s genocide in
Gaza—as an act of solidarity now makes fulfilling her publishing contracts
potentially illegal. Faber’s decision to halt distribution is therefore not commercial prudence but political compliance. The publisher’s
statement that selling an author’s work while being unable to pay her is “an
unconscionable situation” obscures a deeper truth: the state has claimed the
right to regulate cultural production through anti-terror legislation, and the
cultural establishment has accepted that claim without resistance.
This acceptance is itself politically revealing. Where are
the joint statements from the major publishing houses, the Society of Authors,
PEN, and the literary prize committees calling for the ban to be repealed?
Their silence is no oversight; it reflects their integration into the state’s
ideological apparatus. The cultural establishment will not defend democratic
rights because it is structurally incapable of doing so. Its function is to
reproduce the ideological conditions of capitalist rule, not challenge them.
The withdrawal of Rooney’s novels thus points to a broader
transformation. Britain is entering a period in which the ruling class, faced
with capitalism’s deepening crisis and preparing for wider war, is dismantling
democratic rights won through generations of struggle. The criminalisation of
Palestine Action, mass arrests of peaceful protesters, judicial deference to
executive power, and now the censorship of a major novelist all reflect the
same process: a shift toward authoritarian rule. This introduction sets the
stage for examining that process in its historical, political, and class
dimensions. The Rooney case is no anomaly. It warns of what is being prepared—and what must be opposed.
The Legal Mechanism: Terrorism Law as Cultural Regulation
The Labour government justified the proscription of
Palestine Action in July 2025 based on a single incident: an act of direct
action in which activists damaged two Voyager aircraft at RAF Brize Norton. The
action caused no casualties, involved no threat to life, and was explicitly
aimed at disrupting Britain’s logistical support for Israel’s military
operations in Gaza. Yet this incident was seized upon to designate Palestine
Action a terrorist organisation — the first time in British history that a
direct‑action movement targeting property rather than people has been placed in
the same legal category as organisations responsible for mass‑casualty
violence. This unprecedented step marked a qualitative escalation in the
British state’s assault on democratic rights.
The significance of this reclassification cannot be
overstated. It deliberately expands the definition of “terrorism” to include
forms of political protest that challenge the interests of the military‑industrial
complex. In effect, the state has asserted that damage to military property —
even when carried out as part of a non‑violent anti‑war protest — is equivalent
to acts of indiscriminate violence against civilians. This is not a neutral
legal interpretation but a political manoeuvre designed to criminalise dissent
and insulate the machinery of war from public opposition.
The consequences have been sweeping and immediate. Support
for Palestine Action is now punishable by up to 14 years in prison. More than
2,000 cases are pending, many involving individuals arrested for holding
cardboard signs or expressing solidarity on social media. On July 30, police
arrested 117 people outside Westminster Magistrates’ Court, where hearings
related to the proscription were taking place. Pensioners, clergy, students,
and workers have been dragged off by police for acts that, until recently,
would have been protected under the rights to free expression and peaceful
assembly. The scale of repression is unprecedented in modern Britain, and it
reveals the extent to which the state is prepared to deploy anti‑terror
legislation against its own population.
The impact on Sally Rooney underscores the breadth of this
authoritarian turn. Rooney herself has been advised she could face arrest upon
entering the UK, forcing her to accept awards by proxy. Her declared intention
to donate royalties to Palestine Action—an act of political solidarity—now makes fulfilling her publishing contracts potentially illegal. The
withdrawal of her novels from circulation is therefore not an isolated cultural
event but a direct consequence of the proscription’s sweeping scope. It shows
that the terror laws are not confined to policing protest but extend into artistic
expression, cultural production, and the circulation of literature.
The judiciary’s role in legitimising this transformation is
central. In February 2026, the High Court ruled the proscription unlawful,
finding that the nature and scale of Palestine Action’s activities did not meet
the threshold required to justify a ban. This ruling briefly suggested that
judicial oversight might check executive overreach. But the government did not
retreat. In June, the Court of Appeal overturned the decision, with five judges
declaring the ban “justified and proportionate.” Their ruling went far beyond a
simple reversal. It established a doctrine of extreme judicial deference to the
executive, asserting that assessments of “future risk” were “pre‑eminently”
matters for the Home Secretary.
This doctrine represents a profound shift in the
constitutional balance of power. It effectively grants the executive the
authority to criminalise political movements based on speculative assessments
of potential future actions. The judiciary, rather than scrutinising the
government’s claims, has accepted them as matters of specialist expertise
beyond judicial competence. In doing so, it has built a legal architecture suited to authoritarian governance—one in which the executive’s
assertions about national security are treated as unchallengeable.
The implications of this shift are far‑reaching. The Court
of Appeal’s ruling does not merely uphold the proscription of Palestine Action;
it lays the groundwork for future bans on political organisations, protest
movements, and cultural institutions deemed threatening to the state’s strategic
interests. It signals that the judiciary will not act as a barrier to expanding
executive power but will instead facilitate it. This is the legal foundation for
the withdrawal of Rooney’s novels. The state has asserted the right to regulate
cultural production through anti‑terror legislation, and the courts have
affirmed that right.
The proscription of Palestine Action must therefore be
understood as part of a broader transformation of the British state. It is not
an isolated response to a specific protest action but a strategic move within a
wider project: the restructuring of the legal and political order to suppress
dissent, protect the interests of the military‑industrial complex, and prepare
for the social conflicts that will accompany Britain’s deepening involvement in
imperialist war. The criminalisation of Palestine Action, the mass arrests of
peaceful protesters, and the censorship of a major novelist are all expressions
of this project.
The construction of an authoritarian legal order is now well
advanced. The question is not whether the state will continue to expand its
powers but how far it will go — and how the working class will respond.
The Rooney Case: Cultural Production Under State
Supervision
Rooney’s decision to donate royalties to Palestine Action
was an act of political solidarity. Under the new legal regime, it became a
criminal liability. Faber’s withdrawal of her books is therefore not a
commercial decision but a political one — an act of compliance with the state’s
demand that cultural production be subordinated to counter‑insurgency logic.
The publisher’s statement that selling an author’s work
while being unable to pay her is “an unconscionable situation” is revealing. It
frames the withdrawal as a matter of contractual ethics rather than political
coercion. But the choice to comply rather than resist is itself political. The
cultural establishment — publishers, prize committees, PEN, the Society of
Authors — has responded with near‑total silence. This is not an oversight.
These institutions are structurally integrated into the state's ideological
apparatus and cannot be relied on to defend democratic rights.
Rooney’s refusal to recant is admirable, but the article
correctly notes that personal moral courage cannot halt the authoritarian turn.
The issue is systemic, not individual.
Labour’s Role: The Party of State Security
The Labour government justified the proscription of
Palestine Action in July 2025 based on a single incident: an act of direct
action in which activists damaged two Voyager aircraft at RAF Brize Norton. The
action caused no casualties, involved no threat to life, and was explicitly
aimed at disrupting Britain’s logistical support for Israel’s military
operations in Gaza. Yet this incident was seized upon to designate Palestine
Action a terrorist organisation — the first time in British history that a
direct‑action movement targeting property rather than people has been placed in
the same legal category as organisations responsible for mass‑casualty
violence. This unprecedented step marked a qualitative escalation in the
British state’s assault on democratic rights.
The significance of this reclassification cannot be
overstated. It deliberately expands the definition of “terrorism” to include
forms of political protest that challenge the interests of the military‑industrial
complex. In effect, the state has asserted that damage to military property —
even when carried out as part of a non‑violent anti‑war protest — is equivalent
to acts of indiscriminate violence against civilians. This is not a neutral
legal interpretation but a political manoeuvre designed to criminalise dissent
and insulate the machinery of war from public opposition.
The consequences were immediate and sweeping. Support for
Palestine Action is now punishable by up to 14 years in prison. More than 2,000
cases are pending, many involving individuals arrested for holding cardboard
signs or expressing solidarity on social media. On July 30, police arrested 117
people outside Westminster Magistrates’ Court, where hearings related to the
proscription were taking place. Pensioners, clergy, students, and workers have
been dragged off by police for acts that, until recently, would have been
protected under the rights to free expression and peaceful assembly. The scale
of repression is unprecedented in modern Britain and reveals the extent to
which the state is prepared to deploy anti‑terror legislation against its own
population.
The impact on Sally Rooney underscores the breadth of this
authoritarian turn. Rooney has been advised she could face arrest upon entering
the UK, forcing her to accept awards by proxy. Her declared intention to donate
royalties to Palestine Action—an act of political solidarity—now makes fulfilling her publishing contracts potentially illegal. The withdrawal
of her novels from circulation is therefore not an isolated cultural event but
a direct consequence of the proscription’s sweeping scope. It shows that the
terror laws are not confined to policing protest but extend into artistic
expression, cultural production, and the circulation of literature.
The judiciary’s role in legitimising this transformation is
central. In February 2026, the High Court ruled the proscription unlawful,
finding that Palestine Action’s activities did not meet the threshold required
to justify a ban. But the government did not retreat. In June, the Court of
Appeal overturned the decision, declaring the ban “justified and proportionate”
and asserting that assessments of “future risk” were “pre‑eminently” matters
for the Home Secretary. This doctrine of extreme judicial deference represents
a profound shift in the constitutional balance of power. It effectively grants
the executive the authority to criminalise political movements based on
speculative assessments of potential future actions.
The implications are far‑reaching. The Court of Appeal’s
ruling lays the groundwork for future bans on political organisations, protest
movements, and cultural institutions deemed threatening to the state’s
strategic interests. It signals that the judiciary will not act as a barrier to
expanding executive power but will instead facilitate it. The proscription of
Palestine Action must therefore be understood as part of a broader transformation
of the British state: the construction of a legal order designed to suppress
dissent, protect the interests of the military‑industrial complex, and prepare
for the social conflicts accompanying Britain’s deepening involvement in
imperialist war.
A Warning and a Turning Point
The withdrawal of Sally Rooney’s novels is not a cultural
controversy. It is a politically significant event. It demonstrates, with
unmistakable clarity, that the British state is prepared to regulate artistic
expression through anti‑terror legislation, criminalise political solidarity,
and subordinate cultural production to the logic of imperialist war. This is
not the accidental by‑product of an overzealous bureaucracy, nor the
misapplication of a statute designed for other purposes. It is the conscious
deployment of the terror laws as an instrument of political control, aimed at
suppressing dissent and disciplining cultural life in accordance with the
strategic needs of the ruling class.
The Rooney case reveals the true scope of the authoritarian
turn. Counter-terrorism policy has placed a novelist’s royalties, a publisher’s
contracts, and the circulation of fiction under its jurisdiction. The state has
asserted that an author’s political convictions — expressed not through
violence but through the donation of earnings — constitute grounds for
restricting access to her work. This profoundly ruptures the liberal‑democratic
norms that Britain’s political establishment claims to uphold. It signals that
the government, not public debate or artistic autonomy, will henceforth determine the boundaries of permissible expression.
This development must be understood within the broader
context of Britain’s deepening involvement in imperialist conflict. The
proscription of Palestine Action, the mass arrests of peaceful protesters, and
the judicial doctrine of deference to executive power are all components of a
single process: the restructuring of the state to prepare for war abroad and
repression at home. As Britain supplies arms components for the F‑35 programme,
flies surveillance missions over Gaza, and aligns itself ever more tightly with
Washington’s geopolitical agenda, it simultaneously expands the domestic machinery
required to silence opposition to these policies. The censorship of Rooney’s
novels is not an aberration; it is the cultural expression of this militarised
political order.
The cultural establishment's muted response confirms the
crisis's depth. Publishers, prize committees, PEN, and the Society of
Authors have issued no collective defence of artistic freedom. Their silence is
not simply cowardice but reflects their structural position within the state's
ideological apparatus. These institutions are not designed to resist
authoritarianism; they are designed to accommodate it. Their function is to
reproduce the cultural legitimacy of the existing order, not to challenge its
foundations. When confronted with the terror laws, they comply.
The judiciary has likewise demonstrated its willingness to
facilitate the authoritarian turn. The Court of Appeal’s ruling that the
proscription of Palestine Action is “justified and proportionate,” and that
assessments of “future risk” are matters for the executive, represents a
decisive shift in the constitutional balance of power. It effectively grants
the Home Secretary the authority to criminalise political movements on speculative
claims. This doctrine is not a temporary aberration but a durable legal
architecture suited to the needs of a state preparing for intensified social
conflict.
It warns of what is being prepared. The censorship of
Rooney’s novels is a harbinger of future measures aimed at suppressing political
opposition, regulating cultural production, and criminalising solidarity with
movements that challenge Britain’s imperialist role. The question now is
whether the working class will build the political force capable of resisting
this offensive—or whether Britain's authoritarian transformation will
proceed unchecked.
The courts, the cultural establishment, and the
parliamentary parties cannot be entrusted with the defence of democratic rights.
It requires the independent mobilisation of the working class, armed with a
socialist programme that opposes war, rejects the authoritarian state, and
challenges the capitalist system that produces both. Without such a movement,
the repression now directed at Palestine Action and Sally Rooney will expand,
deepen, and harden into a permanent feature of British political life.
Primary Reporting
- Publishers
Weekly: Coverage of Faber’s withdrawal and legal implications.
- Times
& Star: Reporting on Rooney’s statements regarding criminal
liability.
- New
Arab: Analysis of the proscription’s impact on protest movements.
- Leinster
Express: Details on the High Court and Court of Appeal rulings.
- Huck
Magazine: Documentation of mass arrests and police repression.
- Express
& Star: Commentary on cultural institutions’ muted response.
- AP
News: Background on Palestine Action’s designation and political
context.
Secondary Analysis
- World
Socialist Web Site (WSWS):
- “Britain’s
High Court says government acted illegally in outlawing protest group
Palestine Action.”
- “Labour’s
authoritarian turn and the criminalisation of dissent.”
- “The
political significance of the Rooney case.”
Theoretical & Historical Works
- E.P.
Thompson, The Making of the English Working Class.
- Rosa
Luxemburg, The Crisis of German Social Democracy.
- Leon
Trotsky, The Struggle Against Fascism in Germany.
- Stuart
Hall, Policing the Crisis.
