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Amu Gib is one of several prisoners on hunger strike who are awaiting trial for alleged offences relating to Palestine Action. Gib is being being held at HMP Bronzefield. Their charges relate to an alleged break-in at RAF Brize Norton this year. This article is based on interviews with Ainle Ó Cairealláin, host of the Rebel Matters podcast, and the writer and researcher ES Wight on days 18 and 33 of the strike.
We began our hunger strike on 2 November: the anniversary of the Balfour declaration, when Britain planted the seeds of the genocide that we are witnessing today.
Palestinians are now facing another winter without any of the things that anyone needs to survive. To reach the point we have, where Israel can weaponise starvation, you have to confront who enables that. Who arms them? Who allows Zionist settlers to steal and occupy Palestinian land? Who allows Israel to target farmers and people harvesting their olives?
I first learned about Palestine in sixth form – not from the teachers, but from other students, young Muslim women. I didn’t understand the historical context back then, but the bombing of civilian populations was so obviously wrong. Then seeing the routine nature of it, the same thing happening from one year to the next, was just so stark. This will keep going unless people put a stop to it. And the more I learned about Britain’s role in enabling these atrocities, the more I was unable to deal with simply doing nothing.
Our demands are simple. One: shut down the weapons factories that are supplying arms to Israel. Two: deproscribe Palestine Action. Palestine Action is a direct action protest group and should never have been labelled a terrorist organisation. Three: end the mistreatment of prisoners in custody. Four: set immediate bail. There are people whose parents are really ill or dying, people who have missed major life events. And five: provide a fair trial, including the unredacted release of the correspondence about activists between British and Israeli officials and arms dealers.
What prompted our hunger strike was partly the understanding that while we’re in here, the prison authorities can do whatever they want. They give us bogus non-association orders so we can’t spend time with each other; they move our lives around at will; they mess with our visits and gym slots, and censor our post. I was barred from the crafts group because they said I was a security threat after I embroidered “Free Palestine” on a cushion – ironically, that was on the day the UK recognised the state of Palestine.
While on a material level it doesn’t always look like we’re “winning”, the habit of resistance – as opposed to the habit of compliance – is something we instil in each other through trust, care and solidarity. And it’s that habit which reminds us that we always have choices, we always have our imaginations. This keeps us alive. There is no rhyme or reason to our imprisonment. But when you decide to take action despite being in prison, you’re free.
There’s also the ongoing responsibility to the liberation of Palestine that landed us here – and that we are all still committed to. So our hunger strike is a way of declaring that the state can’t stop you even when it has you in prison, that we are not going to give up the focus and the responsibility to people, whatever conditions we’re in.
Physically I have lost 11kg now and am moving in slow motion. My blood sugar is really low and my ketones – which is the way you measure the amount of toxins that your body produces by eating itself, burning through fat and muscle instead of calories – are really high. Two fellow hunger strikers have been hospitalised already. The response from other prisoners has been incredible. Everyone’s checking in on me, making sure I have hot water, coming to socialise in my cell, lending me clothes to keep warm. This is despite one of the screws telling the other prisoners that they would get negative behaviour points if they help us.
So the hunger strike has sharpened the reality of prison: the shouting and screaming from the screws, and the arbitrariness of the rules they enforce. But in another way the hunger strike also makes the prison fade into irrelevance. We’re focused on the world beyond these walls, and it seems much more real. We’re fuelled by every act of resistance we hear about. The prison demands that we be alive on their terms – but now it’s on our terms, and we have the power that they hold over us in our hands, in our bodies and in our empty stomachs. I wish I could convey how much energy resistance brings you.
We have the power, agency, responsibility, creativity, resourcefulness and love it takes to be fuelled and moved to action not just once, but every minute of every day – now 46 days for some of us. It doesn’t ever feel like what we’re doing is enough, but in another way it feels like the best thing in the world.
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An HMP Bronzefield spokesperson said: “We cannot provide information about specific individuals; however, we can confirm that all prisoners are managed in line with the policies and procedures governing the entire UK prison estate. This includes specialist multi-agency processes, led by the government, to assess individual risks and security status. However, if any prisoner has specific complaints, we encourage them to raise them directly with the prison, as there are numerous channels available for addressing such concerns.”
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Amu Gib is an activist currently being held at HMP Bronzefield
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