Letter From a British Political Prisoner for Palestine

By T. Hoxha – Nov 17, 2025

Editor’s note: Teuta “T” Hoxha is one of the “Filton 24” prisoners currently being held on remand in British jails facing charges relating to direct action carried out against Israeli arms firm Elbit near Bristol in August 2024. She is currently on her second hunger strike, but this piece was written between her first and second hunger strikes. Palestine Action is currently banned under British “anti-terrror” law.

As a prisoner, you learn three things. First, no one tells you anything. Second, you’re usually the last to find out information pertaining to yourself. And third, requests and complaints are shut down with two words: “security reasons.”

Take the example of my library job, removed without reason on 1 August 2025. I was checking my timetable when I noticed the unemployed marker. At my previous prison, HMP Bronzefield, I was security-cleared to work as a Shannon Trust mentor, a one-to-one role helping other prisoners improve their reading skills. I was working as a peer right until my sudden and immediate transfer to HMP Peterborough. It was not until day eight of my hunger strike that I gained clarity behind the decision.

On Monday the 18th of August, I learned that the Filton 24 were being monitored under JEXU, the Joint Extremism Unit. The library role was deemed inappropriate due to “the views” I hold.

“What views do I hold?” I asked the regional counter-terrorism officer.

“I don’t know your views, but you belong to a proscribed group,” he said.

“I don’t belong to any group, nor do I hold charges of membership. This is retrospective punishment, and I’ve been in prison for nearly a year.” What can the proscription – that happened while I was already in here – have to do with me?

He proceeded to ask me my thoughts on the government’s decision to proscribe Palestine Action. Then, when I declined to answer, he commented that I was very “closed off.”

Hunger strike
On day 26 of my hunger strike – as my ketone levels were hitting 5.0 and my vision was starting to blur – I was finally handed a written statement confirming proscription as the reason I was deemed inappropriate for the library job.

It read: In July 2025, the Home Secretary proscribed PA as a terrorist organization under the Terrorism Act 2000. The offenses you are held on remand for are linked to PA. This impacts roles that are considered appropriate for you. The library job is not considered appropriate for you to hold.

The accusation of belonging to a group was made against me by the operational team on several occasions, and apparently, this was relayed to the general public when they called the prison concerned about my health. It was around this time that I found out my co-defendant had also been removed from the peer role and assigned to toilet cleaning.

Others were refused jobs suited to their welfare needs and principles, for “security reasons.” We were all being punished retrospectively because of the proscription.

I learned that the previous library orderly had a higher security clearance than I do – yet she had murdered both her parents and buried them under the patio.

An officer who was trying to encourage me to end my hunger strike, tried reassuring me by referring to the Iranian embassy hostage incident: “The guy was a prisoner here at HMP Peterborough and eventually he got his needs met.”

Supporting Palestine is not terrorism
My co-defendant has been at HMP Peterborough longer than I have. She is thought of as a kind, gracious and generous person. When I noted this to one officer, his response was that he was sure “there were kind people in ISIS too.” I assured him that there could not be because ISIS blows people up.

When I overheard two officers telling a prisoner that saying “Free Palestine” was terrorism, I submitted a pink complaint to request staff training, a formal complaint under confidential access to the governor or director.

I was told this was not a confidential matter. It became clear that these officers were simply repeating talking points and instructions from above. The officers themselves did not know about Palestine, nor could they answer why supporting Palestine was terrorism. The proscription had the consequence of conflating support for Palestine with holding terrorist and extremist views.

Last month, my co-defendants at Bronzefield had their kuffiyehs removed under the pretext that they were the clothing of a terrorist organization.

In their investigating statement, the prison responded that “the scarf has been withheld because it features branding associated with PAG [Palestine Action Group].” Several scarves were confiscated for allegedly featuring terrorist branding. The patterns on kuffiyehs, as we know, are a celebration of Palestinian identity, comparable perhaps to the functions of the kilt or Guernsey knit. Since the kuffiyeh has no relation to any particular organization, what is being deemed as terrorism is therefore the Palestinian identity.

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“The colors of Palestine”
In the same month, I was accosted by security after my social visit, where they removed and confiscated my striped knitted scarf, which I had made in a prison workshop. “This is the Palestinian flag!” they said. The incident was witnessed by several prisoners.

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, I interpret these to be the colors of Palestine.”

“If I wear a red top and white trousers, will you interpret that as the English flag?”

“Yes.”

The next day, I was sent to adjudication for breaking Prison Rule 51, “having in her possession an unauthorized item, namely a knitted scarf.” I wore a top with the English flag on. I defended myself in the presence of five officers, in what the prison describes as a mini court. I put out the knitting needles and wool I had purchased from the prison, showing them another scarf, this time a white and blue one that I’d learned to knit in a prison workshop.

They produced pictures of my scarf in an evidence bag, stating these were the colors of Palestine.

“But by that logic,” I said, holding up my blue and white scarf, “am I now knitting the Greek flag or the Argentinian flag or maybe the Israeli flag?”

“That’s the wrong shade of blue for the Israeli flag,” I was told.

Punching bags of proscription
“What did these colors mean to you?” they asked. I explained that these were just colors and, unfortunately for them, the Palestinian flag shares its colors with a few other countries. I had listed a few in my statement. Adjudication was dismissed, and I was told by the adjudicator that these were the colors of Palestine and that I was going to be under close supervision. I would not be getting my scarf back.

They must have consulted their legal teams because in the end I did get it back, and the reason for its confiscation was now different to the one stated on the nicking report and by security. A few weeks later, as I was waiting for my social visit, I walked past a mural of flags (including the Israeli flag) painted on a wall in the prison wing next to mine.

This was never about flags.

It was my second adjudication relating to the topic of Palestine. Both have been dismissed.

The strategy the state has used has made us targets inside prison. We are the punching bags of the proscription.

We have been removed from and refused jobs, called terrorists, harassed by guards, had social visits canceled, had our mail blocked, and I had to go on a 28-day hunger strike to get my basic needs met. Our bail applications have been continuously denied, and my male co-defendants are being held in filthy, depressing conditions. But the case of the Filton 24 must be seen as part of the bigger picture.

We might not get told much as prisoners, and we’re often the last to know anything pertaining to ourselves, but what is clear as day is that what is being criminalized is not “extremism,” but the Palestinian identity itself.

What’s been proscribed is any engagement with the Palestinian identity.

The Filton 24 are a test case and a warning to anyone who shows solidarity with Palestine.

T. Hoxha is a political prisoner, former hunger striker and a Palestine solidarity activist.

(The Electronic Intifada)