The following piece was written by Amu Gib, a 30-year-old British activist who has been imprisoned for the last nine months under counterterrorism laws. Amu and four others allegedly broke into a British military airbase in central England with the group Palestine Action in June 2025. They are alleged to have damaged two refueling planes suspected of supporting Israel’s aerial bombardment of Gaza. Almost immediately after the alleged break-in to the military airbase, the British government moved to proscribe Palestine Action.
While in prison, an independent socialist party approached Amu to run as a candidate in this year’s local council elections. On Feb. 23, Amu announced their candidacy for Councillor in the north London borough of Islington, where they grew up. Unless convicted, prisoners can run as candidates in British elections—and even hold office if elected. Amu’s name will be on the ballot in the elections taking place across Britain on May 7.
In the following piece, Amu reflects on running for office from behind bars and the contradictions of their electoral bid as a direct actionist and ex–hunger striker in prison. To date, prison staff have repeatedly barred Amu from receiving mail, seeing visitors, and accessing the internet. We are publishing this rare piece of writing from His Majesty’s Prison (HMP) Bronzefield to fight the isolation and silence of incarceration.
Two years ago, I arrived at the welcome desk of Oxford Action for Palestine’s (OA4P) student encampment. I had no money, no phone battery, no charger, nowhere to sleep, and I hadn’t eaten in a long time. The genocide in Palestine raged on, but it felt as though all of Oxford was carrying on as normal—except for this beautiful stain on the lawn of the Pitt Rivers Museum (which is stocked with colonial artifacts up the wazoo).
Immediately upon arriving at the encampment, my physical needs were met, and soon I was sitting in a loose circle under an open sky, listening to a Gazan student tell us of his city even as he swallowed the depth of a loss he knew we were incapable of fathoming. The ongoing Israeli genocide of Palestinians is a reckoning for all humanity.
Encampments and occupations do not un-bomb hospitals. Neither do electoral campaigns, yet I’m now part of one. I grew up in Finsbury Park, London. It’s where I learned about the world and about the occupation of Palestine, where I made my first memories, and where I’m running for local council. I’m doing this because I believe that all politics is local, from boycotting Israeli apartheid to fixing potholes; from stopping BAE Systems giving coloring books of F-35 fighter jets to primary schools—to shortening GP wait times. Movements need to contest every space; no singular space is a solution to combating genocide, but our combined methods and efforts can yield outcomes. Reclaiming spaces—from the patch of grass outside police stations to running for local government—is both an act of hope and desperation. You have to start somewhere because it’s never enough to just stay where you are. You have to stand and fight and keep moving toward the horizon of abolition.
Behind bars, I feel a responsibility to keep pushing for the liberation of Palestine, and I will always continue looking for ways to do so. Direct action is one way, the hunger strike1 was another, and this electoral campaign is what I’m doing now. Electoral politics is not the best option for me, nor my favorite. I’m not leaving direct action behind; I’m recruiting for it.
