Head of IHRC Advocacy, Abed Choudhury, takes the current narratives around the case to deproscribe Hamas, as a starting point to unravel the crisis of law and democracy faced if we give credence to the voices currently holding public sway.

The crisis around deproscription is twofold: First, the UK’s proscription regime itself is a blunt instrument—applied with political discretion, minimal accountability, and deeply inconsistent logic. Second, those who dare to challenge this regime, particularly lawyers, are increasingly vilified, undermining the rule of law and democratic debate.

The political nature of proscription is best illustrated by the case of Hizb ut-Tahrir (HT), which exposes the contradictions at the heart of this system. HT has been banned in the UK since January 2024, labelled a terrorist organisation. Yet the UK’s own Country Policy and Information Note: Muslims, Russia (November 2022, updated 12 August 2024) tells a very different story about the group and how it is treated abroad. It is worth underscoring: this is not a historical document. It is current UK government policy.

The report quotes Human Rights Watch describing HT as “a pan-Islamist movement that seeks to establish a caliphate but denounces violence to achieve that goal.” Even more pointedly, it cites the SOVA Center:

“We believe that there were no sufficient grounds for banning Hizb ut Tahrir as a terrorist organization, since this party was never implicated in terrorist attacks… the fact that Hizb ut Tahrir preaches the idea of establishing a worldwide Islamic caliphate does not, in and of itself, provide sufficient grounds for charging its followers with planning a violent seizure of power in Russia.”

It continues:

“We consider it incorrect to characterize the dissemination of the Hizb ut Tahrir ideology as propaganda or justification for terrorist activities unless these materials contained incitement to violence.”

The UK government goes further by quoting the U.S. Department of State:

“Authorities misused antiterrorism and antiextremism laws… Among those designated without any credible evidence of violent actions or intentions were… Hizb ut-Tahrir.”

And from Memorial, the Russian human rights organisation:

“Memorial’s list of political prisoners included 206 persons… accused of involvement with the banned Hizb ut-Tahrir, an organization that Memorial characterized as a ‘nonviolent international Islamic organization’… none of the political prisoners… called for violence or planned violent acts.”

In Russia, prosecuting HT members is framed as persecution—an authoritarian abuse of anti-terror laws. In the UK, mere membership of HT is a criminal offence. So what happens if a Russian HT member flees that persecution and seeks asylum here? The UK may grant them protection—only to imprison them under its own proscription laws. This is not justice. It is newspeak and doublethink of the kind Orwell talked about.

In Orwell’s dystopia, truth was rewritten daily—you believed whatever the Party told you to believe, even if it contradicted what you believed yesterday. But doublethink goes further: it demands that you hold both beliefs at once. This is precisely what we see now. Immigration courts may recognise non-violent HT members as victims of persecution in Russia, while criminal courts prosecute them as national security threats.

As the UK government itself acknowledges in the country policy:

“Persons who are known (or perceived) by the authorities to be associated with… Hizb ut-Tahrir… are likely to face treatment which… amounts to persecution.”

This contradiction isn’t just academic. It speaks to how political power is exercised under the guise of security. The proscription regime has become a tool of ideological policing—not public protection. No Home Secretary should be allowed to criminalise entire belief systems with the stroke of a pen, especially while the government itself recognises those same beliefs as non-violent and unjustly persecuted elsewhere.

This contradiction between law and politics doesn’t only affect those targeted by proscription—it also threatens those who work to challenge it. Fahad Ansari, a solicitor who submitted a legal application to deproscribe Hamas, rightly defends the essential role of lawyers in representing clients subject to the UK’s proscription regime. The backlash faced by Ansari, exemplifies how efforts to challenge proscription are met with personal attacks rather than reasoned debate. Ansari has been reported to counter-terrorism police on multiple occasions and faces calls for disbarment from political figures, including Shadow Justice Secretary Robert Jenrick, who accused him of supporting terrorism. This climate of hostility not only endangers individual lawyers but also undermines the essential role of legal professionals in holding state power to account without fear of reprisal.

The right to question proscription itself must be preserved as a fundamental democratic freedom. Calling for the deproscription of an organisation is a lawful and protected form of political expression in the United Kingdom. Such advocacy is not unusual and has been exercised in public forums, including in Parliament, involving MPs and peers from across the political spectrum.

For example, Lord Hylton, publicly advocated for the deproscription of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK)—a group also designated as a terrorist organisation in the UK. He praised Abdullah Öcalan as “the key for peace in the Middle East” and posed formal parliamentary questions about the de-listing of Hamas. Lord Judd likewise reminded Parliament that meaningful peace processes—such as in Northern Ireland—only began when space was made for dialogue with political wings of armed movements – this was within the context of discussing Hamas. Lord Alton advocated for the delisting of the Mujahideen-e-Khalq (MKO), despite its controversial history. Their statements, while sometimes provocative, were accepted as part of legitimate, democratic political discourse.

To suggest that such advocacy by lawyers—particularly when made in the course of representing their clients—is inherently reputationally damaging or morally suspect would be chilling to the rule of law itself. Lawyers are not politicians; they do not endorse their clients’ views, but work to test the boundaries of legality and ensure that even the most contentious laws are subject to scrutiny.

These concerns are not abstract—they are grounded in international law. The UN’s Basic Principles on the Role of Lawyers are especially relevant in light of recent political rhetoric and attacks on immigration and so-called “lefty” lawyers.

Principle 16 affirms that governments have a duty to ensure that lawyers:

(a) can perform their professional functions without intimidation, hindrance, harassment, or improper interference;

(b) are free to consult with clients within and outside the country; and

(c) are not threatened with sanctions for actions taken in accordance with professional duties and ethics.

Principle 17 makes clear that when the security of lawyers is threatened due to their professional duties, authorities have a duty to safeguard them.

Principle 18 emphasizes that lawyers must not be identified with their clients or their clients’ causes merely for discharging their functions.

These principles are not optional—they are integral to upholding the rule of law in any democratic society.

Undermining that role risks suppressing legitimate legal argument and weakens public debate on urgent issues of international law, conflict, and human rights—especially for those affected by proscription and political persecution.

And that is precisely why the right of lawyers to challenge proscription must not be seen as a side issue—it is the issue. This is not about the lawfulness or appropriateness of proscription itself, but about the fundamental duty of lawyers to scrutinise and contest state power. To obstruct or vilify that role is not only to undermine legal advocacy, but to compromise the very foundations of justice. It is a dangerous precedent when the act of questioning government decisions—however controversial—is treated as reputationally damaging or politically suspect. A state that punishes lawyers for challenging its definitions of ‘terrorism’ is not defending the rule of law—it is dismantling it.

Lawyers are not extensions of their clients. They are guardians of the legal process, and that process must remain open to challenge, argument, and dissent. If we allow proscription to become immune from legal critique, we do not just fail those targeted by its reach—we fail democracy itself.

This is not just about HT or any one group. It is about protecting the line between law and power—between security and authoritarianism.

The danger lies not only in the government’s ability to criminalise entire belief systems with sweeping discretion, but also in the growing hostility toward those who challenge that power, particularly lawyers. When proscription can be applied without transparency, and those who challenge it are treated as suspect themselves, the result is a chilling effect on legal advocacy and public debate. If we allow this, we risk a future where “terrorist” simply means “someone the government dislikes today,” and where questioning that label becomes a dangerous act in itself.

Abed Choudhury heads IHRC Advocacy, where he focuses on challenging discrimination, political repression, and human rights abuses through strategic advocacy. With over a decade of experience, he has supported marginalised communities and made submissions to international bodies including the UN and the International Criminal Court. He is also a Director at IHRC Legal and can be found on LinkedIn @AbedChoudhury.

Photo (c) Sara Russell and IHRC