In 2008, under the UK’s Labour government, Israeli politician Moshe Feiglin – a Likud central committee member – was denied entry into Britain. Then home secretary Jacqui Smith cited public safety concerns, quoting Feiglin’s provocative articles and speeches as justification. There was no court appeal available to him, no diplomatic immunity by virtue of his office; he was simply barred, his presence deemed not ‘conducive to the public good’. Few, if any, in the British political establishment rushed to his defence.
Fast forward to today, and the diplomatic chaos caused over the weekend by two Labour MPs, Yuan Yang and Abtisam Mohamed, being denied entry into Israel. The reason: Israeli authorities accused them of intending to ‘document Israeli security forces and spread anti-Israel hatred’, during a time of existential war, when Israel faces attacks across multiple fronts and relentless scrutiny and criticism abroad. Yuan and Mohamed say they had travelled to ‘visit humanitarian aid projects and communities in the West Bank’ with ‘UK charity partners who have over a decade of experience in taking parliamentary delegations’.Unsurprisingly, the incident has ignited a storm in Westminster. Yet the moral clarity seems less consistent.
In a time of war, Israel’s caution may be more prudent than paranoid
Nuance is vital here. Sovereign states have the fundamental right – and often, the necessity – to regulate who enters their borders. The UK exercised this right against Feiglin, just as it did against Dutch politician Geert Wilders in 2009, when he was initially barred over fears his presence could disrupt public order due to his controversial film Fitna. Wilders successfully appealed that ban – a point worth noting, as Israel, too, offered Yang and Mohamed the right to petition an Israeli court to reconsider. Moreover, Israel offered hotel accommodation during the process, a courtesy not extended to Feiglin.
Still, even when lawful, the decision to exclude elected officials from allied democracies is inherently controversial. Parliamentarians should have the freedom to speak and challenge, even to criticise allies. Israel, a vibrant democracy itself, surely understands this instinctively. Criticism – even harsh criticism – is not by default betrayal. In fact, the right to raise uncomfortable truths is one of the hallmarks of democratic health. MPs have not only a right but also a responsibility to voice their convictions, however uncomfortable.
Yet the situation Israel faces today is extraordinary. Since the horrors of 7 October 2023, the war against Hamas has not merely been fought on the battlefield; it has been waged in headlines, diplomatic corridors, and parliamentary debates. Public opinion, especially in Western capitals, has become an active theatre of conflict. And nowhere more so than within the UK’s Labour party, where hostility toward Israel often crosses the line from critique into distortion. Its former leader, Jeremy Corbyn, once stated that members of the terrorist groups Hamas and Hezbollah were his ‘friends’ and yet our current Prime Minister campaigned enthusiastically for him to lead the country.
Indeed, it is Labour’s own leadership that has threatened to arrest Israel’s Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, were he to step foot in Britain – where other countries have said they would ignore the politicised arrest warrant issued by the International Criminal Court. Many Labour MPs have gone further, accusing Israel of war crimes and genocide without acknowledging the brutal context of Hamas’s terrorism, hostage-taking, and deliberate use of civilians as human shields. In this atmosphere, Israel’s suspicion that Yang and Mohamed’s visit was less about observation and more about political provocation cannot be casually dismissed.
The Israeli government also claims that there was no verifiable evidence that Yang and Mohamed’s trip was an officially sanctioned parliamentary mission. In a time of war, when misinformation can cost lives, Israel’s caution may be more prudent than paranoid.
Does this mean Israel should be above criticism? Of course not. Healthy democracies thrive on criticism. Israeli politics itself is a cacophony of disagreement. But what is at stake here is not free speech in Britain – the MPs are free to denounce Israel from the House of Commons floor, and indeed they do – but whether Israel must facilitate hostile political theatre on its own soil, by individuals who openly advocate for measures like sanctions, boycotts, and the criminalisation of Israeli leaders.
Respecting Israel’s sovereign right to self-protection does not diminish the value of free expression. Nor does respecting the MPs’ right to their views justify forcing a wartime democracy to grant entry to them. The principles are not mutually exclusive. Both sides are exercising legitimate rights. Both sides are acting according to their own national interests.
The outcry from Foreign Secretary David Lammy – contrasting Israel’s democratic gatekeeping with authoritarian practices like China’s – is not only a distortion but a betrayal of the very nuance that democracies must protect. Israel is not China. It is a free society under siege, facing existential threats with democratic means. In 2018, Lammy declared that the President of the United States was ‘not welcome in our country’, but now feels that two virulently anti-Israel, minor political figures barely anyone has heard of should have the red carpet rolled out by a country in the middle of an existential war they are accused of misrepresenting.
Britain’s denial of entry for Geert Wilders was not an isolated incident. It also excluded Albania’s former prime minister Sali Berisha over alleged ties to organised crime, French comedian Dieudonné for anti-Semitic incitement, and American activist Louis Farrakhan for hate speech. Sovereign democracies routinely balance the principles of free expression against the imperative to maintain public safety and civic harmony. Israel’s decision, though politically sensitive, falls firmly within that same difficult – but legitimate – tradition.
In the coming days, the true nature of the trip undertaken by the two Labour MPs may become clearer. Israel has already indicated that no official authorities were informed of any parliamentary delegation – a notable omission, if not a deliberate misrepresentation. Some have suggested, and Israel strongly asserts, that Yang and Mohamed were not engaged in a formal parliamentary mission at all, but rather something far more partisan and provocative – something the two women deny.
If they turned down the chance to appeal through the Israeli courts – a right which should have been made available to them – this may yet prove telling. If it emerges that their visit was intended not for observation, but for political agitation against a democratic ally at war, it will reflect more poorly on the Labour party and the British government, which either sanctioned or failed to scrutinise such an effort. In that case, it will not be Israeli immigration authorities who stand accused of overreach, but rather those in London who allowed ideology to cloud judgement.
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