In November 2024, Teuta Hoxha (also known as T), along with other actionists were arrested by UK police for allegedly being involved in an action to disarm drones and quadcopters made by Elbit Systems. These weapons of war were due to be delivered to the Israeli occupation forces, currently enacting a genocide in Gaza.
The entirety of the actionist group known as the Filton 24 have been remanded in custody, being refused bail over allegations that they pose a threat to public order. What this also means, is they will have been detained in prison for two years before trial.
Initially T Hoxha was taken to HMP Bronzefield women’s prison along with other female actionists that had been arrested. They were able to have limited communication with one another, but what was immediately clear, was the role that the prison authorities desired to play in punishing Hoxha and the others.
HMP Bronzefield is a privately run prison by the company Sodexo Justice Services – so not actually His Majesty’s Prison. The private prison model means that for every prisoner they house, they are paid a fixed fee – amounting to approximately £66,000 per person per year. This means that the fewer resources the prison expends on a prisoner, the more profit they make.
By maximising prisoner occupancy, and minimising expenditure, Sodexo is able to turn the warehousing of human beings into a profitable business.
One would assume that a profit-making business would be less inclined to involve itself politically in the lives of the prisoners it holds – but nothing can be further from the truth. The private prison environment echoes the politics of the world we live in and replicates the over-criminalisation of those in its ‘care’. Thus, the prison environment becomes punitive beyond its role.
Within the first month of her detention, in December 2024 Hoxha was deprived of food. Her diary from the time documented: “I’m very hungry and have taken to eating mayo out of the sachets. Even pepper granules. Asked the screw to check for food, they said “eat from your canteen”. After several attempts, they reluctantly checked: no dinner for me.”
It's political
The refusal to provide her with food at the time is not just about the constant private prison exigency of reducing costs, but also forms as part of the need for the prison system to ‘play its role’ in acting punitively towards prisoners – especially those accused of political crimes.
Earlier this year, Hoxha along with another female prisoner was removed from HMP Bronzefield and placed in another Sodexo private run prison, HMP Peterborough. Again, this act fit the pattern of punitive actions, as Hoxha was denied easy visitation from her London-based loved-ones – now being too far and too expensive for them to visit on a regular basis.
Since then, she has been in a continued battle for her rights within the prison system, as they have sought to malign her for her alleged actions. This all came to a head on 11 August 2025 when she was forced to go on hunger strike based on three demands: That her library job and recreational classes be restored, that she receives all her withheld mail and that censorship of her mail ends.
The authorities only registered her hunger strike on the fourth day, despite continued notification of its start – not providing her with any vitamins or electrolytes to keep her safe. Her first medical check happened on day eight.
I once carried out a solidarity hunger strike with prisoners at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I can tell you that it is no joke. The body begins to cannibalise itself – eating away at you and leaving you a shell of yourself. You lose all ability to concentrate and are frequently dizzy. That was me after a week, and T Hoxha is now into her third week.
In fact, 75 current and former medical professionals in the NHS and prison authorities have signed a letter with the warning that Hoxha’s life may be at risk if she’s not given the needed treatment.
She explained that the prison guards attempted to break her – saying that it won’t harm she’ll only harm herself – that the act is insignificant. She replied:
“Insignificant to you maybe, but when the state has taken your house, your job, nearly two years of your life on remand…then the natural disposition is to want to hold on to every little bit of autonomy. Pushing for my library job isn’t just about being in a space which to me feels like a warm drink in cold hands, but it’s about rejecting the attacks on my character that happen with every decision made by the system.”
By 25 August, T Hoxha’s blood sugar level was 2.7 and instead of trying to help her, the nurse attempted to get her to sign a waiver form – alleviating the prison staff from any responsibility for her health care.
Counter-terrorism
Coupled with her difficulties of being a remand prisoner, she has been doubly criminalised by being categorised as an ‘extremist’ and is regularly referred to by staff as a terrorist – designations she regularly challenges.
The amorphous categorisations of extremism play a significant role, as guards and authorities became ‘moral’ arbiters of the detention experience – exercising their authority to act punitively because of what these categorisations do to dehumanise the prisoners.
One obscene example came recently as a well-wisher rang HMP Peterborough to encourage them to take care of T Hoxha – the caller was met with derision by the receptionist – who herself was actually unaware of what Hoxha has been charged with, and superimposed her own ideas of why she should be treated as a criminal.
The call ended abruptly with the callous laughter of the receptionist, which spoke volumes. We know that these private prisons do not simply act as an outsourced facility, but they are extensions of the violence of the state. They ideologically take on the narrative of the state, and abuse their authority to punish political prisoners further.
At this point, it is imperative that more pressure is put on HMP Peterborough for the sake of T Hoxha – if nothing else – it may well save her life. What she is asking for is so small in grand picture of her rights, that seventeen days of refusing these needs can only be interpreted as vindictive.
Through this treatment, the prison has not only exposed their punitive approach to political prisoners but what happens to prisoners behind the scenes who have no protection from public support.
Dr Asim Qureshi is the Research Director of the advocacy group CAGE and has authored a number of books detailing the impact of the global War on Terror.
Follow him on Twitter: @AsimCP
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