Eleanor StoneOn 12 September 2026, at the 83rd Venice Film Festival, two Israeli filmmakers accepted the Special Jury Prize for a documentary in which 24 current and former soldiers and intelligence officers speak — under complete anonymity — about how AI-assisted targeting was used during operations in Gaza. The film is called "NAZA," a title drawn from the Hebrew military acronym nezek agavi, meaning collateral damage. Its UK theatrical run is now underway, and the Israeli army chief of staff has already ordered an examination of possible legal action against the directors. For anyone who has served in uniform — anywhere — this film raises one question that has no comfortable answer: what does the law actually allow when you decide to speak?
How NAZA Broke Venice — and Why It Matters Beyond Cinema
Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor are no strangers to controversy. Their previous documentary, "No Other Land," won the Academy Award in 2025 for its footage of settler violence in the West Bank. NAZA is a different kind of film: methodical, testimony-driven, and focused not on victims but on those who designed and operated the systems that determined who would die and who would be classified as collateral damage.
The 25-minute standing ovation that followed the film's premiere was the longest in Venice's recorded history. Juror Kaouther Ben Hania praised the extraordinary difficulty of documenting testimony under conditions requiring the total concealment of every witness's identity — voices altered, no names, no visible faces. Yet the content is specific and operational. Human rights lawyers who viewed early screenings have noted that the testimonies may constitute significant material under international humanitarian law.
In the UK, the film is now in major cinema chains, with a free streaming release planned on The Guardian's website in November 2026. Distribution has been confirmed in 56 territories. Tens of thousands of UK audiences will watch NAZA over the coming weeks. Many who have served — or who know someone who has — will find themselves asking the same question: could a British servicewoman or serviceman do the same? And what would happen to them if they did?
The short answer, under current UK law, is: not without serious legal exposure.
The Expert's Eye — What These Testimonies Reveal Legally
NAZA's impact comes precisely because these are not outside observers. The 24 subjects are — or were — part of the system they describe. That distinction carries enormous evidentiary and moral weight, and it is exactly what makes the legal framework around such disclosures so important to understand before acting on any similar impulse.
When military personnel speak to a filmmaker or journalist about operational matters, they are not exercising a simple right to free expression. They are entering a specific body of law built to prevent precisely this kind of disclosure — even when that disclosure may be in the broadest possible public interest.
The Israeli government's response illustrates this clearly. The culture minister condemned the filmmakers before viewing the film. The IDF rejected its allegations outright. The army chief ordered a legal review. Whether or not proceedings follow, the reaction demonstrates that states treat unauthorised military testimony as a serious institutional threat — regardless of the content or intent behind the disclosure.
In the United Kingdom, that instinct is codified directly in statute.
The UK Framework: What Actually Governs Military Disclosure
The Official Secrets Act 1989 is the primary legal instrument governing what current and former UK service personnel can say publicly about their service. Critically, it does not contain a public interest defence — a distinction that separates it entirely from the employment-based whistleblower protection law, the Public Interest Disclosure Act 1998 (PIDA).
Under PIDA, workers across most sectors are protected from retaliation when they report wrongdoing through appropriate channels. A nurse who flags dangerous practices. A teacher who reports financial mismanagement. These protections are real and enforceable. But PIDA does not cover disclosures that fall under the Official Secrets Act. A former Army officer who gives on-record testimony to a documentary filmmaker about events during an overseas operation cannot invoke PIDA's public interest shield against prosecution under the 1989 Act.
The relevant offence for armed forces personnel would typically fall under Section 2 of the 1989 Act, which covers the disclosure of defence information. The maximum penalty is two years' imprisonment and an unlimited fine. There is no requirement for the Crown to prove that actual harm resulted from the disclosure — only that it was unauthorised.
The Human Rights Act 1998, which incorporates Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, has been raised in national security disclosure cases as a counter-argument. Article 10 protects freedom of expression, and it has genuine weight in proportionality assessments. However, UK courts have consistently held that the Official Secrets Act 1989 constitutes a proportionate restriction on Article 10 rights in the defence context. Article 10 alone would face significant obstacles as a primary defence in an OSA prosecution.
According to official UK government guidance on whistleblowing, public sector workers can report concerns to prescribed bodies and retain employment protections. But these channels are designed for internal disclosure — raising concerns within a structure — not for making those concerns public via a documentary. For military personnel, the gap between a protected internal disclosure and an interview on camera is significant, and under the current legislative framework, largely unbridgeable.
A Concrete Scenario: When a British Veteran Faces the Same Choice
Consider a former Royal Marines Commando — call him Daniel — who served two deployments between 2022 and 2024. During his second tour, Daniel witnessed targeting decisions that resulted in civilian deaths subsequently classified as collateral damage in official records. He left service in mid-2025, holds a security clearance retained by the Ministry of Defence for three years post-discharge (standard practice — meaning his clearance remains active until mid-2028), and signed a confidentiality clause on departure covering operationally sensitive information.
In October 2026, partly prompted by NAZA's UK release and the public conversation it has generated, Daniel is approached by a British documentary filmmaker who wants to include his account in a project about AI-assisted targeting in conflict zones. The filmmaker offers full anonymity — altered voice, no identifying details on screen, no production credits linking back to him.
If Daniel gives testimony and his identity is later established through an MoD investigation, a production leak, or investigative journalism:
- Official Secrets Act 1989, Section 2 (defence disclosure): criminal prosecution risk, maximum penalty of two years' imprisonment and an unlimited fine. No public interest defence is available. The offence is committed at the moment of disclosure to the filmmaker — before the film is edited, completed, or broadcast.
- Breach of NDA signed on service termination: civil proceedings by the MoD. In comparable UK cases where former service personnel disclosed operational information to media, out-of-court settlements have ranged from approximately £10,000 to £60,000, with injunctive costs borne by the disclosing party.
- Active clearance compromise: if Daniel's retained SC-level clearance is found to have been compromised, it may be revoked. SC clearance is a prerequisite for around 180,000 defence-adjacent private sector roles in the UK, including significant portions of the defence contracting, aerospace, and intelligence sectors. Even a marginal revocation carries lasting professional consequences.
Anonymity, as NAZA powerfully demonstrates, can withstand enormous scrutiny when managed by experienced professionals. But under UK law, anonymity is a practical protection — not a legal one. The offence is complete the moment Daniel speaks on camera. Whatever happens to the film afterwards, the risk has already crystallised.
What to Do Before Speaking to a Documentary Filmmaker
NAZA has opened a global conversation about accountability, AI in warfare, and the moral obligations of those who carry out orders they come to believe were unlawful. That conversation is reaching UK audiences at a moment of heightened public scrutiny of British arms exports and the UK government's own defence posture.
For current or former UK service personnel who are considering giving testimony — whether to a journalist, a documentary filmmaker, or a campaign organisation — the most important step is to consult a solicitor with specific expertise in military law and whistleblower protection before making any on-the-record statement. This is not the same as an employment solicitor or a general media law practitioner. It requires someone who understands the intersection of the Official Secrets Act 1989, the limits of PIDA, the Armed Forces Act, and the contractual instruments service personnel typically sign at discharge.
A specialist solicitor can assess your clearance status, determine whether the information you hold falls within the specific categories that trigger criminal liability under the 1989 Act, review the terms of any confidentiality agreement you signed on leaving service, and advise on whether protected internal disclosure channels exist through which serious concerns could be raised without triggering prosecution.
NAZA's 24 subjects made their choice in full knowledge of what they risked. For those in the UK considering theirs, legal survival starts with a specialist conversation — before the camera is switched on.
This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. Readers facing situations involving the Official Secrets Act, military service obligations, or national security disclosures should seek independent advice from a qualified solicitor.
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