Stub out the UK arms trade

Comparing tobacco regulation with arms export normalisation, this article argues for evidence-led accountability and a cultural shift that treats weapons sales as harm, not success.

When cigarettes were sold as 'healthy'

There was a time when cigarettes were sold as 'healthy'.

Doctors appeared in advertisements. Doubt was manufactured when early research linked smoking to lung cancer. Governments hesitated. Treasury revenue mattered. Industry lobbying bought time.

It took decades before public policy caught up with medical reality. Today, the World Health Organization states plainly:

“Tobacco kills more than 7 million people each year, including an estimated 1.6 million non-smokers who are exposed to second-hand smoke.”

The harm is no longer disputed. In the UK, smoking has fallen to around one in ten adults because evidence forced regulation, and regulation reshaped culture.

A cigarette can kill.

So can a bullet.

The comparison is stark. It is meant to be.

A timeline of harm — and hesitation

1950 – UK researchers publish landmark studies linking smoking to lung cancer.
1953 – The link is cited in Parliament.
1964 – Public health authorities formally confirm smoking causes cancer.
20 June 2019 – The UK Court of Appeal rules the government acted unlawfully over aspects of arms exports to Saudi Arabia, citing failures in properly assessing civilian harm risk in Yemen.
7 July 2020 – Licensing resumes after government review.
2023 – UK defence export orders reach £14.5 billion.
2024 – Smoking prevalence in Great Britain falls to roughly one in ten adults.

The tobacco story shows how long profitable harm can survive in the presence of evidence. The arms trade occupies a similar space: profit, security, denial, delay.

Selling security the way tobacco sold health

The arms industry does not advertise destruction. It sells reassurance. It speaks of stability, alliances and deterrence. It presents export orders as proof of national strength.

In 2023, UK defence export orders reached £14.5 billion. Globally, SIPRI reports that the United States’ share of major arms exports rose to 43 per cent in 2020–24. As SIPRI noted, “Arms exports by the USA increased by 21 per cent… and its share of global arms exports grew from 35 per cent to 43 per cent.” Rearmament is not slowing. It is accelerating.

Supporters argue that the UK operates one of the most robust export control regimes in the world. Licences are refused where there is a “clear risk” that equipment could undermine peace or facilitate serious violations of international humanitarian law.

The wording is precise. The stakes are enormous. Because the question is not whether rules exist. It is whether they withstand commercial pressure when billions are at stake.

When law interrupts profit

In June 2019, the Court of Appeal delivered a rare judicial rebuke. The judges asked whether “a rational decision-maker… could take this decision without considering these particular facts or factors,” referring to evidence of civilian harm in Yemen. The government’s approach was ruled unlawful.

For a moment, legal accountability interrupted commercial momentum. Licensing later resumed after review. Ministers insisted safeguards were sound. Critics asked what “clear risk” means when civilian infrastructure has already been struck and humanitarian crises are well documented.

Weapons are not neutral exports. They are designed to injure. Once transferred, control weakens. Political assurances do not travel with the missile. Contracts do not shield civilians.

Like tobacco in its prime, the arms trade is embedded in the state. It supports jobs, regional economies and diplomatic alliances. That integration breeds caution. Reform appears destabilising. Scrutiny is dismissed as naïve. But embedded industries can still produce embedded harm.

Youth inheritance: the cost of normalisation

Smoking declined because a generation decided the cost was too high. Advertising was restricted. Packaging changed. Cultural prestige evaporated. The market contracted.

As the Office for National Statistics reported in 2024:

“The percentage of adults who said they smoked cigarettes decreased from 10.5% in 2023 to 9.1% in 2024.”

This change reflects sustained political will. Harm was acknowledged. Responsibility followed.

Young people today inherit a different normalisation: rearmament framed as prudence, export growth framed as strength, defence sales framed as leverage. They also inherit the consequences. Long-cycle conflicts. Diverted public funds. Regions destabilised by sustained weapons flows. Export decisions made in this decade will shape conflict risk for the next two.

States have a legitimate right to self-defence. That is not in dispute. The question is whether large-scale proliferation — celebrated as export success — should be treated as routine economic achievement.

When billions in weapons orders are applauded while civilian risk is reduced to a licensing threshold, something shifts. Security becomes branding. Risk becomes paperwork. That shift carries a generational cost.

From inevitability to accountability

The defence of the arms trade is familiar: if we do not sell, someone else will. Demand exists. Markets operate. Responsibility is diffuse.

The tobacco industry once relied on similar logic: adults choose, governments tax, industry supplies. History rejected that reasoning.

Reducing smoking did not eliminate choice. It changed the environment that sustained harm. It made denial harder. It made accountability unavoidable.

The UK cannot exit global security structures overnight. But it can narrow the gap between human rights rhetoric and export practice. It can tighten scrutiny, strengthen parliamentary oversight and treat arms exports not as trophies of national prowess but as decisions carrying measurable human cost.

A cigarette can kill — so can a bullet.

We confronted one industry when its harms became undeniable. If the UK is serious about peace, it must apply the same moral clarity to the trade that profits from war.

Stub it out.