Formed in Belfast in 2017, the Irish‐language rap trio Kneecap—comprising Mo Chara (Liam O’Hanna), Móglaí Bap (Mark O’Connell) and DJ Próvaí (Aaron Harrington)—has quickly become one of the island’s most provocative and politically outspoken musical acts. Drawing on the symbolism and cultural heritage of Irish republicanism, the group raps in Gaeilge about life on the margins, Catholic–Protestant divisions in Northern Ireland, housing affordability, language revival and a host of other social justice issues. Their breakthrough single “C.E.A.R.T.A.” (“Rights”) went viral, and they further cemented their reputation with Kneecap, a semi‐fictional feature film loosely based on the band’s origins. Their name—referring to the paramilitary punishment of kneecapping practiced during the Troubles—signals a readiness to court controversy.
Artistic Mission and Cultural Impact
Kneecap insists their aim is to invigorate the Irish‐language cultural scene and give voice to those they see as disenfranchised. The band’s members perform in balaclavas—two decorated with the Irish tricolour—to underscore themes of anonymity, solidarity and enduring struggle. They have featured traditional uilleann pipes alongside hard‐driving beats, and video clips often include street scenes from working‐class neighborhoods of West Belfast. Supporters praise Kneecap for normalizing Gaeilge among younger audiences and for tackling topics that mainstream Irish and British pop music seldom addresses.
From Controversial Stunts to Mainstream Festivals
Over the past two years, Kneecap’s political messaging has triggered both acclaim and censure. In March 2025 they performed in Melbourne at 170 Russell, joined on stage by the missing bronze head of a statue of King George V—an artifact stolen months earlier from Kings Domain. At the spring 2025 Coachella Festival in California, they projected “F*** Israel. Free Palestine” onto a giant screen and led the crowd in chants of “Free Palestine.” Those statements came amid rising global attention on the 2023–present Israel–Hamas war. While some attendees cheered the intervention, many criticized the band for mixing music with geopolitics and accused them of hate speech.
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The London Concert and Terrorism Investigation
In April 2025 an online video emerged showing Mo Chara (Liam O’Hanna) at a London concert brandishing a Hezbollah flag. UK counter‐terrorism officers opened an inquiry into whether the display constituted support for a proscribed organisation. Footage from late 2024 also circulated in which a group member allegedly called for the killing of British Conservative MPs: “The only good Tory is a dead Tory. Kill your local MP.” Another clip from 2023 appears to show a member chanting “Up Hamas, up Hezbollah,” both groups proscribed as terrorist organisations in the UK.
Arrest and Charges
On 20 May 2025, London’s Metropolitan Police charged 27-year-old Liam O’Hanna (Mo Chara) with a terrorism offence under Section 13 of the Terrorism Act 2000, which prohibits publicly displaying support for proscribed organisations. According to the charge sheet, O’Hanna “displayed a Hezbollah flag in such a way or in such circumstances as to arouse reasonable suspicion that he is a supporter of a proscribed organisation.” He appeared at Westminster Magistrates’ Court on 22 May and was granted conditional bail ahead of a further hearing on 18 June. Police continue to investigate the 2023 footage.
Political Fallout and Festival Cancellations
Prompted by the videos, Britain’s Home Secretary described the alleged comments as “completely unacceptable.” Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch called for Kneecap’s prosecution and urged UK festivals to disinvite the band. Several events—including Glasgow’s TRNSMT and a planned appearance at Glastonbury—faced calls to cancel. Two MPs who had been murdered since 2016, Labour’s Jo Cox and Conservative Sir David Amess, became focal points in parliamentary debates condemning the group. First Minister of Scotland John Swinney backed calls to remove Kneecap from TRNSMT, citing public safety and community standards.
Kneecap’s Response: Denials and Accusations of Smear Campaign
In late April the band issued an Instagram statement insisting they “have never supported Hamas or Hezbollah” and condemning all attacks on civilians. They apologised to the families of Jo Cox and Sir David Amess, saying they “never intended to cause you hurt.” Kneecap accused “establishment figures” of deliberately taking their remarks out of context in a “coordinated smear campaign” aimed at silencing their outspoken support for Palestinians. They framed their message as one of “love, inclusion and hope,” and rejected any suggestion they would incite violence against MPs.
Solidarity from the Music Community
Numerous artists and groups—ranging from rock veterans Pulp and Massive Attack to Irish peers Fontaines D.C. and The Pogues—have publicly defended Kneecap’s right to free expression. In a joint statement, they decried attempts to “censor and ultimately deplatform” the band and affirmed that “political repression of artistic freedom is unacceptable.” Others, including Primal Scream and Paul Weller, urged organisers to stand firm against political pressure.
Legal and Free‐Speech Dimensions
Kneecap’s case sits at the intersection of anti‐terrorism law, hate‐speech regulation and artistic freedom. UK authorities must weigh the right to protest and provoke debate against public‐order statutes designed to prevent extremist mobilisation. Defence lawyers are likely to argue that waving a Hezbollah flag was symbolic solidarity with a civilian population under siege, not an operational endorsement of militancy—especially given Kneecap’s explicit denials of supporting violence. The Crown Prosecution Service will need to prove O’Hanna’s intent to support a banned organisation, a notoriously high bar under terrorism legislation.
Broader Context: Music, Politics and the Legacy of the Troubles
Kneecap’s trajectory underscores how Northern Ireland’s fraught history shapes contemporary artistic expression. The band repurposes the iconography of the Troubles—balaclavas, kneecaps, paramilitary references—to comment on global injustices from an Irish vantage. To some listeners, their work parallels anti‐colonial and anti‐imperialist anthems; to others, it resurrects violent memories best left buried. Their international prominence reflects the carried‐forward complexities of Northern Irish identity and the porous boundary between cultural rebellion and criminal or terror‐related symbolism.
What Happens Next?
The legal proceedings against Mo Chara will unfold over the coming months. Festival organisers and record labels must decide whether to continue booking Kneecap or risk reputational and perhaps legal backlash. Meanwhile, debate over the group’s stances on Gaza, Irish unity and free speech shows no sign of abating. Their defenders view the charges as an assault on political dissent, while their critics see a justified clampdown on hate speech.
Conclusion: Art, Provocation and the Law
Kneecap’s story illustrates how rap and political theatre collide with counter‐terrorism measures in an age of instantaneous global video sharing. Their blend of Gaeilge, Belfast grit and solidarity with Palestinians has won them both grassroots acclaim and establishment ire. As the courts weigh evidence and intent, the case will test the boundaries of artistic license, political protest and the reach of terrorism laws in democratic societies. Regardless of the outcome, Kneecap’s saga will remain a vivid chapter in the ongoing dialogue about music, power and the limits of expression.
